An Assassin’s Thanksgiving
By: Holly Huntress
Tags: Thanksgiving, Short Story, Storytelling, Authors, Fantasy

“Why are we doing this?” Callon asked as Amalia put a turkey into the shopping cart.

“Because it’s Thanksgiving tomorrow, and Theo is bringing over his new girlfriend. I want to impress her,” Amalia explained, and her brother rolled his eyes. Callon and Theodemar rarely brought girls home, so she knew this one must be special. She was human, and humans celebrated Thanksgiving, so Amalia would make dinner.

“Boss isn’t going to approve of all this,” Callon repeated the same argument he tried to use to get out of helping Amalia.

“Why can’t you just call him dad? It’s not like he’ll hear you.” Amalia grabbed a can of cranberry sauce and tossed it into the cart. “Come on, we could all do with a good meal. It’s been forever since we all sat down and ate together.”

“Will Cyril be joining us?” Callon prodded, smirking.

“You know he will. He’s dad’s prodigy. Dad may hate the idea of celebrating Thanksgiving, but he’d be even more peeved if I snubbed his precious Cyril,” Amalia scoffed. She loved Cyril. He had been in her life for as long as she could remember, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t annoyed with her father fawning over him.

“When will you admit that you two are a thing?” Callon grabbed a bag of rolls.

“We’re not,” Amalia deflected.

“As your brother, I feel like it’s my duty to tell you, Cyril thinks you are. After sleeping with a guy, usually, that means you’re a thing,” Callon said and Amalia shuddered.

“Can we not talk about my private life? And stop saying ‘a thing.’ It’s weird.” She changed the subject back to Thanksgiving dinner. The rest of the shopping trip went smoothly, and they were able to get all the food into the hotel without their dad noticing. Word would get back to him soon enough, but Amalia didn’t want to explain herself just yet.

~

The next morning, Amalia woke up early to start cooking. She started with the mashed potatoes. By the time she finished with those, Cyril and Theo had joined her in the kitchen.

“Where’s Callon?” she asked, wiping sweat from her forehead with her sleeve. The oven made it unbearably hot in the kitchen.

“He said he helped you shop,” Theo said, and Amalia rolled her eyes.

“What can we do to help?” Cyril asked.

“Prep the turkey, make the pies, and start the…”

“What is going on in here?” Rogan stood at the door, his eyes blazing.

“D –boss,” Amalia caught herself. “Theo’s bringing a girl home,” she pointed to Theo, going back to her old ways of deflecting. Theo glared at her before turning to their dad and putting his hands up in surrender.

“I was going to tell you, but Amalia distracted me with all this Thanksgiving stuff,” he tossed the blame back to her.

“Thanksgiving? We don’t celebrate human holidays,” he spat out the word like a curse. He lived among humans, made his living off of them, and still despised them.

“Just show up for dinner tonight, okay? Four o’clock in Theo’s dining room,” Amalia said. She had never made a demand of her father, the least he could do was respect this one.

“We’ll see,” he growled and left the room.

“That went better than expected,” Theo said.

They spent the next couple of hours preparing Thanksgiving dinner. When they finished a dish, they would place it in the oven or fridge. Eventually, everything on Amalia’s checklist was crossed off and they were able to collapse onto the kitchen floor to take a break.

“I am never making Thanksgiving dinner again,” Amalia gasped. “Tell your girlfriend next year you are spending with her family.” Theo laughed and Cyril put his arm around Amalia’s shoulders. She was reminded of her conversation with Callon the day before and a blush crept into her cheeks.

“I had fun,” Cyril said, and Amalia scooted away from him, standing up.

“I have to go get cleaned up,” she said, hurrying out of the room.

Four hours later, Amalia had the table set and food on the table as she waited for everyone else to arrive. Callon showed up first.

“Wow, you did good sis,” he whistled as he appraised the spread on the table. “If Theo doesn’t marry this girl, I’ll personally ensure he repays you for every penny spent and every second wasted on this meal.”

“No need,” Amalia laughed. “I charged it to dad’s card.” He’d never notice the charge, she did it all the time. Cyril entered the room next and took his seat beside Amalia. She felt Callon’s eyes on her and could almost hear his I told you so.

Theo came a few minutes later with a petite, blonde-haired, blue-eyed, woman trailing behind him. Amalia guessed she was around twenty-one, just like Theo. She had a round face and a button nose. The opposite of her family’s elven features which were sharp and pointed.

“Everyone, this is Lila. Lila, this is Amalia, Callon, and Cyril,” Theo introduced them all. They took their seats opposite Amalia and Cyril. Callon sat at the head of the table, saving the opposite head for Rogan if he showed.

“Pass the potatoes, would you sis?” Callon held his hand out towards her and she handed him the giant bowl. He held it in one hand with ease. Amalia rolled her eyes.

“Shouldn’t we wait for your dad?” Lila spoke up and Callon and Amalia shared a glance, bursting out laughing.

“Oh, Theo hasn’t told you about the boss yet?” Callon asked through his laughter. Theo turned beet red.

“It hasn’t come up,” he said. Lila shrank back into her chair, clearly embarrassed. Amalia felt sorry for her and gave her a smile.

“He’s not the most caring man in the world,” she explained. “But we’re still alive, so,” she shrugged. “Now, if you’re Cyril on the other hand,” she nudged him with her elbow.

“Shut it,” he nudged her back.

“Couldn’t wait a few extra minutes for me to arrive?” Rogan’s voice boomed in the small room and everyone stopped moving. “Digging in like animals already,” he tsked, taking his seat opposite Callon. He offered Lila a curt nod, which Amalia assumed was the best she would ever get from him.

“Sorry, boss. We weren’t sure if you were coming, business is booming after all,” Callon said, dipping his head respectfully.

“I wouldn’t miss meeting Theodemar’s…” he paused, not sure what to call Lila.

“Girlfriend,” Theo finished for him. “Her name is Lila. Lila, this is my father, Rogan.”

“It’s nice to meet you, sir.” Amalia could sense the fear and anxiety rolling off of Lila and she knew the rest of her family could sense it too.

“Wine anyone?” Amalia offered, diffusing the tension. Everyone nodded almost in unison. She stood up and grabbed the bottle from the counter, filling everyone’s glasses. She opened the second bottle and topped off her own glass. “Cheers,” she said as she chugged the contents of her glass. As everyone settled in and began drinking, the air in the room became lighter.

“I’ve heard nothing about you,” Rogan said to Lila. “Please, tell me what it is you do.”

“She’s a writer,” Theo said, and Rogan waved him off.

“I asked Lila, son.”

“I’m a writer,” Lila reiterated, and Rogan nodded.

“I have some stories I could tell you,” he smirked, and Amalia laughed. “Have you ever heard of absinthe?”

“Dad!” Amalia cried out, her head swimming from the alcohol. He turned on her and she thought he was about to chew her out for calling him anything other than ‘boss.’ Instead he offered her a rare smile and she sputtered.

“Don’t bore her with your ridiculous stories, boss,” Theo pleaded.

“I would love to hear his stories,” Lila retorted. “Please,” she added.

“No, you would not,” Amalia said. “Trust me, Lila. If you want to remain sane, ignore anything my father says.”

“You’re being too harsh, Amalia,” Rogan chastised. “Why don’t you tell her some of your stories?”

“Because you’d kill me if I did.” Amalia cocked her eyebrow at him in challenge and he shrugged.

“True,” he said, sipping his wine.

“Guys!” Theo cried out, and Amalia realized Lila was looking pale and freaked out. “They’re joking, Lila,” he said. Amalia cringed. She had forgotten herself.

“Yeah, all jokes. Don’t worry,” she tried to reassure Lila. “Dad,” she put extra emphasis on the word, “would never hurt any of us.”

“It’s not me the girl should be worried about,” Rogan shrugged. “I have no problem with her.”

“God, please, stop talking,” Theo groaned. “I’m so sorry about them, Lila. I never promised my family was normal…”

“Speak for yourself!” Callon chimed in. “I’m perfectly normal. I even went grocery shopping yesterday,” he raised his eyebrows at Theo as if to say, ‘see, normal.’

“That’s not a thing you usually do?” Lila asked, and Amalia stuck her tongue out a Callon who leaned back in his chair and finished off his wine.

“I think I need a refill,” he said standing from the table and grabbing a bottle of champagne. “Anyone else?” Everyone raised their glasses. He refilled them all and opened another bottle, keeping the whole thing to himself.

“So, Theo tells me you own this hotel,” Lila tried to make conversation with Rogan.

“Yes. I own this hotel and two more, which I plan to pass on to Theo and Callon,” he said.

“Oh, what about Amalia?” Lila asked.

“What about her?” Rogan appeared genuinely confused. “Her brothers are far more superior in every aspect of their lives.”

“Thanks, Dad,” Amalia’s voice cracked as she said it. “I appreciate the vote of confidence. I don’t know why you even came tonight.” She pushed away from the table. Rogan matched her actions and stood as well.

“I don’t know why I came either,” he left the room with grace, and Amalia seethed that he was able to compose himself in such a way after insulting her so horrendously.

“I’m so sorry, Lila. I can take you home,” Theo was murmuring.

“No, you stay, I should be the one to leave. I’m sorry, Lila. This was supposed to be a nice evening, and I’ve ruined it by existing…yet again,” Amalia hurried out of the room. Cyril followed closely behind her.

“Amalia, wait,” he tried to get her to stop, but she kept moving.

“Leave me alone, Cyril,” she growled, adding after a moment, “Happy Thanksgiving,” before she ducked out of the hotel onto the abandoned streets.

Want to read more about Amalia and her story? Check out The Assassin’s Order here!