Under the Mistletoe (Yule Tied 10)

Under the Mistletoe (Yule Tied)
Saloni Quinby
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2016 Saloni Quinby

Leland had just finished his second check of the castle when someone -- or something -- thumped on the front door.

Raising an eyebrow, he muttered, "Usually they don't knock. Maybe they're getting dumber. That would be nice."

He strode along the long stone corridor and down the flight of stairs leading to the foyer. Family portraits, dating further back than Leland cared to think about, hung on the walls. The painted eyes had always seemed to watch him in judgment. Even after so many years of Leland protecting this place, tonight was no different. The portraits stared, as if waiting for him to fail. There was Great Grandfather William with hair the color of red chili peppers. According to the history books, he'd had a temper to match. Cousin Aileen with her pale face and Great Uncle Douglas with his bushy gray muttonchops gazed at him with their Mona Lisa eyes and permanent sneers.

"I'm not going down tonight, so to hell with you all," he said.

The doorknocker echoed through the foyer and he waited, in no hurry to meet what was on the other side. Maybe it would go away. It couldn't get in. The place was secure. No matter what howled, screamed or rampaged outside, that door and all others would remain shut tonight. He'd have enough to deal with inside. He'd learned that was the only way to survive Christmas Eve. Anything that happened outside was merely a distraction.

"In that case, what am I doing down here?"

He shook his head while walking out of the foyer and into the spacious living room. Still compelled by curiosity, he peered out the window and was surprised to see what appeared to be a hiker turning away from the front door.

"What the hell? What kind of moron wanders these moors in winter on -- shit!"

Black vines sprang through the cracks in the snow-dusted cobblestones. They wrapped around the hiker's boots and he crashed. More vines wound around him, pinning him down. If Leland didn't do something, this guy would be dead in moments -- drained to a brittle shell by the hellish vines.

He hurried to the foyer, but paused before unlocking the door.

He looked like a hiker, but Leland had been in this game too long to be fooled by such an obvious trick. He gazed through the peephole and saw the hiker still struggling against the vines. Somehow he'd made it to his knees.

"It's a fake."

But if it wasn't a ploy, then a human would die. The idea of ignoring an attack on a normal person was an affront to the nature of a warrior witch and damn it, even if he was technically no longer the castle's guardian, he would be a warrior witch until the day he died.

"Which might be today," he said, unlocking the door. He flung it open and stepped outside.

Pulling his dirk from the sheath at his waist, Leland closed the door behind him and ran to help the hiker, who had shockingly broken many of the vines. Most humans wouldn't have that kind of strength.

Leland slashed the remaining vines with his dirk. They retreated back into the earth and he stood, facing the hiker on the snowy walk.

At six feet tall, Leland wasn't short, but this man stood at least five inches taller. His blond hair was damp from the rain and glittering with ice crystals. Blue eyes -- calm even after such an attack by the vines -- stared from beneath heavy brows. He was easily the most ruggedly handsome man Leland had ever seen, and in the highlands of Scotland there was no shortage of those.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Leland demanded, his voice almost a growl. Handsome didn't make much difference, considering the man was intruding in his ancestral home on the most dangerous night of the year.

"I might ask you the same question," the stranger replied in a deep voice as calm as those discerning eyes.

"This is my family's home, so I'm not the one who needs to answer questions."

"If that's so, then, dude, you're in a lot of trouble because this place reeks of evil magic."

More warning signals popped into Leland's head and he asked, "What do you know about evil magic?"

"More than I ever wanted to and if you're still here and alive, I think you do, too."

"I should kick your ass out of here. Do you have any idea what you've done?"

"Any ass kicking should probably wait." The hiker motioned toward bony hands clawing their way through the cobblestones.

"Shit," Leland said. He stomped on the nearest hand before running for the door.

The hiker followed and Leland decided not to stop him. Despite the guy's size, Leland had no doubt that he could destroy the man if things turned bad once they were inside the castle. He'd fought bigger and uglier than this guy -- a hell of a lot uglier considering he looked like a weathered Viking god. Under different circumstances, Leland wouldn't mind bumping into him. Of course he'd probably turn out to be evil and Leland would have to kill him. Or he wasn't evil and just a normal guy who would probably get them both killed.

Yet how would a "normal" guy recognize evil magic?

There were too many questions, but Leland had long ago learned that on Christmas Eve, anything was possible.