Holly and Oak by R. Cooper

Author:R. Cooper
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: urban fantasy, magic, witchcraft, solstice, yule, pining, familiars, midwinter, winter holiday
Publisher: R. Cooper

If Chester’s hangover had been worse, he might not have gone into work. This close to Christmas, the Creamery wasn’t likely to get too many customers. A few curious tourists and the odd regular at most. But his headache had been soothed by several glasses of water, a large coffee, and the two egg and potato breakfast burritos he’d brought into work with him.

One had been for Mercy. Her hangover had been slight, probably because she was smart enough not to mix her drinks. She had walked in the Creamery’s door, looked at Chester nursing his coffee, and grinned in a way that still made him queasy.

It didn’t matter what he told her—or didn’t tell her—Mercy had spent the first hour of the day responding to anything he said with a sing-song, “But you left together!” Logic and reason could not silence her. As the day had gone on, her smirk had grown worse.

Getting a message from his father had been a welcome excuse to leave the shop in Mercy’s capable hands, with instructions for her to close whenever she felt like it, preferably before dark. Solstice tourists would be in the bars and restaurants tonight, not getting ice cream.

Of course, then Chester had to face whatever it was his parents wanted to say to him. With one day until the solstice—a matter of hours—he could have used some support and encouragement. But the usual routine was for his parents to leave him alone until the day after, when they would snatch him away in a rush of lavender, thyme, and old leather and force him to eat.

The message from his father said simply, Would like to see you. Soon, if possible. So Chester, with Goodwin on his shoulders, had set out for the square and then beyond.

Goodwin had scratched at the Creamery’s back door around noon. Chester had assumed that meant Will and Goodwin’s sleeping partner had definitely left his house by then. Will had still been asleep on Chester’s couch when Chester had snuck out the door and shut it quietly behind him.

He wasn’t afraid, no matter what his familiar might imply by slapping his tail impatiently against Chester’s cheek.

He wasn’t. He was taking the time to consider things. And veering from panic to flushed arousal to embarrassment every four seconds or so. Seeing his parents wasn’t likely to help that. Neither would more silent, beady-eyed observation from Sassafras, who followed his path by flying from rooftop to rooftop.

Chester breathed deeply and held onto his composure by his fingernails as he finally crossed into the part of Old Town filled with buildings with grand, white façades or red brick walls that had been in fashion two centuries ago.

The Sibley mansion, built sometime after the town’s founding, was about 16,000 square feet of architecture so ugly and grandiose it bordered on charming. Chester had always thought climbing roses or ivy might have helped that along but had never managed to get any to grow. His mother, who might have had the touch, had no interest in any plants outside of her greenhouse and herb garden.

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