Page 1 of Hostile Holiday

Chapter One

Orla finished verifying the reports for the previous end of the month. She authorized payroll and began to get ready to leave. Belinda looked over and asked, “Doing something for the long weekend?”

“No. Yes. I have been invited to a family party. My grandfather’s ninety-fifth.”

“You have family?”

Orla wrinkled her nose. “Of a sort. My dad’s side. I am not really impressive enough for them.”

“Well, some family is better than none.”

“It is cute that you think that.” Orla smiled and grabbed her coat and purse.

“You have never mentioned them before.”

“They haven’t contacted me for fifteen years. Suddenly, I am invited to the most important day of their year.” Orla snorted. “Oh, and they wanted me to wear an ugly sweater. I am bringing one, but no way will I have it on when I open that door.”

Belinda walked with her. “Is there a reason for the divide?”

“My mother died, and they didn’t want me around. Apparently, I have her face, and that irritated my father.” She shrugged. “I haven’t seen them since the funeral.”

“Maybe it makes him sad.”

“He’s a power-hungry jackass and a bully, and my brother is the same.” She tucked her purse between her knees and put her jacket on.

They prepped themselves for the cold weather and walked outside, staring at the holiday decorations. Belinda walked with her and peeled off at the bus stop. “See you next week.”

Orla waved and headed toward her apartment at a brisk pace.

When you were cursed by family, it stuck. She had been cursed to remember her station at all times, and that meantshe couldn’t get ahead. Her car was a feeble subcompact, her apartment was nice but smelled like basil, and her job was stuck as senior clerk. The pay was mediocre, but the people were nice, and she had made a few solid friends.

Hanging on the wall was a garment bag, and inside was the dress she had thrifted. It and the shoes had been a lucky find, but she had been shopping with the boss’s wife, and that woman had a lot of luck if she took to shopping.

She felt a trickle of magic in her room, and her stomach sank. She walked to the table where the embossed invitation from her family was sitting. She picked it up and exhaled softly. The dinner was starting in ninety minutes and was forty minutes away. “Fuck.”

She set the invitation down in all its heavy black paper with gold lettering glory. The shower was fast, dressing was faster, and by the time she had her hair done, she was able to apply her makeup and check the time on her phone. The winter cape she had also thrifted went on over the gown, and she grabbed the bag with the sweater and slipped her tiny formal purse into the bag.

Orla grabbed her keys, locked her door, and sighed. She went back in to grab the invitation, took a photo of it on her phone, and then sent it to herself and her friend Sallen.

There was no way that they would be able to tamper with all the copies. Sallen sent a message back.Differences noted.

Orla nodded. She had done all she could. Now, it was time to face the lion’s den.

Her car wheezed and hauled its way up the icy drive in the hills. The other and more elegant cars had enough weight to keep them on the angle, but Orla made sure she had driven onto a small patch of grass to give her tires some grip. She engaged her parking brake and got her bag, leaving the safety of her carand walking toward the imposing door. She lifted the knocker and dropped it.

Nothing for a minute, and the cold was beginning to poke at her from under the wrap.

Finally, the door swung open, and a grim troll opened the door. “Yes?”

She handed over the invitation. “I was requested.”

“Whore?” He raised his brows.

“Daughter, granddaughter, and sister. Orla Lerothian.”

He nodded and offered to take her wrap.

“No, thank you. I do not think I will be here long, and they tend to keep it chilly.” There was no decoration in the house, and she kept trying to put stuff up in her house, but it always disappeared.

---