Billy Lenz Black Christmas Novels & Stories

"Chloe's Christmas. Lilian wanted to be here for it. I wasn't going to take that from her." "And me?" "What about you?" I asked stoping briefly to to stare at her.She gave me a look that was trying very hard to be dignified. "Where does that leave me? She's here, I'm here, and you're sitting there like none of this is strange." "It's only strange if you make it strange." "I'm not making anything—" "Lydia." I looked at her properly. "You're welcome to stay through Christmas Eve. After that the arrangement goes back to what it is."

Because I’m not drowning in it anymore. Even if it’s thin. Even if it’s stupid. Even if it’s the only thing keeping me standing. Headlights stab the dark. Bright. Multiple. We all whip around. Black cars screech in. One. Two. Three. Four. Circling us like wolves. Doors slam. Men pile out — armed to the teeth. Silencers on guns. Watching and waiting. The last door opens slowly. Then, he steps out. Lennox. Black coat over shoulders, dry as bone. Untouched. Smiling like he owns the storm, his claps echo like shots.

For Blackwood to reach out now could only mean one thing: a game-changing twist in their battle against the network. Lena’s immediate reaction was suspicion. Blackwood had spent years representing powerful individuals tied to the very corruption she and her team had exposed. He was a lawyer notorious for his ability to exploit legal loopholes and ensure that his clients walked free, no matter the evidence stacked against them. But why would someone like him turn on the very people he had protected for so long? The message was simple: “Lena, we need to talk. I can help you, but time is running out. We have a common enemy now. I’ll be waiting. W.B.”

On Christmas Eve, with the temperature at thirteen below zero, a blizzard shut down the interstate in northern New Jersey. The motel at North Ridge Travel Plaza had only two heated rooms left. My hands and feet were numb with cold, but I still walked happily toward Daniel Walker, my husband of five years, a man known for his thoughtfulness. Instead, he walked right past me and handed the last two room keys to his first love Claire Miller, who had just ended her marriage, and her dog Buddy. A woman stranded beside us watched enviously. "Your boyfriend is so thoughtful. He even got a separate room for the dog." Daniel didn't correct her or look back at me. He was too busy taking off his down j

Her breath hitched. "She loved you." "Yeah." My voice cracked. "Her broken, twisted way." ----- That night. Kids finally fell asleep after too many questions about death and heaven. "You meeting Blackwood tomorrow?" "Have to. He knows something." "I'm coming with you." "Lena—" "We're in this together." Not a question. A fact. "Always." Morning came too fast. Text from unknown number. “Blackwood Industries. 2 PM. What I tell you will change everything you thought you knew. -HB”

Ava chatted about school with Darla Hale, Uncle Cole's daughter, and Jamie fought over the largest piece of roast venison with Declan Hale, Uncle Cole's son. The Christmas feast covered the entire table. Everything from the roast venison to the mulled wine and the gingerbread house was a reminder of the festive occasion, which celebrated the warmth of being with one's family. They raised their glasses, wishing each other a Merry Christmas. The smiles had already returned to every face. It was as if my disappearance had been nothing more than a small footnote of the night. I hovered by the table, watching them with a hollow feeling in my heart. I was already dead—frozen solid out in the sub-z

Black in more than just words in a contract. "Mrs. Carrow," I said as she efficiently cleared plates with practiced movements. "You've worked for Damien for five years, right?" "Yes." I twisted the napkin between my fingers. "What's he like? Really like?" Mrs. Carrow paused, her hands stilling on the coffee service as she chose her words carefully. "Mr. Black is... demanding. Precise. He expects excellence and doesn't tolerate failure." Her eyes met mine with something that might have been sympathy. "But he protects what's his."

A storm behind the smiles. Maybe it was me. Maybe it was him. Lena shot across the room like a chaotic missile, skidding into me with a hug that knocked the breath from my lungs. “Jesus Christ, you look like a Disney princess who failed the survival side quest,” she said, tugging my hood down. “Did he cheat with a girl? A guy? A whole choir? Spill.” I choked on a laugh—weak, cracked. “Guy.” She froze. Then whispered, “Oh sweetie… that is spectacularly awful. Well done. You win Christmas.”

Her eyes flashed with a grief I didn’t understand. “It’s time,” she said softly, “you learned the truth about our family… and about Him.” The voices outside grew louder. A chorus of whispers. Merry Christmas.Merry Christmas. Merry Christmaaaaas… My skin crawled. Ruby lifted the lantern. And the flames inside turned black.

He was tall, really tall for a Santa Claus, that I had to tilt my head back to meet his eyes—oh, his eyes. They were an icy gray that seemed to bare my soul, uncovering every hidden secret before his eyes. I felt a cold shiver run down my spine, but I couldn't tell if it was from the cold or the way those eyes made me feel, something so distinct yet I couldn't put my hands on it. “Merry Christmas,” he murmured, his deep baritone causing my heart to thrum so loudly in my chest I could only stand there and gawk like a damn fool.