Xandru and I never got to talk. Not really. Not about Gabe and the edibles. Not about the artifact. And not about Tase. We were too busy for more than a shared drink and a kiss hello and goodbye for the next couple of weeks. I became all wrapped up in the Homes for the Holidays light tour charity event and the Hot Cocoa & Cookie Crawl, both of which the inn was involved in; dress shopping with Aurelia for the Yuletide Ball, then arguing with her about why she no longer wanted to go; an influx of skiers and other vacationers keeping the inn nearly full; the investigation of Heidi’s disappearance, which was quickly becoming a cold case; and, of course, gift shopping and wrapping.

On top of it all, Gabe’s being “a little tired” turned into utter exhaustion, and I had to keep him home from school for the last two days before break. Which wasn’t good, because vampires didn’t get sick, not even mortal ones like us. Because he was more energetic at night, we thought his vampire nocturnal instincts were overpowering the magic of his tattoo, giving him daylight sickness. So Addie came over and redid his marking on the day before Christmas Eve.

As for Tase, Xandru couldn’t tell me what was going on, but he was constantly running around, once again taking care of Tase’s businesses, including the busy ski resort. He still had the metal works company to manage, as well, which was busy with custom gift orders. When I pressed him to let me in, he’d only say that Tase was being Tase, and he was trying to figure it out himself.

Thinking that Gabe might have been more comfortable in his own bed, Aurelia and I discussed staying in the family home, moving Christmas there and everything. But then we started talking about the holidays when we were younger and she told me about last Christmas, their first without Mom or Dad. We decided we’d follow Mammie’s lead and start new traditions at the inn, which would also allow our aunt to be a part of the festivities.

Supporting our suspicions that his tattoo needed to be redone, Gabe rallied the next day, on Christmas Eve, just in time to join us on the slopes in the afternoon, one of our new traditions. Aurelia wasn’t sure she could be bothered at first, but we talked her into it, and once she saw me on skis, she was glad she came. She and Gabe both enjoyed making fun of this one-time ski bunny returning to the slopes for the first time in five years. At least they were nice to Sindi, who was popping her snow-skiing cherry.

“You make fun of me and not this one?” I asked, as we helped Sindi back up on her feet after her eighth face-plant in a single run. So much for gothic vampires being good at everything and more graceful than the Russian ballet.

“I don’t remember Sindi strutting around for the last month bragging about how she couldn’t wait to hit the slopes and show everyone how it’s done,” Aurelia said pointedly.

“Yeah, she’s new,” Gabe said. “Give her a break.”

“Okay, fine.” I looked at Sindi as I dropped my hands to my hips. “But if you’re still like this next year, we’re totally mocking you.”

“Totally,” Aurelia and Gabe agreed.

“Who says I’ll ever be doing this again?” the Southerner muttered as she cleaned off her goggles.

“Maybe because Adrian sometimes works the lifts?” I suggested.

Sindi shrugged. “Eh. I’d rather be in the control room keeping him warm anyway.”

“Ugh!” Aurelia and Gabe groaned.

After several hours skiing and snowboarding, which turned out to be Sindi’s forte, we gathered by the fire in the inn’s media room, Aurelia with her hot cocoa and Gabe, Sindi, and me with warm blood. A few hotel guests joined us as we watched Mom’s favorite Christmas movies. Mammie didn’t make herself seen, but I could sense her watching from the shadows.

Since the Rocas never celebrated the holidays, Xandru gave all ski resort duties to Adrian and finally claimed a day off so he could spend Christmas Day with us. It was a lazy, laid-back day. The inn had only begun to start making money again, but we still had a lot of catching up to do on personal bills. So there weren’t many presents to open. We simply enjoyed each other’s company instead. By early evening, the kids grew bored and went outside for a snowball fight while Xandru and I stayed in by one of the fifteen Christmas trees in the inn (not counting those in the cottages).

“Good day, yeah?” Xandru asked as we watched the flames dance in the hearth. I sat sideways on the sofa, my head leaned against his shoulder and my legs draped across his lap.

“The best. For you?”

“Any day with you is a good one.”

I snorted. “Cheeseball.”

“Okay, any day away from my fucked-up family is a good one. Is that better?”

I fingered the button on his gray Henley. “Are you ever going to tell me what’s going on?”

“Yes. But not today. This is a good day. Let’s not ruin it with my family drama.”

“Fine.” Not wanting to fight about it, I sighed as I moved my hand from his shirt to his scruffy jaw, loving the abrasiveness of it against my palm. “I know Christmas isn’t a big deal to you, but thanks for making it one for me.”

He rubbed circles with his thumb over my thigh. “You really went all out this year, with the inn and everything. I figured it was important to you.”

“Mom loved the holidays, so a lot of it was for her.” I laughed at a memory. “It wasn’t just about us kids, though. She didn’t fool me. Year after year, I came home from school and caught her watching cheesy romantic Christmas movies.”

“Uh . . . isn’t that what you did last night?”

“Only in honor of Mom,” I lied. I secretly enjoyed the movies myself. “You probably don’t even know what they are, do you?

“I’m assuming not National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation?”

“Uh, no. These are even dorkier, but in a different way. They’re all about these single people, one is often a widow or widower with a kid, and/or their business is failing, or they have to prove themselves worthy of the family business . . . Anyway, they pretty much have the same plot and even a lot of the same actors in all of them. And they always have a happily-ever-after ending, either on Christmas Eve or Christmas Day.” I sighed. “Mom was such a romantic. She and Mammie both.”

“Perfect. Maybe she’ll appreciate this then, even if it is me doing it.” Xandru removed my legs from his lap and set my feet on the floor, then scooted off the sofa to kneel in front of me. He stuffed one hand in his front pants pocket and cupped my face with the other.

I tilted my head to lean into his hand. “What are you doing?”

“Michaela Petran,” he started, his voice thick. He cleared his throat. “Michaela . . . I thought I lost you once, but you returned. I can never lose you again. You are mine, and I am yours.”

Oh. My. God. Was Xandru proposing?

A sound came from the distance, and somewhere in the back of my mind, a small voice told me to pay attention to it, but the rest of me was entirely locked on to the man in front of me. We’d talked about marriage for years when we were younger, but hadn’t really discussed it at all since I’d been back. After we made our big turning point back in August, I admittedly thought he would have asked by now. And here he was, on his knees, extracting something from his pocket.

He held out a small velvet box in his hand. “I want to make this official and final. Michaela—”

A scream cut him off, followed by Mammie soaring into the room. “Michaela, it’s Gabe! It’s bad!”

Xandru and I jumped to our feet and rushed to the rear lawn of the inn, forgetting to hide our speed from guests’ eyes. Aurelia and Gabe were both on the ground in the snow, Aurelia sitting and crying, blood leaking from a small cut above her eyebrow, and Gabe on his back, convulsing. I fell to my knees by his side and tried to hold him so he wouldn’t hurt himself. His fangs were out, red veins webbed across his face, and his eyes were rolled back, so only the whites showed.

“What happened?” I demanded as Xandru held a small snow-pack to Aurelia’s wound.

“I fell and hit my head on a planter under the snow. I was trying to get inside, but Gabe . . .” She trailed off.

“Gabe what?”

Aurelia shuddered. “It was like we were back in the car when we wrecked. He attacked me. I think . . . I think he wanted my blood.”

Xandru and I exchanged a look as Gabe’s body stopped seizing beneath me.

“Take her inside,” I said to Xandru. “Aurelia, stay in one of the vacant rooms. Let Mammie know.”

I picked Gabe up and carried him to the cottage. He stirred some, but remained unconscious as I lay him on the bed and removed his coat and boots. Once I tucked him under the covers, I hurried to the kitchen and grabbed a couple of bottles of blood. He was only semi-conscious when I returned, but at least able to drink. After finishing one bottle, he passed out.

I paced his room all night long, waiting for him to wake, but it wasn’t until the following afternoon that he finally did. Sort of. He was incoherent, thrashing about and growling, and his fangs protruding as the veins popped again. I fed him more blood, he passed out again, and we repeated this a few times throughout the following day. His coloring grew porcelain white, except for the dark purple circles around his eyes. His skin stretched taut over the edges of his cheekbones and jaw, making it appear as though his eyeballs were sinking into his head. Neither blood nor regular food helped.

I called Dr. Jasper Underwood, a fae with supernatural healing abilities, and he made a house call, but couldn’t figure out what was wrong. There was a young shifter in a coma at the hospital, one of the Blaekthorns, but Dr. Underwood was certain the cases were unrelated. Completely different energies, he’d said.

None of the other special healers in town could figure out Gabe’s illness, either. For three days, supes of all kinds traipsed into my cottage, trying to solve the mystery. Saundra Beaumont didn’t understand it, not able to identify any form of witch magic. Eloise confirmed a dark energy, but it blocked her from reading anything more. They all believed it was magic of a dark sort, although none used the word “curse.”

Still, I recalled Addie’s claims about Roman Bishop.

“What did you do to my brother?” I asked him after his housekeeper finally let me in and led me to the front room of his estate in Havenwood Heights. On the outside, it had a similar gothic castle look to ours. I’d never been inside before, but I barely paid any attention to the interior except to note it was designed with elegance and luxury—I was solely interested in the man’s answers.

Roman lifted a highball glass toward me. “Drink?”

“What. Did. You. Do?” I ground out.

I hadn’t wanted to confront him alone, but I needed Sindi to stay at the inn, and I couldn’t get a hold of Addie or Xandru. Addie once said that one of the few things that could take a witch down was a pissed-off vampire. So on the way over, I reminded myself that I was a badass vampire and mustered all of my anger into a hot ball of rage burning within me. If things went sideways, I’d have to move faster than Roman could shoot off a spell, and break his neck. If he truly was behind my brother’s illness, I’d have no problem doing it.

Roman lowered the glass in his hand. “You do know, Ms. Petran, that it is quite rude to come barging into a person’s home, especially at such an hour, and immediately start making accusations?”

“I’m all out of patience as well as fucks. Something is wrong with Gabe. I think he’s dying. And I’m pretty sure you have something to do with it.”

“He may be.”

“Tell me what the hell you did! Why?”

Roman took a slow sip of his drink, watching me over the rim of his glass, before he spoke to me as though I were an ignorant child. “Did you ever find the Eye of Valerian?”

I tilted my head. “Is that what you want? Is that why you’re doing this?”

His dark eyes narrowed. “I’d be careful if I were you, throwing accusations around. Especially when they are directed at someone like me. Regardless of who your family is.” He lifted his index finger from his glass and pointed at me. “Find the Eye of Valerian and your problem is solved. You do know one of its powers, don’t you? That it creates bloodlust in an untriggered moroi? That it provokes a mature moroi to kill and become strigoi?”

“What? Wouldn’t that be dark magic?”

A sigh of boredom escaped him. “I didn’t expect you to be so ignorant. What do you think drove Gabe to attack you and trigger his own gene?”

“No.” I shook my head in disbelief. “He said he didn’t find it.”

“By the state of his current condition, I’d say that he lied to you, Ms. Petran. Find the artifact,” he snarled. “And return it to its cage.”

“Cage? What cage?” I asked, bewildered. I didn’t care that he was losing patience with me. I needed answers. I needed to save my brother.

“A piece like that needs protection. Now I’m done answering your questions.” He flicked his hand, and the doors banged open.

“Wait. If I find it, if I bring it to you, will it fix Gabe?”

He rolled his eyes. “The cause of a curse is often also the cure.”

“So that’s a yes. Can’t you do some kind of locator spell?”

“It’s been done. Goodbye, Ms. Petran.” He ushered me toward the door.

“But why don’t you just go get it?” I persisted as we moved.

“It is not me who is interested in obtaining it.”

Like I believed that. But whatever. If it could cure Gabe, I needed to find it. “Then at least tell me where it is.”

He stopped at the door, one side of his mouth curling up in a smirk. “Why don’t you ask your boyfriend?”