Paper Stars Read online

  He laughed. “It’s okay. Not everyone gets into the season like Jean gets into well, everything.”

  “Right?” I said feeling vindicated. “It’s been Jingle Bells 24/7 since before Thanksgiving. Before Thanksgiving, Ryder.”

  “Totally rude of her.”

  “You know what I want for Christmas?” I asked. “Ear plugs. And therapy.”

  “Maybe if you’re a good girl, Santa will bring you both. Or you could just ask him. Are you sure Santa isn’t…around?”

  “Santa doesn’t live in Ordinary, Ryder,” I told him for the hundredth time. “I’m sure we are not the North Pole.”

  “It’s Mr. Kristofferson, isn’t it?”

  His guesses were getting better, and by better I meant total bull’s-eye. Man had good instincts. But I wasn’t going to let him off that easily.

  “If Santa lived here, don’t you think I’d tell you?”

  Bathin tsked at my lie.

  “I think you’d wait until Mr. Kristofferson saw me doing something naughty so he wouldn’t bring me any presents.”

  “You’ve put a lot of thought into this, haven’t you?”

  “I’ve had time to do a lot of thinking lately.”

  “Oh?”

  “About a lot of things.”

  “Naughty things?”

  “Always.”

  This was not the time or place for dirty talk. There was a family of six plowing through a full turkey dinner just one booth down, and everyone else in the diner had to be over ninety years old.

  Still, I tucked my head toward the window, cupped my phone, and pressed my face close to it trying to keep this on the down-low.

  “Tell me,” I breathed.

  “Did you just put on a ski mask?”

  “No.” I moved my hand. “What naughty things are you thinking?”

  An old man one table over grinned at me. He did that two-finger point-at-eye thing then point-at-me thing.

  I raised one eyebrow like I didn’t know what he was insinuating.

  He made a circle with his pointer finger and thumb then thrust his other index finger into the hole several times.

  Nope. No. I was not going to sit here and watch some old guy make dirty sex signals at me.

  “Like I bet you haven’t even gotten a Christmas tree yet,” Ryder rumbled. “Or decorated it. Or put up any Christmas lights. Shame, shame, Delaney.”

  This was naughty talk? A Christmas tree?

  “Lights are up and twinkling, Mr. Judgy McJudgerson.” I had put them up yesterday. Just a single string across the mantle above the fireplace. But still. That counted.

  “And the tree?”

  “Chopped, dropped, and propped in the living room. Covered in bows, bulbs, and balls.” That, was a complete lie.

  “Well.” He sounded impressed. “I stand corrected.”

  “Yes, you do. I have Christmas spirit oozing from the top of my nog to the bottom of my mistletoes.”

  “Tree and everything,” he said with a chuckle again. I liked the sound of it. “You know one of my favorite Christmas memories?”

  “No.”

  “When I was a kid, I would lie under the Christmas tree and stare up at the lights in the boughs.”

  “Okay?”

  The old guy shifted at his table so he was in my line of vision again. He jabbed his finger in and out of his ear.

  I did not want to know what kind of sex move he thought that was.

  “This year, I’m going to make a new memory,” Ryder said. “I’m going to lie you down under that tree, Delaney Reed.”

  The old man made even faster finger-in-ear motions. He looked alarmed.

  “And then I’m going to do to you, what I do with all the gifts I’ve been waiting too long for.”

  I didn’t make a sound, my heart pounding too hard to do anything but listen to his words.

  “I’m going to unwrap you slowly…”

  “Officer Reed!” the old guy shouted. “Turn off the button.”

  He shoved his finger through the “ok” sign he was making. I suddenly realized what all those dirty signals really meant.

  “…and when I have you there, shivering and bare beneath me…”

  “Speaker!” The old guy thrust his finger frantically in and out of his ear.

  “…I’m going to put my mouth…”

  “Wait!” I yelped and dropped the phone like it was made of bees. It clattered across the table and landed on the floor.

  Every person in the diner looked at me.

  Inexplicably, the one person who hadn’t heard my outburst—Ryder—was still talking. But by whatever luck was left to me, the speaker had clicked off while I was fumbling with the phone.

  There was a pause, just a second or two.

  Bathin was shaking with laughter. All eyes were on me, waiting to see how I was going to play this. I opened my mouth, closed it.

  Yeah, I had nothing. I waved, though it kind of looked like frantic jazz hands.

  Bathin bent in half to try to catch his breath.

  Jerk.

  The old guy nodded. “All right then. Let’s all get back to our nice quiet meals, folks.” He buckled down to his mashed potatoes and stuffing.

  That seemed to be the signal everyone was waiting for. They all turned back to their own meals too.

  Someone turned up the Christmas music. Extra loud.

  Bathin wiped the tears running down his stupid handsome demon face, but kept right on shaking with silent laughter.

  I hoped he silently asphyxiated.

  “Delaney?” Ryder asked from somewhere by my feet. I retrieved my phone.

  “Sorry. That’s, uh, great. Interesting stuff. We’ll have to follow up on it later. In private.”

  “What just happened?”

  I turned down the volume for good measure.

  “Nothing. Technical difficulties. It’s fine. All fine. Real fine. Just come home safe.” I said that with all my heart in my voice.

  “I will, baby,” he said just as thickly. “I promise. We’re going to break in that tree.”

  He ended the call. I stared at my phone. That was…well, that was slightly embarrassing, but also made me feel a lot better. The call had been more than I’d expected.

  A warm flush washed over my cheeks.

  Ryder Bailey was lonely and headed home. To me. Even though there was a storm in the way.

  I liked the sound of that.

  A little boy at the table of six was singing Jingle Bells and rhyming it with “my sister smells.”

  His sister punched him in the arm. He just laughed until ketchup dribbled down the side of his mouth.

  “Jingle Bells suck,” she shouted.

  Yes, yes they do, kid.

  But maybe not everything about Christmas sucked. Maybe Christmas and romance could go hand-in-hand like magic and life. Like twinkle lights and evergreen trees.

  I stood and grabbed my jacket from the back of my chair.

  “‘Away to the window, she flew like a flash,’” Bathin quoted, leaving most of the apple pie on the table. He had a habit of following me around now that he was in possession of my soul.

  I didn’t like it, but I wasn’t going to let it slow me down.

  “Where are you going?” he asked.

  “To find a Christmas tree.”

  Chapter Three

  The Safeway parking lot was the last place in town still selling Christmas trees. Once I got there, I found out why.

  “Delaney my darling. So good to see you!”

  I crossed my arms and glared at the man who was standing between the discount trees.

  He was my height, darker skinned, brilliant-eyed, and his smile could light a coal mine. His spiky black hair was hidden beneath a hat knit with little Christmas trees and a deer armed with a gun, stalking a hunter.

  It had been a while since I’d seen my not-uncle, Crow, who was at the moment also the trickster god, Raven.

  “Raven,” I said.

&
nbsp; “Now, now,” he chided. “It hasn’t been that long. You can still call me Crow. Give Uncle Crow-Crow a hug, Del-Del.” He held his arms wide open and made come here motions with his hands.

  I sighed. What I should do is tell him to get out of Ordinary. Recently, he’d cheated with both holding and not holding his power, which broke the rules of Ordinary.

  That had gotten him kicked out of town for a year.

  His little rule breaking trick had also set into motion the events that resulted in Ryder pledging himself to the god of contracts, which I kind of hated.

  But he was my not-uncle, had known me my entire life, had been a friend of my father’s. I missed him.

  So I walked over and gave him a hug. He smelled of pitch and warm pine needles and the spicy scent that was all him.

  “You can’t be here,” I mumbled against his sweater. “You’re a god and have to stay a god until a year has gone by. No putting down your power and vacationing. It’s only been a few months since you left.”

  “Which is why I’m still a god. Raven. Trickster. Busy, busy time of year for a trickster god. So many New Year’s resolutions to encourage. So many new leaves to not turn over. I just dropped by to see if you liked my gift.”

  “Gift?”

  “That’s not something you see every day,” Bathin said from behind me.

  Crow stilled and I could feel his power moving through him, surrounding him, surrounding me. It was familiar. Protective.

  But I didn’t need protecting from the demon. The demon was old news. I stepped back.

  “No fighting,” I told them both.

  “Wouldn’t dream of it,” Crow said. “You know I’m a lover not a fighter.”

  That was true of the Crow on vacation without his god power. But Raven the god? Yeah, there were stories written about just how vicious a fighter he could be.

  “Black Feather,” Bathin said. “It’s been some time.”

  “Not long enough, Black Heart,” Crow replied. “How did you manage to slime up onto this shore?”

  “I was invited.”

  Crow looked at me. Really looked.

  I braced myself for a scolding. I knew he could see that Bathin had stolen my soul. I knew he wouldn’t like it.

  Surprisingly, he just winked.

  “Negotiation is not the same as invitation, Black Heart,” Crow said. “You of all people should know that. Have you gotten my gift, Pumpkin?” he asked me.

  “No?”

  “Pink, cute as a baby pig. Looks like a baby pig? It’s a baby pig.”

  “The dragon?” I asked. “You sent me a dragon?”

  “Dragon?” Bathin sounded truly startled. Enough that both Crow and I turned to look at him.

  “Yes, demon,” Crow said with so much smug-and-swagger, I rolled my eyes. “Delaney now has a pet dragon. Your move.”

  Bathin opened his mouth. Closed it. Scowled at Crow. Scowled at me.

  Then he stuck his hands in the pockets of his slacks feigning indifference. “I don’t see how a dragon makes any difference in anything.”

  “Don’t you?” Crow was grinning now, and it was a lot more god-Raven than Uncle-Crow.

  It made me happy he was on my side. Usually.

  “A dragon is of no concern to me.”

  “Of course it’s not,” Crow agreed. “It would only be a concern to you if you were trying to hide. You’re not trying to hide from anyone or anything are you, Prince?”

  Bathin went hard, all stone and blackness shot by silver light. His demon nature shone through the illusion he presented the world, and burned, burned, burned. He was angry.

  He might even be afraid.

  Of Crow? Or of the thing he was hiding from?

  “No,” Bathin said, the word ground out between teeth locked tight. “There is nothing I hide from.”

  “Isn’t that wonderful?” Crow said. “Delaney, isn’t that wonderful? Bathin here has nothing to fear. Not even your dragon.”

  “Do either of you want to tell me what you’re really talking about?” I asked.

  “No,” they both said at the same time. Typical. The one thing a god and demon could agree upon was keeping me in the dark.

  “Fine. Then move aside so I can buy a Christmas tree.”

  Bathin stepped back toward my Jeep, but Crow just grinned. “What kind of tree are you looking for today?”

  “You aren’t selling these.”

  “Actually, I am. Oh, and unrelated: you might hear about a tarantula infestation, but we both know that would be impossible. These trees were grown in the Northwest.”

  “Spiders? You sold people trees full of spiders?”

  He glanced at the sky. “Maybe?”

  “Maybe?”

  “It might have been scorpions. Scorpions are much more available round these parts.”

  I slugged him in the arm. “Tell me you didn’t sell trees infested with anything.”

  “Or what? You’ll throw me out of town? No, wait. You already did that.”

  “Or I’ll return my gift.”

  “Dragons are non-returnable.”

  “Nope. I am serious. I will find a way to kick the dragon out of town. You know I can.”

  He chuckled. “Fine. The worst anyone will find in the trees are some dead needles. Cross my heart.” He swished his finger over his chest.

  “That’s your stomach.”

  “Or is it?” He waggled his eyes at me and I shook my head.

  “Sell me a tree, Crow.”

  “Call me Uncle Crow and I’ll make you a deal.”

  “Sell me a discount, uninfested tree, Uncle Crow.”

  “Now you’re talking. Let me show you to my noblest of firs.”

  He wrapped his arm over my shoulder and I walked with him through a forest of dried out lopsided trees, and just for a few minutes, everything felt magical and good.

  Chapter Four

  “You’re sure it’s a dragon?” Myra sorted the box of ornaments on the coffee table making sure each one had a good hook attached. “Crow is a trickster.”

  They were brand new red, gold, silver, green, and blue bulbs. They came with hooks. I didn’t know why she was double-checking them.

  “Pretty sure, yes.” I stepped back from the six-foot tree that Myra and I had wrestled into the house a couple hours ago. It was not a prime example of its species.

  It had missing branches down one side. Clumps of brown needles ringed the bottom third of the thing and shed at the slightest touch, like a porcupine had had an unfortunate run-in with a bottle of Nair.

  The whole tree leaned precariously to the left. I’d tried to counter-weight it by adding an extra string of lights on the right, but that made the tree’s deficiencies stand out, like a neon sign with too many blown letters.

  “Think that’s enough lights?”

  Myra glanced up. Her black-lined eyes, page-boy bob, and bright lipstick gave her that sweet-but-tough rockabilly look. “If you put any more lights on that poor tree you’re going to blow a fuse.”

  “The house has breakers, not fuses.”

  At least I thought it did. Ryder and his dad had pretty much built this house on the lake just east of the main road that ran through town. Since Ryder was an architect, I didn’t think he’d live in a house that was still using fuses.

  “And the tree isn’t poor. It’s…well, I’m not going to lie, it’s way past its sell date. Maybe I’ll just add one more string.”

  “Step away from the twinkle lights, crazy woman,” Myra said without looking at me.

  “It’s perfect. A couple dozen ornaments, some tinsel, and he’ll never know you installed it all at the last minute.”

  I lifted my hair off the back of my neck, thought about binding it back in a ponytail, then decided it didn’t matter. “Okay, ornament me.” I held out my hand like a TV show doctor demanding a scalpel.

  “You put a star on top,” Myra noted.

  A shiny red five-pointed star crowned the tree. I shrugged.<
br />
  “I didn’t think you liked stars on trees,” she said.

  “Seemed like the right thing to do. A tradition.”

  “Why did you even get a tree, Delaney?”

  Myra walked over with the ornaments and nursed a fragile glass orb into my hand. “You haven’t gotten a tree for years.”

  “It always seemed like a lot of work.” I placed the first bulb. I smiled. The glass orb glittered so prettily, it made me happy.

  Then it hit me. This would be the first Christmas I’d ever spent with Ryder. This was the first ornament I’d ever hung on our tree.

  Our tree. A warm hum thrilled beneath my skin. I had the sudden urge to put on a Santa hat. To make hot cocoa and stir it with a candy cane.

  It was almost like I was starting to catch the Christmas spirit.

  I blamed Jean.

  “Delaney?”

  “What?”

  “Why the Christmas cactus?”

  “You mean the tree?”

  “That’s not much of a tree.”

  “Mean.” I turned toward the tree. “Don’t listen to her. You’re beautiful.”

  “Ugly-cute at best.”

  “Just because you and Jean always pick such perfect trees doesn’t mean this one should go to waste. At least it doesn’t have tarantulas.”

  Myra frowned. “Crow?”

  “Crow.”

  “And he’s not in Ordinary any more?”

  “He said he had just stopped in to see me. He left town as soon as he sold me the tree.”

  She shook her head and handed me another ornament. “So why now? Why do you want a tree this year?”

  I didn’t say anything as I hung three more bulbs. That was a good question. I had a good answer, but I wasn’t sure I was ready to share it.

  “It’s Ryder,” she supplied. “You’re doing this because of him, aren’t you?”

  I could argue, but she’d know I was lying. I nodded.

  “He told me that when he was little, he loved the lights on the Christmas tree. That it’s one of his favorite parts of the holidays. I didn’t want him to come home to a dark living room. And even if it’s only for a couple days, we—he—should have a tree. That’s not too ridiculous, is it?”

  “No. That’s…” Her voice went soft. “That’s sweet. That’s good. That’s…love.”