“It is Valentine’s Day,” he said.
“Yes?” I had no idea where he was going with this.
“Do you have plans?”
Oh. Oh.
From the smug smile on his face, he knew I didn’t. But even with no plans, even if the alternative was spending the day alone, I didn’t have to tell him that.
“She does,” Jean piped up. “Lunch. With Delaney and me. Sister’s Valentine’s lunch. So you can just slow your roll there, buddy.”
He frowned, and I beamed. That was my sister, jumping in when she knew I needed backup, one hundred percent on my side.
“But she doesn’t have anything going for dinner, so you should get on that.”
“Jean!” I yelled, utterly betrayed.
She cackled and bolted through the door. “Super busy. Gotta take care of a lot of paperwork. So much paperwork!” she said over her shoulder as she sprinted down the hallway.
I sighed, closed my eyes, and rubbed at the headache my sister had inspired.
“So…dinner, is it, then?” Bathin’s voice was gold and honey.
I was trying to formulate an answer, one that didn’t involve me wanting to murder my sister or ask him if he’d like to be my accomplice.
I let my hand drop from my face and looked back up at him. “We are not dating.”
“I see.”
“We are not going to dinner tonight.”
He hummed.
“We are not valentines.”
He waited a moment. “Then what are we, Myra Reed?”
And oh, the answers could be endless. But I chose the truth.
“I don’t know.”
He was silent. If he were judging me for that omission, he made no comment as to what he decided.
“So, now if you’ll excuse me,” I said, “I have to commit sororicide.”
His lips curved in a wry smile. Then he bowed slightly, gesturing to the door, through which I followed my soon-to-be-dead sister.
Bathin didn’t get in the way of my argument with Jean. Didn’t get in the way of my Valentine lunch with both my sisters, who were, when they put their minds to it, pretty amazing sisters to have.
They explained to me that Jonah had wandered into town a while ago and had been too shy to ask anyone about which particular rules he should follow. They’d already informed Bertie, who had reached out and found Jonah a buddy to help him navigate our customs, without coming across as a stalker.
As for the cookie crusher, we didn’t have any other leads yet, but Delaney had gone by the store to talk to them about it, and she’d gotten them to set up a closed-circuit camera. With a little luck, we’d find out who was hating on the goodies.
They both invited me to join them for their Valentine’s dinners.
I refused. Adamantly.
Because seriously? Being the third wheel at either of their evenings? No.
We talked about the scissors. Delaney was ready to threaten me into seeing it her way again, but she didn’t have to. I had already decided I wasn’t going to use the scissors.
Not yet, anyway.
I didn’t have the one book with the one page that was the actual spell—the operating instructions. Without that, I didn’t want to go forward.
My sister’s soul was involved in this situation. I wasn’t going to put her in danger just because I was eager to save her.
Bathin didn’t get in the way of the rest of my work shift either, which meant I spent Valentine’s Day doing what I did best: looking after the people in the little town I called home.
Dinner was just how I liked it: alone in my cozy house, a nice pot of strong tea and a successful bowl of the udon noodle recipe I’d wanted to try.
I wish I’d picked up a dessert after work, or stolen one of Delaney’s boxes of Girl Scout cookies from the station. But I’d been in too much of a hurry to lock myself away from the happy couples walking hand in hand everywhere I looked to think that far ahead.
It wasn’t that I hated people who were in love. I just hated how lonely I always felt on this particular day.
Still, my after-dinner tea was sweet and strong, I had a pile of novels I couldn’t wait to dive into, and one of my favorite playlists filled the house with music I loved.
Not a bad way to spend the holiday.
Long after the sun had set and I had plowed through half a Regency romance, there was a knock on my door.
I wasn’t expecting anyone. Didn’t want to see anyone. Any problems of a criminal nature could be taken up with the cops on duty tonight—any other problem, I didn’t want to know about until tomorrow.
I glanced out at the front stoop. Sighed.
I unlocked the door and stood in it, arms crossed over my chest. “What do you want?”
Bathin held up a bottle of wine in one hand and a box of truffles in the other. “Since dinner was out, how about dessert?”
“Dessert?”
“Wine, chocolate. An after-the-meal treat. Dessert.”
“Just you and me?”
He glanced over his shoulder at the empty street, then back at me. “Looks like just you and me.”
I leaned on the doorjamb. “Why?”
He could take that question a million ways, since I had a million “whys” I’d like answered. Why was he here? Why did he want to spend time with me? Why couldn’t he just give Delaney back her soul so we could be done with this?
Why had he made me promise not to hurt myself when trying to get rid of him?
He leaned on the other side of the doorjamb, facing me, the wine and chocolates held low in his hands. “Maybe I don’t want to be alone tonight.”
I frowned.
“Maybe I like your company, Myra Reed. And maybe I’d like to spend some time with you. Just…time. An hour or two of conversation, before we go back to…whatever this thing is that we’re doing.” He pointed at me and at himself, the bottle of wine swaying as he moved.
I waited to see if he was going to push. If he was going to deal and cajole. But he seemed just as content as me to stand there with a doorway of space between us, even though he could be at any other place in this wide world.
And my heart? Oh, my heart was happy he was here, warm and content in a way that would have spooked me if I hadn’t seen it coming. That feeling was a truth I couldn’t ignore.
“Come on in,” I said. “There’s no reason for both of us to be lonely.”
He looked surprised and relieved by my answer, the edges of him softening, as if I’d just seen him shivering and offered to bring him in out of the rain.
“Myra?” he said as he stepped into my house and held out the chocolates for me. “Even though I hate this holiday, happy Valentine’s Day.”
“Happy Valentine’s Day, Bathin,” I said. “I hate it too.”
He chuckled and made himself at home in my kitchen, opening the bottle of wine and pulling glasses from the cupboard. I got comfortable in the living room, tucking my feet up in my favorite big chair, my fuzzy throw blanket over my legs.
It was nice to hear him working in the kitchen, nice to have someone here. He sang along to the song on my playlist: Etta James’s “Sunday Kind of Love.”
I leaned my head back and listened. His voice rolled along with the slow, swaying blues. He had a nice voice, low and easy and true.
I sighed, content. Whatever this was we were doing, this, tonight, felt right.
We were both right where we belonged.
Here.
Together.
And when I opened the chocolates, extra-dark chocolate truffles from Euphoria Chocolate Company, I was not at all surprised that he had brought me my favorite kind.
Acknowledgments
Big thank you to my first reader, Dejsha Knight and to Arran at Editing 720 for such lightning quick turnaround and suggestions for making this novella stronger. Another thank you goes out to Lou Harper whose art has made every Ordinary story extraordinary.
Huge thanks to the Deadline Dames and
my fellow indie and hybrid writers who have offered so much encouragement along the way.
To my family: I love you with all my heart. Thanks for sharing your lives with me. And to my husband Russ, and sons Kameron and Konner—thank you for putting up with my shenanigans. You are the best part of my life and I love you each more than a hundred years of Valentine’s Days.
Lastly, my dear readers: I want to thank you for spending a little time here with all the people and monsters and gods and weirdos in Ordinary, Oregon. I’ve had a great time writing these three Ordinary Magic holiday novellas and also the three Ordinary Magic novels. I hope you’ve had fun reading them.
Will there be more Ordinary? Yes! Look for the next Ordinary Magic novel, which will follow Myra and a certain demon’s story and will include plenty of…well…everyone, to be released by autumn 2018.
About the Author
Devon Monk is a national best selling author of urban fantasy. Her series include: Ordinary Magic, House Immortal, Allie Beckstrom, Broken Magic, and Shame and Terric. She also writes the Age of Steam steampunk series, and the occasional short story which can be found in her collection: A Cup of Normal and in various anthologies.
She has one husband, two sons, and lives in Oregon. When not writing, Devon is drinking too much coffee, watching hockey, and knitting silly things.
Want to read more from Devon?
www.devonmonk.com
Also by Devon Monk
ORDINARY MAGIC
Death and Relaxation
Devils and Details
Gods and Ends
Rock Candy - An Ordinary Magic Story
Paper Stars - An Ordinary Magic Story
SHAME AND TERRIC
Backlash
HOUSE IMMORTAL
House Immortal
Infinity Bell
Crucible Zero
BROKEN MAGIC
Hell Bent
Stone Cold
ALLIE BECKSTROM
Magic to the Bone
Magic in the Blood
Magic in the Shadows
Magic on the Storm
Magic at the Gate
Magic on the Hunt
Magic on the Line
Magic without Mercy
Magic for a Price
AGE OF STEAM
Dead Iron
Tin Swift
Cold Copper
Hang Fire (short story)
SHORT STORIES
A Cup of Normal (collection)
Yarrow, Sturdy and Bright (Once Upon a Curse anthology)
A Small Magic (Once Upon a Kiss anthology)
Devon Monk, [myst] ordinary magic 03.3 - scissor kisses
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