Page 24 of Tangled In Tinsel & Knots
“Deal.”
The driveway goes on forever, or at least a quarter mile, which feels like forever when you’re driving toward potential disaster. Trees press in on both sides, thick and dark, branches heavy with snow. It’s quiet here, peaceful in a way that’s either serene or ominous depending on your perspective.
Currently leaning toward ominous.
Then the trees break, and I see it. “Holy shit,” I breathe.
“What? What’s ‘holy shit’? Hannah, what do you see?”
“The gate.” I’ve stopped the car about twenty feet away, staring. “There’s a gate. A serious gate. It’s massive, maybe ten feet tall, made of thick metal bars.” The bars curve at the top, decorative but definitely designed to keep people out. On either side, stone fencing extends in both directions, at least seven feet high, with metal spikes running along the top.
Not just spikes. Actual fortified metal deterrents that look sharp enough to do damage.
“Well, that’s not creepy at all,” Lily mutters.
“That’s what I’m saying.” I inch the car closer, trying to see past the gate. “I can see a driveway continuing on the other side. Open land. Looks well kept but no sign of reindeer. There’s a house in the distance, huge, like a mansion, and to the left, a large barn.”
“Maybe the reindeer are in the barn?”
“Perhaps.” I pull up to the gate, put the car in park. “Okay, I’m getting out. Moment of truth.”
“Be careful.”
“Always am.”
I grab my jacket from the passenger seat, shove my phone into my pocket, still connected to Lily, and climb out into the cold. Snow immediately sticks to my hair, my shoulders, and I pull my jacket tighter.
The gate has a call box mounted on a stone pillar. I walk over, press the button.
Nothing.
I wait ten seconds, then press it again.
Still nothing.
“Hello?” I call out, feeling ridiculous. “Anyone home?”
Silence.
I peer through the bars of the gate. The driveway continues for at least another hundred yards before reaching the house. The property looks vast, with acres of fenced land and what might be gardens or pastures buried under snow.
And no sign of anyone.
“No one’s answering,” I tell Lily.
“Then come home. You tried.”
But I’m staring at the gate, and something reckless bubbles up in my chest. The fence is tall, yeah, but it’s not impossible. The metal bars have decorative curls and patterns with plenty of places for footholds. And the spikes at the top look intimidating, but there’s space between them.
“Hannah,” Lily says, and her voice has gone suspicious. “Are you in the car already?”
“I’m just… assessing.”
“Assessing what?”
“Whether I could climb this.”
“HANNAH.”
