Murder & Mistletoe, page 1
MURDER & MISTLETOE
a necessary evils anthology
Copyright © 2025 Onley James
www.onleyjames.com
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the publisher.
This book is a work of fiction and does not represent any individual living or dead. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Cover and Interior Formatting by We Got You Covered Book Design
CONTENTS
1. The Beginning
2. The Village
3. The Santa Clause
4. The Blackout
5. The Doctor is In
6. The Breakdown
7. The Farm
8. The Bookshelf
9. The Bedroom
10. The Baby
11. The Date
2024 Christmas Bonus Stories
1. Die Hard is Totally a Christmas Movie (Part 1)
2. Die Hard is Totally a Christmas Movie (Part 2)
3. If Santa Even is Your Real Name
4. Gingerbread Justice League
5. All Hallmark Movies are a Little Gay
6. Reindeer Riding Competition
About the Author
The weather outside was frightful.
Really frightful.
Literally.
The wind outside was howling and there was enough snow on the ground to warrant salting the roads. There was frost caked on the windows, but inside it was toasty warm. Lucas sat on the floor, legs crossed beneath the coffee table as he worked to meticulously wrap presents. Presents that would be torn apart like one of their father’s victims, with no thought to all the hard work he’d put into it. Still, he did it anyway. The other adults would appreciate the vibes. Well, Noah, Zane, and Felix would. And probably Freckles too.
Christmas music played softly from the surround sound speakers, the fireplace crackled softly, and peppermint hot chocolate steamed in Lucas’s mug beside the gift he diligently wrapped. August moved around the house in his well-fitted black pants and a hunter green quarter-zip that made his green eyes look almost supernatural. Every time he passed the firelight, it gilded the edges of him like he’d stepped out of some epic romance.
The whole house smelled faintly of peppermint, woodsmoke, and pine sap. It was a cozy bubble, an inverted snow globe where the storm raged around them. An unexpected weather event—something called a ‘polar vortex’—had snow dumping down on them, the likes of which Lucas had never seen in their town before. August had attempted to explain a polar vortex to him but when he’d started using words like ‘cyclostrophic balance’ and ‘angular momentum redistribution’ they’d ended up having sex in the shower.
Noah had called Lucas ‘sapiosexual’. It meant an attraction to intelligence. Lucas wasn’t attracted to intelligence. He worked at one of the most prestigious universities in the world. He’d have never been able to concentrate if that were true.
He was attracted to his husband… and his intelligence.
But mostly it was his voice and his hands and the way he stared so intently at Lucas when he was explaining something. That focused look always made Lucas feel like the world had narrowed to a single point: him. Lucas understood why most of the students were in love with his husband.
They were supposed to be heading to Dad’s tonight to join the kids—who had refused to leave Thomas’s house since Christmas break started—but they had to wait for the city to salt the roads as they weren’t prepared for this weather so early in the season. There was always snow but it was postcard and greeting-card levels of snow, not raising-a-national-hockey-star levels of snow. The kind of snow that made the whole world feel padded and distant.
Cricket had called to say she would ride to the mansion later with Lola and Calliope. The two had invited the heavily pregnant Cricket out to the homestead two days ago. They were trying to get her mind off the fact that their son seemed to think he could take up permanent residence in her womb.
At her last visit, the midwife had said they needed to consider a c-section instead of a homebirth soon. Cricket had been so upset, Calliope and Lola had insisted she come stay the night and do ‘girlie shit’ which, when it came to those girls, could have meant anything from braiding each other’s hair to toppling a hostile foreign regime.
He was putting the last piece of tape on a package when his phone signaled a FaceTime call. The sound felt oddly loud in the quiet, cozy room, like reality trying to pierce their snow-wrapped bubble.
“It’s the kids,” Lucas said.
August stopped unpacking his books, crossing the room to sit behind him on the floor, his warmth seeping into Lucas’s back comfortingly. Lucas’s shoulders dropped a little at the familiar weight of him. He hit the button to answer.
“Hi, babies,” Lucas said.
“Hi, Daddies,” the three chorused, sweet as could be.
Ara had flour on her nose, Adi was streaked with red frosting, and Allister had green lips.
“Whatcha doing?” Lucas asked, knowing the answer already.
“We’re making Christmas cookies with Jett, Jagger, Oscar, West, and Theo.”
Lucas smiled at the roster of names. He’d once asked them why they just didn’t say ‘their cousins’. Adi had condescendingly reminded them that Theo was—technically—not their cousin but their uncle. August had snickered at Lucas’s discomfort, likely remembering the uncomfortable conversation they’d had to have on how uncle Aiden became grandpa Aiden.
“Oh? Where are your grandparents?” August asked.
The phone swung wildly to show Thomas leaning against the counter, Aiden in his space, both wearing green pajamas with candy canes and Christmas trees — the same pajamas all the kids wore. The soft overhead lighting made the two men look like a Hallmark card. When the camera swung in the opposite direction, a gaggle of children were gathered around the wooden prep table in the overly large kitchen, trying—and failing—to decorate sugar cookies to look like gingerbread men. It was a bloodbath of shattered cookie limbs, scattered gumdrop buttons, and red frosting streaked like blood across what Lucas could only assume was leftover flour on the table.
There was far more icing on the children than the cookies. The kitchen was loud in the happiest way — kids laughing, fighting over bags of frosting, stealing the silly chef hats off each other’s heads. Someone shrieked victoriously in the background; another wailed that their gumdrops were stolen. The chaos was deafening and joyful.
Thomas and Aiden had likely diligently watched over the dangerous parts such as getting the cookies in and out of the ovens, but now that it was time to decorate they were letting them run wild, enjoying the chaos.
“Do you miss us?” Lucas asked, heart close to busting at seeing so many happy children.
“No,” the girls chorused. “Grandpa just made us call you so you wouldn’t feel sad you had to be away from us ’cause you love us so much,” Adi said.
“Well don’t sugarcoat it,” August murmured, amused.
“I miss you, Daddies,” Allister said quietly.
Lucas’s heart popped like an overfilled balloon at the earnestness in his voice. He could practically feel the wobble in Allister’s lower lip. That soft, uncertain look always undid him faster than any tantrum ever could.
“We miss you, too, buddy. We’ll see you in just a couple of hours.”
Allister leaned into the camera, taking up the whole frame, his big green eyes full of worry. “Can I sleep with you and Daddy tonight?”
“You don’t want to sleep with your cousins?” August asked.
He hesitated, then shook his head.
“Did something happen?” Lucas asked, frowning. A little thread of unease tugged at his spine—soft and persistent.
Once more that hesitation, then a shake of his head. He was lying. Or he was worried about something happening later. His nightmares were getting worse, the older he got. His visions too. He wasn’t old enough to shield himself from the impressions he picked up. At his age, every object was a minefield and, in a family of killers, a horror movie waiting to happen. Sometimes Lucas wished he could wrap the whole world in bubble wrap just to give his son a moment of silence inside his own mind.
Lucas felt that familiar tug low in his chest, the one that made him want to scoop Allister up and tuck him somewhere safe forever. He’d done this to him. He’d passed along this curse to his sweetest, most fragile baby. And now there was another one due any day now who might also have this trait. He didn’t want life to be hard for them. Did that make him a bad person? His breath caught a little, guilt settling like a stone beneath his ribs.
“Yeah, baby. Of course you can,” August said over Lucas’s shoulder.
“We don’t have to sleep with you though, do we?” Ara asked, like they had imposed this penalty on Allister and not like Allister had asked to be in their bed. “We want to sleep in the playroom like Jett, Jagger, Oscar, West and Theo.”
Lucas bit back a smile at the way Ara kept listing off each one by name. Always in the same order. It was her own tiny ritual, a verbal rosary she recited whenever cousins were involved.
“As long as Grandpa doesn’t mind, you guys can sleep in the playroom with your cousins,” Lucas said.
“We’re doin’ an invesagaton,” Oscar call ed from the table.
“Investigation,” Ara corrected sweetly.
“Yeah,” Oscar said, as if she had just confirmed exactly what he meant.
“Investigating?” Lucas inquired. “Investigating what?”
“It’s top secret,” Jagger called. “We can’t tell you.”
“Yeah, snitches get stitches,” Jett reminded solemnly.
Lucas shook his head helplessly. “Yes, I remember. Be careful. And make sure you’re asleep before Santa comes.”
Ara rolled her eyes. “Sure, Daddy. We’ll wait for ‘Santa.’” She air-quoted.
“Arabella Jade and Adelyn Rose,” he said in a menacing whisper. “Do not ruin Santa for the littler ones. Do you hear me?”
“Yeah, Daddy. You don’t have to use our full names.” Ara said, shaking her head like a fully grown adult.
Lucas could only imagine what they were ‘invesagating’.
In some ways the girls were so childlike—obsessed with K-pop Demon Hunters and Care Bears—and in others they were years ahead. The school had advised them to allow the girls to skip a grade or two, but August didn’t think they were old enough for that. He wanted them to have some kind of childhood, unlike himself.
That’s why they’d decided on St. Agnes. Their curriculum was light years ahead of other schools. The kids came home talking about quantum physics and moral philosophy with the same enthusiasm most children reserved for cartoons. Lucas still wasn’t over the day Adi casually explained Schrödinger’s cat to the pediatrician.
“When are you coming?” Allister asked, anxiety creeping into his tone.
“We’re just waiting for the weather to clear up a bit, then we’ll be on our way.” Lucas softened his voice, hoping it would bleed through the speaker and settle Allister’s nerves.
Allister nodded solemnly. “Grandpa says I can sleep with them again until you get here. Will you come get me when you come?” he asked softly.
“Yeah, baby,” August said. “We’ll come get you.”
Lucas loved how sweet August was with their children but especially their youngest. With Ara and Adi he was nice but firm. They really couldn’t afford to give them even an inch lest they take a hundred miles. They were smart, cunning, and had zero remorse when the ends justified the means in their little brains. When that energy met their cousins’ energy, it was dangerous. The Mulvaney littles worked like a pack… a pack of velociraptors, always testing their parameters for weaknesses.
It was impressive and terrifying in equal measure.
All except the youngest Mulvaney…Theo.
Theo was an enigma. He could talk, but often chose not to. He didn’t like to make eye contact, didn’t like to engage with others. He preferred electronics to humans and was exceptionally particular about what he ate, drank, and wore. Lucas suspected Thomas liked having all the grandkids around because they pulled Theo from his inner world. Allister often stuck with Theo despite the slight age gap. There was a quiet, unspoken alliance between them.
The two boys were soft, and so August was soft with them. He never spoke harshly to Allister or Theo, let them get away with things the girls didn’t. If it wasn’t for his kid gloves with Theo, Lucas would wonder if he treated Allister differently because he was biologically Lucas’s son. August treated Allister with the same kid gloves he used to handle Lucas when he was feeling particularly fragile.
Lucas saw himself in Allister too. There was something identical in the way they both absorbed the world; every emotion hit twice as hard. And it wasn’t all a side effect of their abilities. Some people were born with thinner skin between them and the world. Allister and Lucas simply felt more.
“Everybody ready to watch Rudolph in the theater room?” Thomas boomed from off camera.
“Can we have hot chocolate?” Jett asked.
Thomas scoffed playfully. “Well, we can’t watch a Christmas movie without it, can we?”
He was greeted by a chorus of ‘no’s’ and Jett shouting, “I need marshmallows,” like he was a doctor calling for a crash cart. They heard Thomas and Aiden chuckle and the other kids laughter.
“Bye, Dads,” Ara said, then disconnected before they could respond.
“We love you, too,” Lucas murmured as he set the phone down, shaking his head. The silence that followed felt soft and oddly huge without the kids’ noise filling it.
“I don’t know who that man is masquerading as my father, but that is not the man who raised me,” August said.
“It’s that grandparent privilege,” Lucas said. “He had to act strict as your father, but now he gets to spoil them rotten, get them all hopped up on sugar, then send them home for us to deal with.”
“It is pretty amusing.”
Lucas scoffed. “Amusing? Watching our children crash out like someone gave a cat cocaine? Hardly.”
August snorted, then added, “I’m surprised Aiden tolerates it as well as he does,” August said thoughtfully. “He was never really a ‘family’ type of guy.”
“It’s hard to be a family guy when you’re actively in love with a member of said family,” Lucas reminded him. “Besides, Aiden would do anything for your dad. Literally. If that means having a hundred kids underfoot 24/7, he will do it. He lives to spoil him.”
Lucas nudged August’s knee with his own, the easy intimacy sliding into place again now that the screen had gone dark. Outside, the storm growled, but inside everything felt warm and familiar even in its newness, it was…theirs.
“It’s bizarre,” August said. “Seeing how vastly different they are since giving in to each other. It’s like they performed an exorcism, not a wedding.”
Lucas shuddered. “Don’t say exorcism. I’m still traumatized from the last one.”
August rose from the floor to the sofa. Hands settled under Lucas’s arms, tugging. He looked back at August over his shoulder, frowning. “What?”
“Come sit in my lap,” he said, patting his leg. “Tell me what you want for Christmas.”
Lucas smirked. “That’s funny. You don’t look like Santa.”
August’s lips twitched. “I feel like I should make a pun about coming down your chimney, but I’ll refrain.”
Lucas chuckled softly, then made his way onto August’s lap, straddling his thighs. The shift pressed them closer, the warmth of August’s body soaking through Lucas’s clothes. August settled his hands on his ass, pulling him in so he could feel how he was hardening behind his zipper. The pressure was insistent, familiar. It made Lucas’s breath catch.
“I hope this isn’t how you sit in Santa’s lap at the mall,” August teased, squeezing the flesh between his fingers.
“Do you think I’m secretly sneaking off to the mall to give Santa a lap dance?” Lucas asked.
“How do I know what you do on your lunch break?” August asked, leaning forward to drop a kiss on Lucas’s Adam’s apple. His lips were warm and soft where they lingered, sending a little shiver down Lucas’s spine.
Lucas tipped his head back, letting August’s mouth explore the column of his neck. “I’m usually doing you on my lunch break, profess— I mean, Santa.”
He felt August’s laugh more than heard it. It rumbled through his chest. “Last time I did you, if I recall correctly.”
“Are you keeping track now?” Lucas asked. “How is it we’ve been kid-free for a week and the only sex we’ve had is a quickie in the shower after the ‘polar vortex incident’?”
August snorted. “Incident? Like Chernobyl?”
“You know what I mean,” he mumbled.
“We’re kid-free, not Cricket-free,” August said. “We had to unpack, finish the nursery, finish wrapping the family gifts, make an appearance at that abysmal faculty Christmas party, attend that St. Aggie fundraiser, and we had dinner with Adam and Noah and then walked around the neighborhood to get the rundown on our bizarre new neighbors.”
“This place is super weird, right?” Lucas said. “Like a…David Lynch movie.”
