It Started With a Sleigh

by Kaydence Snow

  It Started With a Sleigh

  Kaydence Snow

  Copyright © 2019 by Katarina Smythe

  All rights reserved.

  This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without the express written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. The events described are fictitious; any similarities to actual events and persons are coincidental.

  Cover design by Mila Book Covers

  Editing by Kirstin Andrews

  kaydencesnow.com

  Created with Vellum

  For Mariah Carey

  Contents

  The Sleigh

  The Carols

  The Elves

  The Reindeer

  The Eggnog

  The Mistletoe

  The Jingle Bells

  The Snowman

  The Gifts

  The Cheer

  The Snow Globe

  The Snow

  The Christmas Tree

  The Shortbread

  The North Pole

  Note From The Author

  More Paranormal Romance from Kaydence Snow

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also by Kaydence Snow

  The Sleigh

  I turned the key in the ignition for the fourth time and patted the steering wheel, hoping to coax my shitbox of a car to life. The engine just made a pathetic metallic sound and gave up.

  “No, no, no, baby. Come on.” I turned the key again. The car refused to start.

  With a growl, I banged my forehead against the steering wheel, cursing the rustbucket with words that would have made Santa blush. There was no way I’d be able to find a mechanic this late on Christmas Eve. I wouldn’t be making it home. I was late for the family dinner as it was, but now I wouldn’t even be able to get there in time for dessert. My mom’s rum balls, my aunt’s famous Baked Alaska . . .

  I turned to the presents piled in the back seat. I’d have to trudge up three flights of stairs to get them all back into my apartment—after I’d carried them all down.

  I sighed, and my breath made a puff, even inside the car. It still hadn’t snowed, but for days now, it had felt like the fluffy stuff was about to come tumbling down at any moment.

  At least lugging presents will keep me warm, I tried to tell myself, but my jaw clenched in anger, rebelling against my own attempt at positivity.

  Christmas was my favorite time of year. Even working at a big department store hadn’t killed my love of the holiday. It was supposed to be a time of peace, love, and generosity, but there was nothing quite like the pressure of gift giving to bring out the worst in humanity. In the weeks leading up to Christmas, I’d been yelled at, ignored, had things thrown at me, and been treated with disdain by customers, but I’d just gritted my teeth and looked up, across the sprawling department store, to find the tree. The giant, professionally decorated tree sat in the middle of the store, the shining star on top visible from anywhere. Anytime someone treated me like crap, I looked for the star and reminded myself to be cheerful.

  How could I be upset when my manager had agreed to let me leave at five instead of making me stay until closing at midnight? I had pulled double Saturday shifts for weeks in exchange, but he’d still agreed, and it meant I could be home for dinner.

  I’d raced back to my apartment—as much as I could when at the mercy of public transport—piled the gifts into my car, cued up my Christmas playlist, and . . . and then the piece of shit had refused to start.

  My phone went off. It was a text from my mom asking how far away I was and reminding me not to use my phone while driving. “The roads are icy, Sadie.” I rolled my eyes. How did she not see the irony?

  I took a deep breath and replied, letting her know I wouldn’t be coming.

  Within seconds, my phone exploded, every aunt, uncle, cousin, and family relation who’d no doubt just heard my mom announce my absence had something to say about it.

  Every ting of a message made my eye twitch. I’d worked my ass off all year, never even asked for time off. All I wanted was to go home for Christmas Eve, and I couldn’t even have that? What was the point? I was so done with making an effort, trying to smile through a season that made everyone stressed beyond words.

  I put my phone on silent and tucked it into my pocket, resigned. Maybe I’d just get drunk on eggnog and watch Miracle on 34th Street for the thirty-fourth time.

  Better yet, I’d get drunk on tequila, take down all the decorations, and watch a horror movie—something gory and gratuitous. How pathetic. Worst Christmas ever.

  I banged my head against the steering wheel again. Simultaneously, a loud crash erupted from next to the building, accompanied by a bright light.

  My head snapped up.

  I rushed out of the car and ran around to the back parking area. There was no one around. While the city still buzzed with last-minute shoppers and people trying to get home, my apartment building was on the outskirts, and everyone was inside avoiding the biting cold.

  A lone sedan drove past as I moved along a row of parked cars, more cautiously now.

  At the back of the dingy parking lot, one of the dumpsters lay toppled on its side, trash spilling out; the other two had been knocked out of their spots. Something dark and shiny was wedged between them.

  Halfway between me and the mess lay a person, on the ground, not moving.

  With a gasp, I rushed forward.

  I skidded to a stop and dropped down next to him, the cold ground biting into my knees even through my boots. There didn’t appear to be any blood. The man’s green velvet coat with white fur trim was pristine, his handsome face unmarked.

  I reached out to check his pulse, but before my hand connected, he gasped and shot up into a sitting position.

  I made a choked, startled sound and backed away.

  “He’s up!” another voice called from the direction of the dumpsters.

  A second man in a green velvet coat, this one with red fur trim, stood near the mess with his hands on his hips. “And we’ve got company.”

  The man next to me groaned, and I placed a hand on his shoulder. “Are you all right? What happened?” I shot his friend a dirty look. Why wasn’t he trying to help?

  The man on the ground shook his head as if to clear it, then looked at me. I couldn’t tell what color his eyes were in the dark, but I could’ve sworn I saw a glint of white sparkle in them as he smiled. “Never better.”

  A loud clang had us both turning back to his inconsiderate friend. Whatever was between the two dumpsters steamed, and a frustrated grunt sounded from behind it. Was that a car? Had they crashed into the dumpsters?

  A third man walked out from behind the steaming vehicle, wiping his hands on a rag. His green velvet coat was trimmed with golden fur and open in the front, despite the cold.

  “What do you mean company?” he practically growled, rubbing at a stubborn spot on his finger.

  The man beside me leaned back and launched himself to his feet in a maneuver worthy of a gymnast, then brushed his hands on his coat. He reached a hand down to me with a wide grin. The murky streetlight made his short blond hair look like a halo.

  Reflexively I took his hand, and he pulled me to my feet, then just held on to me as he walked back to his friends.

  The inconsiderate one—with red trim on his coat, dark skin, and black hair—watched us in confusion. The third one—gold trim and red hair—scowled as he threw the rag aside.

  “So, which one of you jerks shoved me?” the man still holding my hand in his
big warm one asked, chuckling. “We don’t exactly have time for this.”

  Gold-trim gave him a withering look and gestured to the dumpsters. “No one shoved you, Tin. We crashed.”

  “Ohhh. Shit.” He dropped my hand to run his fingers through his hair, cringing.

  We all turned to look at the mess next to the dumpsters.

  Now that I was close enough, I could see it wasn’t a car. It was sleek and shiny, dark green with black details, but it looked more like a sleigh than anything else—if Ferrari made sleighs.

  Their green velvet coats looked handmade and expensive, with large hoods and intricate embroidery at the edges. My plain black puffy coat and knee-high black leather boots were positively dull in comparison. My favorite reindeer scarf usually brightened the ensemble, but I’d managed to lose it on the bus that morning.

  I looked between the three similarly dressed men and the sleigh and laughed.

  “OK, so I’m guessing you were on your way to some Christmas party and crashed, right? Someone have too much eggnog? Is that supposed to be Santa’s sleigh?”

  They stared at me and then all burst into laughter. Well, two of them burst into laughter. The one with his coat still open, giving me a glimpse of a tight white undershirt straining against toned muscles, chuckled and shook his head.

  The black-haired one pulled out a tablet and started prodding it while Tin answered, “That’s not Santa’s sleigh. You’re funny.” He crossed his arms and watched me with amusement.

  Despite myself, I chuckled. “Right. Of course. How silly of me.”

  “Everyone knows Santa’s sleigh is red. Big guy should be in eastern Europe around this time.” The one with the tablet checked his watch. “Heading to the Middle East, actually. This is going to put us behind schedule.”

  Tin cringed. “Max doesn’t like to fall behind. Makes him anxious. And yeah, big guy’s got his sleigh with him. This is our sleigh. Well, the one assigned to us. You know what I mean.”

  I looked between them, the frustration from earlier returning. I’d thought they were hurt and rushed over, and now they were cracking jokes while I froze my ass off. Worst Christmas ever. I wouldn’t be surprised if they tried to mug me.

  “Very funny.” I rolled my eyes. “I was just trying to help. I thought you seriously hurt yourself, but obviously this is some massive prank. Congratulations, I’m the idiot. Have a nice life.”

  I turned to leave, my blonde ponytail whipping around and flicking me in the face, but a hand clamped around my wrist. Max held me in place, his other hand still clutching the tablet, as he gave me an intense, searching look. Just like with Tin, I could’ve sworn his eyes glinted, but the color this time was a brilliant red.

  “Wait. You’re telling me you’re not from the Pole?” he demanded.

  “Are you trying to insinuate I’m a stripper?” I yanked my arm out of his grip and propped my hands on my hips. It was one thing to crack annoying Christmas jokes, but now they were insulting me?

  “Crap. This is worse than I thought.” Max started tapping at his tablet furiously. “El, can you check the—”

  “Already on it.” The redhead was leaning over the smoking sleigh, fiddling around with something out of sight.

  Tin just stared at me, wide-eyed.

  Confusion warred with frustration inside me. I couldn’t figure these guys out. Were they hurt and in trouble? Were they trying to goad me? Insult me? Now they were acting like I was the weird one.

  Only curiosity kept me from trudging back up to my empty apartment to spend Christmas Eve alone.

  El straightened and marched back over to us, something in his hand obscured by the gold fur on his coat. He came to a stop right in front of me. He was at least a foot taller than my five-two curvy frame and had to lean down to stare into my face. His eyes glinted too—the most mesmerizing gold.

  He watched me but spoke to his buddies. “The mirage mech is shot. So’s the flight system.”

  Max groaned. “What are we gonna do? We’re only halfway through the deliveries.”

  I didn’t look at him; I was too mesmerized by the gold in El’s eyes. He had freckles across the bridge of his nose and on his cheeks. It would’ve been adorable if not for the relentless scowl he had pinned on me.

  “We go old school.” El held up a snow globe over his shoulder. “But I don’t know how the hell this one’s supposed to help. There’s not a scrap of Christmas spirit coming off her.”

  He looked me up and down and finally stepped back.

  I bristled and found my voice. “Hey, screw you, Buddy the Elf. I have plenty of Christmas spirit. I fucking love Christmas. It’s just been a shitty day, between the ridiculously long hours at work where people treat me like scum, and losing my favorite scarf with the reindeer on it, and the coffee shop being out of mint flavor. Then to top it all off, my damn car won’t start, so I can’t go be with my family, and instead of consoling me, they’re all sending me passive-aggressive texts to make me feel guilty about something that isn’t even my fault!” I was yelling by the end, getting all my frustration with my disaster of a day out. I probably looked like as much of a nut as the three grown-ass men talking about sleighs and dressed as . . .

  “Wait a minute. What even are you supposed to be?”

  “Elves,” they said at the same time, and El rolled his eyes.

  I rolled mine right back. “OK. Whatever.” Once again, I turned to leave.

  “Wait!” This time it was Tin who held me back, both his hands wrapped around my forearm. “You have to help us. Please!”

  “I tried that. You cracked jokes, remember?” I shook him off.

  “I was fine.” He waved one hand in the air. “Elves can’t get hurt at Christmas. There’s a whole protection-magic thing.”

  “Ah, here we go,” Max cut in. He stepped forward, the tablet in front of his face. “Sadie Harmony Purcell of Apartment 38, 1285 Benson Street.”

  A cold chill ran down my spine. How could he possibly know that? Was I in more trouble than I thought? I’d texted Mom—no one was expecting me anywhere for hours, maybe days. How long would it be before anyone realized I was missing? What if it snowed and my body wasn’t discovered until spring?

  Undeterred by the look of utter horror on my face, Max flashed me a grin. “Nice. For the most part. You were on the naughty list between the ages of sixteen and nineteen, but you’ve more than made up for it with six straight years on the nice list since then.”

  They were deranged. A group of hot, deranged Christmas murderers.

  Max scrolled down. “Last year you wished for a sewing machine. The year before it was a good set of drawing pencils. The year before . . .”

  El waved his hand in front of the tablet. “We don’t have time for this. She’s freaking out.”

  They all looked at me. My eyes were so wide they felt ready to pop out of my head. I hadn’t even told anyone about the sewing machine. How could they possibly know that?

  “Just skip to the year of disbelief.” Tin nudged Max’s shoulder, and he huffed before scrolling farther down.

  “Let’s see here . . . Stopped believing in Santa at age twelve. Wished for grandma to not have cancer anymore. Also wished for grandma to live to see Christmas. Due to limitations on granting longevity and immortality wishes, secondary wish was granted.” He looked up at me with sad eyes. “Grandma lived through Christmas Day and passed away in her sleep that night.”

  Tin gripped my elbow gently. “I’m sorry about your grandma.”

  A single tear tracked a path down my cheek, and I swatted it away with numb, freezing fingers.

  “I’m sorry too.” El’s voice was gentle, but his next words kind of ruined it. “But we really don’t have time for this. We need to get moving if we’re going to have a snowball’s chance of doing our jobs tonight, and we need your help.”

  “This is real?” I had to hear them say it.

  “Really real,” Max confirmed as Tin nodded, still rubbing my elbow soo
thingly.

  “Am I losing my mind?”

  “No.” El shrugged. “But a lot of kids are going to be sad and disappointed if we don’t get our sleigh up and running before midnight.”

  “Wait. What does this have to do with me? Why do you need my help? I have no idea what’s going on here.”

  Max tried to explain. “The manual reads that, in the event of a crash or other sleigh failure, an assistant will be assigned to facilitate whatever needs to be done to get us back in the air. This hasn’t happened in the whole time we’ve been doing this. We just assumed the assistant would be someone from the North Pole, but the manual doesn’t explicitly state that, so I guess you’re it.”

  “I’m here so I’m it?” I raised an eyebrow, and he shrugged.

  I groaned and crossed my arms. It wasn’t as if I had anything better to do. “What exactly do you expect me to do?”

  “We have to recharge the flux capacitor,” El announced.

  I frowned. “That’s a real thing? Isn’t that for time travel?”

  He flashed the first genuine grin I’d seen on his face—he had dimples, dammit!—and they all laughed.

  “Time travel’s not real, silly.” Tin shook his head as El pulled a black tarp out of the sleigh and draped it over the mess.

  “Right. Of course. Flying sleighs and Christmas magic are totally legit, but time travel is laughable. Duh!” My tone dripped sarcasm. If this was how they were going to treat me, it would be a long night.

  “We need to recharge the main power core so the sleigh can get all its functions up and running again,” Max explained. El held up the snow globe again before tucking it in his pocket.

  “How do we do that?” I asked as we started to walk across the parking lot.