It isn’t just a kiss.
It’s a moment carved out of centuries of hatred and legends, where this little witch kisses me not because she is allowed—but because she loves me.
"Then we will use him to achieve our goal," I say. "We can make him suffer after we are done." My fingers tighten around hers, not so much possessive as anchoring. The promise of the ribbon feels heavier now, like it’s folded into the strategy.
Footsteps scrape the floorboards.One, two, one, two.It sounds as if it’s deliberate, and the elf steps into the doorway looking like he freaking owns the night. His bloody grin is all wrong for this moment; he’s drunk with pride and bad decisions. He sees Neo and his swagger falters for a fraction. That’s all the opening I need. I fucking hate how he looks at her.
I stand up, the movement slow enough to keep him guessing what I’m up to. I let my shadow stretch towards him, long and deliberate, making the air between us cool down again. Neo stands up right after me.
"What do you want exactly?" Neo asks him almost conversationally, as if they’re about to discuss coffin measurements. My hand slips from hers and lands on the small of her back.
The jolly creature laughs, and it’s a brittle sound. "You two ought to learn to be apart." He takes a step forward.
"If you step any closer, you leave without your balls," Neo says. Her calmness makes the threat sharper than any of her blades.Oh, how I love her wild side.
He gasps, his hand goes to his belt as if he’s got something they're worth using, but his fingers find only air and posture. Neo watches him with a patience and amusement that makes men confess crimes just for the sport of it "Funny," he says, voice syrup-slow, "dangerous little snowflake." His green eyes freeze on Neo’s lips. "We have to bring Creepmas to your town."
Neo walks to him.
Chapter 7
NEO
Icreep around the elf, my fingers grazing his shoulder to keep him rooted. I can see that behind the bad boy he pretends to be, he’s just shy. And a shy person is easier to bend than an angry person is.
Nox’s eyes won’t leave my body. The weight of the ribbon that’s tied around his hand is like a sealed vow between us. He trusts me; he knows I am just playing. "We’re not doing this for you," I tell the elf quietly enough that it feels like a verdict. "We’re doing it for the kids."
I pull my coat around my shoulders in one practiced motion, then I pause and look at both of them. "Are you two coming, or are you going to babysit each other until I come back?" I tease.
Nox shows a half-smile, the sound of his laugh small and dangerous. "I’m coming," he says. "But you owe me a plan love, and it better involve me strangling an elf." Nox bumps my shoulder with his arm, kisses my forehead and we step into the dark together, the door closing behind us like a promise and a dare.
***
The red train groans to life with a puff of peppermint-scented steam and a jingle that sounds suspicious, like laughter from someone unseen. We climb aboard the cabin, where the seats are stitched with bright red velvet material and the windows are frosted in swirling patterns.
The train jolts forward with a cheerful menace, rattling along tracks that glow faintly red and green beneath the snow. Outside, Mournton blurs past in a parade of black crooked rooftops, haunted candy canes and snowmen that wave with too many arms. I clutch my knitted black scarf between my fingers, my heart thudding with anticipation and unease. "This is festive..." I mutter, and Nox responds immediately by kissing my forehead and sitting down.
"In a cursed toy factory kind of way," he grins, lounging like he belongs in a nightmare wrapped in tinsel. "I love it. It feels like we’re riding straight into a gingerbread trap." He takes out a cigarette.
"You can’t smoke on the train!" The elf sits across from us; he looks twitchy and pale, clutching the tickets like they might bite him.
"Stop me." Nox lights his cigarette and inhales the chemicals, blowing the smoke towards the elf. The cabin lights flicker overhead—then slow down like they are thinking about something. One bulb pops with something that sounds like a giggling sneeze, and shadows stretch just a little too far across the velvet seats. Nox raises an eyebrow, clearly amused, ready to choke something if it comes to that. The elf leans forward with a twitchy sort of concern.
"Are you… haunted?" the elf asks, his voice is thin, like someone trying not to wake a ghost. "Because the lights only flicker when someone’s carrying unresolved emotional baggage, a cursed heirloom or a ghost with opinions."
I blink at him. "No…"
Nox laughs. "They are ready to cut off your head if things go wrong," he whispers to the elf, deadpan.
The elf nods solemnly, as if that confirms everything he feared. Then he scoots half an inch farther away, closer to the door, just in case my aura decides to start narrating its trauma.
"So, no one is haunted? Because mixing Halloween vibes with Christmas ones is already weird enough." He asks again.
I give the elf a look, and the train rattles over a crooked bend in the tracks. A chorus of bells jingle from somewhere deep in the engine, like it is laughing at him.
"I’m not haunted." I tell the elf, raising my voice, "I just have a complicated relationship with seasonal magic and unresolved trauma."
The elf blinks. "That’s... basically haunted."
