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And if staying in Iris’ world meant having to put up with Blair, the trade-off had to be worth it.

“Can I ask you something?” Blair wondered, peeling off a flake of paint and flicking it onto the snowy pavement.

“If you must,” Gabriel replied lightly.

Blair took his time gathering his thoughts, his eyebrows knit together. “You’re obviously a witch. I was just wondering how you ended up in Vitford.”

“Ah.” Gabriel stared into the caliginous woods, wondering how much to disclose. “I left the trade decades ago. Centuries, really.” He regarded Blair out of the corner of his eye, but he didn’t look the least bit shocked. Perhaps Blair had already suspected that Gabriel was immortal. “It wasn’t the life for me,” Gabriel continued. “I only use magic very rarely now. My power has dwindled quite a bit, but that was my choice, and I don’t regret it.”

He was grateful when Blair didn’t ask him to elaborate. They lapsed back into a contemplative silence, until an especially loud howl pulled Gabriel from his thoughts. He inclined his head in the direction of home. “We should probably keep going before we become these canines’ Christmas Eve feast.”

Blair nodded, and they continued on, the moonlight more than bright enough to illuminate their path.

“I’ve always loved wolves,” said Blair, kicking a clump of ice into the middle of the deserted street. “They stick together like family should. They never abandon one another. It’s probably stupid and sentimental, but I’ve always been inspired by that.” He averted his gaze, clearly embarrassed by the admission.

“I don’t think it’s stupid,” said Gabriel quietly. “I admire it, too.”

When Iris arrived home at last, pulling open the front door with a sigh of relief, she was gobsmacked to see Gabriel and Blair sitting together at the kitchen table chatting like old school friends. Both of them had changed into their night clothes and appeared warm and at ease. Her menorah rested between them, a candle lit to symbolize the first day of Hanukkah, while the Christmas tree lights winked and glittered.

Their words faded and they turned to look at her as she kicked off her boots and stepped tentatively into the kitchen, not wanting to break the spell. Both of them looked so calm; it seemed too good to be true.

She had been expecting to walk into the eye of a hurricane, but she seemed to have arrived just in time for the quiet aftermath. She only hoped it wasn’t the other way around and this was the calm before the storm.

“You were marvelous, darling,” Gabriel said, standing and kissing her forehead before moving over to the stove to pour tea from the steaming kettle. She smiled her thanks and sat down beside Gabriel’s vacant chair with Blair seated across from her.

“Is everything okay?” she asked.

Blair nodded. “It will be.”

Iris still wasn’t sure what to make of what had happened at the church, but she imagined Blair’s reaction had been due to more than mere stage fright. Her instinct had been to immediately follow him and find out what was going on, but she’d been afraid to cause more of a scene. When Gabriel went after Blair, she’d been very grateful, trusting that if something was seriously wrong, Gabriel would come back and get her.

Still, when neither of them showed up for the remainder of the service, she’d found it almost impossible to control her expression from her seat onstage, hyperaware that she was on display for the entire congregation to see.

After the service, Iris was immediately accosted by her mother, who was beside herself wondering what on earth had gotten into that friend of yours and Gabriel’s. By some miracle, Iris managed to convince her that everything was under control, and that her mother should really go home and get some rest. Iris had then searched the entire lobby before finally spotting Gabriel. When he handed her the car keys and assured her that everything was indeed alright (though he’d looked a little shaken), Iris’ relief was like a physical weight lifted from her shoulders.

Gabriel set steaming mugs of tea in front of Blair and Iris along with a bowl of Christmas cookies he’d baked the previous evening. He smiled, his expression a bit somber, and exchanged a look with Blair, who nodded solemnly. Iris imagined she must have been gone much longer than she’d thought if the two were getting along to the point where they could share meaningful glances.

Before she could ask what exactly was going on, Gabriel had wished them a merry Christmas Eve and, clutching his own cup of steaming tea, disappeared up the stairs to his room.

Candlelight glinted off of Blair’s silver ring as he twisted it in anxious circles. “I’m ready to tell you now,” he said quietly.

Iris didn’t care that it was late, that they would need to be up relatively early to exchange presents with her mother, or that she was burnt out from the stress of the evening. She sat still and silent, her hands wrapped around her mug, and waited.

Blair’s eyes drifted shut. He placed a palm lightly over the rim of his cup so that the warm steam drifted onto his skin. “I’ve made such a mess of things. I don’t know how to ask for your forgiveness.”

“This seems like a good place to start.”

Blair nodded, though he still seemed too embarrassed to look at her.

“What happened tonight?” she asked.

“I’d like to start at the beginning, if that’s okay.” His hand shook slightly as he took a long sip of tea, a bid for time. “You wanted to know how old I am. You might regret that.” He gave her a wry smile. “I was born in Boston in 1680.”

Blair regarded her as though desperate to see her reaction. Iris made sure to keep her face impassive, though she was surprised to discover how much older Blair was than Gabriel.

“I’m sure you know that the puritan period was a difficult time for anyone even slightly out of the ordinary,” he continued. “When my two older sisters didn't inherit my mother’s condition, my parents thought they were safe, but then…I was born.” His pointer finger idly traced the rim of his cup, his forehead kneaded in thought.

“My mother has the full strain of the affliction, which means that she can transform at will. She can control it. I never could. From the time when I was a small child, whenever I got upset or angry, or sometimes even excited…I couldn’t help it.”