Two Mates And A Mistletoe

Evelyn pressed her forehead against the cool airplane window, the endless stretch of ocean below doing nothing to calm the churning in her stomach. She could be in her cozy New York apartment right now, buried under a fleece blanket with a plate of warm cookies. Instead, she was trapped in a metal tube, hurtling toward a new life she never asked for. She turned a laser-guided glare toward the woman in the aisle seat. Her mom, Evangeline, sat serenely, a paperback in her perfectly manicured hands. She looked infuriatingly calm. “The more you stare,” her mom said, not looking up from her page, “the more I worry you’ll spontaneously combust and set the entire plane on fire.” “A fiery demise is more fitting for this narrative than an awkward family dinner,” Evelyn muttered, crossing her arms. “Don’t start, Evelyn.” “I never stopped,” Evelyn huffed, the sound a perfect symphony of exasperation for a twenty-two-year-old. “I don’t want to go meet your secret new lover you acquired via Twitter.” Her mom closed her book with a soft thump. “Let’s be frank. What is your real problem? Don’t tell me it’s about leaving New York. You don’t even have friends there.” Evelyn’s mouth fell open. “Ouch. What’s that supposed to mean? I have acquaintances! Digital friends! The barista who knows my order! That’s a bond!” “It means you spend ninety percent of your free time talking either to me or to the television.” Her mom’s expression softened a fraction. “Is this about your father?” “No,” Evelyn deflated, fiddling with her fingers. “I did research. On your new husband’s family. They’re woven into the fabric of that town. There are oil paintings of ancestors with judgmental eyes. They’ve been there for hundreds of years, Mom. Hundreds. What if they take one look at me and see a clumsy American who doesn’t know which fork to use for the salad? What if I embarrass you? What if I ruin this perfect, storybook family you’ve apparently always wanted?” Her mom reached over, her warm hand covering Evelyn’s. “Three months ago, I sat your stepfather down and showed him your most embarrassing i********: photos. The one from your ‘Blue Steel’ phase, the one with the disastrous haircut you gave yourself, the video of you attempting to bake a cake and ending up with flour on the ceiling.” Evelyn’s eyes widened in pure horror. “You what?! That’s a violation of the Geneva Convention! That’s digital child abuse!” “He needed to know who my daughter really is,” her mom said, a tiny smile playing on her lips. “The whole, glorious, chaotic package. I told him, if he can’t handle the masterpiece, he doesn’t get the gallery.” Evelyn stared, torn between mortification and a sudden, warm bubble of affection. “That’s… the most unhinged, terrifying, and actually kind of sweet thing you’ve ever done.” “I have my moments. You’ll love it there.” By the time the plane’s wheels hit the tarmac of the small Scottish airport, Evelyn had almost, almost convinced herself. The air that hit them was a slap of freezing, damp cold. Snowflakes clung to her coat. Her expectations shattered when she saw not a taxi, but a long, obsidian-black limousine. The scene was weird, but it was the chauffeurs that made her grip her mother’s arm. Two huge, muscle-bound men stood stone-faced beside the car, holding placards with their names. Evelyn leaned in, her voice a frantic whisper. “This is it. This is the opening scene of a kidnapping thriller. We’re going to be chained in a dungeon and forced to learn the bagpipes.” Her mom gave her a dry look. “If they were kidnappers, Evelyn, they wouldn’t have bothered to spell our names correctly. It’s a matter of professional pride.” “Maybe it’s a classy kidnapping! Look at them! They’re probably called ‘Bartholomew’ and ‘Alistair’!” “Get in the car, Evelyn,” her mom said, her tone leaving no room for argument. They slid into the limousine’s silent, plush interior. Evelyn immediately pressed her face to the window. “Look at those trees!” she breathed, pointing at a dense, dark forest. “They’re all twisted. They look like they’ve witnessed centuries of murder. Do you think they eat people?” She ran a hand over the interior. “And these curtains! They feel like they’re made from the same fabric as their money. If I accidentally tear one, do you think they’ll immediately cut me out of the will? Like, a butler will just appear and hand me a formal notice of disinheritance?” Her mom let out a soft laugh. “If you so much as break a single button in this car, I’m fairly certain it would cost more than my entire retirement savings.” Evelyn’s eyes lit up with glee. “Ooh, which button? That one?” she said, pointing a threatening finger towards a panel of mysterious controls. “I’d like to push it then. Let’s see what it does. Maybe it will eject the driver. Maybe it releases the hounds.” The driver’s anxious eyes met theirs in the rearview mirror. He looked terrified. The long drive settled Evelyn’s energy into a profound awe. The landscape unfolded into rolling hills dusted with snow, and then, it appeared. The castle. It wasn’t just a big house; it was a monstrous, magnificent slab of history. Built of ancient, weathered stone, it rose from the cliffside as if it had grown there, complete with towers and a hundred dark, glittering windows. Evelyn’s jaw went slack. “Mom,” she whispered. “Are we sure this isn’t a movie set? Did you marry a man or a historical landmark?” “Close your mouth before a snowflake, or a stray bat, gets in,” her mom instructed calmly, though Evelyn noticed her knuckles were white where she gripped her handbag. “You’re not even fazed? Not even a little bit? This place has its own weather system!” “Oh, I’m fazed,” her mom admitted, adjusting her glasses with a slightly trembling hand. “I’m just not drooling like a golden retriever who’s seen a steak.” Evelyn snapped her mouth shut. “Right. No drooling. Got it.” The limousine crunched to a halt before the giant, iron-studded front doors. This was it. Evelyn squared her shoulders, pulling her coat tighter. She could do this. She could be normal. Charming, even. “Okay,” she whispered to herself, a frantic little mantra. “You’ll love this place. You’ll behave. You’ll be normal for once. You will not mention murderous trees or kidnappers. Nothing, and I mean nothing, will go wrong.” The massive doors began to swing inward with a low, groaning creak that was straight out of a horror movie trailer. She barely had time to take a single, determined step forward before a blur of gray and white shot from the darkened doorway. Something heavy and solid slammed into her chest with the force of a furry cannonball. The air was punched from her lungs in a startled oof. The world tilted, and she landed flat on her back in the soft, cold snow, staring up at the slate-gray sky. For a second, she was just stunned, seeing stars. She blinked, the cold seeping through her coat. And then she froze. Standing over her, one massive paw on either side of her shoulders, was a wolf. A huge, magnificent, and terrifying gray wolf. Its fur was thick and wild, its eyes were an intelligent, piercing amber, locked directly on hers. Its breath misted in the frigid air, a soft growl rumbling in its chest, a sound that vibrated right through her. Every rule of normalcy, every ounce of poise and grace, evaporated. Evelyn screamed.