---

---

The sun was just breaking the horizon and the light spilled through even the tinted windows of the dark sedan that Tatiana had hired to bring her to the estate from the airport. After the nearly last twenty-four hours she had spent plane jumping from one transfer to another from Tokyo back to the States, the last thing she had wanted was to spend time behind the wheel of anything.

Stretched out in the back seat she groaned deeply, the orange and crimson hues flooding her senses, as her arm came up and covered her features. The partition between her and the driver slowly rolled down, the sound of classical Christmas music pouring in to her ears caused a grimace to come to her full lips.

"Vklyuchite eto der'mo ot!" she grumbled as she wrapped her slender fingers over the leather headrest and pulled herself to a seat position.

"Ma'am?" the driver asked confused in a thick southern drawl.

"Turn off music," Tatiana retorted in an equally thick Russian accent as she looked around the floor of the car until she found her large lensed sunglasses and slipped them on to protect her eyes from the bright light that had dared to wake her.

"Oh, of course, sorry Ma'am," the driver replied, quickly doing as she wished. "That's a beautiful accent, where you from?"

"Russia," she answered as she placed a cigarette between her lips and lit it; taking a long pull from it as she relaxed against the back of the seat.

Glancing out the window and ignoring the rest of whatever the driver went on about; especially the part about how there was no smoking allowed in the car. Tatiana figured she was paying good money for the ride so they could afford fabreeze to get the smell out.

The car pulled down the long driveway of the estate and a small smile tugged at the corner of Tatianas lips seeing it finally. It had been a long journey from Japan to get here but she was excited. There were several she couldn't wait to see but at least one she was not looking forward to. This was going to be interesting.

"Wow, what a place. Yours?" the driver asked ignorantly. Tatiana smirked slightly and nodded.

"Yes, I Russian princess, descendent of Anatasia. This is father's vacation home," she said proudly as she dropped the half smoked cigarette in the now cold Starbucks coffee cup.

"Really?" the driver asked excitedly as he pulled to a stop in front of the main entrance.

"No, idjit. I not serious," she laughed as she tossed a roll of rubberbanded money in his lap. "Father Russian Mafia."

"Is this drug money?" he exclaimed looking half shocked and half impressed. Tatiana pulled the rim of her sun glasses down and winked before slipping out the car.

Tatiana stood up, adorned in pale thick cotton leggings, knee high white fur cuffed leather boots, a fitted cream colored pea coat and her classic trapper hat pulled down over the fiery hair that spilled out down her back.

"Vhere,oh vhere are my wittle munchkins?" she called out as the driver unloaded her luggage from the trunk of the car quickly before speeding off without another word; leaving Tatiana standing there as she held her stomach laughing sadistically.

---

---

Wyatt shouldn’t be driving.

Hell, he shouldn’t even be doing anything, unless it’s collapsing into bed.

He’d had at least a half a dozen coffees in the last hour, another half a dozen Red Bulls the hour before that, and now, he had a cup filled with a disgusting mixture of the two clutched in his right hand. It tasted like battery acid (not that he’d ever tasted actual battery acid, ever heard of metaphors?), and his heart was probably about two seconds away from imploding, but right now, it was the only thing preventing Wyatt from causing a horrific car accident.

Now, on a normal day, a nine-hour drive would be a cakewalk for Wyatt. He’d done this before; multiple years running, in fact, but he’d been awake for a grand total of twenty-one hours, and it was really doing quite a number on his cognitive faculties. He’d been stuck at work all the way till two in the morning unpacking and shelving new stock. Why couldn’t they just wait until next morning to do it, you ask? Simple – because Byron Whitaker, assistant branch manager of Trenton’s very own vintage record store, was a massive douchenozzle.

If you told Wyatt that the guy was actually, literally the spawn of Satan, he would’ve filled a spray bottle with holy water and went to town on him, no questions asked. At this point, it wasn’t even hard to believe anymore. Why else would someone take so pleasure in tormenting their subordinates? Clearly, this was the work of a greater, eviller power, who instead of damning godless sinners to hell, made them work ridiculous amounts of overtime for close to minimum wage. On Christmas Eve, no less.

He doesn’t think he’d hated a person more in his entire, twenty-six years, six months, and twenty-seven days of life, and that wasn’t even an exaggeration. Even with a frazzled, caffeine-addled brain, and precisely zero hours of sleep, Wyatt could feel the fires of hate scorch through his veins, leaving behind a toxic trail of complete and utter loathing.

...Or maybe it was just his body screaming at him to stop chugging that Coffee-slash-Red Bull abomination. It could’ve been either, really, but Wyatt was too focused on driving straight to care.

To say that it was a terrifying experience – well, that would be the understatement of the century. This was probably the worst decision he’s ever made. Once or twice, Wyatt could’ve sworn his rustbucket of a car lifted a couple inches off the ground. It was physically impossible, of course, according to Newton’s laws of motion, but that knowledge didn’t comfort him in the slightest, and he looked up just in time to see a sign at the side of the road.

‘Entering Dortches. Population: 937’

This was going to be a long trip.

---

By some kind of miracle, Wyatt managed to make it to Wilmington in one piece. Sure, his hands were shaking, his hair and clothes rumpled, but he was here, alive and unscathed… mostly.

The same, however, could not be said for his car. For starters, there were at least a dozen empty cans of Red Bull strewn across the backseat, multiple coffee stains on the upholstery, and the rear bumper was barely hanging on (courtesy of Wyatt reversing straight into the wall of a 7-Eleven back in Richmond). Honestly, he doubted the car would survive the winter, and in a weird sort of way, it made him kinda sad. Maybe he could give it a proper send-off, viking style, burn it atop a funeral pyre, and all that jazz.

...The sleep deprivation really was getting to him, wasn’t it? He supposed this was where the delirium finally set in.

But as muscle memory took over, Wyatt made a sharp turn to the left, and soon enough, he spotted the telltale silhouette of the Henderson Estate looming in the distance. The snow-covered trees were a familiar sight, reminding him of the get-togethers of years past. Third year in a row – how time flew.

The next thing he knew, he was pulling into the driveway, though he did spot a few familiar faces out of the corner of his eye. That shock of bright red hair stood out against the snowy landscape, and he instantly knew who it belonged to. If he could actually make it to the front door without faceplanting from exhaustion, he’d love to say hello to Tatiana.

And then probably pass out in the parlour afterwards in front of a roaring fire. Yeah, that sounded nice.

With a turn of a key, the engine sputtered to a halt, and Wyatt climbed out of the car, slamming the door shut with a bit more force than was probably necessary. The wheels of his luggage rolled noisily against the uneven ground as he approached the massive building, and it was only then that it occurred to him that he wasn’t at all dressed for the weather. Apparently, a t-shirt, a flannel shirt, a hoodie, and a pair of jeans wasn’t enough to ward off the chill. Which, to be honest, he should’ve expected. Fortunately, he came prepared with extra sweaters of the ugly Christmas variety.

Unfortunately, however, those were still tucked away inside his suitcase – so it was likely in his best interests to get inside before he froze his fingers off.

“Yo, Tatia!” Wyatt called out, speech a little slurred, and bared his teeth in a half-hearted grin. “What’s up? It’s good to see you.”

"Oh Tila Tequila, with how thirsty you are, I can't imagine the kind of alcohol you'd brew," A small hum radiated from Abel's lips, his hand sprinkling handfuls of water over the soil of a blue agave, "But that'd require ritual sacrifice. Dunno what I'd do without you." Abel smiled, knowing full well the plant would be perfectly fine for a little over a week. He'd be gone for longer than that, sadly, but that's exactly what neighbors were for. Each plant in his home would be cared for by the tiny old lady just across the hall, Mrs. Cavendish with her literal stuffed pets. What remained in his balcony turned greenhouse could outlast the entirety of his floor, as long as the water bill remained paid in full.

Once each plant seemed satisfied and well soaked, Abel made for the couch pushed to the far end of his living room. Phone already in hand, he called out his mother's name and a simple command. She picked up on the third ring, a smile already evident in her voice. "Why if it isn't my estranged son," her voice came clear as a bell, a fake southern belle twang inflicting a sharpness to her words, "What shall I ever do without his daily calls or his sweet Cheshire smile to brighten my day? Oh, what can I do on this annual check in today?"

"It's less of a check-in and more me wondering how you've not been caught with corporate evils like an Apple iPhone, god forbid," Abel slouched into his worn cushions, playing with a strand of fabric poking out from the seat next to him, "How's the love fest going?"

"Better than ever! I can't wait to tell you how creative these people are. It's glorious and the way they handle—"

"I'm going to stop you right there. I haven't eaten a thing yet and I don't plan on ruining my morning dry heaving over my toilet bowl," Abel cut Elizabeth off. He straightened in his seat, feet pushing against the wooden leg of his coffee table; he clenched his fist hard. "I just wanted to know how you were and if you needed me to come 'rescue' you, yet."

The eye roll was practically audible on his end. "I've never needed saving and I don't think I intend to have you come rushing to Carolina just to fix your mother's problems," she said, her tone softening.

"I never meant it that way; you don't have a problem. You're normal, mom. You're human," Abel frowned as he spoke, "Look, I'm heading over to the Henderson Estate this evening. If you'd like, I can have Raquel vacate a room for you?"

"That's too much. Really, Abel, I'm fine here. Don't worry about me. There's absolutely no need to, anyway. Your mother's never been happier."

"Honest?"

"Honestly truly," Elizabeth paused, the crackle of her breath sounding through the speaker, "Now, I should probably be heading back before they notice. Make sure you bring enough of your wool socks and underwear. And don't forget to pack your toothbrush. Those kids don't need to be smelling your morning breath; I swear, it's worse than your mood."

If it had been anyone else, Abel wouldn't hesitate to snap back. Alas, being a mother had its perks, though he wouldn't admit he didn't mind giving Elizabeth a free pass. He smiled, nonetheless, and replied as quick, "I'll pack two, just in case. I'll let you go, though. I'll see you at least once the few weeks I'm there?"

"Of course, sweetheart."

"Alright, bye," he started, them both ending the call with a simultaneous, "I love you." His blue curtain shuddered with the pick up of a draft.

"Right then," Abel muttered, his eyes catching sight of black fur traveling through kitchen appliances.



The entirety of customs parted as if he'd been carrying the staff of Moses—well, he at least had something equally powerful. Having the only part of one's face show ice blue daggers kind of had an effect on even the most stubborn of people. Despite the airport heaters running at full blast, just a glance outside the windows sent a chill up Abel's heavily dressed form. A pair of ear muffs sat firmly on his head, blocking the bustle of passerby, and a wool, checkered, blue and black scarf wrapped around most of his neck and lower face. Barely visible to those merely glancing, a frown sat just above the scarf to match the ice in his eyes. Underneath the heavy pea coat hugging his frame, a hand knit 'ugly' sweater kept him warm and further layered over the long sleeve beneath that. What more, he made perfectly sure to wear his flannel jeans (the flannel obviously lining the inside) and a pair of lime green thermal underwear. Can't forget those.

Now, however, it almost felt as if he'd forgotten them. Not only had his driver initiated conversation but apparently he couldn't be bothered to wait for the gate to let the car through; meaning Abel had to trek through the vast, snow covered courtyard. It didn't help that he had a dufflebag sitting tight atop his suitcase and a cat carrier with a more than agitated cat making his agitated cat noises. Most of his trip to the front door consisted of hissing from Abaddon and muttering curses upon family cows that he flung at the snow crunching under his boots.

The fact that a few others had already gathered near the entrance meant quite little to Abel. He barreled through, still muttering and occasionally grunting at the cat's own growls, without concern for the others. "I hear Tuscon, Arizona is a chill 78 degrees," he called over his shoulder before trudging up the stares with a heavy thud of suitcase wheels against the pristine staircase.

Abel returned moments later with his eyes narrowed and trained toward the doorway. "Which room is the easiest to deep clean?" he called down, making no move to clarify.

---

---

Tatiana stood there, well half stood there as she was doubled roaring with laughter over her little prank on her driver. She did so enjoy messing with the minds of those that just assumed ones status in life and she found that here in the states that was rather simple. A thin female Russian in furs seemed to always draw up images of some long lost princess or the daughter of some Russian Mobster. Never just a simple tattoo artist with a penchant for romance novels and day dreams.

Out of the corner of her eye she caught a glimpse of the newest arrivals and straightened her posture as she watched the small furball bound out and into the snow. A gentle smile came to her lips as she saw Leo and Marisol. A hand came up as she waved to the duo.

"I smell trouble," she called out playfully in her thick Russian accent as she pulled off her sunglasses, folding them and sticking them into the pocket of her coat. A mischievous grin played on her lips and her eyes sparkled with thoughts of just what her and Marisol could get into this year. She was behind in the number collection after all, she would need to see what she could do to pull ahead this year.

Tatianas plans to approach the siblings was quickly cut short as the jalopy pulled up and parked. A brow arched and she grimaced slightly as the engines sputter came to her ears. Her bottom lip rolls in and was bitten softly between her pearly teeth, from the looks of the car it was a miracle it had made it to the estate without catching on fire or breaking down on the side of the road.

Seeing Wyatt climb out she chuckle softly, she should have guessed it was him. Her smile faded somewhat as he walked over to her. He looked a wreck; clothing and hair disheveled, not to mention the ragged expression on his face and half hearted grin.

"You look like crap," she said in a concerned voice as she quickly rummaged through her purse and pulled out a cigarette to hold out to him; taking note that one wasn't screwed between his lips like usual. "Vhen vas last time you slept? Halloveen?" she asked as her head tilted to the side slightly; standing there holding out the cigarette and a lighter to him.

Her attention turned momentarily over towards Abel as he came crunching up towards the manor, wondering where his car was; at least where the taxi or driver were. Why on earth would he be walking in this weather and trudging trough the snow like that. When he brushed passed and made his quip about Arizona she smirked slightly.

"Ve missed you too Abel," she called out sarcastically before looking back over towards Wyatt and sighing softly. "Come on, let's get inside," she said softly as she pulled off her trapper hat and plopped it onto his head.