A Touch of Mistletoe (15 page)

"I wonder where the kitchen is." M.C. said. She seemed wholly unimpressed by the house, but An-An couldn't stop staring. "We also need to figure out how to turn the heat on."

"I'll take care of it." An-An finally tore her gaze away from the fireplace and wrestled off her own boots so as not to track snow across the floor before going in search of a thermostat.

It was easy enough to find, thankfully, on the wall of the main living room area. An-An cranked up the heat since it had been a long, cold drive. She could hear M.C. heading from room to room, opening doors and turning on lights. There was a big, flat screen TV over by the fireplace too, she noticed.  Too bad they were working, not renting this place for a proper vacation.

She had just decided to go exploring when M.C. called to her, voice emanating from down the hall to the left. "Can you get the food out of the truck? I found the kitchen."

Following her voice, An-An headed down the hall. The kitchen was of course huge, with marble counters and an old-fashioned wagon wheel suspended by chains over the kitchen island, with a full collection of cast iron pots and pans hanging from it. "Go get the food." M.C. turned back from where she'd been lighting one of the burners in the range. "I want to start dinner, I'm starving."

An-An nodded and went to find her boots so should rescue the food from the truck.

Dinner was macaroni and cheese with broccoli. In M.C.'s defense though, it was very good, homemade macaroni and cheese. The broccoli was good too. An-An had never been a huge fan, but she liked it when M.C. roasted it with garlic and lemon.

"So the case." M.C. shoveled in a forkful of mac and cheese, and turned back to the case file she had spread out across the table. "Evidently last year during the Morgan's holiday family get together, Linda Everett was awoken in the middle of the night and came down to the kitchen for a drink of water. When she looked out the window she saw a body lying in the snow and ran to wake up the rest of the household. When a bunch of the family came out to investigate, they found Richard Morgan, Linda's cousin, dead in the snow. His body had been mauled and mostly eaten. He was still in his pajamas, hadn't put on shoes or coat. No one saw him leave the house. Newly divorced, his ex-wife was not at the gathering. The police were called, but they ruled it accidental, figured a bear or other large animal got him. But then this year—"

"The same thing happened again." An-An said reaching for her glass of water.

"Yes." M.C. skimmed over a few sheets of paper. "Charlie Morgan, age twenty-nine, found in boxers, also mauled to death, mostly eviscerated and partly eaten. Same day, same time, same place as Richard, only one year later. This time, though, the police on the scene brought a psychic who was able to identify it was a supernatural occurrence. That's when the Morgans contacted Simon and Davidson."

"And every other exorcists and spell craft practitioner in the entire firm said 'hell no, I'm not taking this case; it's Christmas Eve.' But not you." An-An finished, and M.C. raised her eyebrows.

"You're here too."

"I'm here because you’re here," An-An said, "and as much as I adore my family, given the choice between spending time with you in front of a roaring fire in a swanky hunting lodge and having to spend time swapping Christmas cookies with my grandmother's born again friends, I choose you."

"I'm touched by your sacrifice." M.C. rolled her eyes and An-An stuck out her tongue.

"Don't think you'll get out of spending time with my family. If I'm missing Christmas, I absolutely cannot miss the Lunar New Year; I like that better anyway. No fundamentalist Christians and my mom makes dumplings. But really, my mom is dying to meet you—both of my parents are."

M.C. looked away, fidgeting with her fork. They'd talked about this, in detail. Both agreed they were ready for M.C. to meet An-An's family, had even prepared themselves for that meeting to happen over Christmas. Still, An-An knew M.C.'s relationship with her own family was strained, to put it mildly. M.C. was understandably nervous, even though An-An had assured her that despite her grandparents' religion, her family was very accepting and open minded.

Maybe it was better that they were going to wait a little longer before crossing that bridge. An-An watched M.C. push her food around her plate, then asked, "So what are going to do about the case?"

"Well the most likely candidate for what we're dealing with is a demon." M.C. said. She stopped pushing her food around and started eating it again. "Not a particularly powerful demon but vicious nonetheless. Something like a hell hound or demon wolf."

"A Christmas demon wolf?" An-An raised her eyebrows and M.C. shrugged.

"We tend to think of this time of year in terms of the holidays, but it has also long been associated with several kind of winter demons. The deep winter represents barrenness and death because the darkness lasts longer and demons therefore are at their most powerful."

An-An pushed back her empty plate. "Do you think this demon wolf will show up tonight?"

"1:00 a.m., but we should be careful in case these records are wrong and it shows up earlier." M.C. finished off her own food and began to carry the dishes to the sink. "We'll see, and if it doesn't do anything tonight, I'll try and summon it. Either way, this should be an easy exorcism. Which reminds me…" She dug into the grocery bags they'd brought the food in and came up holding a sprig of greenery and a safety pin. "Come here."

An-An stood from the table and crossed the kitchen to M.C. She was wearing a plaid button-up shirt, so M.C. pinned the sprig just above her breast pocket.

"Mistletoe?" An-An raised both eyebrows. "Trying to tell me something?"

"It's for protection." M.C. scowled, her cheeks going pink. "I want to attract the demon, but I don't want it anywhere near you. If it's a winter demon, it'll avoid this stuff."

"Here I thought you just wanted a kiss." M.C. sputtered and An-An bent to kiss her gently on the lips. Her hands came down to tangle their fingers together. M.C. sighed contentedly into An-An's mouth, and kissed her back. 

"So do you think it would be horribly rude and unprofessional if we fucked on one of those leather couches in the living room?" An-An asked when they parted.

M.C. stared up at her like she'd grown a second head. "Yes. I do think it would be terribly rude and unprofessional."

"Pity." An-An grinned before turning to the sink and turning on the hot water. "I've been dying to know what you’d look like naked, bent over the back of one since we got here."

She glanced back at M.C. who pinched the bridge of her nose. M.C. shook her head, but her cheeks were still very pink. "Next time I get time off, I'll look into what hotels have leather couches, if that will make you happy."

An-An flicked soapy water at her.

"I was told we could use one of the guest rooms upstairs," M.C. said, "but we should get the sleeping bags out of the truck just in case."

"I'm going to go upstairs once I'm done here and chalk a protective circle around the bed, just in case the thing tries to attack us while we're sleeping."

"Good idea." M.C. turned back to the case file still spread across the table and collected the papers back into the file folder. "This thing can come into the house and snatch people from their beds. Either that or it lures them out somehow. So better safe than sorry."

"That's what I figure, and I'd really rather not get disemboweled while you're trying to figure out how to exorcise it."

"I'd probably be able to save you." M.C. was fiddling with her phone again.

"
Probably
," An-An muttered. She dried her hands off and headed toward the living room again, where a staircase led up to the second floor of the house.

"Room at the end of the hall," M.C. yelled up the stairs in the kitchen so An-An headed down the hall. "Last door on the left."

The room was large, with wood paneling and a queen-sized bed made out of rough-hewn logs that was probably supposed to look rustic.  It was also even heavier than it looked. But several tries later she finally managed to drag it over to one side. She dug a piece of chalk out of her jeans pocket. The main part of the protection spell would go down on the floor right under the bed with the perimeter chalked in a circle around the edge of the bed. It was a common spell and not hard to prepare, so it only took An-An a few minutes to chalk the middle and then drag the bed back into place and finish it off.

"I'm ready for you," She bellowed, sticking her head into the hall. After a moment she heard M.C. come up the stairs.

M.C. knelt by the chalked circle and began murmuring in Latin. The chalk seemed to glow, as power radiated from M.C. in a wave An-An couldn't see but certainly felt, like standing in a cloud of static electricity. After a moment or two, M.C.'s voice died away and the light that had hovered over the symbols drawn on the floor faded. M.C. stood, dusting off her hands and then turned to An-An with a small smile. "Want to go try out the fireplace?"  

"Hell yes!" An-An headed down the hall and towards the stairs, tugging M.C. along behind her. 

Back in the living room she knelt on the stones that encircled the hearth and pulled the chain curtain back to fuss with the kindling in the grate. M.C. settled on one of the leather couches, legs tucked under her and an e-reader cradled in her lap.

"An-An?"

"Yeah?" An-An turned from the hearth to look at M.C. who was frowning deeply, chewing a little on her bottom lip.

"This may not be the best time…" M.C. started, but then sighed and looked down at her hands.

She was silent for so long An-An stomach began to knot. They weren't breaking up, were they? Please, she prayed silently, don't let us break up—especially right before Christmas. Had she pushed too hard? M.C. liked her space, the months they'd been together had taught An-An that much. Was it too soon for M.C. to spend Christmas or New Years with her family? An-An had always considered herself family oriented but M.C. wasn't and maybe it was all too much, too soon. Or maybe something else, stress, work—

Her internal panic was cut short when M.C. started speaking again. "I've been thinking about my transition, and I know we've never really talked about—" M.C. stopped again, voice quavering off into silence. Her hands were shaking too, An-An saw. "You know I'm trans." M.C.'s voice had a pleading edge to it now.

An-An hesitated for a moment, wondering if M.C. had chosen to have this conversation with some space between them because she needed the distance. On the other hand, An-An couldn't do this with M.C. half a room away.

She stood and came to sit next to M.C. on the couch. "I know." She took M.C.'s hands in hers and relaxed slightly when M.C. let her, even slid a bit closer to her on the couch

M.C. took a breath, "I'm happy where I am, but…" She trailed off again, then blurted out, "It's just not working any more. It's not like I'm unhappy or that I need to come out at work, but at home with you… You've been wonderful, and I'm happy with our relationship, but this has always been there, always nagging at the back of my mind, and I would like to make some changes."

The last part came out so rushed, it took An-An a moment to sort through it and figure out what M.C. was trying to say. Finally, though, she nodded. "Okay."

M.C. blinked up at her. "Okay?"

"Yeah," An-An smiled, squeezing M.C.'s small hands in hers. "It's your body, your gender, whatever is going to make you feel the most comfortable, the most you, I'm down with it." She sucked in a sharp breath when M.C.'s eyes filled with tears.

"I'm okay, I'm okay." Pulling her hands free, M.C. wiped at her eyes. "It's just—" Her voice quavered again and An-An reached out, pulling her into a hug.

M.C. clung to An-An, shaking all over as An-An held her and made soothing sounds into the soft fuzz of M.C.'s buzzed hair.

"All right." An-An said when M.C. pulled back still snuffling a little. "What would you like to change?"

Wiping her eyes with the back of her hand M.C. hesitated for another long moment. "Could you use 'they' and 'them' when talking about me? And… I don't know, I want to feel more masculine, I guess; I want to live into that more." M.C. rung their hands together, shoulders hunched and An-An reached out, putting her arms around them again.

"Anything I can do to make you more comfortable, I'll do." She meant it. She'd never dated anyone trans before but she loved M.C., couldn't bear the thought that she might hurt them or make them feel like they needed to be less themselves for her. "Just tell me." She pulled back enough to look down at M.C. "If I mess up, and I know I will, tell me, talk to me. If you want to transition medically, anything you need, we can talk." She cradled M.C.'s face in her hands. "I never want to hold you back like that, you know. I never want you to be afraid to talk to me about this stuff, or think I'll get angry or upset with you for not being something you're not. If that makes any sense."

"I would like to start packing more around the house," M.C. said, tone still tentative like maybe that wouldn't be allowed. "And binding."

 An-An wanted to kill whoever had instilled so much fear in them. She rested her forehead against M.C.'s, enjoying the closeness, that they breathed the same air.

"I like it when you call me 'boy'." M.C.'s voice was so small, An-An almost missed the words. Their hands came up to press against An-An's shoulders, not holding, just touching. "During sex or anytime really."

An-An let her breath out in a long shaky sigh, feeling herself start to choke up too. "I'll keep that in mind."  She pulled M.C. until they were in An-An's lap, head resting against An-An's chest. They stayed curled together in silence for several minutes. An-An kept her face pressed against the top of M.C.'s head, feeling ridiculously protective and unwilling to let go.

"Oh God, I shouldn't have brought this up. I meant to wait." M.C. sniffled a little against An-An's chest. "I just couldn't sit on it anymore and… it just all came out."

"It's okay." An-An stroked their hair. "It's all right. I am glad you told me." Her gaze went to the abandoned hearth. The last thing An-An wanted to do was let M.C. go, but it would be nice to have a warm fire to cuddle in front of.  "Why don't I finish starting the fire, okay?"