Chapter 9

Vlad

O ver the next four days, Gertrude and I fall into a rhythm: one day at her shop, one at City Hall, and so on. Gertrude works hard and even helps me with my duties as mayor as we gear up for Halloween and the Halloween Welcoming Ball. In between duties, however, she scours spellbooks and curse indexes, trying to figure out how to free us from our predicament. So far, no dice, but she hasn't given up.

As for me, I can't stop thinking about that kiss. I don't know what mischievous inclination led the house to force us to kiss, but now I can't get it out of my head. While I'm supposed to be in meetings, while helping Gertrude at her shop, while approving decorations and Human Realm visas, all I'm really thinking about is kissing Gertrude Nightshade and how I can do it again.

On the day of the Halloween Welcoming Ball, we arrive at my office in City Hall only to be cornered by my secretary.

"Alright, Mr. Mayor, you need to tell me what's up," demands Bridget. "Why are you and Ms. Nightshade ‘shadowing' each other? I need the real reason. May I remind you that you're up for reelection next year? People are starting to talk. If you're too distracted right before the biggest day of the year, your constituents may lose their confidence in your dedication."

Gertrude and I exchange a look. I don't want to put her into a vulnerable position by telling the truth, but Gertrude gives me a small nod, giving me the go-ahead.

"Look, Bridget, I need you to listen to this calmly . . ."

"I'm always calm," snaps my secretary.

"Yes, but what I'm going to tell you may be the slightest bit distressing," I warn.

"Just tell me, Mr. Mayor. I can't fix it if you don't tell me."

I work to keep myself from smirking at her words. Trust Bridget to be absolutely confident that she can fix anything I throw at her. But I know that she wouldn't appreciate my amusement, so I keep it to myself.

"Well . . . it would seem that Ms. Nightshade and I have come to be under a fairly benign hex."

"A HEX!" shrieks Bridget. Both Gertrude and I wince at the banshee's shrill scream.

"Bridget, you said you would be calm," I chide.

"That's before you said that there was a hex involved!" exclaims my banshee secretary. "Who did this? Was it one of your political rivals? I know you've been butting heads with Old Nick lately . . ."

"It wasn't Old Nick," Gertrude interjects. "It was me. A spell of mine went haywire and somehow bound me and the mayor together. There's a string that connects us that only we can see. No one else has noticed it, but it makes it so that we can't go farther than six feet apart."

Bridget fixes Gertrude with a withering stare. "A spell of yours went awry? We should go after your shop's license! We . . ."

"We will do no such thing," I declare firmly. "It was a mistake, is all. We're handling it. Ms. Nightshade is figuring out how to break the curse. Until then, we are making it work."

" Making it work? You've missed two full days of meetings! Right before Halloween, I might add. The Ball is tonight and . . ."

"Bridget," I say sternly. "Stop." I can see Gertrude wilting under Bridget's words and I'll be damned before I let that happen. "It's fine. Halloween will come like it does every year, even if the celebration is a teensy bit smaller than it has been in the past. Most of those meetings I missed weren't that important and you know it. Stop laying it on so thick. It's not helping"

My secretary takes a deep breath like she wants to explode, her usually blue glow going a touch purple with her anger, but then she sighs, all the fight going out of her. "You're right, sir," she says. "Sorry. Let's focus on how to break this hex, shall we?"

"I've been searching all my family's spellbooks for the past four days and can't find anything about invisible strings binding people together," Gertrude tells her.

"Let me see if I can see it when I enter the metaphysical realm," Bridget says, before going completely translucent, only her blue glow remaining in the room.

"Hmm . . ." Bridget says, her voice eerily echoing. "It's faint, but I can see a red glow between the two of you."

"You can?" I ask, surprised.

"It doesn't look like a string to me, just a glowing line between the two of you. It reminds me . . ."

"Remind you of what?" Getrude asks.

"There's an old Chinese myth about the red string of fate that ties together two people destined to meet. It's supposed to be invisible, but it means that you're meant to meet your one true love. The myth doesn't say anything about the string literally tying you together though, or not being able to go apart."

One true love . Bridget's words fill me with hope. Is that what this string is? Does that mean . . . Gertrude is really my soul mate? I turn to look at her, but her face is turned away from me, her pointed hat blocking my view of her face.

"In the myth," Gertrude asks, her voice sounding unaffected, unlike me, "Is there anything about how to dispel the string?"

"There's no way to ‘dispel' fate," Bridget responds derisively, coming back into view. "If this means that you're supposed to get together, I'd stop fighting it and give it what it wants. Just kiss or something, already."

Gertrude goes stiff at my secretary's words and instantly I think of a few days ago when the house made us kiss. It didn't dispel the string when we did. Does that mean that we aren't actually soul mates or did we just do it wrong?

"That's enough, Bridget," I say. "I need to talk to Gertrude. Please hold my meetings and let us have some time alone."

My secretary just shrugs and exits the office, carefully shutting the door behind her.

Then I'm alone with Gertrude. Tentatively, I put a hand on her shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Gertrude. Bridget means well, she's just very blunt."

Gertrude turns toward me for the first time since Bridget came into the room, her face in a deep green flush.

"Do you think that she's right?" the witch asks hesitantly. "That this string means that we're supposed to be together?"

She looks up at me from under her eyelashes, obviously shy and a little uncomfortable. My stomach is in knots looking at her. Is it time? Should I confess? I can't tell if Gertrude would be happy about it or not. Just days ago she called us friends and I don't want to screw that up. But . . . if we are supposed to be together and we are soul mates and we miss our shot at happiness because I'm being a coward, I would never forgive myself.

"Come with me to the Ball," I blurt out.

"What?" she asks, obviously not following me.

"Come to the Ball with me. Tonight." I clarify needlessly. Great Vlad, what other Ball is there? You sound like an idiot.

"I have to," Gertrude says, holding up her left wrist. "Remember? Unless we can break this curse before then."

"No," I say. "Come with me as my date. Not just because we're tied together, but because we want to see what we really are to each other. Because I want to stop pretending that all I want is to be your friend, when what I want is so much more."

"Really?" Gertrude smiles at me, something like hope in her eyes. Dear gods, I am an idiot. Have I been keeping my feelings to myself this whole time for no damn reason?

"Let me show you," I growl, stepping toward her, "how much more I want."

Her breath hitches, her head craning back. Her verdant lips beckon me and I'm about to finally, finally kiss her the way she deserves to be kissed, when there's a knock at the office door. That breaks the spell and Gertrude jumps away from me, putting distance between us.

"What?" I bite out, my usually charming mayor persona nowhere to be seen. I was so close to happiness I could almost taste it. Whoever is interrupting me now is going permanently on my shit list.

The door to my office swings open, revealing a beleaguered-looking Bridget and one of my least favorite people in Holiday Village: Old Nick.

"Vlad, my boy," the jolly white-haired Christmas elf chuckles, "you missed our meeting yesterday and your secretary kept putting me off. It was almost like you were avoiding me, but I said to myself, there's no way that my good friend Vlad would do a thing like that, would he?"

Pasting on my polite politician's smile, I reply, "Of course not, Nick. Things have just been busy. It's my holiday week, after all."

"Oh, yes, Halloween. Such a quaint little holiday. Such fun. It's no Christmas, mind you, but a good holiday nonetheless."

My smile strains for a moment, but I keep it up, even if I want to snap at the pompous old windbag. I hear that he wasn't so bad when he was younger, before he took the Santa Claus mantle, but now the position and popularity of Christmas has gone straight to his head.

Before I can craft a suitably diplomatic reply to his condescending garbage, Old Nick turns from me and catches sight of Gertrude. "Gretchen! Dear girl, how are you? How's the candy business?"

"Dad, that's Gertrude," comes a voice from behind Old Nick. A tall red-haired elf walks into view around his dad. It's his son and protege, Young Nick. Or Junior, as Old Nick calls him.

"Hm?" Old Nick says, squinting at Gertrude. "Are you sure, Junior? She looks like Gretchen to me."

"I get that a lot, sir," Gertrude says gamely, reaching out a hand to shake his. "We're identical twins, a lot of people mix us up."

"I can always tell you apart," Young Nick and I say at the same time. We give each other assessing looks after, sizing each other up. I haven't interacted a lot with Young Nick before, but I get the feeling that Gretchen is as important to him as Gertrude is to me. Is it in the same way, I wonder or just friendship?

"Well, sure," Gertrude replies lightly, not noticing Young Nick and I staring each other down. "Our friends can tell us apart, but those that don't know us well get confused. Don't worry about it, Santa."

"Well," Old Nick says, taking Gertrude's outstretched hand and giving it a hardy shake, "aren't you a polite young witch?"

Pulling back on Gertrude's shoulder lightly to extricate her from the elf, I ask, "Well, Nick, what did you want to meet about?"

"Well, I wanted to speak to you, mayor to mayor. Should we adjourn without others present?"

The last person in Holiday Village I want to know about the hex is Old Nick. He's as gossipy as an old washerwoman. The story would be through all the neighborhoods before the day is out if we took him into our confidence.

"Gertrude can stay," I state firmly. "She's shadowing me as part of a leadership outreach program. We can count on her discretion."

"Oh?" Old Nick queries. "An outreach program? Why haven't I heard of this?"

"It's something the Halloween Neighborhood is trying out," I lie easily. "If it works well, I was going to take it to the City Council and suggest it to the other neighborhoods."

"Well, if you're going to keep your shadow," Old Nick replies, "I'll keep mine. Junior? Want to stay for the meeting?"

"Sure, dad," Young Nick agrees, slightly wincing at the nickname.

"Mr. Mayor?" interjects Bridget. "You have a meeting with the fire marshal in five minutes about the lighting for the Ball tonight."

"Well, we'll have to be fast then," chuckles Old Nick.

Damn. I'm not going to have time alone with Gertrude then until tonight. My stomach flips in nervous anticipation. Gertrude as my date to the Ball. It's like a dream come true.

I just have to get through a day of local government bureaucracy before then. Hopefully I can make it.