“You’re sure it’s a dragon?” Myra sorted the box of ornaments on the coffee table making sure each one had a good hook attached. “Crow is a trickster.”

They were brand new red, gold, silver, green, and blue bulbs. They came with hooks. I didn’t know why she was double-checking them.

“Pretty sure, yes.” I stepped back from the six-foot tree that Myra and I had wrestled into the house a couple hours ago. It was not a prime example of its species.

It had missing branches down one side. Clumps of brown needles ringed the bottom third of the thing and shed at the slightest touch, like a porcupine had had an unfortunate run-in with a bottle of Nair.

The whole tree leaned precariously to the left. I’d tried to counter-weight it by adding an extra string of lights on the right, but that made the tree’s deficiencies stand out, like a neon sign with too many blown letters.

“Think that’s enough lights?”

Myra glanced up. Her black-lined eyes, page-boy bob, and bright lipstick gave her that sweet-but-tough rockabilly look. “If you put any more lights on that poor tree you’re going to blow a fuse.”

“The house has breakers, not fuses.”

At least I thought it did. Ryder and his dad had pretty much built this house on the lake just east of the main road that ran through town. Since Ryder was an architect, I didn’t think he’d live in a house that was still using fuses.

“And the tree isn’t poor. It’s…well, I’m not going to lie, it’s way past its sell date. Maybe I’ll just add one more string.”

“Step away from the twinkle lights, crazy woman,” Myra said without looking at me.

“It’s perfect. A couple dozen ornaments, some tinsel, and he’ll never know you installed it all at the last minute.”

I lifted my hair off the back of my neck, thought about binding it back in a ponytail, then decided it didn’t matter. “Okay, ornament me.” I held out my hand like a TV show doctor demanding a scalpel.

“You put a star on top,” Myra noted.

A shiny red five-pointed star crowned the tree. I shrugged.

“I didn’t think you liked stars on trees,” she said.

“Seemed like the right thing to do. A tradition.”

“Why did you even get a tree, Delaney?”

Myra walked over with the ornaments and nursed a fragile glass orb into my hand. “You haven’t gotten a tree for years.”

“It always seemed like a lot of work.” I placed the first bulb. I smiled. The glass orb glittered so prettily, it made me happy.

Then it hit me. This would be the first Christmas I’d ever spent with Ryder. This was the first ornament I’d ever hung on our tree.

Our tree. A warm hum thrilled beneath my skin. I had the sudden urge to put on a Santa hat. To make hot cocoa and stir it with a candy cane.

It was almost like I was starting to catch the Christmas spirit.

I blamed Jean.

“Delaney?”

“What?”

“Why the Christmas cactus?”

“You mean the tree?”

“That’s not much of a tree.”

“Mean.” I turned toward the tree. “Don’t listen to her. You’re beautiful.”

“Ugly-cute at best.”

“Just because you and Jean always pick such perfect trees doesn’t mean this one should go to waste. At least it doesn’t have tarantulas.”

Myra frowned. “Crow?”

“Crow.”

“And he’s not in Ordinary any more?”

“He said he had just stopped in to see me. He left town as soon as he sold me the tree.”

She shook her head and handed me another ornament. “So why now? Why do you want a tree this year?”

I didn’t say anything as I hung three more bulbs. That was a good question. I had a good answer, but I wasn’t sure I was ready to share it.

“It’s Ryder,” she supplied. “You’re doing this because of him, aren’t you?”

I could argue, but she’d know I was lying. I nodded.

“He told me that when he was little, he loved the lights on the Christmas tree. That it’s one of his favorite parts of the holidays. I didn’t want him to come home to a dark living room. And even if it’s only for a couple days, we—he—should have a tree. That’s not too ridiculous, is it?”

“No. That’s…” Her voice went soft. “That’s sweet. That’s good. That’s…love.”

Neither of us said anything, but the dragon by the fireplace snuffled loudly, then squeaked at Spud.

Spud had been crouched in front of the dragon, ears up, tail wagging. He now crept forward, belly-crawling toward the pig with a small stuffed frog in his mouth.

The dragon seemed to enjoy watching the ever-cheerful dog cautiously approach.

They’d been going at this since I’d driven the dragon around yesterday and it had finally just trotted into the house and straight to the fireplace, as if it were perfectly happy to live here.

At first Spud had barked. Then, after one deep rumble from the pig, which, yes, it is sort of startling to hear a pig roar, Spud had wagged his tail like it was going to propel him to the moon.

All of Spud’s running around and barking at the amused but unmoved dragon yesterday had turned into Spud sneakily offering to share his stuffed toy hoard with the pig today.

This, it appeared, might be a winning tactic.

The pig had already been gifted with a stuffed hamburger, a flounder, and a one-legged cow. It looked very, very pleased with its growing stash.

Myra nodded. “He’ll love it. When is Ryder supposed to be here?”

I tried not to let my worry show. “A couple hours ago.”

“That’s not too bad.”

“More like five hours ago.”

“Weather?”

“That’s what I’m guessing.”

As if to punctuate the point, the wind and rain battered the west facing windows hard enough I could feel the sturdy little cabin take the hit.

The near-freezing rain had flung onto shore last night with seventy-mile-an-hour gusts.

The storm had already galloped east over the Coast Range and dumped five inches of snow there, iced up the valley, and according to weather reports, was in the process of slapping blizzard warnings across the Cascade Range.

Children from the Coast Range eastward were vibrating in joy over the white Christmas they’d be getting.

Travelers were advised to stay home and stay away from the passes. All the stores were out of milk and bread.

I wondered if Ryder had decided not to chance the trip. He might have turned back or sheltered somewhere along the way.

That would have been the smart move. The forecast called for more ice to follow the snow, enough to shut down the passes and much of I-5.

“Have you called him?” Myra asked.

“It goes to voice mail.”

She didn’t say anything while I hung the rest of the ornaments. Whatever Christmas spirit I’d been feeling was getting railroaded by worry.

“He’ll be okay.” Myra pressed a mug of coffee into my hand, and I realized I’d been standing there for a while, staring at the tree, my mind a million miles away.

Or exactly one hundred and ninety-one miles away.

“I know,” I said. “He’s lived in Oregon and Chicago. He knows how to handle snow. He won’t do anything stupid.”

But my heart was heavy and my pulse was rapping. Why hadn’t he answered his phone? Maybe he’d been stranded, ran out of battery on his phone. Maybe he was stuck in traffic, moving slowly along.

Maybe he was just outside of town and almost home.

“Are you sure it’s a dragon?” She pointed her coffee at the fireplace.

The dragon-pig had acquired several more stuffed things and had stacked them into a pile. Spud must have offered enough of his toy hoard to have gained the dragon’s favor.

The dog was curled up on top of the toys. Dragon was right there with him, sprawled on his mountain of treasure, little piggy head propped on a blissed-out Spud’s back.

That dog and that pig could not look more content.

It was cute. They were cute.

“I’m sure it’s a dragon,” I said.

“Isn’t it too small and soft? I know they can be anything, but I’ve never heard of one that turned itself into something so…adorable. Plus, this is Crow we’re talking about. Crow.”

“You know what?” I said in a loud conversational tone, “you’re right. I should take some of those toys back to Spud’s box. They don’t need that many.”

The pig opened one eye. It glittered with fire, and a little puff of smoke drifted out its snout.

The pig drew the toy hoard in closer, making it clear I touched it at my own peril.

I raised an eyebrow at Myra.

“Okay,” she said. “I see it. It’s a dragon. I thought he was joking.”

“Nope.”

“Any idea why Crow wants you to have it?”

“Something to do with it bothers Bathin. He can’t hide from it? They weren’t very clear.”

We both drank our coffee and stared at the mythical farmyard conundrum.

“Crow called him Black Heart,” I said.

“The pig?”

“The demon.”

“Huh.”

“He also called him Prince.”

Myra sipped her coffee. I knew she was turning those little hints over in her big, beautiful brain, seeing which pieces of her research into all things demon fit with that information.

“Want me to try and figure the dragon out?” she finally offered.

“Gods, yes,” I said on an exhale. “I was hoping you’d volunteer. I’ve asked it a hundred yes/no questions but it just ignores me.”

“I’ll check the books. See if we’ve ever had this dragon out of its cave before and if so, what happened then. See what kind of history it has with demons. And trickster gods.”

“Perfect. I owe you one.”

She handed me her empty coffee cup.

“You owe me so many more than one. I’m going to check in at the station before I head home. I’ll call if there are any emergencies. Otherwise, try not to worry too much about Ryder.”

“I won’t.” Lies.

“He’s okay and he’ll be home soon.”

“I know.”

She narrowed her eyes. “And don’t sell your soul while I’m gone.”

“That joke’s getting old.”

“Not a joke. You promised us you’d make no stupid decision without consulting with at least one of us.”

“I promise I will make no deal, do no stupid deed without either you or Jean consulted and on board between now and when I see you next.”

“Good.”

I followed her to the door so I could lock it behind her.

“He’s going to love that ugly tree.” She waved one finger up and down at me and smiled. “I like this look on you, Delaney.”

“What look?”

“Love.”

I tried to act annoyed, but couldn’t hold it for very long. She flipped up her coat hood and forged out into the wind and rain.

I stayed there inside the doorway, needing to see her walk down to the cruiser, needing to see her get in it, start it, and drive away safely.

Then I went inside and tried to keep my promises.