I stopped short, my breath catching in my throat.
No.
It couldn’t be.
How…
The towering Christmas tree and all the presents were gone.
Chapter Three
My whole body froze as the shock washed over me. How could the tree just bemissing?It was here last night when I closed up the shop. I’d even left the Christmas lights on so anyone walking past on their way to the pub would see twinkling through the window and feel happy.
No way could the tree be gone. It took three people just to move it. It wasn’t the sort of thing someone could just sneak out of the shop in their handbag.
But missing it was, along with all the gifts. All that remained now was a couple of broken baubles and a ring of pine needles on the rug.
No. This can’t be happening.
“Ow. Why’d you put the brakes on, Sir Sourpuss?” Morrie grumbled as Heathcliff drew up sharply behind me and swore.
“Mina, what’s wrong?” Quoth called from the top of the stairs.
I gulped. Cleared my throat. Found my voice. “The tree is gone.”
A flurry of wings and Morrie’s yelps echoed from the staircase behind me. A moment later a black raven soared down the stairwell and settled in the center of the empty rug. It paced up and down, pecking at the scattered needles. I’d never seen a bird look so despondent.
Quoth materialized again, all naked alabaster skin and sadness. He slumped on his knees, picking at the needles. “Who would do such a thing?”
“Good riddance,” Heathcliff growled, settling himself into his chair. “That thing was a nuisance, and a health and safety hazard.”
Quoth turned his face away. He didn’t want Heathcliff to see how upset he was. I couldn’t blame him. This charity was important to Quoth, not to mention the fact that half the village had already donated presents we’d somehow allowed to be stolen. Heathcliff was being callous for no good reason.
I grabbed Heathcliff’s arm. “Get up.”
“Why? You don’t still want a snowball fight—”
“Now.” I dragged Heathcliff outside. The bells tinkled as we stood on the stoop. I noticed Earl Larson, one of the local homeless population who Heathcliff had befriended, sleeping under the window ledge. He stirred when he saw us, but then his tiny black kitten mewed, and he snuggled back down to keep her warm.
I glared at Heathcliff. “I know you have a bug up your arse about Christmas, but you need to cool off. This is serious. You’re upsetting Quoth.”
“He’ll get over it.” Heathcliff tried to twist out of my grasp.
“The one who needs to get over it isyou. Leaving aside the fact that we’ve now got nothing to give to the charity, someone broke into the shop last night. Isn’t that something you should be concerned about?”
“Shite.” Heathcliff’s features collapsed. For the first time ever, he looked afraid. Before I could stop him, he bolted back inside.
I followed him as he barged past Morrie and rushed over to the desk. His eyes darted frantically as he started pulling open the drawers, muttering under his breath.
“Heathcliff, what is it?”
“It’s… it’s here!” Heathcliff slammed the bottom drawer shut before I could look inside. He brandished a bottle of whisky.
“What’s that?”
“I won it in the quiz last night. It’s my Christmas treat to myself.” Heathcliff uncapped the lid and held the bottle out to me. “The only way I can deal with the constant stream of jolly people traipsing through this place. At least the thieves didn’t take anything of real value.”
With an explosion of feathers, Quoth transformed into his raven form. He swooped into the next room, croaking corvid obscenities at the top of his lungs.
