Jack Frost wasn’t a morning person.
Mari had to all but beg, bribe with coffee, and literally shove him out the door to the truck so she wouldn’t be late to work. He gripped the sides of his parka tighter, the collar of his flannel shirt flipped up on the one side, and a white bandana kerchief-style on his head. She’d received a glare cold enough to freeze hell when she suggested cutting his hair, and promptly dropped the subject.
They didn’t speak all the way to town – Mari didn’t know what to say to make small talk and Jack was fighting not to nod off against the window. Country music was on the background, the volume low. Jack’s head thunked against the window. Mari reached across the space between them and slugged him on the arm, dodging the slap he intended in retaliation to put both hands back on the wheel.
She dropped him off in roughly the same place she’d parked the day before. It was only two hour parking, and the bookstore she worked at was further down near the small, free community lot where she didn’t have to worry about getting a ticket from the sheriff’s patrol.
He tipped himself out of the truck, staggering on the snowy sidewalk and using the door for balance. Eyeing the fat falling flakes with disdain, he grunted a response when she told him to have a nice day. He slammed the door shut on her smile.
Mari rolled down the window and added, “Look both ways, Jack!”
His response was a very human gesture he’d learned incredibly quickly involving only one finger. She snorted and went on her way to work; Jack dutifully checked both directions for oncoming traffic and hoofed it across the street.
The place was empty except for a middle-aged woman tapping furiously on a laptop in an armchair in the corner and the young man in the back behind the counter. He had a round face, as though he hadn’t lost his baby face upon entering puberty, and there was enough scruff on his face to make Jack wonder if he knew what a razor was.
Even he knew what a razor was and what it was used for even if he’d never done it.
“You must be Jack,” the man said as Jack ambled toward him. “I’m Drew.”
They did the handshake thing again; Jack wiped his hands on his apron and shucked his parka. It went on a hook in the back room next to Drew’s Carhart jacket. He went back out and behind the counter, hands resting behind his back as Drew showed him how to operate the espresso machine and milk steamer.
“I’m a vanilla kind of guy,” he said, demonstrating how many pumps of syrup went into a medium-sized drink. “Then it’s the two shots of espresso, followed by the milk. Use the spoon and keep the foam from going in, too, until last. Then it’s a dollop. Sometimes people want drizzle, too.” He made a cross-hatching of caramel overtop of his drink. “And that’s it. Then you just say the name on the side of the cup, if we’re really busy, and leave it here.” Putting a lid on the cup, he set it on the bare shelf at the far end of the counter from the cash register. “That’s about it.”
“Wonderful,” Jack said dryly.
Drew grinned. “You wanna make something? You look like a guy who needs a lot of caffeine in the morning.”
“That would be correct.” Using precise, calculated motions, Jack made himself a peppermint mocha – he’d enjoyed the one Mari had bought for him after she’d gotten him the job – and he wrapped his palms gratefully around the paper cup to soak up the warmth.
“You don’t look like you like winter,” Drew said, hazel eyes crinkling as he smiled.
“I used to,” Jack said, watching the snow continue to fall through the big windows lining the front of the store. “Now I don’t.” He’d landed on his ass the first time he’d tried to go from the house to the truck and it still smarted. Not mention had turned a fetching shade of purple.
He missed his magic. The front windows were practically begging for some beautiful ice designs and frost so thick they’d be opaque.
“Zach told me you’re not originally from New York.” Drew sipped his coffee.
Jack’s eyebrows rose.
“He didn’t mention where you were from. You’re staying with the Turners, aren’t you?”
“Yes.” He eyed Drew, careful to keep his expression neutral. “Why?”
Drew shrugged and said, “Nothing. Just trying to be friendly.”
He shuddered. The bell above the door chimed and they turned together to see who it was. Jack flinched; it was the same lady that had been reading a book in the corner yesterday and giving him all kinds of looks he couldn’t interpret when she thought he wouldn’t notice. He shrank back from the edge of the counter when she came toward them, an extra swing in her hips.
“Hey, Sandra. You want your usual?” Drew asked, prepared to ring it into the cash register.
“Yes, thank you.” She turned big green eyes on Jack – who stood rigid, hoping to spontaneously disappear in a flurry of snowflakes and completely forgetting he didn’t have magic anymore – and asked, “And who might you be, handsome?”
It was the oddest thing – Jack’s tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, and he went cross-eyed trying to formulate a response that was within human parameters. His brain, usually quick, came up with nothing, and he busied himself instead with putting down his own cup and taking the one Drew held out to him.
“Skinny hazelnut latte, so use no fat milk instead,” he said quietly. “This is Jack.”
“Pleasure,” she drawled with a hint of an accent.
Jack listened as warmth flooded his face, trying to place where she would be from. His hands trembled as he waited for the espresso to fill the little glass cups, and he jerked his fingers back, sliding them deftly behind him so she couldn’t brush hers over his as she picked up her coffee.
“Wonderful to meet you, Jack. Have a nice day, boys.” Sandra sashayed for the door and Jack did his best to methodically categorize and interpret his new body’s responses. Sweaty palms and trembling hands were most likely an auto-response to certain stimuli. Anger? No, he didn’t have the urge to freeze her to the floor. Apprehension? Not quite. She didn’t make him feel like an angry Father Winter did, and that his very existence could be snuffed out without so much as a second thought. Unease? Though what was similar to apprehension, wasn’t it?
He needed a dictionary, damn it.
“She made me nervous the first time I met her, too,” Drew said as he cleaned the steamer like they were supposed to every time they made a drink.
Nervous? That might work.
“Her name is Sandra DeCroix and she’s originally from Montreal,” he continued without Jack’s input. “Moved here a couple months back from someplace further up north.”
Jack said nothing and mentally confirmed what he had already realized: Drew didn’t need a participating second party in order to carry on a conversation.
Taking another sip of his peppermint mocha, he let the other man’s words wash over him. This, he knew, was what drove other humans to drink themselves into oblivion.
It was going to be a very long winter.
Technically speaking Mari had a half hour lunch break. She rarely completely used it for lunch only, and ate with one hand while the other perused inventory lists or the tiny margin that kept Storylines Books in the black each month. Sometimes she was even nose-first in a book she couldn’t put down outside of work and brought it with her.
This time, however, she finished her slice of leftover pizza and opened a search on the computer by the register. Her initial keyword bought up nothing overly useful to her, as she was quite sure the legend of Jack Frost didn’t have a damn thing to do with a children’s movie.
Jack kept a frozen lady in his front hall for God’s sake.
“I haven’t seen that look on your face since you were writing your honors thesis.”
Mari looked up, color highlighting her cheeks. “Didn’t think you were back yet. Sorry.”
Evanne Phillips, Storylines owner, leaned her elbows on the counter and raised a dirty blonde eyebrow at her best employee. Granted, she only had two, but Mari had been with her since she was old enough to get her working papers in high school.
“I’m not having much luck finding what I’m looking for,” Mari said. She played with the edges of her French braid and asked, “What do you know about Jack Frost?”
“I know there are several representations of him,” she said, straightening. “He’s got a few different names, too, depending on which country and story you’re reading.”
She went back to her search page and clicked the box. “What’s one of his other names?”
Evanne blew out a loud breath. “I don’t know. I want to say he’s middle or eastern European in origins. Start with Norse mythology and go from there.”
There was a website devoted totally to Norse mythology, gods, goddesses, and religion. It was the second link of her search results, and she was more inclined to trust it than the first one since it had a .org at the end. There was a wealth of information available on Odin, Asgard, and the creation of the world, but nothing about Jack Frost.
“Anything?” Evanne asked from where she’d wandered along the shelves.
“Nope.”
“Try eastern European.”
Mari typed it in quickly and hit enter. Wikipedia was first up, followed by something from her search engine, but the third looked promising. It was another .org, and she clicked it, noticing she was, technically, ten minutes past when she was supposed to have been done with lunch and ready to work again. As Evanne hadn’t noticed or didn’t seem to mind, Mari carried on with what she was doing.
A few clicks later and she found something she could work with. The first bit was something she already knew – he was responsible for crisp, cold weather and leaving pretty patterns of ice and frost on windows – and the second bit was another name. Jokul Frosti.
“I’m going to assume from the lack of cursing that you’ve found something worthwhile,” Evanne said, setting two old, thickly bound books on the counter.
“Jokul Frosti.” Mari tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “That’s another name for him. What are those?”
“Mythology books. Might be helpful for what you’re looking for.” She left Mari to her own devices and opened a box of new arrivals the UPS man had dropped off the day before.
Mari clicked, read, jotted down notes, and gathered information about the origins of something intangible until a customer walked in sometime later. She hastily shut the small spiral notebook and clicked out of the internet browser before showing him where the self-help books were located. The man had only just gotten a cell phone upgrade, and his children thought he would find an iPhone beneficial. She rolled her eyes when she was sure he wasn’t looking, and did her best to answer his questions. Her mind was decidedly elsewhere, and she glanced discreetly at her watch to see how much time she had before she could leave.
Storylines stayed open until four during the week while the Beanery didn’t close until five. Mari tucked the two books Evanne was loaning her – the store functioned partly like an unofficial library in certain circumstances – wrapped herself up good against the wind and snow, and started down the sidewalk. There was already a small line at the counter when she arrived, and she nabbed herself one of the comfortable armchairs by the heater near the windows to leave her things on. It reminded her of leaving her phone and ID on a table in the dining hall during college, and she turned her beat up wallet over in her hands.
“Anna and Kevin?” Jack called, setting two cups in the space reserved for pick up. He caught Mari’s eye, the corners of his mouth twitching up, and then shuffled away toward the register to pick up another.
Mari was impressed; Jack was a decent worker, and he and Drew seemed to have worked the first-day kinks out of their partnership. Jack didn’t say much, but Drew was such a motor-mouth it didn’t matter anyway.
Some things never truly changed past high school graduation.
“Hey, Mari,” he said brightly. “How was Storylines today?”
“We had so much business we couldn’t handle ourselves,” she said.
“And you lie like a rug.” Drew grabbed a large cup. “Your usual?”
“Please.” She handed him a five and waited for her change. “How’s he done today?”
Jack, having been ensnared in conversation about the merits of decaf versus regular with Mrs. Patterson, a woman old enough to be his grandmother under normal circumstances, was wide-eyed and oblivious. Mari wasn’t worried about him overhearing anything.
Not that he’d know how to express the annoyance of having two friends gossiping about him within five feet of his person.
She sucked in a shocked breath. Friends? Really? Friends with the Winter Prince turned human because she couldn’t keep her mouth shut and her temper under control.
“You looked like you did that time you accidentally clocked the shop teacher in the head with a two by four,” Drew said dryly.
“Call it a clue by four.” Mari glanced at Jack wiping off the milk steamer. “Seriously, how’s he been?”
“He doesn’t talk. Other than that…” He shrugged. “He seems decent. Better than the last guy Zach hired at least, so that’s a plus. If he makes it in tomorrow on time he’ll be in the running for Employee of the Month.”
Zach employed twice as many people as Evanne.
Drew dropped her change in her palm. “He a cousin or something?”
“A friend,” she said softly, watching Jack put the last three cups on the far end of the counter and wipe his hands on his apron. Two were immediately picked up.
“He’s a good guy.”
She didn’t say anything, caught somewhere between trusting Drew’s initial judge of character and refuting it. He didn’t know about the frozen woman in Jack’s front hall or the temper simmering below the calm surface. She did, and she knew enough to tread cautiously, something she hadn’t had the sense to do earlier.
“Thanks, Drew,” she said, dumping a few dollars in the mason jar by the register.
He waved a dismissive hand in her direction and began talking Jack through the closing routine. Things had to be marked, cleaned, and put away. She took the cup on her way by and went to the windows, intent on settling in a chair and perusing the books Evanne had loaned her.
She blinked at her reflection, thinking she should feel different than she did and wondering why she didn’t.
Jack followed her through the house, pausing to look at the titles of the books she dropped on the kitchen table in favor of seeing if her mother had left any instructions for dinner.
“Aren’t you a little old for fairy tales?” he asked.
She ignored the disdain in his voice. “Says the man who’s a walking talking fairy tale himself.” She glared at him over her shoulder. “That’s called being a hypocrite, by the way.”
“I’m not the one reading children’s bedtime stories as research,” he said blandly.
“You are a children’s bedtime story, Jack.” Mari found a box of Kraft macaroni and cheese in the cupboard and reread Hannah’s note.
Working late. Feed the infestation.
An uneasy, almost frosty silence, permeated the kitchen. She shivered and turned around. Jack gripped the back of a chair with white knuckles.
“I am anything but a children’s bedtime story, Marianne,” he said in a way she could only describe as menacing. “Remember that.”
She nodded without comment.
“I am going to bathe – ”
“Shower,” she corrected, leaning against the counter.
“Yes. That. I am going to shower because I smell like chocolate and it’s making me want to gnaw on my own appendages.” Jack shuddered.
“Holler if you can’t figure out how to get the water on,” she said with a shrug.
He stared at her through narrowed eyes and left the kitchen without another word. Forty-five minutes later – ten of which were spent experimenting with how to get the water out of the faucet and then through the showerhead – Jack stepped naked in front of the bathroom mirror. He used the towel he’d dried his hair with to wipe the steam off the glass and look, for the first time, on his reflection.
The towel slithered to the floor.
Jack leaned his hands on the vanity to bring his face closer to the mirror. His pupils and hair were white, and the color of his irises were the white-blue he was familiar with. With his mouth partially open in disbelief he could see his teeth were pointed, too.
This wasn’t right. He was supposed to be human, damn it.
He grabbed a fistful of hair and tugged it around to see it without looking in the mirror. Light blonde, not white. But the mirror didn’t lie, did it?
“Mari!” he bellowed.
She barged in with all the grace of a water buffalo moments later. “What’s – whoa! Clothes, Jack!”
“Mari! Look!” He gestured helplessly at the mirror.
“Clothes, Jack! Or a towel!” Mari refused to look so much at his toes, let alone the rest of him. She blushed hotly; Jack Frost a damned good looking man, his hipbones and clavicle sharp enough to cut glass.
“Do I look human? Mari, am I human? Will you look at me?”
“I’m not looking at you until you put some goddamn clothes on!” she yelled. The sound echoed off the tiles, and she quietly added, “Please.”
He impatiently tugged his boxers up his legs. “Better?”
“Much.” She leaned against the wall. “What?”
“How do I look?” he asked again.
“You look fine. Blonde. Blue-eyed. Short for a man,” she added, crossing her arms over her chest. “You see something you didn’t like in the mirror?”
“I saw something I didn’t expect. Come here.”
She hesitated; he grabbed her by the wrist and all but dragged her over to stand in front of the mirror with him.
“This is your other form,” she said after a lengthy examination.
“My true form,” Jack snapped.
“Your – what are you, anyway?” Mari reared back to put a little distance between them and scrutinized him. “Fairy? Pixie? Elf? Is there a difference between a fairy and a pixie?”
Jack slapped a hand over her mouth with a growl, effectively shutting her up enough for him to spit out, “I am a pixie. There is a difference between a fairy and a pixie – it’s complicated – but I am a pixie. I am a fae creature.”
She pinched what little excess skin he had above his hip; he jumped back with a yelp, batting at her hand. “Be nice. A mirror shows your true form but you still look human in terms of body.” She turned for the bathroom door and paused, hand on the knob. “And you freaked out royally, by the way.”
He didn’t watch her leave. Instead, he turned his attention back to the mirror, running his fingers across the surface and hoping it worked the same magic for humans.