Leila's staring at me.
"What?" I ask.
She just shakes her head, smiling. "Nothing."
But the look on her face says everything.
Busted.
CHAPTER 14
ACE
CHRISTMAS LIGHTS ARE sentient and they hate me. That's the only explanation for why this tangled mess in my hands has somehow gottenworsein the last ten minutes. I started with what looked like a manageable knot. Now I'm holding what can only be described as a Christmas-themed tumor, and I'm pretty sure it's growing.
"How," I mutter, tugging at a strand that immediately tightens three others. "How is this physically possible?"
The bar is chaos around me. Half the team showed up to help decorate, which means nothing is getting done efficiently and everything is getting done loudly.
The burnt Christmas tree has been replaced with a new one that Jinx is absolutely, under no circumstances, allowed to approach. There's actually a perimeter. Becker drew it in tape on the floor. Jinx has been sulking about it for twenty minutes.
I yank at another strand of lights. The knot somehow gets bigger. I'm going to be here forever. They'll find my skeleton still clutching this demonic ball of wire and LEDs.
Across the room, Becker and Petrov are having what appears to be a very serious argument about an inflatable reindeer wearing a hockey jersey.
"By the door," Becker insists, gesturing emphatically. "Marketing 101. First thing people see when they walk in. Boom. Instant holiday spirit."
Petrov shakes his head. "By bar. People see reindeer, people drink. People drink, people donate. Is simple. You Americans, you don't understand marketing."
"I literally just said Marketing 101!"
"You said wrong thing in confident voice. Is American specialty."
Wall's still fighting with the banner. "This thing is cursed," he mutters, adjusting one corner only to have the other droop immediately.
Jinx's head snaps up. "Don't joke about curses."
"I'm not joking. This banner has it out for me personally."
"Curses aren't funny, Wall."
"Neither is your face, but here we are."
Hendrix is perched on the bar top, watching this unfold with those beady eyes that definitely contain evil. Then he opens his beak. "Slide the pole, baby!"
Every single person in the bar freezes. Becker's still holding the inflatable reindeer. Petrov's got one hand raised mid-gesture. Wall's balanced precariously on the ladder. I'vegot Christmas lights wrapped around both arms like tinsel handcuffs.
We all turn to look at Hendrix.
He ruffles his feathers importantly.
"I'm sorry," Becker says slowly. "What?"
Hendrix puffs up his chest. "SLIDE THE POLE, BABY!"
"This bird is now... inappropriate," Petrov observes.
But Hendrix isn't done. "Pump it! Pump it real good!"
