The Wolves of Midwinter (The Wolf Gift Chronicles 2)

Something communal was happening that he could never have anticipated, never thought possible, not here in this place or this time. He’d thought the emotional temperature of his world far too cool for such a thing.

The orchestra and choirs went right into “Hark! The Herald Angels Sing” with the same vigor and after that “God Rest Ye, Merry Gentlemen.” A whole string of English carols followed, each one more exuberant than the other. There was a jubilant authority to the music, and a spirit that seemed to engulf all present.

When a single soprano led the magnificent “O Holy Night,” people actually began to cry. So powerful was her voice, and so lustrous and beautiful the song itself, that the tears came to Reuben’s eyes. Susie leaned against Pastor George, who held her close and tight. Jim was beside Pastor George.

Stuart had come up to stand beside Reuben, and he too was singing as the orchestra moved into a solemn and urgent “O Come, All Ye Faithful” with the choir soaring over the rapturous strings and the deep throbbing French horns.

A silence fell with the rustling of the little paper candleholders and a few coughs and sneezes as one might hear in a packed church.

A thickly accented German voice spoke through the microphone. “And now I give the baton to our host, Felix Nideck, with pleasure.”

Felix took the baton and held it high.

Then the orchestra struck up the first famous notes of Handel’s “Hallelujah Chorus,” and people seated throughout the giant pavilion rose to their feet. Even those slightly confused by this were rising on account of the others. Aunt Josie struggled to rise with the help of her nurse.

When the chorus broke forth with the first “Hallelujah” it was like the blast of a trumpet, and on and on the voices went rising, falling, and rising again, declaring with the orchestra surging beneath them the gorgeous anthems of the chorus.

All around Reuben people were singing, falling in and out of riffs of lyrics that they knew and humming with those they didn’t know. On the voices roared: “And he shall reign forever and ever!”

Reuben pushed forward. He moved closer and closer towards the overwhelming sounds, until he stood close to Felix between the orchestra and the chorus, vigorously conducting with his right hand, the baton in his left.

“King of kings. Forever and ever!”

On and on in frenzy the music coursed towards its inevitable climax until there came the last great: “Ha Le Lu Jah!”

Felix’s arms dropped to his sides, and he bowed his head.

The pavilion roared with applause. Voices broke out everywhere in a delirium of convivial thanks and praise.

Felix straightened and turned, his face positively glowing as he smiled. At once he broke and rushed to embrace the conductor, the choirmasters, and the concertmaster and then all the players and singers. On and on came the applause as they took their bows.

Reuben pushed his way towards him. When their eyes met, Felix held him closely. “Dear boy, for you, this Christmas, your first at Nideck Point,” Felix whispered in his ear.

Others were reaching for Felix, calling his name.

Thibault took Reuben by the arm. “Easiest thing now is to stand by the door, or they’ll all be stumbling around trying to find you to say good-bye.”

And he was right.

They all took up their positions by the main entrance, including Felix. The medieval mummers and the tall gaunt St. Nicholas were also there, reaching into green sacks for coins and toys to give everyone.

For the next forty-five minutes people filed out, voicing their exuberant thanks. Some of the kids wanted to kiss St. Nicholas and feel his natural white mustache and beard, and he gladly obliged, offering his toys to the adults when there were no more children.

All the musicians and singers were soon gone, some declaring this the best Christmas festival they’d ever played for or attended. The night was filled with the rattle and throb of diesel buses pulling away.

Stuart’s mother, Buffy Longstreet, was crying. She wanted Stuart to come with her back down to Los Angeles. Stuart was comforting her and explaining gently that he just couldn’t do this as he walked her out to her car.

The exceptional women came to say their farewells together, and with the singular man, Hockan Crost, and that cinched it. Morphenkinder, had to be. Another, a dark-haired woman whom Reuben hadn’t met before, confided her name to be Clarice as she took Reuben’s hand, and told him how much she’d enjoyed the entire festival. She was his height in flat evening slippers, and wore a decidedly politically incorrect white fox-fur coat.

“You thrive in the public eye, don’t you?” she said, her speech so very heavily accented that he found himself leaning forward, the better to hear her. “I am Russian,” she explained, sensing the difficulty. “I am always learning English but never mastering it. This is all so innocent, so normal!” She made a soft scoffing sound. “Who would ever dream this was Yule?” The others were waiting a bit impatiently to say their good-byes, it seemed, and sensing it, she gave a petulant shrug and embraced Felix tightly, confiding something to him under her breath that made him smile a little tightly as he released her.

The other ladies embraced him in turn. Berenice, the pretty brunette who so closely resembled Frank, gave him long lingering kisses, and seemed suddenly sad, the tears plainly rising in her eyes. The woman he’d seen with Thibault introduced herself as Dorchella, and offered her thanks warmly as she left. The tall pale Fiona of the diamonds appeared to be rushing the others. She kissed Reuben brusquely on the cheek. “You bring a strange new life to this great house,” she whispered. “You and all your family. Aren’t you afraid?”

“Afraid of what?” he asked.

“Don’t you know?” she asked. “Ah, youth and its eternal optimism.”

“I’m not following,” said Reuben. “What is there to be afraid of?”

“The attention, of course,” said she quickly. “What else?”

But before he could respond, she’d turned to Felix.

“I marvel that you think you can get away with all this,” she said. “You don’t learn, do you, from experience?”

“Always learning, Fiona,” said Felix. “We are born into this world to learn, to love, and to serve.”

“That’s the dreariest thing I’ve ever heard,” said Fiona.

He flashed a brilliant and perfect smile on her. “How very good of you to come, young Fiona,” he said with seeming sincerity. “Delighted to have you as a guest under this roof anytime. Don’t you agree with me, Reuben?”