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ladyherenya · 5 years

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Books read in October

Twenty novels (including two audiobooks), three graphic novels, one novella and two rereads: more books than are pictured above. I can’t remember the last time I read so much in a month. Maybe when I was high school?

It was a combination of factors: Rainbow Rowell’s latest books became available at the library, I realised that Meg Cabot’s Heather Wells books are murder mysteries, and I made the very exciting discovery that I could get Ellen Emerson White’s previously-out-of-print novels as ebooks.

Favourite cover: Life Without Friends.

Reread: Bryony and Roses by T. Kingfisher, Hold Me by Courtney Milan (and then The Road Home).

Still reading: Mapping Winter by Marta Randall and When We Were Warriors by Emma Carroll.

Next up: Warrior of the Altaii by Robert Jordan.

(Longer reviews and ratings are on LibraryThing. And also Dreamwidth.)

The Princess Who Flew with Dragons by Stephanie Burgis: Princess Sofia is unimpressed when her sister’s latest plans involve sending Sofia on a diplomatic mission to Villenne. Sofia wants to stay in her room and read, not remind everyone that she struggles to be a perfect princess. But in Villenne she discovers unexpected opportunities to attend lectures and make friends. And when calamity strikes, it’s up to her to save the day. A solid adventure about friendship and what it means to be a princess, a philosopher and a person all at once. It’s the sort of book I’d like to send back in time to my twelve-year-old self.

The “Uncommon Echoes” trilogy by Sharon Shinn: Set in a world where many of the nobility have “echoes” -- identical copies who follow them, more substantial than shadows but not capable of speech or independent action. Or so people believe. Begins with Echo in Onyx.

Echo in Emerald: After a story about an ordinary woman pretending to be an echo, here is a woman pretending her echoes are ordinary people. Chessie has the ability to shift her consciousness between herself and her two echoes, enough to give the impression that they are three different people with different personalities and jobs. Usually she keeps to the lower classes, but one day she’s asked to deliver a message to a noble who is investigating a recent murder.(Another inversion, another case of themes and variations, as the first book is about trying to conceal a murder.)This builds upon the first book, deepening our understanding of the political context and of echoes. Chessie’s experience of identity is fascinating.

Echo in Amethyst: A story about echo who slowly gains sentience and independence from her original is a good idea in theory, a logical progression for this trilogy. But it turned out to be a massive misstep. The echo belongs to a woman who is abusive towards her echoes and rude towards nearly everyone else. The echo spends a long time incapable of being anything other than a passive observer of unpleasant people. I skimmed bits and seriously considered abandoning this. Not recommended -- but the first two books standalone sufficiently that you could read just those without this series feeling naggingly incomplete.

Pumpkinheads by Rainbow Rowell, illustrated by Faith Erin Hicks: Super cute! All through high school Josiah and Deja have worked together at the pumpkin patch every September and October. Tonight is their last shift. Deja is determined that Josiah is finally going to speak to the girl he likes. Nothing goes to plan. This is a story about changes, chances and choices. It’s also a love letter to everything Josiah and Deja love about the pumpkin patch -- which includes their relationship. I really liked the characters, and the artwork does such a wonderful job of bringing them, and this place, to life.

The Spies of Shilling Lane by Jennifer Ryan (narrated by Jayne Entwistle): Unexpectedly entertaining, a cosy mystery full of excitement, danger and character growth, set against the backdrop of the London Blitz. Mrs Braithwaite, divorced and deposed from her position as head of the village Women’s Voluntary Service, tries to find her missing adult daughter. Mrs Braithwaite is a very forceful personality. I really liked that she is not only challenged to reevaluate her attitudes, she discovers that qualities like bossiness and tenacity can be great strengths. Large, loud and assertive middle-aged women are so often been relegated to irritating or comedic minor characters, rather than getting to be protagonists.

An Enchantment of Ravens by Margaret Rogerson: Isobel has spent years painting portraits of the fair folk. She knows to speak courteously, make bargains carefully, and avoid jeopardising her family’s safety. And then she meets the prince of the autumn court. I have mixed feelings. I really liked Isobel, with her practical streak and her passion for painting, and liked the way she describes her experiences. The people she’s closest to are quickly established as interesting, complex and individual. However, this story leans heavily into a portrayal of the fair folk which I don’t find very appealing. A matter of personal taste rather than quality.

Artistic License by Elle Pierson (aka Lucy Parker): I wasn’t sure what to expect from an early self-published novel about an art student and a security guard in New Zealand, especially as the London theatre world is a big part of why Parker’s other books appeal to me. But Queenstown is such a scenic setting and the characters immediately felt like the sort of people Parker writes about. I particularly enjoyed Sophy’s internal dialogue, and how she and Mick become very protective of each other. They’re so mutually caring! In hindsight, this book could have been stronger... but I liked the characters and their interactions. Sometimes that’s enough.

The Printed Letter Bookshop by Katherine Reay: A story about cross-age friendship and forgiveness, about three different women working together in a bookshop. Madeline, a lawyer, has inherited the bookshop from her aunt. Janet is angry and has an ex husband, adult children who rarely speak to her and old friends she wants to avoid. In the middle is Claire, aware of the shop’s precarious finances and trying to juggle work with motherhood. I’d nearly finished this when I realised it’s classified as “Christian fiction”. I really liked how it is about forgiveness and messy, complicated relationships. Not a perfect book, but it surprised me.

The “Heather Wells Mysteries” by Meg Cabot:

Size 12 Is Not Fat: I discovered that this series isn’t just chick lit, it’s murder mystery chick lit about a former pop singer now working as an assistant director for a college dorm. (Talk about misleading covers!) When a student is found dead, Heather is convinced that it wasn’t an accident but murder. At times Heather reminded me of Mia from The Princess Diaries, which I found fascinating and frustrating (some attitudes are more understandable coming from a teenager than from a woman approaching thirty). Anyway, Heather is kind and humorous, I liked the setting, and the mystery had enough twists to satisfy me.

Size 14 Is Not Fat Either: More of the same, except that this time when a student turns up dead, it’s obvious to everyone that she has been murdered. Instead of trying to convince everyone of the need for a murder investigation, Heather is trying -- unsuccessfully -- not to get involved in it. I like how supportive Heather’s friends and colleagues are. Her father has been absent (in jail), her mother and her manager ran off with Heather’s money, and her long term boyfriend was unfaithful, but she’s still got people in her life who care and who are there for her. And I did enjoy some of her song lyrics.

Size Doesn’t Matter (US title: Big Boned): I was relieved that this time round the murder victim is not another female student. Yes, murder is horrible regardless, but there can be something particularly unpleasant if a story keeps only killing young women. I definitely don’t want murder mysteries to be all grim and bleak, but I prefer it when murder mysteries aren’t this light-hearted. This isn’t a criticism, just a realisation about my personal taste. I kept reading to see some resolution in Heather’s love life. (I know, priorities). I’ve no idea the woman on the cover is wearing a wedding dress. Marketing is weird.

Wayward Son by Rainbow Rowell: Simon, Baz and Penelope set off on a roadtrip across America to see Agatha, who Penelope is convinced is in trouble. Rowell is so good making me care about her characters and their relationships. I liked how this is a journey of discovery -- exploring a new country, finding out things about the world they live in and learning more about themselves. I enjoyed reading this but wasn’t so enthusiastic about the final act (it becomes a story about vampires) or the conclusion (busy setting up for a sequel, it leaves emotional arcs unresolved). Expectations and personal preferences, I guess.

Life Without Friends by Ellen Emerson White: I was so excited when I discovered that this had been released as an ebook. A decade of wanting to read something may be an unfair amount of pressure to put on any book, especially on a teen novel from 1987, but I was not disappointed. White is so good at writing smart, acerbic teenage girls dealing with trauma and intense emotions, like guilt and grief. And Beverly’s relationship with Derek is so believably awkward and tentative and hopeful -- two people with their own flaws and fears making the effort to get to know each other. It’s, like, everything I want from teen romance.

To Be Taught, If Fortunate by Becky Chambers: A team from the 22nd century explore four habitable worlds in orbit around a red dwarf star. It’s a fascinating glimpse into what the future might be like -- what space travel and other worlds might be like -- and a thought-provoking meditation about space, science and life. When it comes to the characters, there’s something quite elliptical about it -- which is fitting, given that Ariadne is writing this account for a specific purpose. It left me feeling unsatisfied, but I think that’s because there are particular things I’m looking for and this novella intentionally -- and effectively -- focuses on something else.

The Sinister Mystery of the Mesmerizing Girl by Theodora Goss (narrated by Kate Reading): The Athena Club return to London from one extraordinary adventure and are plunged into another. Their teenaged kitchen maid Alice has been kidnapped, Sherlock Holmes is missing and there is a plot afoot to impersonate the queen. This story has adventure, teamwork, mystery, unexpected twists, more cameos by characters from popular Victorian fiction, and commentary on late Victorian concerns (like empire and eugenics). My favourite part was the Athena Club's interactions when they interrupt the narrative to discuss their lives together, highlight what they think is important or argue about what Catherine included. They’re a team, a household, a family.

All Emergencies, Ring Super by Ellen Emerson White: A teenager asks Dana, a former actress working as a building superintendent, to investigate a building fire. This was curiously lacking in tension --- until things became intensely personal. By the end, I was seriously disappointed that there isn’t a whole series about Dana solving mysteries. I like that Dana investigates by doing research at the library, making use of her acting abilities and enlisting support from friends. Her friendships are one of the highlights -- smart, difficult people who are honest with each other is an interesting dynamic. And the way White writes about the aftermath of trauma is compelling and thoughtful.

The “Echo Company” series by Ellen Emerson White: I read all five books in two days. They’re fast-paced and some aren’t particularly long -- they were published by Scholastic in the early 90s -- but that is only part of why I read them so quickly. They are compelling and unexpectedly fascinating.

Welcome to Vietnam: Eighteen year old Michael Jennings is conscripted to fight in Vietnam -- and I really wanted to see him to find his feet, make friends and survive. I can relate to how much he cares about his dog, and his sense of humour makes him an entertaining character to spend time with, even though he’s been thrown into a terrible, terrifying situation. Even knowing what wars can be like, I was still surprised by conditions the soldiers faced. I was also surprised by how interesting I found it all. It left me thinking about a lot.

Hill 568: Michael has made some friends (and some enemies), he’s grown accustomed to some of the realities of life on the frontlines in Vietnam, and he takes on more responsibility. White’s characters are lively and, in spite of the situations they’re in, often humorous. That humour is a huge part of why this is an engaging story, like an antidote to the horrors of war, but it also serves to emphasise that all those horrible things are happening to a bunch of ordinary young men barely out of school. This book made me laugh, and made me worry about the characters.

‘Tis the Season: Twenty-one year old Lieutenant Rebecca Phillips is a nurse working in the ER of an evacuation hospital in Vietnam. Although already dealing with grief and difficult family relationships and a nightmarish workplace, she’s a bright, upbeat person who goes out of her way to entertain others. Self-appointed “Court Jester”. During the Christmas ceasefire she goes out on a medical helicopter -- and everything goes to hell. There are more medical details than I, a squeamish person, really prefer, but once I got to know Rebecca -- and also once her circumstances became tense and terrifying -- I was very, very invested.

Stand Down: This has some tense moments, but otherwise feels a bit lighter -- a welcome change of pace after everything the characters have been through. Michael spends a lot of time moping over correspondence (or lack thereof) from a nurse he’s met once -- but in context, that’s very understandable. He so desperately needs something positive and hopeful to focus on. I like that Michael’s and Rebecca’s initial interactions aren’t easy, because that feels realistic in the circumstances, and because it’s a positive sign that they’re able to get through awkward conversations; it sets them up to be honest with each other.

The Road Home: I stayed up stupidly late reading this, on a school night too. White is so good at writing about dealing with the aftermath of trauma, and about smart, difficult people making an effort to build relationships -- friendships as well as romances. This follows Rebecca’s final six months serving as a nurse in Vietnam, and the months afterwards. It’s about the things that get her through the war (letters, friendships, alcohol) and the difficulties of adjusting to life back home. I love how this book deals realistically but hopefully with so many things. I have a lot of feelings and favourite passages.

Applied Electromagnetism by Susannah Nix: Two colleagues who travel interstate to do a job with a deadline find themselves under extra pressure due to complications of bad weather. I liked all the references to Olivia and Adam’s nerdy interests, and I thought the discussions of Olivia’s ADHD and her experiences as a woman in STEM were interesting. Otherwise nothing jumped out at me as deserving of criticism or praise, it was all just okay. Less humorous than I expected from something book described as “romantic comedy”, but that was okay. (And maybe someone else would find it funny, humour is such a your-mileage-may-vary thing.)

The Tea Dragon Society by Katie O’Neill: I love the concept of tea dragons and a tea dragon society. And the dragons are really cute! But the way people’s expressions are drawn in this graphic novel didn’t quite appeal to me and I think that coloured how I felt about the book as a whole. And it’s not a very long story, so it doesn’t have so many opportunities to win over a reader who isn’t enamoured with the illustrations. I’m sorry, book, I’m sure there are other readers out there who will appreciate you!

Runaways: That Was Yesterday (volume 3) by Rainbow Rowell and Kris Anka with Matthew Wilson: Follows on from Find Your Way Home and Best Friends Forever and involves the reappearance of someone from the Runaways’ past, the appearance of children of old enemies and Christmas. I read three volumes of the original Runaways comics last year -- and this volume really left me feeling like maybe I’d appreciate it more if I’d read those more recently or else if I’d read more of them. Or maybe it was just that it focused a lot on a character I don’t like as much? But, I still liked it. I definitely would like to read more.

#Herenya reviews books #Sharon Shinn #Rainbow Rowell #Ellen Emerson White #Stephanie Burgis #Margaret Rogerson #Lucy Parker #Katherine Reay #Meg Cabot #Becky Chambers #Theodora Goss #Susannah Nix #Katie O'Neill #Finally posting this

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askullinajar · 7 years

Text

A Merry Little Christmas

Fic info:

This is set in the same universe as The Living Ghost and The Shattered Frame, so go read them or this won’t make sense.

Rating: Teen and up. Pairings: Lucy/Lockwood, Holly/Rani, Quill/OC, others if you squint. Word count: 9720. Ao3 link: here.

The gang all get together for Christmas Eve, 10 years on.

A Merry Little Christmas

“… its thin lips seemed to smile at me as we descended into the dark.”

I closed the book – the final instalment of my account of Lockwood & Co.’s greatest adventure – and was met with loud applause. The first chapter had been received well, it seemed, and I felt my chest fill with warmth and pride, overriding the sickly anxiety that was trying to creep up on me as I stood before the room full of people. Phone cameras flashed as admirers rushed to take my picture. I still marvelled at how far and fast technology had advanced since the Problem had begun to die down.

“Does anybody have any questions before we call it a night?” I announced into the microphone atop the lectern.

Hands immediately shot up.

“Are Marissa and Penelope really the same person?” a girl, who looked to be in her early twenties, asked, excitedly. “Did she reverse her age somehow?”

I smiled knowingly. “You’ll have to read the book to find out.”

She lowered her hand a little disappointedly. I picked on the next person.

“Did you ever find out what the fetch was?” a man asked.

“Ah,” I said. “Unfortunately, not; its Source was destroyed with all the others before we could investigate.”

A woman from the back shouted, “Did you ever let the skull out? Is he still around?”

I glanced back to where Skully was slouched in a chair, fidgeting with a Rubix Cube I’d given him to keep him occupied, though, to my dismay, he seemed almost done. I’d brought him with me because my manager (AKA Holly) had told me I might need a bodyguard, what with my increasing success as an author, and Skully was the most formidable person I knew, even if he didn’t look like much. But no one could know who he really was; we couldn’t have the general public getting ideas about bringing back the dead. I didn’t exactly want another Problem on our hands.

“I still see him from time to time,” I said, vaguely.

A girl of about twelve was sat beside her father in the front row, hopping in her seat and waving her hand in the air excitedly.

I gave her a smile. “Yes?”

“Did you and Lockwood ever get together?”

I flushed. “That’s – uh – not really relev–”

“Aw, look at you!”

Must to my dismay, Skully had finished the puzzle and had grown bored. So, of course, he was back to his favourite activity of annoying me.

“Married for five years and you still can’t think of him without blushing!”

I tried to shove him away from the microphone and failed. Damn his supernatural strength.

“It was a beautiful ceremony,” Skully informed the girl who was practically shaking in her seat with delight. “I gave her away–”

“You also shoved the best man into the cake,” I grumbled.

“–Barnes officiated–”

“George couldn’t return that suit.”

“–the food was wonderful–”

“I didn’t have wedding cake at my own wedding.”

“Oh, when are you going to get over that?”

“When you pay for the damn cake!”

There was a cough from the audience and I realised we were squabbling like school-children in front of two hundred people. I may have cut my hair down to a pixie cut, and Skully may have grown his out a little and added tattoos and piercings and, recently, stubble, but I guess some things never change. Not even after ten years.

I cleared my throat. “Right, well, I think that’s enough questions for one day. I’m sure you all want to get back to your families. Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays everyone!”

There was another round of applause, accompanied by some confused expressions, before the crowd began to gather their belongings and got up to leave.

Skully and I headed out the backdoor to avoid the soon-to-be crowded foyer of the Anthony Lockwood Gallery, past the exhibits of case files and ex-Sources, their glass cases now decked in tinsel and fairy lights.

“Wait in the car for me, I need to pee,” Skully requested.

“Thanks for sharing.”

“Not my fault you waffle on so much,” he said. “I mean, do we really need so much info on how ‘dazzling’ A.J.’s smile is? Or how pretty and perfect Holly is? Side-note: you definitely had a crush on her.”

I flushed. “Did not!”

“Did too!”

“Oh, shut up,” I told him. “Go and do your business, I’ll warm up the car.”

I switched on the heating and the radio once I got back to the car, flicking through the stations absently. Then I gave up and switched it off, leaning my forehead against the steering wheel.

Here, alone in the car with nothing but my own thoughts, I felt all the thick, sickening anxiety I’d bottled up during the event bubbling back up to the surface.

I reminded myself that the people in that room had been living and breathing, though their whispering among themselves as I read had gotten my heart racing, wary of Visitors, even after so many years. The din of their conversation as I’d first entered the room had been reminiscent of the hum of a Spirit Gate. But it didn’t make my head scream in pain. It wasn’t the same. That’s what I kept telling myself.

Outside, children bounced along in front of their parents, gushing about my stories and the place London had once been. They were lucky they never had to experience it. Lucky they were allowed to just be children. They could go to school, join clubs, make friends and visit each other’s houses like normal kids could. They didn’t have to worry that they might never see those friends again. That any day could be their last.

I watched as they flopped down in the snow to make snow-angels, or gleefully tossed snowballs at one another, giggling and squealing. It was beginning to get dark, but no one raced to get home. They didn’t need to; without the Orpheus Society continuously stirring up the Other Side, Visitors had started appearing less and less. They barely showed up at all now. Nothing to worry about. I’d had a hand in that.

I felt my breathing even out.

“Want me to drive?”

Skully had returned and had one arm leaning on the roof of the car as he peered at me through the open passenger door.

I scoffed. “Thanks, but I’d rather not die.”

“I can drive!” Skully protested.

“You drive a motorcycle. You cannot apply the same rules to a car.”

Skully huffed but slipped into the passenger seat. I don’t think he missed me hurriedly wiping my eyes on my sleeve. He was silent for a moment as I started the car, then, “I’m proud of you, you know.”

I glanced across at him. “What?”

“You heard,” he said, turning towards the window to avoid eye contact.

“Yeah, but can I get it in writing or something?”

“Shut up.”

I couldn’t help but smile. He didn’t show affection openly very often, so when he did it was always a special moment for me. I’d let it slide for now, though.

I gave his cheek a prod. “What’s this?”

“What’s what?”

“The beard,” I clarified. “Why are you growing a beard?”

“Oh, you know,” he said, casually, “I figured, if I start now, I can have a Dumbledore-level beard by the time I’m eighty.”

“Couldn’t be bothered to shave?”

“Yep. Though now I’ve said the Dumbledore idea, I’m kinda digging it.”

I rolled my eyes and turned the radio back on, tuning in to some Michael Bublé, coz why not? It was Christmas, after all.

Truthfully, Skully’s new beard looked to me less like an ‘I couldn’t be bothered to shave this morning’ beard and more of an ‘I haven’t had the energy to get out of bed for three days, let alone shave’ beard, going off what my husband was like. I didn’t mention it, as he hated it when I did, but I did make a mental note to check how much of his meds he had left. I didn’t want a repeat of the incident a few years back when he’d forgotten to renew his prescription.

“You’re still staying over tonight, right?” I said.

“Are your sister and her gremlins still there?”

“Mary and her children?” I said. “Yes. And they want to meet you.”

“Wasn’t she at the wedding?”

“You’re thinking of my other sisters,” I told him. “Mary went into labour and couldn’t be there.”

Skully groaned. “Do I have to?”

“Christmas is for family,” I said. “The family you actually like, at least. Unless you’d rather stay in your flat alone?”

“I like my flat,” he protested. “It has a great vantage point for pouring custard on carol singers.”

“We have presents for you.”

He paused. “Okay, I guess I’ll come.”

I nodded. “And is Charlie coming for the party tonight?”

Charlie was Skully’s twenty-four-year-old flatmate, and the human embodiment of a ray of sunshine, if a little lax on the social skills. By all rights, Skully and Charlie should not have gotten along, and I didn’t know the full story of their friendship, though they’d apparently disliked each other when they’d first met in the forensics lab where they worked. Nowadays, though, they were practically inseparable. Something about it being ‘nice to have someone to hang around with when all your gross allosexual friends insist on doing couple things’.

Skully shrugged. “I’ll ask again when we get to my place.”

I pulled the car up outside his block of flats a few minutes later.

“Ah,” he said, patting his pockets as we stepped out onto the curb, “forgot my keys.”

“You are a mess of a person,” I told him, pressing the buzzer for his flat.

“Yeah, they ain’t gonna answer that,” he said. “But, no worries.” He whipped out his phone and shot a quick text to Charlie.

After a good two minutes of standing out in the cold waiting for a reply, he gave up and called them instead. The call ended abruptly as it was apparently rejected on the other end. Then a text came through: Why are you calling me?

“There we go,” said Skully, texting back a quick reply, and a few seconds later, the intercom buzzed to let us in.

Charlie was standing in the doorway when we got upstairs, donned in pastel green dungarees and miss-matched socks, the light from the hallway behind them making their bronze curls glow gold. They narrowed their sky-blue eyes at Skully. “I don’t like phone calls.”

“Made ya look at your phone, though,” he replied.

“Mean,” said Charlie as he slipped past them and down the hall to get ready to go. “Hello, Lucy.”

“Hi, Charlie,” I said, slipping into the flat and shutting the door behind me. The flat was a cluttered mess of overflowing bookshelves and video game boxes littering the floor, but at least there didn’t seem to be any dirty dishes lying around. “Coming to the party tonight?”

“Party,” Charlie repeated, wrinkling their nose.

“A small party,” I clarified. “Just close friends of mine. Mostly people you know.”

They hummed. “My brother’s picking me up at ten.”

“Working late?” I said.

“He’ll be done in the flower shop by now, but then he’s volunteering at the soup kitchen,” Charlie replied.

“Can you get him to pick you up from my house?” I said. “Don’t want to be here alone until then, do you?”

“I can look after myself,” Charlie said as if this was something they had to clarify a lot.

“I didn’t mean–”

“Don’t leave me alone with the couples!” Skully called before coming out of the bathroom, now cleanly shaven. “I’ll let you follow me around the whole time, or just hide in the library.”

Charlie just hummed again.

“And they have pets,” Skully finished.

“’kay, I’ll come,” said Charlie.

“Did you get your things?” I asked Skully. He swore and ran back down the hall.

I gave Charlie the address and they sent a text to their brother, before retrieving an already-packed backpack.

“Got everything?” I asked.

That was probably the wrong thing to say because Charlie immediately plonked down on the floor and began unpacking the bag to make sure.

Skully came back out of his room.

“Remember Anthony wants us all wearing Christmas jumpers?” I said.

He groaned loudly and turned back.

“I don’t have a Christmas jumper,” said Charlie.

“Borrow one of mine,” Skully called from his room. “A.J. keeps buying them for me.”

He came back into the hall, now wearing one of the least garish jumpers Lockwood had given him over the years, one with the words ‘Now I have a machine gun. Ho-ho-ho’ scrawled across it, and tugged a fleecy jumper decorated with robins over Charlie’s head, who squeaked in surprise.

“Soft,” they said, once their arms were through the overly long sleeves.

“Keys?” I asked Skully.

He ran back to his room.

On the floor, Charlie stared at their laptop for a good minute before putting it in their bag, as if trying to convince themself it would still be there even once the bag was closed.

“How do you two ever get anything done?” I remarked.

“Hyperfocus,” said Charlie, simply. I decided not to tell them it had been a rhetorical question.

Skully returned, this time with everything he actually needed. I flicked the lights off on our way out, then Charlie flicked them back on and off again, then again with their other hand, for symmetry, I guess. Skully let them lock the door, and then we were off.

The car journey to Portland Row was mostly filled with Skully and I belting out Mariah Carey and Slade while Charlie happily hummed along and swayed in time to the music in the back, staring out the window at all the beautiful displays of Christmas lights adorning the houses and shops we passed. We weren’t half bad if I do say so myself.

Portland Row was only a ten-minute drive from Skully’s flat, and the front door opened as we stepped out of the car.

“Dog!” Charlie half-shrieked as a golden blur shot down the garden path and nearly knocked me over.

“Calm down, Apollo. I’ve not been gone that long!” I laughed, giving him a scratch behind his floppy ears before he bounded over to Charlie and Skully to beg for tummy rubs.

“Auntie Lucy! Auntie Lucy!”

I looked up as my little niece, Sophie, hurtled towards me in a pretty pink princess dress that was mostly covered in flour.

“What’s gotten you so mucky?” I said.

“We’ve been making gingerbread with mummy and uncle Tony!” she informed me, proudly.

“Ooh! I can’t wait to try it!” I gushed, picking her up and propping her on my hip to walk up to the house, where Lockwood was waiting in the doorway with my two-year-old nephew, Michael, sat on his shoulders, also in a princess dress. He did like to copy his sister a lot.

“Hello, my love,” Lockwood greeted, bending down a little to give me a peck on the lips, then a little further so I could kiss Michael on the forehead. “How’d the reading go?”

“Pretty well,” I replied. “Managed to keep Skully from interrupting for most of it.”

“Most of it?” Lockwood repeated with an amused smile. I rolled my eyes in reply.

“Down,” Michael said, patting Lockwood’s mop of hair. He complied and set him down on the carpet, and he promptly waddled down the hall and into the living room. I set Sophie down, too, so she could go after him.

Mary appeared from the kitchen a moment later, drying off her hands on her apron. “There you are, Luce. Keep an eye on the kids a sec, I wanna get changed before your party guests arrive.”

“Two are already here,” I said, nodding outside to where Charlie currently had their face buried in Apollo’s fur, and Skully was trying to drag them into the house. “Anthony’s uncle and his flatmate.”

Mary hopped over and stood on her tiptoes to peer over my shoulder.

“Oh my god, Luce! You didn’t tell me he was gorgeous!”

“Don’t you dare,” I told her, but she was already rushing upstairs to get changed.

“Remind me to keep her away from the mistletoe,” I muttered to Lockwood, who was snickering behind his hand.

Apollo bounded back into the house a moment later, followed by Skully who was carrying Charlie in front of him, his hands hooked under their elbows.

“Hi, Charlie,” said Lockwood, as Skully set them down and shut the front door. “Haven’t seen you since the Cambridge Cannibal case.”

“A cannibal?!” Sophie exclaimed, peering out of the open living room doorway.

“I still say he was a zombie,” said Charlie, clearly excited about the conversation topic. “He only ate the brains, see? He boiled them up in acetic acid, so they’d stay intact and–”

“Let’s not give the children nightmares,” I interrupted. Not that it was the most disturbing case my friends had worked on.

Since his Talent had faded and the Problem had decreased, Lockwood had gone through a bit of a crisis and had ended up achieving many feats before he finally decided what he wanted to do with the rest of his life. He had opened up a fencing academy, which he had run himself while I had attended art school, before handing over the reins to Quill. Then we had travelled the world together, starting where his parents had left off. That had been fun while it lasted, but, after the incident, we were a little wary to leave London for too long. Maybe we would again, one day.

Now, Lockwood helped out with detective investigations from time to time, partnering up with Detective Inspector Rani Malik-Munro, under the supervision of Chief Constable Barnes, to solve gruesome murders, with the help of their friends in the forensics department.

The oven timer beeped in the kitchen and Lockwood rushed off to get the gingerbread out of the oven.

“Watch the kids,” I told Skully, following after him.

The ‘gingerbread’ that Lockwood set on the counter looked very… flat. And it had a strange smell, which was making me feel kind of queasy.

“So, how much input did you have with these?” I asked, peering over his shoulder at the demonic biscuits. “Just… out of curiosity.”

“I did most of it while Mary was handling the kids,” said Lockwood. “Do they really look that bad?”

Charlie approached and gave them a sniff. “You used salt instead of baking powder.”

“How would you even know that?” said Lockwood. “Besides, they’re basically the same thing, right?”

“And paprika instead of ginger.”

“Right,” I said. “How about we just let the kids decorate them and then never eat them ever?”

Lockwood made a pouty face.

“Aw, don’t sulk,” I said, ruffling his hair. “I’ll make them with you, next time.”

Skully came into the kitchen with a giggling child dangling upside down in each hand and Apollo at his heals. “A.J. ruin the cookies?”

“Jesus Christ, Jim. Put them down,” I scolded.

“Just keeping them out of trouble,” he said, setting them in a heap on the floor. They immediately scrambled to their feet and tried to run off, but Skully shut the kitchen door just in time. “When’s dinner? I’m starving.”

“When everyone’s actually here,” I told him. “I should probably start getting it ready.”

“Did you remember to eat today?” Lockwood asked him.

Skully seemed to think about it for a minute. “I had a can of coke this morning.”

Lockwood pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Hey!” Skully defended. “I’m probably still doing better than Charlie.”

“I had the chocolate from my advent calendar,” said Charlie. “That’s actually food.”

“Damn,” said Skully.

“Who thought it was a good idea for you two to live together?” said Lockwood.

“We just get distracted,” said Charlie.

“By video games?” I guessed.

“The universe’s greatest creation,” said Skully.

I heard the stairs creaking, signalling Mary’s return.

“Now remember,” I said in a hushed voice, so the children wouldn’t be able to overhear. “I haven’t told her about the whole Skully being brought back to life thing, so no one mention it. She’s terrible at keeping secrets.”

“Understood,” said Skully.

Mary entered the kitchen a moment later, looking very pretty with festive-red lipstick and her blonde hair elegantly curled.

“Sorry about running off,” she said. “Didn’t want to introduce myself covered in washing-up water.” She held a hand out to Charlie, who was closer. “I’m Mary!”

“Charlie,” said Charlie. “I don’t like shaking hands.”

“That’s fair enough,” said Mary, lowering her hand. “Do you have preferred pronouns, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Any,” said Charlie.

“I’ll stick with ‘them’, in that case.” Charlie smiled and nodded, and Mary turned to Skully. “And you must be… Jim? James?”

“Skully,” said Skully.

Mary twirled a finger through a golden ringlet. “Why do they call you that?”

“I was dead for a hundred and forty years.”

I elbowed him in the ribs. “Ha-ha! That’s just him trying to be funny!” I said as Mary gave me a confused look. “We call him that coz… uhh…” I looked towards Charlie and Lockwood for help.

“He works in a morgue,” Charlie supplied, which, while it made sense, was a little more morbid than I was hoping for.

“…Right,” said Mary.

“Why don’t you help me get dinner ready?” I said, changing the subject. “I’m sure this lot can handle the kids for a bit.”

“Oh, anything to get away from these little monsters,” Mary said, sticking her tongue out at the children, who giggled and ran off, dragging Lockwood and Skully with them, with Charlie and Apollo following behind.

Mary and I set about preparing a beef Wellington, chatting idly as we did so. It was almost as if we were back home again, preparing dinner with our other siblings while our mother sat watching TV.

“Anyone spending Christmas with mum this year?” I asked, casually.

“Not that I know of,” Mary replied. “Think she finally blew it when she exploded at Sam for coming out. And after all that tripe about wanting a son.”

“Maybe I should tell her I’m bi, just to add the icing on the cake,” I said.

Mary laughed. “Do it. She’d implode, it’d be hilarious. Ever gonna introduce her to these guys, by the way?”

I snorted. “Oh, hell no. Because, and I am not exaggerating when I say this, Skully would literally kill her. And Anthony would probably help.”

“You told them about her?”

“Of course I told them,” I said. “Anthony’s my husband. And Skully… well… he understands about that sort of thing.”

Mary nodded in understanding.

I popped the Wellington in the oven, and was just about to set the oven timer, when the doorbell rang, signalling the arrival of our first guests. I opened the door to find Holly and Rani, both looking stunning with Holly in a pine-green dress and Rani wearing a matching hijab. Rani and her family didn’t celebrate Christmas, but she still tagged along to parties and such with Holly. Mostly for the free food.

Lockwood appeared in the hallway after hearing us happily greet each other. He pouted at Holly. “You’re not wearing a Christmas jumper.”

“I’m not putting on one of those hideous things,” said Holly.

“This isn’t hideous!” Lockwood cried, gesturing to the demonic looking reindeer knitted into his jumper. Holly exchanged a look with me that clearly said ‘how do you put up with him?’

George and Flo were the next to arrive. George had not changed much at all over the years, though he and Skully got on a little better. He now worked at the local university, giving lectures on the science and history behind the Problem and Visitors, and putting his students to good use experimenting on Sources that still retained some psychic charge. He was the type of professor who turned up to lectures late, put memes in his presentations, and replied to carefully thought out, grammatically correct emails from students with ‘k’.

Flo, however, was much cleaner than her days spent as a relic-woman. Her long hair was still an unbrushed mess, and she still sported a lot of dirt beneath her nails, but that was a result of excavating historical artefacts rather than digging through river sludge. There wasn’t much money in being a relic-woman nowadays, anyway. And at least her new job was legal.

Quill showed up next, having come straight from a Fittes reunion party. He informed us that his old teammates were doing quite well for themselves; Bobby was well on his way to getting a PhD, and Kat was teaching kids at a nearby primary school.

Barnes and George’s mum showed up at the same time, quite by coincidence.

“You’re looking rather dashing today, Monty.”

“You’re looking quite lovely yourself, Martha.”

“I’m gonna throw up,” George mumbled, and Holly smacked him lightly on the arm.

We all crowded into the living room. Charlie, a little overwhelmed by all the people, sat themself in a corner beside the Christmas tree, and Apollo draped himself across their lap. Skully sat half in front of them, like a sort of shield, and the rest of us squeezed onto the chairs and sofas. Michael curled up into Mary’s side, having gone all shy in the presence of new people, and Sophie rushed about showing everyone all the drawings she had done that day before she finally settled down and crawled onto Skully’s lap. She had become rather taken with him.

“So, what’s everyone been up to?” Lockwood said, passing around tea and biscuits that he hadn’t made himself. I accepted the tea but declined the biscuits; I was still feeling a little queasy. “I feel like it’s been forever since we’ve all been together.”

“Why don’t you tell everyone about Lucas, Quill,” said Rani, slyly, sipping her tea.

Quill’s face and ears turned bright red, but he shrugged and sipped his tea, idly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Ooh, who’s Lucas?” said Mary, eagerly. She was always one for gossip.

“Nobody,” said Quill.

“Just some super gorgeous guy who goes to all of his classes,” said Holly, grinning mischievously.

“Shut up,” said Quill, avoiding eye contact with all of us.

“Wait,” said Flo, pausing in the middle of piling sugar into her tea. “Dark hair? Tattoos? Looks kinda like he belongs in Asgard?”

“Sounds like him,” said Rani. “From all the very detailed descriptions Quill’s been giving us.”

“Shut up,” Quill said again.

“Do you know him?” George said eagerly, ignoring Quill.

“When I filled in for Quill the other week,” said Flo. “He was very disappointed when he saw me instead of him. No one else seemed to mind much.”

“He was?” said Quill, sitting up and seeming very much interested all of a sudden. “What did he say?”

Flo smirked. “Buy me some of that posh strawberry liquorice and I’ll tell you.”

“You are the worst,” said Quill.

“Just tell the boy how you feel, dear,” Mrs Cubbins advised. “Life’s too short to keep beating around the bush, take it from me. I wish I’d had more time with George’s father.”

“Or,” said Skully, “you could try giving him your dead relatives necklaces until he gets the hint.”

“Hey!” Lockwood protested. “That worked out in the end, didn’t it?”

“It wasn’t exactly the most straight-forward way,” I reasoned. “I mean, the first time, you told me to shut my mouth and then ran off.”

“Smooth move, A.J.,” said Skully.

“I was nervous!” Lockwood cried.

I can’t remember what we talked about after that. Just life, I guess. George kept throwing in puns, and I kept whacking him with cushions. When you’ve known someone for a long time, when you get along really well, it doesn’t matter how long you’ve been apart. We all had different lives to live, and it was hard to see each other sometimes, but it didn’t matter in the end. Because, when you know someone that well, you can pick up exactly where you left off. Conversation and laughter flows. There are no awkward silences, no feeling left out and insecure. You can tell all the terrible jokes you want and know someone will laugh because these are the people who understand you, who love you. I had missed them all more than they could know.

I had brought the hellish gingerbread in after people had started to arrive, so we ended up sitting around the coffee table, helping the children decorate them, though Charlie had wandered off at this point, maybe to find the cat.

Sophie proudly showed me the mess of white, green, and black icing she had made. “It’s the skull from your stories!”

“Wow!” I gushed. “It looks just like him! Is he your favourite?”

Sophie nodded happily.

“A wise choice,” said Skully. “Quite possibly the best character ever written.”

I elbowed him again.

Lockwood had Michael sat on his lap and was helping him decorate a gingerbread dinosaur. He was so kind and patient with him, and I got a strange warm feeling in my chest seeing them like that.

“Can we eat them yet?” said Sophie, once all the cookies were suitably drenched in icing.

“Ooh, I don’t know about that,” said Mary. “They’re so good, don’t you think Father Christmas will want them all for himself?”

“Will he be able to eat them all?” said Sophie, uncertainly.

“He’ll need the energy to fly around the whole world, won’t he?” said Lockwood.

“I guess so,” said Sophie, a little disappointedly.

“Don’t worry,” I said, “we’ll make a gingerbread house tomorrow to eat all for ourselves. How about that?”

Sophie seemed happy enough with that arrangement, which was good, as there was no way in hell I was about to let her eat those death cookies.

Charlie came back a while later while we were all in a heated discussion about High School Musical, aside from Barnes and Mrs Cubbins, who were entertaining the children. Don’t ask me how the conversation had turned to that because I have no idea.

Charlie stood sort of awkwardly to the side while we were arguing.

“That song was totally a euphemism! I mean, he was literally dancing the whole way through it!”

“But wasn’t Chad into Taylor?”

“Old news. He and Ryan literally swapped clothes. There is no heterosexual explanation for that!”

“Guys, shut up,” Skully interrupted, having noticed Charlie. “What’s up?”

“Well, there’s a lot of smoke pouring out of the kitchen.”

I leapt to my feet and ran to retrieve a very black beef Wellington from the oven while the others charged around the house, throwing open doors and windows to let the smoke out.

“I think you forgot to set the oven timer,” said Quill.

“No shit, Sherlock.”

“Is your smoke alarm broken?” said Barnes.

“Uhh,” I said. “I might have thrown that down the stairs at one point.”

Barnes gave me one of his disappointed looks. “You’re lucky the kitchen didn’t catch fire. And you could have said something sooner, Charlie.”

“People sometimes get angry when I interrupt,” they said, flapping their arms at there sides until Apollo bumped his head into their hand and Skully gave their shoulder a squeeze.

“Oh, don’t worry yourself, dear,” said Mrs Cubbins. “No harm done. I could whip something else up?”

“It’s fine mum,” said George. “We can just order pizza or something.”

We were all ravenous by the time the pizza arrived, but something about the smell finally set me off, and I had to rush upstairs to throw up in the toilet. Maybe I was coming down with something.

I headed back downstairs once I’d brushed my teeth and was feeling a little better, and realised Charlie had disappeared again, so I grabbed one of the least-offensive pizzas smell-wise, and headed back upstairs, where I found them sat on the bed in Skully’s (once Jessica’s) old room, with Apollo curled up next to them. They were rhythmically stroking a black cat that sat curled up on their lap, which was purring contentedly.

“You found Artemis, I see,” I said, placing the pizza box on the bedside table and climbing up onto the bed beside Apollo. “She doesn’t usually like strangers.”

“Understandable,” said Charlie, quietly.

“Bit much for you?” I said.

“Just needed a little break,” they said. “It’s loud down there. Apollo keeps trying to lie on me.”

“He’s trained to,” I said, petting the dog’s head. “When he senses someone’s sad or stressed. He’s a good boy, aren’t you Apollo?” His tail wagged happy in the Artemis’s face, and she gave me a cold stare.

“But that’s, like, my permanent state of being,” said Charlie.

I laughed at that. “That’ll be why he’s been following you around all day then.”

Charlie smiled and scratched Apollo’s chin. His leg pumped against the mattress and his tail wagged even more.

“Sorry about dinner,” said Charlie.

“Don’t worry about it,” I said. “It was my fault for not setting the timer… and for chucking the smoke alarm down the stairs. Just, for future reference, the kitchen nearly catching fire is one of the things you’re allowed to interrupt for.”

“Ugh, so many rules,” said Charlie.

“You’ll get used to them one day,” I said.

“Getting there,” said Charlie. “Oh, I should probably say congratulations, shouldn’t I?”

I frowned. “For my new book?”

“No,” said Charlie, looking a little confused now. “That, too, but…” They made an uncertain gesture towards my stomach. “Do you… not know yet?”

I could suddenly hear the blood rushing in my ears. “Know what?”

Charlie clapped their hands over their face, hunched over, and let out a little whine. “Messed up.”

“Know what, Charlie?” I repeated, more urgently.

“I might be wrong!” they blurted, voice sounding a little panicky. “I just sort of… have a sense for those kinds of things.”

“What kind of things?”

They began fidgeting with a loose thread in the bed sheets. “Like, I knew Skully had some connection to Visitors, and I know someone probably died in this room… and I know when people are pregnant. It’ll be a girl, I think. She’ll be a little late.”

I stared at them.

“I might be wrong,” Charlie repeated. “Just… maybe take a test.”

“What’s the likelihood that you’re wrong?” I said.

“Statistically…” they said. “Zero. I never have been.”

I swallowed and leaned back against the bedpost, my mind racing. I’d have to take a test as soon as possible, just to be sure. And if it was positive? I had no idea what I’d do. Would I even make a good mother? My own had been abusive and neglectful, spending Christmas alone this year because her children had finally had enough of her. What if I ended up like that?

But then I thought of Mary. My wonderful sister, who’d had the same upbringing, and yet, was an amazing mum. Granted, she’d once called me sobbing because she’d spanked Sophie for being naughty and thought she was turning into our mother, but she’d learnt from that mistake. She never laid a hand on her kids again, and she always had time for them. Teaching them right from wrong, gushing proudly over their messy drawings, oohing and aahing when they babbled on to her in mostly gibberish.

She made sure to tell her kids she loved them every single day, something our own mother never did.

And she’d done it all on her own, never being one for long-term relationships. I had Anthony, my incredible husband, who was kind and patient with my niece and nephew, and they adored him in return. We’d been through so much together, and no matter what, I knew he’d always stay by my side. If I slipped up, he’d steer me back in the right direction. He’d be a wonderful father.

The bubble of fear that had risen in my chest didn’t disappear, but it was joined by a bubble of excitement, and I let out a breath of air I didn’t know I’d been holding. Everything would turn out okay. It always did.

Charlie was looking at me like I might explode any second, so I turned my head and smiled at them, and they visibly relaxed.

The door opened and Skully slipped in. “Oh! Hiding, too? Think I’ll join.” And he clambered onto the between me and Charlie, poking Apollo out of the way with his foot. The dog didn’t stay away long, though, and clambered up onto Skully’s lap as he slung his arms over mine and Charlie’s shoulders. I leaned into him, gratefully. After the internal crisis I’d just had, I needed a hug.

“Why are you hiding?” I asked him.

“Your sister keeps trying to ambush me with mistletoe.”

I snorted. “I’ll have a word with her later. For some reason, she thinks you’re attractive.”

“Who doesn’t?” he said. “I’m bloody beautiful. Always have been. It’s a fact of life.”

“I wish I had your level of self-confidence,” I said. “But even when you were a mouldy skull in a jar?”

“Especially then,” he affirmed. “Have you seen my bone structure? Don’t deny it, you wanted a piece.”

“That’s disgusting,” I said, shoving away from him. “I am terminating our friendship.”

“Nah, you’d miss me too much,” he said. I chose not to respond to that.

“I’m gonna give Apollo a walk before it gets too late,” I said, causing the dog to leap from the bed and hop excitedly around my legs. “Want anything from the shops?”

“Pudding,” said Charlie.

“You’ve not even had dinner yet,” said Skully, picking up the pizza box and shoving it in Charlie’s face. I rolled my eyes and left them to their bickering.

Thank goodness the Problem was over, or twenty-four-hour stores wouldn’t exist.

I strolled leisurely through the snowy park, grateful to be out in the fresh air away from the stench of the pizza. I was pretty sure it had been the smell of barbecue sauce that had made me nauseous.

I peered at the little cardboard box in my hands as Apollo ran around like a maniac, shovelling his face into the snow, trying to pick up fallen tree branches twice his size, barking at nothing. Two bands for pregnant, one for not. Seemed simple enough. I just had to pee on a little plastic stick, and five minutes later, my whole life could be changed forever. No biggie.

I feared for my friends’ relationships when I got home and heard abuse being shouted from the living room, but, as it turned out, they were just playing Mario Kart. Charlie, Skully, George, and Flo racing while the others watched.

“Did you just drop a banana in my face?!”

“Ooh, careful, Charlie! George just sent a leader bomb.”

“For the last time, Lockwood, it’s called a blue shell!”

“It’s a bomb that targets the leader.”

“It’s a shell that is blue!”

“CHARLIE, YOU LITTLE SHIT!”

That last part had been because Charlie had driven off the side of the road so that the blue shell had targeted second place (AKA Skully) instead. Charlie just smirked as they were placed back on the track and drove smoothly across the finish line in first place.

“Jesus Christ, guys,” I said, alerting them to my presence. “I thought there was a murder going on. Where’s Mary and the kids?”

“She’s giving them a bath before bed,” said Holly.

“Care to join us, Luce?” said Quill. “We’re up next.”

“Maybe in a sec,” I said, letting Apollo off his lead so he could greet the others as if he hadn’t seen them in months. “Need to pee first.”

I had to use the bathroom in my old attic bedroom, seen as Mary and the kids were using the main one.

Five minutes seemed to last for an eternity.

I exited the bathroom and perched on my old bedroom windowsill to wait, where the skull’s jar had once sat. I had never imagined that ten years later he’d been hanging around with everyone downstairs, annoying them all with his comments that, once upon a time, only I had been able to hear.

I looked around the room. Over in that corner, Annie Ward’s ghost had once hovered over her fallen locket that I’d taken from her corpse, and it was where Lockwood and I had fought her off with an iron children’s mobile. I wondered if he still had that.

The bed, that was where Lockwood had left his mother’s necklace for me. The symbol of love and devotion that I still wore around my neck to this day. Now I was waiting to find out if I’d be having his child.

Oh, how times change.

How we’d grown.

The timer on my phone chimed to alert me that five minutes was up. I took a deep breath. I looked at the test.

Two bands.

“We need to put the milk and cookies out for Santa!” Sophie insisted, trying to prolong bedtime as long as possible. “And carrots for the reindeer!”

“Santa doesn’t like milk,” said Skully. “Santa likes beer.”

“I think Santa’s a little more partial to red wine, actually,” said Holly.

I shot them both an unimpressed look. “I don’t think Santa should be drinking and driving.”

“Alcohol’s gross anyway,” said Charlie. “Santa would probably prefer chocolate milk.”

“I’m pretty sure ‘Santa’ is lactose intolerant,” said Skully.

“Only a little,” said Charlie. “And it’s Christmas, so Santa’s allowed.”

“I think we should compromise and give Santa Bailey’s,” said George.

“With an extra drop of whiskey, perhaps,” his mother added.

“Ooh, Santa does like Bailey’s,” said Mary.

Sophie was looking very confused. My friends were all terrible people.

I ignored all of them and poured Santa a glass of coke, which I allowed Sophie to put on the mantelpiece.

“There,” said Mary. “Now bed. Michael’s already asleep coz he’s a good boy.”

“But mummyyy,” Sophie whined, “I wanna see Santa!”

“Santa won’t come if he knows you’re awake,” said Mary.

“Santa eats the children who stay awake,” said Skully. Sophie stared at him in horror.

“NO! No, he doesn’t!” I said.

“No, you’re right,” said Skully, thoughtfully. “I’m thinking of his brother.”

“No one eats children!” I said firmly. “He’s just trying to scare you, Sophie.”

Suddenly, there came the sounded of a loud bang from above. Outside, snow began to fall and the water vapour on the window crystallised into intricate patterns that spread across the glass.

“Uh oh,” said Skully, “looks like he’s here already. You better go to bed before he eats you.”

Sophie squealed and ran out of the room, clambering up the stairs to George’s old room where she and Michael would be sleeping. Mary gave me a confused look before going after her to tuck her in and make sure she wasn’t scarred for life.

I turned to Skully and crossed my arms, unimpressed. “You better not have broken anything.”

“Just knocked over a bookshelf, no biggie,” he said, shrugging.

“In the attic?” I said. “You remember you’re sleeping in there, right?”

He waved his hand dismissively. “I’ll sort it out before bed.”

Barnes and Mrs Cubbins went home shortly afterwards, saying they were too old to stay up as late as us ‘youths’, and the rest of us sat around playing games like scrabble and jenga and charades, like hard-core ‘youths’ do.

We decided that the forfeit for losing anything was to eat one of the cookies, which, aside from nearly breaking my teeth, tasted about as nice as I would imagine a cookie that had been shoved up Satan’s arsehole to taste like. To put it simply, they weren’t the best.

As it turned out, Skully and Charlie had both learned some sign language for the occasions when Charlie became non-verbal due to stress, something none of us knew until after they’d won every single game of charades. Cheats.

After that, we just ended up doing our own things. Mary gossiped away to Quill about people he’d never heard of, and he listened attentively, probably just glad to not be the only extra wheel. George and Flo battled each other on Mario Kart, while Holly and Rani spun each other around by the fire to Christmas tunes, all giggly.

“Care for a dance, Luce?” Lockwood asked me.

“Maybe later,” I told him. Skully had wandered off and had been gone a good half hour now. It always worried me when he did that.

I found him lying on the floor in the library. Thankfully, Charlie was with him, as were Apollo and Artemis. Artemis was lying beneath the Christmas tree, pawing at the ornaments, while Apollo had draped himself over Skully’s chest. Charlie had set up their laptop by Skully’s head, which was playing a Christmas film, and they were sat on his other side, doodling on his arm which rested on their lap.

The tip of the felt pen rose and fell over the single raised scar that marred Skully’s arm, as Charlie drew crude little stars and hearts and skulls in bright green ink.

“Alright down there?” I asked as I took a seat on the floor beside Charlie and watched them draw. It was strangely soothing.

“I don’t get why the Whos hate the Grinch,” said Skully, not taking his eyes off the computer screen. “He’s so relatable.”

“They’re probably just racist,” I replied.

“Probably.”

“Done,” said Charlie, putting the lid back on the felt pen.

Skully raised his arm in front of his face to inspect the doodles. “Disgusting,” he said. “Do the other arm.”

“I want a go,” I said, picking up the pen.

“No, you’ll just draw a penis or something,” Skully protested.

“That’s something you’d do,” I said. “I’m way more mature.”

As I drew, Charlie lay down on their stomach by the tree and waggled some tinsel in front of Artemis for her to try and catch. “Can we get a cat, Skull?”

“We can barely remember to feed ourselves,” said Skully.

“But cats scream at you when they’re hungry,” Charlie reasoned.

“True,” said Skully. “We can check the shelters in January for all the discarded Christmas present kitties.”

“That’s sad,” said Charlie, sounding genuinely very upset for the shelter cats. “Stop being depressing.”

I put the cap back on the pen. “Finished!”

Skully inspected my drawing. “Okay, what is that if not a penis?”

“It’s a work of art,” I said. “All those years of life-drawing at art school have lead me to this moment.”

“I’m starting to think I’m a bad influence on you,” Skully said, trying to wipe off the dick drawing before he gave up and just pulled his sleeves back down. At least he seemed a little more chipper now.

Charlie’s phone chimed. “My brother’s outside,” they informed me.

“Does he not like knocking?” I said.

“I texted him not to in case he woke the children,” Charlie replied, reaching for their laptop to put away.

I stood up and went to let Charlie’s brother in.

The man standing in the doorway was definitely not what I expected, to say the least.

“You’re Charlie’s brother,” I blurted before I could stop myself.

He chuckled and rubbed the back of his head shyly. “Yeah, I guess we don’t look that much alike.”

That was an understatement. Where Charlie was short and slight, their brother was big and bulky. His biceps alone must have been about as thick as Charlie’s waist, and were heavily tattooed. Where Charlie’s eyes were sky blue, his were steely grey. Their hair was short and bronze and curly, his was long and black and tied back in a ponytail, with a beard to match.

He looked… kind of like he belonged in Asgard. And a voice behind me confirmed my suspicions.

“Lucas?”

“Quill?!” Lucas gasped, eyed widening in shock.

I heard the others scrambling in the living room before they appeared in the doorway, very unsubtly spying on the two men, who were now the centre of attention.

Quill looked down at the tacky, pom-pommed Christmas jumper that his grandma had knitted him, then back up to Lucas, a man who looked very much like an impossibly handsome Norse god, and swallowed, his face growing redder by the second. “Uhh… W-what are you doing here?”

“I–”

He was cut short by Charlie entering the hallway from the library, with their backpack slung over their shoulders and Skully at their heels. “Lucas!”

“Hey, kiddo! Long time, no see,” Lucas greeted, his face splitting into a huge grin as he yanked his sibling into a bone-crushing hug that pulled them off their feet.

“Eek! Nonono. This is why I don’t like hugs!” Charlie squealed, wiggling in his grasp until he dropped them, quite unceremoniously, on the floor and ruffled their hair, making the curls stick up at odd angles.

Quill’s eyes darted between Charlie and Lucas, then to Skully, who was leaning against the library doorway, grinning sadistically at Quill. I had a feeling he’d known exactly who Quill’s crush was ever since Rani had first mentioned him.

“I am not a child!” Charlie protested, batting Lucas’s hand away. “I am a grown adult!”

“Uh, no,” said Lucas. “If you’re an adult, that means I’m definitely an adult, and I’m just not ready to accept that reality yet.”

“You’ve been an adult for well over a decade now,” Charlie reminded him.

“Hush,” said Lucas. “Now, wait here while I talk to Quill for a sec.”

Charlie glanced back at Quill, who was standing very awkwardly in the middle of the hall, obviously very aware of everyone’s eyes on him.

“But mum and dad are expecting us by half-past,” they said. “We have to go.”

“You got everything?” said Lucas. That did it; Charlie immediately opened their backpack to check, giving Lucas a chance to slip into the kitchen with Quill.

Rani was eying the closed kitchen doorway, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Mary?” she said. “You still got that mistletoe?”

Mary caught her eye and grinned. “Say no more,” she said, retrieving the little plastic plant from her pocket and handing it to her giraffe of a brother-in-law to hang silently above the doorway.

“Quill is going to murder you,” I said in a hushed voice, trying to fight the smile attempting to make its way onto my lips.

When the kitchen door opened, and Quill saw what was dangling above him, he turned, if possible, even redder than he already had been. Lucas’s cheeks turned a little pink, too.

“Y-you don’t have to!” Quill spluttered. “It’s just my friends being idiots! They–”

He was cut short when Lucas pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. “See ya New Year’s Eve, yeah?”

“Y-yeah,” Quill squeaked, looking like he was about to collapse any second.

Lucas walked down the hallway, picked up Charlies bag with one hand, and slung Charlie themself over his shoulder with the other.

“I wasn’t done!” Charlie protested, thrashing their legs about.

“I am one hundred percent sure you remembered everything,” said Lucas. “Hometime. Mum and dad are expecting us.”

I opened the door for them and Lucas stepped out into the snow and headed towards his car.

“Merry Christmas!” Lockwood called after them.

“Happy Holidays!” Lucas called back.

Skully flipped Charlie off in lieu of a goodbye, as is the way with close friends, and they returned the gesture before Lucas plonked them down onto the roof of his car and made a show of pretending to try and drive off while they were still there.

We watched the car drive away, with Charlie safely in the passenger seat, and as soon as I shut the door, everyone turned to Quill.

“What did he say? What did he say?” Holly squealed, almost hopping up and down with excitement.

“Did he ask you out?” Lockwood asked, grinning from ear to ear.

“Ooh, what’s that in your hand?” Rani crowed.

“Gimme, gimme!” Mary cried, lunging for the piece of paper which Quill quickly yanked away and held above his head. It wasn’t very effective, as Flo came up behind him and swiftly plucked it out of his grip.

“A number,” she said, smirking.

George took the paper as Quill tried to grab it back and pushed his glasses further up his nose to inspect it. “And a time and address,” he said. “Looks like Quill, here, has a date.”

“Shut up, all of you!” Quill seethed, face glowing as red as Rudolph’s nose. “It’s not like it’s a big deal or anything!”

“Of course it’s a big deal!” Holly cried. “Our little Quill’s growing up.”

“I am older than everyone here,” he reminded her.

“And yet, most of them are married, and you’re not,” said Skully.

Quill turned to glare at him. “You could have warned me, arsehole.”

“Hey,” said Skully, holding up his hands in defence. “I’m sure there are many guys your age called Lucas fitting the exact description Flo gave us. How was I supposed to know?”

“You absolute–”

“Hey,” Lockwood interrupted. “No harm done. You got his number!”

“I looked like a complete idiot in front of him,” Quill wailed, gesturing towards his jumper.

“I’m sure he found it endearing,” Holly reasoned.

“Oh, sure, that’s exactly what I wanted,” said Quill. “The guy appears out of nowhere looking like an actual god, but at least I look endearing.”

“So, you gonna call him?” Rani teased.

Quill plucked the paper out of George’s hands and pocketed it. “That’s none of your concern. Oh, by the way, I can’t come to your New Year’s Eve party, Luce. I have a date with a hot guy.”

“Traitor,” I said, but I was grinning at him.

My friends slowly dispersed after that, heading home to their own families before it got too late. Hugs were exchanged, Holly gave us all a kiss on the cheek, Skully even said goodbye to George fairly civilly before going to demolish the rest of the Bailey’s now that Charlie wasn’t there to tame him.

“Want some, Luce?” he asked.

“Nah, I’m good.”

“What’s this?” said Mary. “My sister denying Bailey’s? Are you feeling quite alright?”

I just stuck my tongue out at her.

Mary was in bed by eleven, exhausted from all the socialising and handling the kids. Artemis and Apollo were curled up, fast asleep, on the sofa, and Skully was dropping off not long after; for all his big talk, alcohol only made him sleepy.

“Come on, you mess,” Lockwood told him, slinging Skully’s arm around his shoulders to take him up to bed.

While I waited for him to come back, I fiddled about with the radio, trying to find a good song.

‘Have yourself a merry little Christmas,’

“Oh, I love this song!” Lockwood said upon returning.

I smiled and held out a hand to him. “Come on. I owe you a dance.”

‘Let your heart be light,’

He grinned at me and made a show of a great, sweeping bow, before taking my hand and twirling me around.

‘From now on our troubles will be out of sight,’

I giggled and wound my arms around his shoulders as he tugged me in by my waist. Our noses brushed together as we swayed in a circle, and the lights on the Christmas tree twinkled gently.

‘Have yourself a merry little Christmas,’

On the mantelpiece, the clock struck midnight.

“Happy Christmas, Lucy.”

“Happy Christmas, Anthony.”

‘Make the yuletide gay,’

“How would you feel about having your present now?”

“Depends on what it is.”

“Remember your mobile?” I said. “The one with the smiley giraffe?”

“What about it?”

“We might need to get that out again.”

He frowned at me. “What for?”

‘From now on, our troubles will be miles away,’

His dark eyes glittered as they reflected the lights on the tree. His fringe had fallen into his face when he’d bowed. I raised my hand and brushed it out of the way.

“Anthony,” I said. The right words were difficult to find, so I just went for it. “I’m pregnant.”

He stopped dancing. “You… you’re… what?”

He looked just like a deer caught in headlights. I let out a little breathy laugh. “Pregnant,” I repeated. “You’re gonna be a dad.”

He stared at me, like the words were taking a while to process. “I’m… gonna be a dad.” He laughed, short and breathless, a slight, surprised smile gracing his lips. “I’m gonna be a dad,” he repeated, more certainly. “You’re gonna be a mum.”

He kissed me then. And again and again. On the mouth, forehead, cheeks, nose. He couldn’t seem to stop smiling, and I couldn’t either.

“Oh, don’t start,” I said, wiping a thumb under his damp eyes and sniffling. “You’ll set me off.”

“I can’t help it,” he said. “We’re gonna be amazing, you and me. I love you so much, Lucy.”

“I love you, too, you big goon,” I told him.

We were back to swaying along to the music now, holding each other tight with huge smiles on our faces and teary eyes like two soppy, very in-love idiots.

‘Faithful friends who are dear to us, gather near to us once more,’

I’d tell the others soon, of course. But maybe give it a few weeks. Have something just to ourselves for a little while.

‘Through the years, we all will be together, if the fates allow,’

They’d be so excited. My big happy family. Even Skully, though I knew he’d pretend not to be. Mary would probably blurt it out to the rest of the Carlyles as soon as I told her. I wondered how my mother would react.

‘Hang a shining star upon the highest bow,’

I tucked my head into Lockwood’s shoulder. Now wasn’t the time to start overthinking things. Now was the time to enjoy Christmas with my husband. Our last Christmas together without children of our own. Next year, the Carlyle-Lockwood household would be so much busier.

And I was so excited.

‘And have yourself a merry little Christmas now.’

The Incident

#this is tHE SOPPIEST THING I'VE EVER WRITTEN YOURE WELCOME #its also kinda a mess but im tired so soz #lockwood and co #lockwood & co #locklyle #lucewood #jonathan stroud #fanfic #fanfiction #my fic #validate me in the tags #lemme know what you think of my OCs #this aint the best fic i've ever written but still #k n'night #ily all #merry christmas #unless you don't celebrate christmas #in which case i wish you all the best #rowan writes

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