Ch. 1 You'd Better Watch Out…

Emma Sloan thanked the last of the guests as they filed out of the lobby doors and into their respective rooms for the night. She looked up and was shocked to see big white flakes dancing in the air. Already the ground had been covered by a very light coating of the stuff. How very rare, snow in Arizona, but Emma wasn't completely unfamiliar with it. Night Springs happened to be elevated just enough that on rare occasions, snowfall was possible.

A year ago she had turned her old garage into a space for meetings and parties, and called it Motor Hall. After what happened to her in there, she just couldn't use it as a place to work. Instead, she decided to remodel the old shed where her father's old, beloved Chevy sat, and set up shop there.

Truth be told, Motor Hall wasn't nearly as formal as a typical convention hall. It was an open yet cozy space, closer to a coffee house vibe where people could go to read or study. She decorated it with old advertising signs and car parts, and even added a big, old-fashioned fireplace. Since most of the budget was eaten up after paint and carpeting, she added some gently used comfy armchairs, a big sofa, and an old Baldwin piano. She was quite proud of herself, and guests loved it. She even showed old movies there once a week.

Emma's Her Ugliest Christmas Sweater party had been a huge success. Everyone who participated was a good contender for a prize, but the ultimate winner was Barry Wheeler, hands down. When he protested that it was his regular holiday sweater, that he'd forgotten all about the contest, everybody just laughed it off. However, Emma caught a look from Alan that suggested Barry wasn't joking. On the other end of the sweater spectrum, was Dr. Rachel Meadows. The doctor was ranked dead last only because she didn't understand the concept of the ugly Christmas sweater, instead showing up in a little red number and was a knock-out. Her consolation prize was Barry's attempts at flirtation…which proved nearly fatal.

In all, it was a wonderful time. Emma invited any and all of the motel guests to join them, ugly sweaters or not. She made sure there was plenty of food and spirits-the main courses provided by the diner up the hill. Those formally invited were also asked to bring a dish to pass. Many traditional holiday dishes were served, including honeyed ham and green bean casserole, as well as the required deviled eggs, the cocktail wienies, the three to five kinds of potatoes and of course, the thirteen bazillion desserts. Wine, brandy, eggnog, and Tom and Jerrys followed, along with even more wine and brandy.

Serena Valdivia was a big help with the decorations. Colored lights blinked from the small tree, the windows, and from several large strands that crisscrossed the courtyard. They were often paired with colored streamers. Silvery tinsel graced every bare edge until everything sparkled. As a final touch, she hired The Old Gods of Asgard to play carols all night, and everyone sang, or at least gave their best attempts. (It was difficult to keep Tor and Odin from headbanging and screaming the lyrics to Frosty the Snowman, but they managed somehow.)

Emma's heart filled with joy as she took a last look at Alan and Alice Wake…so lovey-dovey, those two. How cute they were, acting like newlyweds! She caught them always holding hands, never drifting far from one another, and kissing under the mistletoe more than once. She could have been jealous, but she was just too happy for them. She made sure they had the best room all to themselves.

Emma was pleased to see that everyone she'd sent an invitation to RSVP'ed and arrived…all but one. Of course, she didn't hold out much hope for that last one, mostly because he didn't have a real address that she knew of, nor did he have a cell phone or email. Still, he'd been on her mind a lot. She wasn't sure why, except that Emma had a very strong desire to keep herself aligned and in balance between the forces of good and evil, darkness and light. She held a strong belief both in karma and the golden rule. Ever since the episode in which she first met Alan Wake and assisted him in defeating the Dark Presence, she felt her internal scales irrevocably skewed, and could think of only one way to right herself. She "sent" an invitation, as a symbolic gesture.

However, all night she was peeking out of the windows whenever she got a funny feeling in her gut. Her intuition was rarely wrong, but she saw no one. She might've dismissed the notion as nothing but pure paranoia; if not for the last time she did exactly that. Long story short, the night didn't end so well for her...which was another reason for why she wanted to try to set things straight.

Emma wasn't in the habit of inviting evil into her home. 'Sending' an invitation was a silly idea at best; stupid even, and at worst, dangerous, but she couldn't help it. She had to balance things out, if only for herself. You don't upset the scales of life and death without some dire repercussions, or so she thought. She just hoped the price was worth it.

Still, since the party was over and it was past midnight, she began to relax and found herself feeling a strange mix of disappointment and relief. Emma sighed, removing her Second Place ugly sweater and draping it over one of the large armchairs that were pulled up close to the fire. She grabbed two huge garbage bags full of wrapping paper, crumpled paper plates and plastic cups. Barry, Alan and many others offered to help with the clean-up, but she refused.

"No thanks, gentlemen," she'd said. "This is my mess, my party, and I'll clean it up myself." She hoisted one bag over her shoulder and dragged the other. She carried them out into the night.

The snowflakes twinkled in the cheerful colored lights, and she couldn't help spinning in circles, trying to catch the tiny flakes on her tongue, laughing. In doing so she nearly tripped but caught herself just in time, her hat falling off in the process. She went to throw the bags into the dumpster at opposite end of the property, near the gas pumps. Still laughing, she began to comb her hair out of her face, now damp with snow.

She glanced down, and saw something right at her feet, half buried by snow. She picked it up, and saw that it was one of the invitation envelopes she'd sent. Upon closer inspection, she saw it was slightly different from the rest...and it had been opened.

That's when her intuition went into overdrive.

Emma stopped everything she was doing and held as still as possible, barely breathing. She looked out of the corner of her eye. At first all was as silent as the drifting snow. A gentle breeze began to blow, and then she thought she heard footsteps.

She willed it not to be true. She finished her task, took a deep breath and turned slowly; her weapon tucked safely inside her sleeves. She looked behind her.

At first she couldn't be certain. She blinked twice, then squinted. Sure enough; she could see it, albeit barely; the blacker on black humanlike shape just beyond the light's edge. The shape seemed to coalesce the closer it came toward her.

Emma's first instinct was to run as fast as she could back to the safety of the brightly lit motel, but she stood her ground. She knew that this might happen, no matter how slim the chance. She had to do this.

She invited him, after all.

The shape got within about a dozen yards before she finally called out.

"I can see you," she said.

The shape paused.

She squared her shoulders, and was silent for a moment before saying, "Yeah, I know it's you. Surprised? What, were you trying to be fashionably late?"

Emma didn't know why she knew the dark shape was smiling at her. She gulped and hoped her instincts were right. She feigned impatience and motioned to follow.

"Well, all right," she huffed. "Since you're here, you might as well come on in."

The shape began moving again, although at a much quicker pace. Emma slowly retreated a few steps, afraid to turn her back on it. She wanted to walk back to the motel in a way she hoped was nonchalant. The back of her neck prickled, sending shivers down her spine.

Suddenly the light that shone over her head went out with a loud, audible pop. Emma gasped and looked up behind her. A split second later she felt cool fingers touch her hair and neck. Instinct took over and she sprinted toward the garage where the strongest lights were.

She thought she could hear laughter, but wondered if it was only in her head.

The wind kicked up a notch and snowflakes swirled all around her. Good thing she took one of her supplements earlier, but only a half-dose. She wanted to stay sharp in case things went sour…like right now.

She raced through the courtyard, past the lobby, stopping finally at the entrance of her Motor Hall. Panting hard, she collected herself as best she could. This too was her mess, her fault. She had to face it. She turned and saw that the shape had paused under the large tree in the middle of the courtyard.

When the shape neither moved nor made a sound, Emma was sure she was right. She rose up one arm and showed a remote in her hand. It had two buttons on it. As she pressed one, she saw the dark shape back up, as though getting ready to bolt.

Yup, just as she'd suspected. The button made a loud CLICK and suddenly all of the colored, twinkling lights that were strung up in the courtyard winked out. The shape hesitated, then moved forward, but didn't come out from under the tree.

"Better?" she asked. "If you are hungry, there's plenty of food left. Or do you just want a drink?"

The shape finally solidified. She watched him tilt his head to the side, deciding.

Again feigning impatience, she asked him, "Well? What do you want?"

Emma repressed a shudder as he stepped out from under the tree, as though responding to a challenge. He was as wickedly handsome as ever, this time adding a charcoal black woolen overcoat to his attire, the collar turned up as though to protect against the cold. To this he'd also added a bright red scarf. Of course, he didn't need it, but Emma couldn't help thinking how striking it made him look. She was sure that was the whole point.

"I think," Mr. Scr*tch said, with an easy, though puzzled grin, "I think I want more than that…Emma."