Chapter 25: Kiss of Death
To give him credit, Cupid was a very generous host.
Since his party wasn't until the next night, Cupid offered guest rooms to all five Guardians and Charlotte; he apparently had more than enough to go around. Charlotte lugged her bag out of the sleigh and followed Cupid up the stairs with the Guardians.
Cupid ducked left and right, swerving in and out of carpeted, stony corridors before finally coming to a long hallway with brown doors lining the sides. Cupid gave three on the left to North, Jack, and Bunnymund, while Tooth, Sandy, and Charlotte got three on the right.
"Come find me if you need anything!" Cupid chirped, swishing out of the hallway.
"Here is plan," North said. Everyone made a circle. "Ve are leaving right after party. Ve stay tonight, party tomorrow, then gone. Knock if you need help."
Everyone nodded and then retired to their respective room with bids of goodnight. Charlotte gazed around her own room with curiosity. It was bigger than her bedroom in Burgess, with a large canopy bed, a window with a window seat, white carpeting, a bathroom, and a gold chandelier. Charlotte was getting sick of having to sleep in different beds every other night, and was half tempted to check the room for booby traps, but didn't think Cupid would be that cruel to his guests. So, with a weary glance at the darkness that was beginning to fall over Paris, Charlotte changed into pajamas, brushed her teeth, washed her face, and collapsed into a sleep that she didn't need Sandy's help to accomplish.
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Oh, this was going to be utterly delicious.
Cupid walked down, down, down into the cathedral, taking the secret entrance near the window that represented when he had brought love to the infamous Bonnie and Clyde—man, they had been bad. He descended into darkness, the air becoming colder as he went deeper into the Cloud. Finally, after a few twists and turns, Cupid arrived at his laboratory.
It was a humble little thing, considering the majesty that was the cathedral. There was a bookshelf that reached the ceiling, his desk, the experiment table, the tiny wooden closet that concealed his chemicals and potions from the world. And then there was the framed picture hanging above the desk, his constant source of motivation.
St. Valentine, the first Cupid and the one before him, had not been the best man in terms of morals. He had been flawed, like most of the saints; but he had been gifted, which is why he had been reborn into the figure of Cupid in the first place. Love was a very simple thing to concoct, and genius St. Valentine had been the first to make it tangible in his hands.
Cupid smiled softly, remembering the first time St. Valentine had taught him how to shoot. He had been awful, and St. Valentine hadn't been patient. But he had also been quick to congratulate him on his first bull's eye with a pat on the back, a huge grin, and an extra pastry after dinner.
"I wonder sometimes," he said softly to the picture, "eef you are proud of me."
Of course, no response; St. Valentine's time had passed long ago, leaving Cupid with his job, his golems, his elixirs, and his cathedral. Cupid had had no idea how lonely the job of Spirit of Love could be. Never interacting, never seen, never having a person of his own to cherish.
Oh dear Olympia, how I meess you.
Cupid shook his head, wings shaking in sync. That was the past—Olympia, bless her soul, was gone. And now it was time to focus on the future.
Cupid opened the closet. Rows and rows of potions and oddly-shaped bottles lay before him, labeled with rocky calligraphy. He selected the three he needed: ever-patient stardust, which, thank goodness, never soured; ground-up milky moonstone; and crushed rose quartz. He took the three bottles to his experiment table and got out a hunk of wood with a rounded head, a bowl, and a Bunsen burner. He added a couple pinches of stardust, rose quartz, and moonstone into the bowl, smashed and blended everything together with the hunk of wood until it was a ruby, white, violet, and silver powder. Then he poured the powder into a cup and placed it over the fire, a low blue flame.
Cupid returned to the closet and reached up to the hidden compartment, extracting a large gold and white bow and a long metallic cookie-cutter. Placing a leather mat on the table, Cupid put the cookie-cutter on the mat, picked up the cup from the fire, and poured the contents into the cookie-cutter. There was a great deal of steam; Cupid fanned the table with his hands. Finally, he put on a thick glove and plucked something out of the cookie-cutter: it was one, perfect, red and white arrow.
"I've still got it," Cupid chuckled. He cleaned up the table, grabbed the bow and arrow, and left his laboratory with one last wistful glance at his portrait of St. Valentine.
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"Ow! I honestly think this is too tight. OW!"
"Nonsense! You look amazing!"
Charlotte blew a piece of hair out of her face. It was the next day, a couple hours before Cupid's party. At breakfast, Cupid had insisted on supplying clothes for the occasion and with a snap of his fingers, had a whole army of tall, pink-skinned fairies zap into the room, ready to work. They were apparently a group of fairies that were in charge of bringing spring around the world, but Cupid had called them in to help and attend his party.
Five had immediately jumped on Charlotte like hungry lions to prey. Tugging her back up to her room, they got to work, brandishing elegant gowns and high heels like shotguns. Charlotte wanted to add her opinion to their choices, and was shocked by the thought. Since when did she like humungous gowns and heels that could be considered murder weapons?
But if she was being honest with herself, she liked it. After a week of facing off pain, danger, fury, and tears, it was nice to just be pampered. Sure, most of the dresses the fairies picked were tight at the waist, and they couldn't figure out what to do with her hair, and she was mostly likely not going to be able to take a step in any of the shoes they picked. But she wasn't running away or yelling at something. She wasn't scared for her life, or for the lives of others. She was just Charlotte, being pampered into a dress. And that was okay with her.
Although, she had a couple opinions she wanted to share.
"My mom told me once I look great in purple or dark pink," she said loudly to the fairies as they fussed over the newest gown.
"Dark pink?" One fairy—what was her name again? Vaida!—asked, frowning. Then she took in Charlotte wholly and nodded, a hand on her chin. "You know what? She's right. Ooh, I know just what to do!"
Vaida fluttered by the other fairies and rustled around in the rack of gowns. She returned a minute later, and Charlotte's eyes widened.
It was long and rumpling as it went down, décolleté and a dark shade of magenta. It was outlined in gold sparkling trimming, and there was a dazzling gold jewel at the cleavage line that Charlotte could see herself in.
Charlotte's jaw dropped, and she said, "Lemme try it on."
Vaida slipped it over Charlotte's head and zipped her up. Charlotte couldn't help but beam in the mirror—she actually looked really nice.
"IT'S PERFECT," snarled a fairy named Rowena in triumph. "Let's get some shoes and jewelry together!"
Like bees in a hive, the fairies zipped around the room and compared necklaces and heels and barrettes. Charlotte blinked, and then she was suddenly primped out beyond her wildest dreams. The heels were bright, sunny gold (and not as high as the other ones she had tried on). A gold necklace swung from her neck: a dove on a chain. Makeup had been thrown on her face at some point: dark eyes, shiny lips, and tiny sparkles that freckled her cheeks. And the front of her hair was clipped back on one side, her chocolate curls spilling down her shoulders and back.
"You look amazing!" Vaida squealed.
Rowena helped Charlotte down from the platform she'd been standing on and patted her on the back. "You're going to shine in that room," she said, smiling.
Charlotte bashfully shrugged. "It's—just a party," she forced out.
The fairies were so excited for Charlotte that they wouldn't let her leave her room until the Guardians were done too. So she sat on the bed, rubbing the heels against the floor in boredom.
Hopefully this doesn't suck, she thought.
An hour later, frantic knocks were at the door. Rowena tugged her into the hall, and Charlotte almost fell on her face in the heels. Rowena, rolling her eyes, led Charlotte to the stairs and helped her down every step.
At the bottom stood the Guardians, and they were all primped out themselves. Sandy had transformed his usual robes into a golden tux, complete with a sandy monocle, top hat, and cane. Tooth was adorned in a silky, exotic green shirt and matching pants, ears pierced with huge gold hoops, bangles clanging on her wrists, and a gold headband. North wore a white suit and shiny black shoes, along with a scarlet tie that was decorated with Christmas trees. Bunnymund wore huge spring-green robes with orange designs and a large silver medallion. And then Jack wore a clean-cut black tux, an icy blue rose sticking out of his jacket pocket.
All five Guardians looked up to her as she started down the stairs. There was a twing in the air, but it appeared that Charlotte was the only one who heard it.
"CHARLOTTE!" Tooth gasped. "You look stunning!"
"Vell, vell, vell!" North chuckled. "Look who cleans up nicely!"
"I'm always cleaned up," Charlotte joked as she reached the floor. "It's your fault for not noticing."
North shrugged. "I am busy man."
Charlotte turned to Bunnymund, who gave a thumbs up of approval for the get-up, and then glanced at Jack.
Her heart sped up.
Jack was staring at her like she had just descended from heaven. His blue eyes were huge and unblinking, and his face was gaining color by the second.
"Umm…Jack? Jack?" She waved a hand in front of him. "You good?"
Jack jumped and blinked at her. "Y-yeah. I'm good." He smiled at her, and she was shocked to see that he was nervous. "You look great."
Charlotte nodded and gave a small smile to comfort him. "Thanks. You're not atrocious yourself." Why are you so nervous? she asked him mentally.
"Alrigh', now that we're all here," Bunnymund said, all business. "After this dumb shindig, we're outta here, righ'?"
"Absolutely," North responded, stern. "Ve do not have time to vait until morning. Christmas is in few days and ve still have to go to Santoff Claussen. After Cupid has agreed to join us, vamoose!"
Everyone nodded to the plan.
"Then, let us go."
Sandy bowed before Charlotte, taking off his hat, and asked for her hand with a good-natured grin. Charlotte laughed and took his hand. "I'm the luckiest girl at the ball," she swooned, making Sandy jingle with laughter.
Something zeroed in on the back of her head. Charlotte peeked out from her peripherals and noticed Jack glaring at her and Sandy, hand curling tightly around his staff.
I'm just gonna ignore that, Charlotte thought, worry seeping into her blood.
They entered the main room of Cupid's Cathedral, and Charlotte gaped. The entire facility was decorated from ceiling to floor: streamers, balloons, and candles were scattered about, and the night could be seen from the window above. Tables were set up around the room, each seat assigned to a guest. A string band sat in the corner, playing sweet music as a space was specified in the middle of the room for dancing. The room had a beautiful glow to it, the blackness outside darkening the stained glass windows, but lanterns keeping the inside bright and warm.
What was also surprising was that the room was filled with people: different beings and creatures chatted and chuckled together in such a normal way that it made Charlotte peer closely to make sure they weren't humans disguised. More fairies, with different colored skins like purple, tangerine, and brown, floated around and danced in the air. Others remained grounded and either ate or talked, but they were all basked in ethereal rings of light.
The Guardians and Charlotte found their table on the other end of the room. She was assigned between Jack and Tooth, but as she took her seat, she noticed Jack was slightly shaking, eyes focused on staring straight ahead.
"I can't believe you took off your hoodie," she commented, hoping to ease him.
He glanced at her madly, like she was the strangest creature in the room speaking to him. (For all she knew, considering this world, she was.) "Yeah, I mean—well, they had to off it tug me—I mean, tug it off me. I didn't wanna get all dressed up." Jack swallowed. "But…it's for the good of the mission."
"Yeah." Charlotte couldn't think of anything else to say. "Good of the mission. Yeah, totally."
"HEY," he cried suddenly, staring at her with ferocity. "DO YOU WANNA DANCE?"
Charlotte blinked. "Uh, sure—"
Jack grabbed her hand and yanked her up from the table. They walked out onto the dance floor, and Charlotte spun her head to give the other four Guardians an expression of bamboozlement, which they reflected.
Jack led her to the center of the dance floor. She placed both of her hands on his shoulders, and he wrapped his arms around her waist. Too quickly—Charlotte squeaked in response.
"Er—sorry," Jack said instantly. Yet he sounded pleased. Like having his arms around her was what he had wanted all along—
EW. Charlotte shook her head, trying to erase the thought from her mind. But she couldn't deny the way her heart was thumping, like it was trying to be heard. What is going on? Why do I feel so weird? She felt like sickness was rising in her stomach. This wasn't normal.
Her eyes flickered up to Jack's. He looked content, pale lips curved in a small smile. But he also looked like his mind was racing.
And this was how the night went on for a while: Jack was always near her, whether they were getting food, watching Cupid officially welcome the guests—even just chatting with the Guardians at the table had Jack having a specific notice to her and whatever she said or did. At one point, Jack rose to get her and himself refills, and as soon as he was out of range, Charlotte exploded.
"Is anyone else seeing this?" she hissed, holding her temples.
"Ohhhhh trust me, we're seeing it," Tooth answered.
"Crikey, I'm sure MiM can see this whole thing goin' on," Bunnymund added, eyes narrowed. "He's on you like grass on dirt."
"I don't know what to do!" Charlotte said. "Every time I try to go do something, he follows. I bet he'd follow me into the bathroom if it weren't for the sign."
"I have never seen Jack act this way," North said, scratching his beard. "It is like…it is like he is in love with you."
A hammer came down on Charlotte's chest. "Nooooooooooo," she tried weakly. "Noooo way. No way in hell. Jack can't—he wouldn't—"
"Wouldn't what?" Jack asked, sitting down next to her.
"Buh—wouldn't…run away! You were taking so long," she lied. "We were getting worried."
"Oh." Jack shrugged. "My bad, the line was long. Actually, um, Charlotte, would you mind if I talked to you about something privately?"
Charlotte did her best to keep the panic from streaking across her face. "Sure," she said tightly. Her eyes found the eyes of Sandy, Bunnymund, North, and Tooth as she followed Jack away from the table, and she hoped she successfully sent out an S.O.S.
Jack led her outside through the front of the cathedral and out onto the Cloud. They gazed down at Paris, a glamorous carnival of light, sound, and energy. The sky above was darker than ink, and Charlotte searched for the moon, but only found a sliver of cream in the distance.
"What did you, um…" Charlotte cleared her throat. "What do you want to talk about?"
Jack took a deep, reassuring breath. "Charlotte. Um, I know I've been acting weird the past couple of hours…and, well, I just wanna tell you something."
Here it is, Charlotte thought with relief. He doesn't feel well. He's nervous about Mother Nature. He wants to talk about his sister. He misses Jamie. It's going to be okay—
Instead, Jack kissed her.
It was sweet and long, Jack pulling her closer to him and Charlotte having no other option but to hold onto him. He held her waist again, and she fumbled blindly for his hair, rubbing her fingers through the silver threads. Jack was cold, too—his hands, his lips, his body was thrumming with a kind of icy pulse, cold radiating off of him like frosty heat.
Oh my god. Charlotte's mind scrambled for sense. OH MY GOD. OH MY GOD I'M KISSING JACK. THIS IS NOT HAPPENING.
But it was, and as much as is pained Charlotte to admit, she liked it. It was her first kiss, and it felt perfect, like how first kisses were supposed to. There were icy fireworks and chemistry and a connection between the two of them as they kissed.
But three-fourths the way into it, Charlotte realized two things: one, she was having waayyy too much fun kissing Jack Frost; and two, she wasn't in love with him.
She loved Jack, she really, truly did—as a friend. A brother. A second brother, honestly. A Guardian. A diary. A Rubix cube she so desperately wanted to finish.
But not as a true love.
They broke away, panting. Charlotte sucked in air like a vacuum, and stared at Jack with flushed cheeks and shiny eyes. He stared back, and it nipped at her—he looked stupidly, happily, in love.
She opened her mouth to tell him the truth. She loved him, of course, but not like this—and that's when she noticed it.
It had originally been undetectable, hidden under Jack's jacket. But now, since she was so close to him, she could see it: the point of an arrow sticking out of Jack's middle. Frowning, Charlotte spun him around, and found the end of the arrow sticking out of Jack's back, so tiny and concealed that no one would have been able to see it.
Except her.
Charlotte grabbed the end of the arrow with two fingers and pulled; once she had gotten enough of the arrow out, she grabbed hold with two hands and yanked with all her might.
The arrow came flying out of Jack's back, and Charlotte stumbled. She held it up to use the natural light of the night to see it. An ideal, flawless, red and white arrow, obviously crafted by hand.
And that's when her heart completely and entirely broke.