A Midwinter Fantasy by L. J. McDonald, Leanna Renee Hieber, Helen Scott Taylor Page B

All of you with your regrets,” the Irishwoman scoffed. “My fate was what was meant to be. Now, tend your light.” Jane turned to Constance, floating patiently at Percy’s side. “Good work, mylass. Stay here with Percy ‘til the last, and then I daresay we’ve all earned our blessed peace and then some!”
    Constance nodded, and placed her ghostly hand on Percy’s shoulder. Percy’s light burned brighter for friendship. Being a beacon was exhausting and painful, and she wondered if her skin would bear the mark of a burn.
    Graceful, dark movement from the floor above caught Percy’s eye. Alexi stared down at the scene from the floor above; down at the roiling portal, the headmistress’s vague form within, at the ghosts of Jane and Constance, and then at his luminous wife. Tears stood in his dark eyes. He made no move to stop Percy, or to move her away from the perilous edge where she stood guard, only stared at her with awestruck pride. Jane smiled and waved up at him.
    “Merry Christmas!” Jane whispered and vanished.
    Alexi blew Percy a kiss and turned away, leaving her to her miracles as she had requested. Percy’s light was sustained anew.
    Rebecca looked up. The light yet blinded her, but she was done; her tears had run their course. Everything was different.
    She stood. “What do I do?” she murmured, seeing only the light, unsure.
    “Come,” said a sweet voice. “Give me your hand.”
    Rebecca reached out toward the light. A soft, small hand met hers and pulled. There came a whirling sensation. She found herself stepping down onto firm ground in the foyer of Athens Academy. A small pop sounded behind her, and the portal, shadows, mists and encroaching danger were no more.
    It was indeed the sturdy marble floor of her academy; she was in the school she had run with strength and aplomb, the place that had given so many opportunities otherwise absent to its students and staff. God, she loved this building.
    Her eyes found those of the guardian angel whose light had helped her fight the greedy Whisper-world: they were the eerie, ice blue irises of Persephone Rychman. The young woman’s inner light, as white as her skin, faded as Rebecca moved to safety. She was breathing heavily, as if from great pain and exertion; but save for a bit of sweat on her brow she seemed otherwise composed. Her faintly rouged lips curved into a small smile just as radiant as her spirit.
    “Welcome back, Headmistress!”
    Rebecca swallowed hard, at a loss for words. “Indeed. Th-thank you, Percy.”
    There was a short pause.
    “Merry Christmas!” Alexi’s young wife cried, and she threw her arms around Rebecca.
    Rebecca took a moment to take stock. There was no jealousy. There was no pining. There was only possibility. The spirits had granted her new life. She felt entirely, wholly, utterly
new
. She returned the girl’s embrace, no longer tentative.
    Percy pulled back and grinned again.
    Curtseying before either of them could say another word, the young woman trotted off up the staircase . . . and the vast room seemed suddenly all the more empty for the lack of her. There was no remaining bitterness as Rebecca’s unwitting rival disappeared. This girl had never wished to be her rival; she had only embraced fate. Something the headmistress intended to do from now on.
    “They did it all in one night,” she murmured, wandering to her office, a grin on her face. “Spirits. Good spirits. Of course they did it all in one night. Of course they can.”
    Dickens was to the point after all, damn him. She realized she didn’t mind being proven wrong.
    It seemed her surprises weren’t done. There was an envelope on her desk bearing the official seal of Athens. Fromthe board of directors. Rebecca’s heart was in her throat, for she feared something had finally snapped. Perhaps closing the school to battle Darkness had brought about repercussions? Perhaps the board had heard that she’d been acting odd of late, which she most