I sprang up off the couch and launched myself at my older brother, tackling him.
Jonathan laughed. “I knew that would get you up.”
He picked up two axes. “I’m not giving you yours until your promise not to chop off my nose. My girlfriend really likes it.”
“I don’t see how,” I countered, following him through the house.
Morticia and Lilith had been busy. The house was covered in garlands, there was a forest of decorated Christmas trees, and wreaths and candles decorated every large steel window.
Outside, Prancer and Kringle were playing tag in the backyard. The snow was falling softly. The trees were wound with lights that made the forest look like a winter fairy realm. In addition to the standard Christmas decorations, several ghostly figures made out of chicken wire were in the yard.
“I think I’m hallucinating.”
“Eh,” Jonathan said, “Morticia got a little carried away and put her own gothic spin on the décor.”
“You said I could, Matt,” the dark-haired woman replied, walking by and unrolling a huge strand of garlands on the stone balcony of the terrace.
“The man was drunk, love,” Jonathan told her. “He didn’t even know his own name.”
“Too bad. I have your signature.”
“Just ignore the spider in the Christmas wreath,” Jonathan whispered to me. “We can burn it in the bonfire later.”
He slapped my shoulder. “Morticia said she found a half-chopped-up tree back away in the woods when she was having all the lights put up. We bribed Prancer with a grilled cheese to drag the wood over here. You need to get that reindeer a job. He’s getting a little chonky.”
A half-cut-up, felled tree?
“I don’t know why we’re even bothering,” I said, slipping off my shirt and picking up an axe. The falling snow prickled against my skin. “I should just sell the place.”
“You already paid me,” Morticia called out. “Nonrefundable contract, and you have to pay for all materials.”
“You’re still hosting the family Christmas party,” Jonathan said, whacking at the log.
I brought the axe down on my log, splitting it. “No, I’m not.”
“You agreed to that, too, last night,” Morticia yelled out of a window where she was tacking up more garlands. “And I’m not cooking for you.”
“You said you would make lasagna,” Jonathan shouted. “And fried calamari!”
Morticia made a disgusted noise. “Fine.”
One of the sets of French doors out to the terrace opened, and my sister came out with a large pot of soup.
The reindeer, smelling food, ended the game of tag and raced over to my sister.
I winced, but she stood her ground as the large animal charged at her.
“Stop,” she barked.
The reindeer sat down at her feet, sticking his tongue out.
Belle shook her head.
“I brought you something to eat besides alcohol.” Belle held up the pot of soup. “You want to come inside?”
I set down the axe, grabbed my shirt, and followed my sister to the kitchen.
“Honestly, Jonathan,” Belle chided when we settled around the kitchen island. “You can’t just get our little brother drunk.”
