Yuletide (Matilda Kavanagh Novels Book 3) by Shauna Granger

refusing to follow, not wanting to look for the source of my sudden unease.
    But I looked.
    Across the street, in a pool of yellow light, stood a Krampus watching the parade disappear, just as I had. He wasn’t very tall or broad like the others. His face didn’t look as if it was a frozen mask of plaster of Paris or plastic. When he felt my eyes on him, he turned to look at me. Even at that distance, I could see the light playing in his yellow eyes. My breath caught, shards of ice piercing my lungs. He tilted his head, and the deadly points of the two black horns twisting out of his head glinted in the lamplight.
    “Mattie?” Joey’s voice pulled at me, then her hand was on my sleeve, tugging.
    I blinked and looked at her, feeling the shock on my face reflected in the worry on hers. “Can you see him?”
    “See who?” Joey asked. She looked in every direction until meeting my eyes again. “See who?”
    “You don’t…” My words were almost silent. With every ounce of courage I had, I lifted my eyes again and looked across the street. The pool of yellow light was empty, illuminating a bare sidewalk.
    “Are you okay?” Joey asked in a gentle voice.
    “Yeah,” I said, jumping off the bench. “Just tired I guess, seeing things. Let’s go home.”
    ***
    The next few nights passed in relative quiet. Joey let me know that our pictures from the Krampus ball had gained me new followers on every site. All that meant for me were new orders for glamours coming in. At least those were fun spells that didn’t give me more dishes to clean. I had to go out and buy a bunch of new silver bracelets to fill all the orders.
    Thanks to the few quiet nights, I finally had a quiet enough night to go out and get my Christmastime tree. I wrangled Whelan and Bu into helping me so I wouldn’t have to carry the tree and get sap all over my clothing. Both had dressed for the occasion, which threw me a little when I opened the door to greet them. They were in jeans—black of course—with black lace-up boots, but they were also wearing plaid, long-sleeve flannels, Whelan’s black and green, Bu’s black and blue. Whelan had covered his spikey mohawk with a slouchy black beanie, and Bu had covered his Samurai top-knot with an Elmer Fudd hunting cap that matched his shirt.
    “Oh, for the love of frogs,” I said as I stood in the doorway, taking in the sight of them. “We’re just picking out a tree, not going into the woods to chop one down.”
    “Would you have preferred kilts and fishnets?” Whelan asked.
    “I’m just surprised you didn’t grow a beard for the night.” I locked the door and shooed them down the hallway.
    The tree lot where Miles worked was just beyond the border of Havencrest and West Hollywood, so when we drove through the barrier, we felt the shift in temperature as the air coming through the vents became warmer. I pulled into a parking space and took off my jacket when we got out of the car. Though the sun had gone down, I was warm enough without it.
    “Merry Christmas,” Whelan said, his voice heavy with sarcasm. “Enjoy an ice cold cup of eggnog while you sweat your balls off.”
    Bu laughed and I practically snorted, giving Whelan a shove toward the entrance to the lot.
    There were trees everywhere. It was a maze of evergreens. A flocking machine belched next to the three cash registers, and next to it was a giant metal ring with a net fitted over it. While I watched, one of the workers practically threw a tree through the ring, and the netting enveloped it, making it easier to carry.
    I started down the aisles, a little overwhelmed by the choices. The last couple Christmases, I hadn’t been able to afford a tree like these—I settled for the tiny rosemary “trees” I could buy at the grocery store—so I didn’t really know what to look for. I turned a corner and almost ran right into Miles.
    “Oh, Ms. Kavanagh!” he said, holding out his gloved hands with a smile.
    “Mattie, please.”