Tangled in Tinsel by Julia Mills

Author:Julia Mills [Mills, Julia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-12-17T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

“She should be right here.” Chance looked right, then left, then spun around facing Simon. “This spot right here.” He pointed at the ground beneath his feet with so much gusto it felt like his arm was a few inches longer than when he started. “This is where the trail ends.”

“And ye are a Guardsman?” Ginger scoffed, flipping her long, red ponytail over her tiny shoulder. “Even I kin tell that them bogeys took our Belle thata way.” She pointed towards the East.

“No, yer wrong, Gingie, as usual.” Candy swatted at her sister as she corrected, “Them whats took our girl went to the West. I kin smell the taint of that blasted abomination. Ellis, from here.”

“Hush,” Chance snapped, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end as the taint of stale fruitcake and rancid hot-buttered rum invaded his senses. “Go, go, go,” he hissed, scooping both the gnomes up and racing to take cover behind a huge, overgrown patch of holly, with Simon and Mrs. Claus on his heels.

“Put me down you brute!” Ginger’s small fists beat on one side of his chest while the pointed toes of Candy’s shoes battered his thighs.

Immediately planting their feet on the ground as soon as he knew they couldn’t be seen, Chance knelt down, slapped his hands over their mouths and through gritted teeth growled, “ Do not bite me, and shut the hell up.” Leaning forward he whispered, “Cordelia is coming,” with a backward nod of his head.

Their eyes grew to the size of small saucers as both of the gnomes frantically nodded in agreement. Pulling his hands from their mouths, the Guardsman spun on his toes and inched forward. Taking his spot next to Simon who was peering through the tangled mess of knotty twigs and gnarled leaves he asked, “See anything?” Directly into the silverback’s mind.

“See for yourself. I think you were right.”

Watching closely as the Caroler Angel and Belle’s ex, came strolling up hand-in-hand, stopping near an overgrown stump still decorated with the faded remnants of a Christmas long past, Chance held his breath when the couple whispered something in Latin. The air filled with the foul stench of rotted wood and burnt evergreen. Sparks of olive green and blood-red popped and crackled on his skin like a swarm of mosquitos searching for a taste.

Cordelia let go of her husband’s hand, raised her arms in the air, said the same foreign phrase, only a little louder and with more gusto the second time, and poof! a rundown cottage appeared. It was easy to see that once upon a time the little house had been very nice, but in its present condition Chance had to wonder if it could withstand even the wispiest of winds.

Brittle boughs of what used to be evergreen limbs but were now kindling and in some cases toothpicks, hung in bits and pieces from the gutters. Faded tinsel and drab green cords with broken and missing lights dangled from what was left of a railing around a crumbling and rotted front porch.

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