2. Mortem

“ M orticia, what the fuck is this?” I ask, and I push the glitter off my pants.

“It’s the information for the holiday event with the cupids, obviously,” she says with a roll of her eyes as she turns on the espresso machine.

“I don’t remember RSVPing for anything.”

“Obviously. I did it for you.”

I rub the bridge of my nose in frustration. Morticia has been my assistant for centuries, and in all that time, she’d been nothing short of infuriatingly meddlesome. To make matters worse, she’d stopped fearing me after barely a year of working together.

I’d fire her, but no one would be as good as she is at her job.

“And why in the fuck did you RSVP on my behalf for an event in Cupidale?”

She places the demitasse in front of me, and grabs a scone, setting it next to the hot drink.

“You’ve been insufferable since the Love in the Veil mixer. I figured a bit of pink or holiday passion might help you out of this…” She looks me up and down, clearly unimpressed. “Funk,” she says with distaste.

“I’m not in a funk.”

“No?” she says sarcastically, settling into a seat across from me. She crosses her legs, her long, dark nails tapping against the chair.

“No. I’m just as I always am.”

“Mortem, you’ve been desperately pathetic and depressed. As delightful as those feelings are, I don’t think I can work under these conditions.”

I narrow my eyes at her, taking a slow sip of my espresso before placing the cup down with a sharp clink against the saucer.

“What are you saying?”

“Go to the holiday party or I quit.”

“You can’t quit,” I reply sharply.

“Perhaps not in the mortal sense. But I could allow any reaper with a grievance through your office door. I could stop doing my daily tasks and leave them to you. I could leave all correspondence with the interim Head Cupid for you to deal with,” she says in a monotone voice.

“Why do you care so much?” I ask.

She shrugs her shoulders.

“And if I go?”

“Business as usual,” she says easily, with no emotion written on her face.

“No more interfering in my life if I go to the party.”

“Done.”

“You won’t bring up my personal life again.”

“Done.”

I narrow my eyes further at her.

“When is it?”

“Tomorrow,” she says with a grin, rising from her chair as her heels echo against the tile.

When she leaves, I look back down at the invitation. There’s no doubt that Candy will be there—and she very well may not be thrilled at the idea of seeing me. What is the term the mortals use? Ghosting? It’s exactly what I did, and I’m ashamed of that, but the way I felt around her was unfamiliar and wholly terrifying.

Krampus is likely busy terrifying children in the night. The chances of him being there are low, at least I hope.

Will Candy look at me with irritation and disgust? Has she already found someone else? Or has she been reliving that night over and over like I have in the past six months?

Of course she hasn’t. Someone so sweet, caring, and soft surely has found someone else during these long months.

I was a scared fool, afraid of how good it felt to smile, how good it felt to have her in my arms. Perhaps, deep down, I saved us both. Someone so bright shouldn’t be with someone with such a dark soul.

Then there’s the thought that she’s with Krampus. That she chose him, that he didn’t run away in fear. She deserves more than that beastly sadist at her side. Surely she saw past his beauty to see him for what he truly is.

Broken, just like me.

In a way, kissing Krampus was like kissing myself. A reflection of the darkness lingering within me. I had no choice but to leave it in the past and come back to Purgatory to do what I do best.

I keep reapers in line. I keep the mortal realms running as we usher souls to their final resting place. Shouldering this darkness is mine and mine alone. There’s no world where Krampus and I don’t consume those around us.

Especially not someone as precious as Candy.

I’ll go to the party, meet Morticia’s demands, and then everything will go back to normal. I’ll stay in the darkness where I belong and Candy will stay in the sunshine that is Cupidale.

It will be fine. What’s the worst that could happen?