A silver dagger slid from Eliot Gray’s pocket, and Kaley shrieked at the blackness of his eyes as he sailed past her and thrust the silver blade at the True King of Winter.

Elowin did not move as the weapon plunged across the boundary. The moment the blade entered the tunnel, it liquified, and Eliot halted as it melted over his fingertips with a sizzle. ‘Twas Eliot who shrieked now, and as he tore his hand back into Winter, the metal froze and clasped to his flesh.

The following moment hung in stillness, the once-Patrolman’s cries echoing o’er the gales in the distance as he held up his silver-tipped fingers.

“Ah,” the madman in red finally spoke. Jolly knocked his staff against the barrier, igniting a fresh array of lightening. “I see nothing I try will work here. It seems we’ll have to wait for another eve to settle our score, Patrolman,” he said to Zane, taking one last sidelong glance at the tunnel entrance. Jolly reached for Eliot’s collar and dragged him toward the hills. “Run, spinbug. Before they decide to catch you.”

The two sailed off into the whisking storm while the tunnel began to close, its creaking competing with the howling wind as it moved to separate the living from the truly living, once again.

“Thank you for meeting with us!” Kaley called into the shrinking gap, and Elowin’s whisper-song offered one comfort more before the tunnel sealed:

I am with you always, even on the darkest of eves. You are not alone.

Kaley found herself reaching for Lucas’s hand as the barrier smoothed out, the creases disappearing and the warm wind along with it. A dot of blood stained the youthful Patrolman’s thumb, and she swallowed. Perhaps he was her Patrolman after all.

“Take me home now, Lucas,” she said.

THE TWENTY-SECOND

THE TWENTY-SECOND

Grandma was wrapped in the knit Theresa had given her last Christmas. It was the first thing I noticed when I came into the quiet hospital room where my cousin Quinn was sprawled in the corner on a chair, flipping through photos on her phone.

“Finally,” Quinn muttered when I approached Grandma’s bedside.

Without another word, my cousin stood, grabbed her purse, and tapped out of the hospital room on her flats. I sighed when she was gone, feeling a mild urge to punch Quinn in the face for no real reason. But I nearly jumped when I looked down and saw my grandmother’s eyes open.

“Is she gone yet?” Grandma whispered.

I made a face and glanced back over my shoulder. “Yeah.”

“Thank goodness. I don’t think I could have pretended to be asleep any longer. We ran out of things to talk about hours ago.” Grandma tried to peel away the knit with shaking hands, and I moved to help.