Authors: Calista Fox
“I do.”
She stood behind him but didn’t have to wait for her turn.
The shop owner, Judith Mills, came out with two large ceramic mugs, their
standard to-go cup that everyone who ventured away from the shop returned at
the end of the day.
Judith ceremoniously handed them over. Jade had to clamp her
teeth over the flap of the paper bag of muffins as she accepted the mugs.
“Take this to Lisette. She will love the combination,”
Judith said.
Jade’s brow furrowed.
“Don’t worry about paying me. You’ve been through hell from
what everyone around here has heard. We’re all happy you’re okay, Jade.”
Emotion swelled within her at their concern for her
well-being. She nodded, since she couldn’t speak around the bag. Judith patted
her on the cheek and then turned away.
Carefully making it to the library, she kicked the door with
her booted foot and Lisette pulled it open.
“Oh!” the older woman exclaimed as she held out her hands
just as Jade released the bag from her teeth.
“Surprise,” Jade said. “I’ve become Alice.”
“Did you like the book?”
“Very strange. But so is this village today.”
She joined her friend at the desk by the fireplace and set
the mugs on top of it.
Lisette said, “Someone’s playing not-so-secret Santa.” She
inclined her head to the left and Jade’s gaze followed.
Four boxes of books were stacked in the corner. “Where did
they come from?” Jade wandered over to the new collection.
“Found them sitting on my doorstep when I arrived this
morning. I dragged the boxes in and now I’m trying to find space for them
because they’re very exciting titles.”
Jade knelt and sifted through the hard- and paperback books.
“All of them except these.” She pulled out three textbooks, a smile crossing
her lips. “Geometry, calculus and trigonometry.” Under her breath, she
muttered, “What a smartass.”
Standing, she turned back to Lisette and said, “The
Leightons have cranberries and oranges to make muffins with and the coffee shop
has a variety of new spices. Take a sip.”
“It does smell delicious. All of this had to have come from
the kingdom.” She speared Jade with an inquisitive look. “Why is the Demon King
suddenly so generous toward the villagers, I wonder?”
Jade sipped her own coffee, then shrugged. “It’s Christmas?”
“I’ve lived in this village for thirty-five years, Jade.”
With an indignant huff, Lisette added, “Don’t be coy with me. I know you better
than that.”
She sighed. “Maybe he’s feeling guilty over the attacks.”
“Or maybe he’s taken a liking to you.”
Her stomach fluttered. She had to suppress another smile. “I
wouldn’t make too much out of it.”
“Jade.”
She drank her coffee, averting her eyes. Lisette did not
give up.
“You do understand the ramifications of an association with
him?”
Thinking back to her conversation with Darien about her
ability to open up to him and Sheena more so than her human friends, she dug
deep to be honest with Lisette.
“I can’t say I know for sure what I’m doing. Yes, I
understand the ramifications. The dangers. The insanity of it all. But he’s not
what I’d originally thought. And he doesn’t dislike humans. He has many regrets
about the wars—in fact, he never wanted the destruction that occurred.”
Lisette set aside her cup. “You’re being sympathetic toward
a demon.”
“Not sympathetic. Empathetic, maybe. He’s not the first to
unleash an army on human beings, you know.”
She scoffed. “That’s hardly a defense.”
Jade stood and crossed to the fiction section of the
library. She scanned the shelf she was all too familiar with and pulled out a
novel. Returning to the table, she handed it over.
“
North and South
?” her friend asked. “What about it?”
“You do recall the Civil War, right?”
Lisette frowned. She put the book down but didn’t say
anything more.
Jade sat. “I can’t let go of how I feel as a human in a
world under demonic rule. But I do like the idea of peace.”
“At what price?” her friend finally asked. “You could find
yourself in a very difficult and dangerous position if you’re not careful about
the company you keep.”
Jade knew better than to argue further. Lisette had a point,
after all.
They finished their coffee and muffins in silence. Jade was
about to leave when Alex Stanton from the post station blew in, one arm wrapped
around a large metal object that appeared to be extremely heavy for the wiry
man. He all but dropped it on the spare desk in the corner and dumped a satchel
next to it.
He took a moment to catch his breath as Jade closed the door
behind him. Then he told her, “Special delivery for you.”
“What is it?” she asked as she stepped around him.
Lisette answered the question. “It’s a manual typewriter. A
Royal from the early 1900s.”
“There’s paper too,” Alex said as he lifted the flap on the
satchel to reveal a thick stack.
“The ribbon looks to be in good shape,” Lisette mused as she
inspected the machine. She grabbed a sheet of paper and rolled it into place,
then typed a few words. “Very nice.”
Jade was perplexed. “What am I supposed to do with it?”
With a laugh, her friend said, “I haven’t the slightest
idea. Write a book, I guess. You do love reading them. Maybe someone thinks
there’s a story inside that head of yours.” She turned away.
To Alex, Jade said, “Thanks for bringing it over.”
“Sure thing.”
He left the library and Jade sat at the chair behind the
typewriter, staring at the letters on the keys. “Why are they not
alphabetized?”
“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen a keyboard. The
theory I once heard is that they’re arranged by common usage. You become
accustomed to where they’re located. If you practice enough, you can type
without even looking at the letters.”
She laughed. “Yeah right.” She started pecking out words,
nonetheless. Fascinated, even though she wasn’t actually typing anything that
made sense—just acclimating herself to the layout—she spent the rest of the
afternoon clicking away before heading to the tavern.
When Walker returned her home, she got another surprise.
As she entered the living room, she found it decorated with
garland on the fireplace mantle, along with lit candles everywhere. The
rectangular table was set for two with her usual dishes and accented with two
long, lush arrangements of garland, pinecones and tall tapers.
The scent that wafted her way drew her attention to the
kitchen. She didn’t make it there though. Darien stepped into the oversize
doorway between the hall and the living room and propped a forearm against the
wall. He grinned seductively at her.
“Merry Christmas.”
It was after midnight, so his timing was perfect. She
smiled. “I like how you spruced the place up.”
“Doesn’t hurt to be festive.”
“Or kind.” She crossed to where he stood and put her hands
on his waist. “Tell me I didn’t guilt you into sharing some of your indulgences
with the village.”
He chuckled. “You didn’t. You made a legitimate point and I
listened. If I say I want to promote peace, I should back it up with goodwill.”
Staring up at him, she said, “It neither went unnoticed nor
unappreciated.”
The backs of his fingers grazed her cheek and he said, “You
do make me look at things from a different perspective. A bigger picture. It’s
interesting,” he added in a reflective voice, “but I seemed to have forgotten
that I’m not just a leader of my alliance but that I rule the entire
continent—and am therefore a leader for everyone who inhabits it.”
“We’re not all of like minds,” she admitted, “but the demons
in your alliance haven’t violated your command. And the humans, including the
slayers and the witches, have obeyed your laws. Harmony may never be an
appropriate word for us to use, but coexistence can be much more genuine and
less worrisome if we can at least partially bridge the gap. There haven’t been
any uprisings led by the mortals, but we’re still carefully monitored. Yet
rogue demons can attack us at any time.”
“Yes, that is something that troubles me.”
The fact he didn’t argue with her intrigued her. “Did you
learn anything new while you were out with Morgan?”
His head dipped and he kissed her softly. Then he said,
“Let’s have dinner.”
She didn’t press, suspecting he’d tell her any news he had
when he felt the time was right. She realized she trusted him enough to not
poke and prod. Not that her mind didn’t churn with curious thoughts…
Pushing them aside, she asked, “What can I do to help?”
“Sit, and let me finish what I’m doing.”
She laughed. “So demanding.” Regardless, she took a seat at
the table and inhaled the lovely aroma of pine mixed with the hint of cinnamon.
Ever efficient, Darien set out bowls of food, from baked
potatoes to sage-flavored stuffing to steamed asparagus and a vegetable medley.
But his main dish surprised her most.
“Filet mignon,” he explained when he placed a plump, round
piece of meat on her plate. “With Hollandaise sauce.” He drizzled the
pale-yellow concoction over her steak.
She eyed the beef and said, “I have no idea what this is.”
“Just wait.”
He disappeared out the front door, only to come back a few
seconds later with a bottle in his hand. “Champagne from France.”
She frowned. “Seriously, this is how you eat at the castle?”
“Well,” he said in a tone that wasn’t arrogant…or contrite,
“I am the king.”
“True.”
“Besides,” he said as he popped the cork on the bottle, “you
have cattle and a butcher. He could provide this same cut.”
“Oooh, your first jibe.”
He laughed good-naturedly. “I’m not trying to be snide. Merely
stating a fact.”
Jade considered this, then said, “It’s sort of like all
those books in Lisette’s library that no one but she and I read. Once the
villagers figured out how to survive post-war with things they’d recovered and
salvaged, re-created from scratch or traded for, they seemed satisfied with the
status quo. Instead of looking for ways to make improvements.”
“Maybe that’s because my army destroyed all the previous
modern advancements.”
“And we think you might do it again, if we try to progress? That’s
an interesting theory.”
Darien let out a long breath. “Maybe we shouldn’t discuss
politics tonight.”
“Agreed. Except…” She thought of the book she’d handed to
Lisette in the library. “Have you ever read
North and South
?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“It’s about the Civil War, which happened during your
formative years.”
He shot her a playful sneer at the backhanded age remark.
“Go on.”
“Well, the main character is the son of the owner of a
Southern plantation who goes off to West Point and meets the male heir to an
iron factory in the North. They have significantly different life experiences,
obviously, and don’t share similar viewpoints on most topics, all because of
where and how they were raised.” She sipped her champagne and was momentarily
distracted by the effervescence. “Oh that’s good.”
He grinned.
“Anyway,” she continued. “Above all that, the similarities
they share are significant.”
“Such as?”
“Honor. Respect for their families, their friends and their
country. Even open-mindedness.”
“Good qualities to possess.”
“Yes. And despite all their differences, they become the
best of friends. Their families even bond to an extent. But the tensions
increase as the regional issues escalate. The war eventually breaks out and
they’re pitted against one another—so too are their families. Yet no matter the
pressure of their heritages, somehow they find the strength to remain friends
amongst the turmoil and against all odds.”
She gave this some thought, then added, “In the long run,
they’re devoted to their friendship. Committed in a way that pushes them to
help each other through the horror of war—and the disjointed politics that tore
apart an entire nation and many families.”
He set his glass aside. “Nearly eight hundred thousand
soldiers died and countless civilians.”
“That’s huge,” she said. Not as high in casualties as the
demon wars, but still. It was an exorbitant number. Percentage-wise, given the
population in the late 1800s, there had to be a close correlation to the death
tolls.
“The war didn’t just come about because of varying opinions
on slavery,” Darien added, “but also because the North felt it necessary to
advocate for the Union—to keep the states intact, as instituted by the
Declaration of Independence. Secession by the South was considered treason against
the country.”
“In the end,” she reminded him, “relations between the North
and South were restored.”
Darien’s finger and thumb curled around the stem of his
champagne glass. He’d brought both of them with him, since she didn’t own
anything so elegant. He swiveled the crystal flute, then asked, “Are you
hinting we should engage in our own Reconstruction Era?”
“I’m not sure,” she admitted. “I think an honest evaluation
of the state of affairs is in order first. After all, when the initial
demon-human war of 2016 broke out, the world was already in a state of unrest,
and the economy had suffered horrifically.
People
suffered,” she
amended. “Lisette said the last several years before the war erupted, things
were dire with the real estate, financial and job markets. Apparently, there
was a lot of despair.”
He leaned forward and gazed at her. “You want common ground
across the board?”
“Is that asking so much?”
“Someone has to hold more power.”
“I don’t disagree. But shouldn’t the entity in power hold
the entire continent in his best interest?”