The morning of the twelfth, Ann went out first thing to purchase pastries. This would not overtax the kitchen, the dishes, or Mordecai, all of which needed to be ready to cook dinner for a large gathering. It was dark and smeary like a watercolour, not just because she needed glasses. A light rain was washing the snow into the gutters, in defiance of her festive spirit. She kicked a little clot of ice back towards the street with her bright red boot, for all the good it would do.

We simply must keep the snow. Sanaam will be home soon, and we’re not even done with Yule yet.

The lights in the front room were blazing in fragmented colours from the repurposed glass windows, as if Hyacinth’s house might be a church — one with a very strange god who liked puzzle pieces, trash and mud. The bottle lights lining the porch and the roof insisted as stubbornly as Ann that it was still Yule on the inside, with warmth and family. And presents.

“Warmth” and “family” and “presents” as adjudged on a very lenient grading curve, but quite enough for everyone involved. It was a tolerance born of affection and necessity in equal parts.

Erik and Maggie, Calliope and Lucy, were already on the floor and investigating their newspaper-wrapped presents, but they had waited for Ann to dish any of them out.

“I’m here! It’s the tea lady!” Ann said, waving. Her dark red hair had coiled up like springs in the humidity and her smudged lipstick framed a wide smile. She set her shopping basket down on a nearby chair (they had purchased some extra chairs) and took out a pink cardboard box. “Doughnuts, muffins, ronds, assorteds…”

Mordecai peeked out of the kitchen with his jacket off and his sleeves rolled up, “Coffee’s ready.”

The household divided itself by who valued caffeine over substance and vice versa, but eventually everyone ended up around the tree with their hands full of what they wanted.

“This is completely stupid, we have plenty of chairs,” Hyacinth said. She nodded towards the dining room, where most of them had been set up around the kitchen table.

“This is where the presents are,” Maggie said.

“Uh-huh,” Erik managed.

“Oh, I suppose we might as well have some of those,” Hyacinth said, mouth full. She took another bite of rond. “While we’re at it.”

Given the two children, the infant and the Calliope, there was carnage — polite carnage — and some attrition — Hyacinth’s coffee mug spilled and a muffin got trodden on — but it went very well altogether. Ann had to leave halfway through so that Milo could partake in some limited gift-giving, and Barnaby came down to make demands of the coffee pot and the pink cardboard box — “While I’m young, Alice, thank you!” He departed clutching wrapped parcels and holding a doughnut in his mouth.

Surrounded by strewn newspapers, ribbon and twine, Erik and Maggie and Calliope and Lucy were still under the tree. Lucy was in Calliope’s lap and showing intermittent interest in a variety of tiny outfits and toys, which her mother kept parading in front of her and admiring. Erik was clutching a stuffed bear with a missing eye that had been replaced with a tin button, care of Hyacinth, and avidly leafing through a small book. Occasionally, he’d laugh.

Maggie also had a book, but she seemed a lot less impressed with it. Mordecai had inscribed the title page with This is how you start a revolution! for her, but she still didn’t get it.

Milo had a glitter-encrusted paper flower stuck to his shirt pocket and was admiring it with anxiety-laden tears in his eyes. It had already shed sparkles all over his white shirt and the suspenders. It was silver. She did him a silver one and she did Ann a red one, because of the colours. So he could wear it. She noticed.

I love this. I love this. I love this and I will treasure it and keep it forever and I can never, never, never-ever wear it out of the house because I look like an MC at a seedy club with a mirror ball and everyone will stare at me and throw things and I will die. I will curl up and die. I don’t know what I’m going to do with this shirt. I need another shirt. But I love this…

Mordecai was wearing three ties at the moment, one of which had been hand-painted with flowers (which he had also vowed never to wear out of the house) and idly considering adding one of Ann’s tiaras to the ensemble. There were three of those too.

He thought the one he and Hyacinth chosen from a store looked the most… approachable? But Calliope and the kids had put a lot more work into theirs. The paper one with the crayon-scribble gems on it probably wouldn’t last very long, but the papier-mâché one Calliope did with the gold-painted snakes was solid enough to survive a minor explosion and dramatic enough for some kind of opera wardrobe.

He picked that one, and sauntered over to Maggie to see how she was making out with the book, “Have you cracked the code yet, Miss D’Iver?”

Maggie burst out laughing and fell back against the tree. Erik looked up and grinned. Calliope snickered, “I always pictured Medusa as taller…”

“It’s just a load of old recipes, Uncle Mordecai,” Maggie said, smiling. “It’s pretty funny,” she allowed.

“It is absolutely serious,” Mordecai said. “You’re not reading closely enough. Flip to the section on hunting and firearms and read off the headings, that’s the most obvious.”

“‘How to Kill a Deer,’” Maggie replied obediently. “‘Simple Traps.’ ‘Camouflage.’ ‘High Hides.’ ‘Ballistics.’ ‘Improvised Weapons.’ ‘How to Kill an Urban Deer’… Urban deer?”

“Go on.”

“‘Barricades!’” Maggie cried. “‘Evading the Police!’”

The General abandoned her gifts, all of which were pointless, and approached. “What did you say that book was?”

“Recipes for Better Living,” Mordecai replied with a smile.

“‘How to Kill a Suspicious Deer’!” Maggie said. “…‘How to Saw Off a Shotgun’!”

“Is it an original?” said the General.

“It would have to be, General D’Iver,” said Mordecai. “They stopped printing the damn things for being subversive, didn’t they?”

“That is a piece of history, Magnificent,” the General said. “Take care of it.”

“I’m a piece of history,” Mordecai replied. “That’s just a dusty old book with stuff I don’t need to know anymore.” He grinned at Maggie. “But I thought you might get a kick out of it.”

“‘Improvised Explosive Devices!’” Maggie shrieked, as if she’d just discovered a live pony in a box of breakfast cereal.

“Do be sure to cross-reference that with the section on how to safely store your chemical fertilizers,” Mordecai said. He shrugged weakly in the General’s direction. “Not that we had a chance to use half of that stuff in there…”

“Not that my daughter will either,” the General said.

“Ten-year-olds have excellent impulse control, don’t they, General D’Iver?” Mordecai said. He sketched a bow and edged off in Hyacinth’s direction. “Hyacinth, please tell me that bear was like that when you found it and you didn’t…”

Hyacinth tipped back her head and cried out, “It’s not fair!” She was still clutching the hideous toy monkey that breathed fire and played “Send in the Clowns,” and she hugged it desperately with both arms.

Mordecai staggered a step back and put up both his hands.

“I love him!” Hyacinth said thickly. She sobbed and dabbed under her eyes and nose with her sleeve as she spoke, “He’s perfect! And… And he’s all metal and gears…” She tipped over the monkey and showed the key in the back. “And I’m gonna take him apart and I’m gonna use him and then I won’t have him anymore!”

Milo cringed and nearly dropped his paper flower. Oh, gods, Barnaby, why would you tell me to do such a horrible thing?

…Why would I trust Barnaby to not tell me to do such a horrible thing?

“You took Lord Sheldon Shelbury apart,” Mordecai said.

“I hated Lord Sheldon Shelbury’s smug metal face!” Hyacinth spat. She held up the monkey and stroked it fondly. “I love Mister Hellmouth, Version Two! …Milo, if you try to take my toy monkey away from me I will blow off your head like a suspicious deer.”

Milo, who had focused on the offending object, backed quickly away and hid in the basement doorway.

“Cin, couldn’t you just… leave him alone?” Calliope said. It was possible she meant Milo and not the monkey.

Either way, Hyacinth pouted and collapsed in one of the big chairs, hugging the toy. “Yeah! Like that’s gonna happen!”

Mordecai had retrieved a box of tissues from the kitchen. He also left Ann’s snake tiara in there, things were surreal enough as it was. “Oh, Hyacinth. I know how it is, but if I try to sort you out I’ll get the suspicious deer treatment too. Just take the tissues and get through the crying part.”

“Shut up!” said Hyacinth. She took the tissues.

“Yes, very much,” said Mordecai. Calliope had wandered over and she deposited Lucy with him. “Please be careful, she bites,” he warned.

Calliope did not appear to take that under advisement and hugged Hyacinth. Hyacinth shoved at her then hugged her back, sobbing. The toy monkey fell out of her lap and Mordecai picked it up for her and considered it.

Yes, we like our real friends much better than our fake monkey, don’t we?

He set Mister Whatever-His-Name-Was on the end table for later when Hyacinth remembered it. Milo crept over cautiously and tried once again to remove the obviously-evil monkey. Mordecai lifted a finger and scolded him, “Milo, we don’t take things away from Hyacinth. Reality does that quite enough already.”

Milo took a shocked step backwards. He nodded once firmly, then he turned to go upstairs and change into someone who knew how to hug right.

◈◈◈

Hyacinth having a breakdown sort of sucked all the energy out of the room, if not the affection. Calliope put Lucy down for a nap, Mordecai made more coffee and things quieted down. Maggie was engrossed in her book again, but not appearing too gleeful about the explosives.

Erik had also gone back to his book, a pocket journal with unlined pages, which Mordecai had filled out only partially and very carefully in ink. The cover was black, with googly eyes and pointy paper teeth glued to it, probably with Calliope’s artistic advice. When you opened it up, the first page said, A Pocket Book of Known Monsters (with room for more) by Mordecai Eidel and Erik Weitz, Monster Hunters.

Erik hadn’t done any of his part yet. Mordecai had penned about two dozen descriptions, leaving a blank page next to each for an illustration. There were lots more blank pages for when they figured out more monsters.

Erik flipped to a particular page and showed his uncle with a grave expression:

The “Flashback.” This monster sneaks up. It has soft feet like a kitten but very strong arms that grab and hold. It is very persuasive. It says something bad that happened before is going to happen again, right now. It can’t be killed. All you can do is hang on and wait for it to let go.

“Maybe,” Mordecai said softly. “But definitely this one.” He turned to a different page:

The “Insecurity.” This monster is wide and thin like a fog, so it can slip into cracks. It likes when you try to ignore it and hide. It must be shouted down. It is best to fight it as a team. Hugs and warm blankets are weapons. Sweet food and hot drinks should be served after the battle.

Hyacinth currently had a cheese rond jammed in her mouth, and a cup of coffee waiting on the end table next to her. Her yellow hair was sticking out at the sides of her head like straw, the very image of dishevelment. She was holding the monkey again.

Erik nodded.

“You guys, I’m gonna grab a nap with Lucy,” Calliope said. “That okay? Then I can help out when everyone gets here…”

“Mmph!” said Hyacinth. She waved a hand.

Mordecai stood. “Oh, Calliope, we’re not done giving you gifts yet. Hang on.” He ducked into Room 102, leaving the door open, and called out, “We hid it because it looks obvious!” He presented her with a small wooden chair that had skids projecting from it like a sleigh and a big green ribbon on top. “Ta-da!”

“Wow!” Calliope said. “That sure does look exactly like itself! What is it?”

“It’s Erik’s highchair! Wait… Like this!” He slid the projecting bits onto the kitchen table and stood back so Calliope could examine the function. “It sticks! Gregory did that. It used to have clamps, but Hyacinth stripped all the metal off. I thought we broke it up and burned it, but it was hiding in Room 204 the whole time!”

“Ngk,” Ann said. But that was only because Milo was screaming at her.

THAT IS NOT A CHAIR! THAT IS IN NO WAY A CHAIR! IT DOESN’T HAVE ANY LEGS! IT’S BADLY DESIGNED! IT’S UNSTABLE! SOMEONE WILL KNOCK INTO THAT AND LUCY WILL FALL ON THE FLOOR! OR THE WHOLE TABLE WILL TIP OVER AND LAND ON HER! IT DOESN’T HAVE ANY SCREWS OR METAL AND IT’S HELD TOGETHER WITH MAGIC AND IT HAS BEEN SINCE THE GODDAMNED SIEGE! THAT IS NOT A CHAIR, THAT IS A BABY-SQUASHER! ANN! GRAB IT SO I CAN SET IT ON FIRE! DO IT NOW!

Milo, that is Erik’s old highchair. We are not going to set it on fire. It has sentimental…

KILL IT! KILL IT BEFORE IT EATS LUCY!

“Hey, that’s really great,” Calliope said. “I kinda thought we’d just glue her to the wall when she got ready for real food, you know? Like a sticky note.”

Ann stepped forward, “Oh, dear, no, that’s not a nice thing to do to a… a… a…”

IT’S SAFER THAN THAT BABY-SQUASHER! GET ME A PENCIL AND PAPER AND I’LL DO A SPELL RIGHT NOW!

“…Mordecai, are you quite sure all the magic on that is… is intact?”

“Hyacinth checked it out!” Mordecai said, smiling.

“Oh, yes,” Ann said weakly. “Hyacinth.” The Hyacinth in the chair over there who could barely read magical notation? That Hyacinth?

“You can even paint it if you want to, Calliope! We don’t mind!”

Erik yanked hard on his uncle’s sleeve and presented the page with The “Paranoid” on it.

Mordecai took the book. “Huh? How do you mean?”

Erik could only shake his head, wide-eyed. I dunno, but it’s almost exactly like how you screamed at Auntie Hyacinth when I was a baby and she wanted to suck out my nose with that weird rubber thing.

Mordecai had omitted The “Overprotective” from the book. He didn’t think Erik would need that until he was older.

“You’re not worried about it at all, Calliope, are you?” Mordecai said. “You don’t have to use it, we just thought…”

“Oh, no, I think it’s great! You mind if I glue some antlers to the back like she’s a feudal lord? And maybe some birds…”

Ann freed the chair from the table with a firm yank. “I think I’ll just take this into the basement, so Milo can get a look at the magic, dear. Is that all right?” She was already walking away. “I’m sure he’ll be done with it by the time little Lucy is ready for solids. He’s just so very interested in prewar magic!”

“It was during,” Mordecai said.

“Yes, well, he’s interested anyway, thank you!” Ann called over her shoulder. She paused in front of the terracotta brazier with the scrap wood burning in it near the basement stairs. “Yes, we will… just… very definitely take this into the basement,” she added through clenched teeth, “and look at it there, Milo, I’m sure.” She turned right and went down the stairs.

“I see,” Mordecai said to Erik.

“Cool,” Calliope said. “Thanks, you guys. I guess I’ll grab that nap.”

◈◈◈

Nap time, for those that were able, was also an appropriate hour to cram the turkey, which Mordecai had dubbed the Bird from 20,000 Fathoms, in the oven. There was enough room. Just. Everything else was going to have to be cooked over burners, but with canned heat and a little ingenuity it was possible to have any number of those.

Pies and other prep work had been accomplished the night before, and stowed in the basement. Mordecai had also put together a cheese tray for everyone to pick at while they waited for company to show up. Soup, whom Erik and Maggie decided to invite jointly to avoid any awkwardness with Bethany, showed up early enough to eat most of it. Then he needed to lie down.

The four o’clock southbound bus from SoHo yielded three more units of company and various issues, including a large bearded man in a mismatched suit whom nobody had met before, and a weeping pink woman with cotton candy hair and a cherry barrette. Milo’s friend, Sean, the actor with the limited but fashionable wardrobe, had his arm around her and was offering a handkerchief. The large stranger appeared concerned. He had a bunch of cheap flowers, mainly carnations, and he offered them weakly.

Ann dropped the potato peeler and vaulted out of the kitchen as soon as she heard familiar crying, already clutching a handful of tissues from the front of her dress. “Oh, my dear! What’s happened?”

“That woman,” Cerise choked. “That… that woman…” She took a tissue and weakly dabbed at her cloth coat and the skirt of her dress, which were covered in pale brown stains.

“This awful old bitch threw a cup of coffee at poor Miss Cerise and shouted at her,” Sean said, as he helped her remove the coat. “She ruined Miss Cerise’s lovely baguette, now we only have the flowers. I said she could share them. We were only waiting for the bus, for gods’ sakes!”

“I am not a rapist!” Cerise cried.

Hyacinth wandered over, drying her hands on a towel. The large man nudged her with the flowers and she ignored him. “Oh, my gods. Are they still using that one? Because of the dress? Because you’re a man in a dress?”

“Cin…” Ann said, frowning.

“Because I’m a woman!” Cerise said. “I’m a woman, you horrible creature! But I’m not allowed to exist without pissing everyone off! I’m supposed to pretend, or I’m doing… doing violence…”

“Violence to women’s bodies, yeah,” Hyacinth said. “So you’re a rapist. Or, like, an evil clown, making fun of them. Not like, you know, you just like dresses or whatever…”

“I have to wear dresses or people won’t treat me like who I am!” Cerise said.

“Cin!” Ann said.

“Well, that makes it even shittier,” Hyacinth said. “Ann, I’m commiserating. Holster your mouth.”

The ex-medic led Cerise over to the big chairs and put her in one. “People were always screaming things like that at David. And David’s variously weird friends. David was… I am not going to say ‘parent’ or ‘guardian,’ but I lived in the same house with him for a while. He just liked dresses, and attention, but that was enough.

“So I’m proper sick of being screamed at, too, Cerise. It wasn’t just awful women like that coffee-thrower, mind you, but there seems to be a faction of those who think ‘women’s rights’ means ‘the right to shit on everybody else.’”

“I hate them!” Cerise said. She blew her nose. “It’s even worse if they’ve been around forever. They’re like cockroaches!”

“Oh, we call that kind of roach an Effie!” Sean put in. “Exclusionary Feminists. Or Ejection Femmes. ‘We’re all sisters but we don’t want you.’” He mimed a hypothetical woman being flung away with extreme prejudice. “One of them jabbed me with a hatpin for saying ‘us girls have to stick together,’ because I’m not, you know. I’m the patriarchy.” He tipped forward his dented top hat. It was dented because Milo dropped a purse on it. Sean saved it because it was funny. “A gay mafioso.”

“I’m falling behind on the culture now I don’t have to do parties and pubs all the time,” Hyacinth said with a smile. “But that’s a good way to call ‘em. Effies can eff-off. What do you call one of those?” She indicated the large and uncomfortable-looking man. He tried to offer her the flowers again.

Sean beamed at her. “Oh, that’s Ivan! Ivan, say hello!”

Ivan brightened and waved an enormous pink pancake of a hand at everyone. “Hello!”

“Hello, Ivan,” Ann said. “Are you Sean’s friend?”

“Hello!” Ivan said. He offered Ann the flowers, which she at last took.

Sean wrapped both arms around him. They didn’t quite reach. “That’s practically all he says, dear. His Anglais isn’t very good and he’s embarrassed. But he’s very friendly.” Sean smiled. “He’s just what I need right now. A sexy, sexy jungle gym.”

Ivan reached down and patted him on the head.

“Well, he seems very nice and I’m glad you found someone to entertain you while Milo’s away,” Ann said. “Although I must admit I was expecting you to bring a friend you might talk to… Cin, will you take these?”

“No,” said Hyacinth.

Ann sighed and wandered over toward the kitchen, looking for someone domestic.

“I have a weakness for strong, silent types, Annie,” Sean said, close behind her in case she needed help carrying a daisy.

“Hey, Ivan,” Hyacinth said. She left Cerise with a box of tissues and offered her hand for shaking. “Kak dela?”

Ivan enveloped her hand and exploded in fluent Prokovian, such that Hyacinth had a very hard time keeping up. She had only learned it from Barnaby to annoy David, after all.

My goodness! It is so good to meet someone who speaks Prokovian, and so far from home! Something did you learn that? Your something is so something! Perhaps you can something for dear Sean! He is so full of words! I don’t know where he finds the room in his tiny, tiny body! Oh, but he means well!

“…or strong, extremely chatty types,” Sean said suspiciously. “Hyacinth, what did you say to him?”

Hyacinth collected her hand and flexed the fingers. “I’m pretty sure I asked him ‘what’s up,’ but he’s just really excited someone understands him.”

“Poor Ivan!” Sean said. He turned and put both hands on the man’s shoulders, though it was a bit of a stretch. “Kak dela?” he asked, even worse than Hyacinth.

Ivan laughed and patted him on the head again, This tiny man tries so hard! He is really amusing! All my friends think he is like a pet monkey!

“Hyacinth, what does he say?” Sean asked, smiling.

“Uh, he says ‘hello,’” Hyacinth said.

“Hello!” Ivan agreed, waving.

Having deposited the flowers with Mordecai, Ann knelt down by Cerise and took one of her hands. She spoke in a low voice, “Angel, do you want to go upstairs for a little? I can help… Well, Milo can help me help you fix your clothes. And the makeup.” She thought she had a tin of blush that would serve as foundation in Cerise’s shade, and some cold cream to get rid of the streaked eyeliner. “You’ll feel much better.”

“Thank you, Annie,” Cerise said.

◈◈◈

Half an hour later, Ann carefully introduced Cerise to a cheese-impaired Soup. Also Erik and Mordecai, who had been busy during the first magic storm of the year when Cerise turned up at the house, and Calliope, who hadn’t been present at all — but she was more worried about Soup.

“Cerise is not like Milo and me,” Ann said. “She is just one person, and this is it. She is not wearing a costume or being funny, this is her.”

“Sometimes I dress in drag and do yard work!” Cerise added bravely.

“In drag,” Soup said, considering her. “Right.”

“Love and tolerate people or I’ll kill you,” Maggie muttered at him.

“I’m not gonna embarrass you in front of the free food, Mags,” Soup said. He took off his hat and bowed. “Pleased to meet you, ma’am. Would anyone like to introduce me to the obvious ‘trend’ and the shaved bear in the mismatched suit?”

“I am a slave to fashion!” Sean said proudly.

“Hello!” Ivan said.

“Wow! You’re like one of those girls who dresses up so she can kill people!” Calliope said.

“I’m sorry?” Cerise said, pressing an indignant hand to her chest.

Ann broke in between them, “She means like Sweet Polly Oliver, dear. Calliope… Calliope just assumes everyone already knows what she’s talking about and goes on from there.” She smiled at Calliope to assure her this was not at all meant as an insult. Calliope had been smiling and continued to smile in any case.

“Oh, you two must get on,” Cerise said, with a faintly wicked grin. She offered Calliope her hand to shake. Calliope juggled Lucy against her shoulder and managed it.

“Congratulations on your…” Cerise waved a vague gesture. “Smaller, dumber version of yourself.”

“Hey, thanks! You wanna hold her?”

“Nuh-no!”

“Okay. Cool.”

“So how did that show turn out?” said Mordecai. “With the shoes?”

“Oh, there was no show,” Sean said. “That was a total fabrication on my part. I was trying to pick up Milo… or Ann… I’m not sure how I should say it because I thought they were one person at the time.”

“You fell down our stairs a dozen times!” said Mordecai.

“Well, I’m very dedicated to my craft. Which is trying to get cute boys to date me. The acting is more of a side gig. Isn’t that right, Ivan?”

“Hello!”

Sean sighed. “Yes, ‘hello.’ You should’ve heard him when we came in…”

Mordecai shook Ivan’s large hand, “Ivan, you look like a man who knows how to mash an absolutely heroic amount of potatoes. Come with me. Your friend Sean, who takes nearly a week to learn how to walk in high heels, is excluded from the kitchen for safety reasons…”

“You might want to have Hyacinth explain it to him, Mr. Eidel!” Sean called after them.

“Is that your real hair?” Erik managed after a long deliberation.

Cerise turned up her nose and patted her hair. “Little boy, it is not nice to ask ladies…” She glanced down at Erik and her eyes practically fell out of her head. “Oh, my gods!”

“Cerise!” Ann shrieked. She smiled. “Angel. Come and help me set the table.” She took Cerise by the shoulders and sang it, for extra emphasis, “Come and he-e-e-elp me set the ta-a-a-able! Oh! Are those Ivan’s flowers in the centre? They look just lovely!”

Ann pushed and Cerise staggered in the general direction of the dining room. “I have mentioned Erik,” Ann said in a low voice.

“You didn’t mention his head!” Cerise cried.

Erik sighed and adjusted his eye with two fingers.

Soup gave him a good-natured swat on the shoulder. “You’re a real conversation-starter, Eyeball.”

“Yeah,” Erik said.

“Come on, you guys,” Maggie said. “We’re gonna picnic by the tree. Help me pick out a blanket.”

“Where’s your friend, Calliope?” Sean asked. He was eager to meet whatever sort of creature might be friends with Calliope. He already knew Ann and Milo, and they were amazing. He was hoping she had invited a unicorn.

“He’s gonna be late,” she said. “He’s got studio time on Sun’s Days. It’s a rental and they’re sharing, but he likes to do, like, big stuff.” She made a wide gesture with one arm.

“Another artist!” Sean cried. “A boy artist!” He leaned closer. “A cute one?”

Calliope snickered. “I mean, I think so. He’s Lucy’s dad.”

“Oh,” Sean said.

Ann dropped a handful of forks and then stepped on them, mashing several into the dining room carpet. “Dear, did you say… Lucy’s father?”

“Yeah. His name’s Chris, but he’s going by Toph at the moment. He thinks it sounds more artistic.” She shook her head with an indulgent smile.

“What happened to Sally?” Ann said. “And Marie? And Kathleen?”

“They didn’t want to come to Strawberryfield in the dark,” Calliope said. She frowned. “Anyway, none of them even asked about Lucy, so screw ‘em.”

“Sometimes I forget we live in a slum,” Ann said weakly.

“Ann, is Milo okay in there?” Sean asked.

Ann shook her head and touched a finger to her lips. She mouthed words, Not now.

He nodded.

“Glorie, what about your friend?” Calliope asked.

The General was standing near the tree and examining one of Mordecai’s presents, a lamp of Mr. Rose’s design and manufacture. It had wooden gears and a hand crank, a mechanical workaround for Mordecai’s evident lack of magical conductivity.

A quick application of “show me” had revealed a tangled mass of incoherently designed magic that proved Mr. Rose had no idea what he was doing. Nevertheless, the thing worked. It was a little like seeing a perfectly formed steam engine fall out of the sky in a hailstorm. This should not be, but here it is.

She was still irritated that he’d undone the magic on the basement stairs without showing her how. It was almost as bad as those shoes stuck in the floor.

“My friend may not be coming,” she said. “It is difficult to tell. She may have forgotten, or she may have only told me yes so she would not be asked to justify a no.”

“Aw, that’s too bad.”

“Yes.”

“Are you trying to figure out how Em’s lamp works?”

“…No.”

“Cin, what about…?”

There was a heavy knocking on the front door. Hyacinth got as far as rolling her eyes but did not get to yell “It’s open” because the door opened without prompting.

A yellow man in a winter overcoat stood on the porch, framed by a dimming grey sky and flurries of snow that caught the coloured light from the windows. He was barefoot and frowning. “I have come for my shoes!” he declared.

Hyacinth shrieked and ran over. She hugged him.

“There’s a lot of physical affection in this house,” Florian said. He hugged her back. He was holding his current shoes in either hand, with the socks balled up inside, for dramatic effect. “It’s not even magic season!” A bottle of wine sat just outside the doorway, which he collected.

“Mr. de la Fontaine,” the General said with a nod.

“Cin, you found Flo!” Maggie cried. She ran over too. Erik followed after her, quite a bit more shyly. He was always in the basement during storms, he didn’t get to meet people.

“Milo found him,” Hyacinth said, beaming. “Barnaby told me about it! …Or possibly Barnaby found him and sent Milo after him. It’s hard to tell causality when you get a malfunctioning augur involved.”

“How is Barnaby?” Florian said.

“Oh, he’s nuts,” Hyacinth said. She waved a hand. “You haven’t seen him that way, but he is. Normally. He probably won’t come down. And here’s Erik, who is not sick in the basement and praying for death at the moment.”

Erik scowled at her.

“Cool eye,” Florian said. “Did Milo and Hyacinth make that?”

Erik shrugged, then he nodded, looking away.

“Sorry,” Florian said. “If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s okay. I’m used to doing medic stuff, so it’s like you have a really neat toy I’d like to play with, but it’s not cool for me to just say stuff like that.”

Erik smiled and offered his hand to shake.

“Flo, stop making me look bad,” Hyacinth muttered aside. “I’ve got people around here convinced ex-medics are jackasses by nature.”

“Young Mister Weitz has a bit of a short circuit between his brain and his mouth,” Soup put in. He also offered a handshake. “So he’s not necessarily demurring about his cool eye because he doesn’t want to talk about it, he just doesn’t want you to think he’s retarded.”

Erik smacked Soup on the arm, hard.

“He hits people very well, though,” the blond boy went on, nodding. “Excellent aim.”

“I’m Calliope Marshmallow Otis,” Calliope said. “This is Lucy. She can’t pick a middle name yet. Your shoes don’t fit either of us.”

Florin blinked at her and then smiled. “I’m sorry. If you’d like me to shrink them, I can give it a shot!”

“That’d be awesome, but Glorie probably won’t let you. She and Maggie are doing science to them.”

“We have developed a theory that a sufficiently powerful surge of raw magic can somehow erase the existence of an alteration while leaving the alteration itself intact,” the General said. “So, as far as the fabric of reality is concerned, your shoes have always been like that, Mr. de la Fontaine.”

Florian considered his long-lost pair of oxblood tassel loafers, still sunk an inch into the tile floor beneath the dining room step, and nudged them with a toe. “So, you’re saying there’s no way in hell I’m getting these back.”

“If you precisely defined the geometric shape, you might be able to excise something shoe-like, but it would contain merged bits of flooring in any case. I am willing to buy them from you.” The General grinned. “The potential applications against countermagic and anti-magic are well worth the investment.”

“I’m so proud of you guys,” Florian said to the shoes.

Ann snatched him by the shoulders. “Flo! Come and meet Sean! And Cerise! And Ivan and the mashed potatoes!”

“I will gladly meet the mashed potatoes!” Florian said. “Your house smells like those dreams I used to have when the supplies weren’t getting through! Is Milo going to visit us tonight?”

“He wants to. We’ll see,” Ann said, smiling.

I want to talk to that person who didn’t want to be married to Calliope, Ann. Well, not talk. Anyway, I want to see him.

Milo, I understand, but I want it to be me when he gets here and then I’ll decide if we get changed because I’m not going to let you make an ass out of yourself on fake Twelfth Night.

Fine.

It was fine now. But if Ann didn’t let him out when that guy who didn’t want to be married to Calliope got here, there were going to be words.

◈◈◈

That guy who didn’t want to be married to Calliope showed up about an hour later, when they were trying to cope with the Bird from 20,000 Fathoms, who was too large to be carved on any available surface unless they slammed him down on the naked countertop and did it that way.

Less conventional alternatives were being discussed as he sprawled out of the casserole dish and dripped juices on the floor.

Florian was in the basement, working his way through Barnaby’s entire supply of smashable plates to construct a serving platter large enough for whatever resulted. It was certainly not going to be possible to put the turkey flesh back in the casserole, you might as well try to put the toothpaste back in the tube.

Mordecai and the General were standing in front of the turkey like a pair of reluctant gynecologists, while everyone else edged against the counters or peeked in through doorways.

“That’s a week’s worth of delicious soup, you maniac!” Mordecai insisted. “I want the bones! Under no circumstances are you to erase the bones! That’s just going to leave us with a huge meat pancake we still have to…”

There was a knock at the front door.

“Hyacinth, get that,” Mordecai said absently.

Hyacinth turned and hollered, “It’s open!”

Mordecai winced. “Oh, thank you.”

A male voice in the front room said, “Hello…? Oh, the tree’s still up…”

Calliope peeled away from the dining room doorway with a big grin. “Chris!” She hugged him. “You wanna meet Lucy?”

The young man standing just inside the open front door and getting an awkward hug was blue. Not very sad or anything. Blue. The colour.

He also had a large leather portfolio with a buckle on it, a short corduroy jacket and a pair of glasses with black acetate rims, but it was mainly the blue part.

He was nodding. He juggled the portfolio against him and set it down against the wall. “Oh, um, yeah. I guess. Yeah. Is she…? How is she?”

Calliope smiled at him. “She’s good. She’s pretty chill most of the time. Em thinks I got lucky.”

“Uh… uh… How are you?”

“I’m good too.” She took his hand and led him towards Room 103.

Maggie turned and announced to those trapped in the kitchen without a line of sight, “Calliope’s boyfriend is a coloured guy.” She appeared somewhat mystified. She was trying to work out if she should be uncomfortable or not. Most of the other people looked uncomfortable, for whatever reason.

Ann clicked her tongue. “They broke up,” she scolded. She dodged past Maggie and went out the dining room doorway. “He is a friend who is a boy.”

She looked up and beheld Calliope and Chris-or-whoever-it-was, standing in front of Room 103 with Lucy. Chris was holding Lucy, who remained chill. Calliope was smiling and fussing over her. Chris was ramrod straight and terrified, as if Lucy had a timer that was counting down to an explosion. It was a perfect little postcard family unit, if not for that.

Milo wanted to cut him out with a scissors.

Ann! Make him like Lucy and Calliope and be happy!

Milo, I can’t do…

Punch him!

No, Milo. I’m not going to do that either.

Milo wanted to feel two things at once and it was very frustrating because Ann usually helped him out with that and now she wouldn’t. She was just suspicious. He was mad. He was mad because Calliope’s old boyfriend wouldn’t be a good postcard with her. Calliope and Lucy were wonderful. How stupid did you have to be not to want them?

But, he was glad too. Because if Calliope had married that stupid person, she never would’ve come to live here, and he wouldn’t have met her at all. And he really liked having Lucy and Calliope here. Even if he couldn’t be in that postcard with them like Chris didn’t want to.

Ann, this is really dumb. I hate this. I hate being two things at once all by myself. Can’t you pick one?

I don’t know, Milo. I suppose… I suppose I’m relieved. It’s good they’re not married to each other and stuck that way if they really didn’t want to. So maybe I’m glad.

But how could he not want to be married to her?!

She didn’t want to be married to him, either, Milo.

That’s different! Calliope is perfect and anyone should be really happy to be married to her, but she gets to pick!

Milo, sometimes… Sometimes the shoe is perfect but it just doesn’t fit. You’d hurt yourself trying to wear it and you’d hurt the shoe trying to cram your foot in there.

Oh. Like that.

Milo went quiet.

“Ann, this is Chris!” Calliope said. “Everyone, this is Chris! He did a whole building one time, with furniture!”

“It was a kinetic sculpture,” the blue man said in a low voice.

Ann smiled. “Well, I’m pleased to meet you, dear.”

Cerise stepped in front of her and offered her hand to shake first. “I’ve never seen a coloured man in glasses before!” she said.

“Oh, uh,” he said. He looked her up and down. She was a foot taller than him — if you counted the heels and the pink hair. “Uh…”

Cerise folded her arms and pouted. “Well?”

Calliope reached up and removed the glasses. “There’s no glass in ‘em.” She held up the frame and poked a finger through, demonstrating. “Woo. 3-D effects!” She grinned.

“They’re fashion frames, Mars. Give ‘em back,” Chris muttered.

Ann frowned.

Okay, now I’m mad he has a cute little nickname for her and we don’t.

Yes. Me too.

A flurry of footsteps announced Florian’s approach from the basement a split second before he emerged and screamed, “IT LIIIVES!”

Chris gasped and clutched Lucy against him, which she did not appreciate. Ann smiled wider and offered her arm, “I’ll just take her then, shall I, dear? That’s right.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Lucy. I’m sorry, Calliope,” Florian said. “I’m sorry, new person whom I’ve just terrified.”

“Cuh-Cuh-Christoph,” Chris said.

Ann bounced Lucy gently and calmed her.

“But I’ve finished,” Florian said, smiling. He held up a two-foot diameter round plate made of a cracked riot of conflicting patterns and spun it in his hands. “Behold! Frankenplate!”

“Good evening!” Mordecai called out.

Florian turned with a jerk, juggling the cracked plate, and finally clutching it against him in relative safety.

Mordecai was clutching a pan of crescent rolls similarly, with oven mitts and a determined grin. There was stuffing in his hair. “I am very pleased to meet you, Christoph!”

He sounded like a radio announcer. And now, the six o’clock news!

“There has been a bit of an accident with the turkey, but it still seems to be edible! The meat is in the general vicinity of the casserole and the skin is in the yellow bowl next to the potatoes! The stuffing is on the ceiling, for which I apologize! Apparently we forgot to account for the oysters! Everyone sit down and I will try to dish things out as I am able! There is not enough room for everyone to rush the kitchen at once… Goddammit, Soup, what did I just — Ah!”

The pan went flying and impacted the kitchen step, but Maggie caught the rolls. They remained floating at various heights, some of them spinning slowly. Mordecai plucked hot rolls out of the air and cradled them in his arm, as if he were picking fruit from a tree.

Chris sidled up to Calliope and spoke in a soft, pained voice, “I kinda thought we’d order a pizza and talk about things…”

“Nah, this is way more fun,” Calliope said with a placid smile. “You wanna sit at the table or eat off the floor with the kids?”

Cerise grinned and nudged Ann with an elbow. “Annie, when I got on the bus today I had this wild idea it might be different here when there wasn’t a storm. But we’ve even got floating food.”

“Once we figure out something that works we tend to use it, Cerise, angel,” Ann said pensively. “Would you hold Lucy for a minute while I…?”

“No!”

Sean stepped forward and took her. He held her up and wiggled her gently. “Do you remember your Cool Uncle Sean? I’ll buy you all the fake IDs you want, so you can come into clubs and visit me! Yes I will! I’ll get you and your mommy seats in the Splash Zone!” Lucy giggled at him and smiled. He sat down at the table next to an indulgent Calliope and a poleaxed Chris.

“S prazdnikom!” Ivan declared, beaming.