Down the Chimney

by Debra Dunbar

  Lux looked utterly perplexed by this notion. Rapid angel-speak flooded my senses.

  “No, the stocking won’t catch on fire. Humans don’t light their fireplaces on Christmas Eve, because how else would Santa come down the chimney?”

  Actually it was a great idea. The thought of some fat guy burning his ass off trying to come down a chimney was just as hilarious as the thought of him getting stuck there and finding his rotted corpse wedged in the chimney days later.

  “Santa likes oatmeal raisin cookies,” Lux informed me.

  He did, but I didn’t want Lux getting his hopes up. “Uncle Gimlet might not make it for Christmas. I tried to find him so I could invite him, but he likes to disappear sometimes. I left messages everywhere, but Uncle Gimlet…well, I don’t think he’s completely forgiven your father for some stuff that happened a very long time ago. I’ll keep inviting him, and maybe eventually one Christmas he’ll come to our house. I just don’t want you to be upset if he isn’t there this year.”

  If we put out oatmeal raisin cookies and milk, he will be there, Lux insisted. He’ll come down the chimney with toys and eat the cookies. He’ll be there.

  No, that would be me. Well, not the coming down the chimney part because I’m not completely fucking insane. And I’m not eating oatmeal raisin cookies because, ew. But it would be me slipping toys and candy into Lux’s stocking. It was me that was Santa, me that was the Iblis, me that was doing all the shit that Samael had refused to do after the Fall. I get it. The guy had issues, and in his place I’d probably be the same. And I actually liked being the Iblis, although I didn’t want anyone to know that.

  “Santa doesn’t always show up,” I told Lux, thinking not only of Samael but of this toy I was desperately trying to secure for my child. “We want him to, but he doesn’t always come. It’s not your fault if he doesn’t. There are all sorts of reasons, all kinds of shit that happened a long time ago that had nothing to do with you. And all that means that sometimes Santa doesn’t show up.”

  “Hush.” One of the parents glared at me. “Santa always visits every child’s house. No matter what, Santa will always be there.”

  I hated to tell his woman, but in my world, Santa didn’t always visit. And this year, I was pretty damned sure he wasn’t going to appear at our house.

  Chapter 7

  I put the picture of Lux sitting on the human Santa’s lap on my coffee table, left him with Nyalla and Gabe who were planning to take him to some sort of religious candle service for world peace that I was thrilled to be missing, and went to Atlanta.

  There was a line outside of the Rocking Toy City. It wasn’t even six o’clock at night. Not dark. Not three hours until closing, and there was a line. People had cups of Starbucks coffee, wool hats and blankets. Two had sleeping bags.

  I moved to the end of the line behind a seventy-year-old woman wearing a Rudolph sweater and a pair of Ugg boots.

  “Is everyone here for the Godzilla droid?” I asked.

  She nodded. “Bless your little heart, yes. My grandson wants one, and I just can’t let him down. I stood in line Thanksgiving for twelve hours to get my son a seventy-two-inch television, and twenty hours last week to get a Nintendo Switch for my granddaughter. I don’t know how many this store has, but I’m a bit worried I might be too late here.”

  “Yeah, me too.” I did a count of the folks ahead of us. “What are the chances that some of these assholes are going to bail? Maybe if we shout fire, or tell them there’s a free Audi R8 across town or something?”

  “Bless your heart, I’m pretty sure these people are in it for the long haul.” Grandma looked rather sad about that. “The man five people up from us? He’ll sell it on eBay if he gets one, so maybe I can get it there if I’m too late.”

  “Yeah, for three thousand bucks,” I muttered.

  “You settle in right behind me here and we’ll hope for the best.” Grandma patted the sidewalk beside her. “You didn’t bring a blanket or a sleeping bag? Goodness gracious, you’re going to be a bit chilly once the sun goes down. Maybe your husband can bring you one?”

  Good idea since I was pretty sure if I teleported home to grab the comforter off the bed, I’d lose my place in line. Grandma here might be willing to save my spot, but those people making their way toward us with sleeping bags in hand would most definitely not. So I got out my cell phone and called Gregory.

  “Hey, can you sense where I am?” I asked him. “Can you swing by the house and bring me the comforter off the bed. Oh, and a pillow. And some food and a six pack of beer? Maybe a thermos of coffee? I can’t lose my place in line.”

  I hung up before he could say “no”, figuring if he didn’t show up in the next hour I’d call Nyalla and ask her to have Little Red fly shit down to me. Which actually might be a better idea once I got to thinking about it. The appearance of a red dragon, even if he was fairly young, might scare a few people up line from Grandma and me into leaving. Maybe Little Red could eat a few of them. I counted the people ahead of me in line. Could he eat six or seven humans? That was a lot for a little dragon. Might be a good idea to call a few extra dragons in just to be sure.

  I eyed Grandma, wondering if she’d be too tough and chewy for a dragon to eat.

  “Here, dear. Have a cookie. I brought a whole bag of them. And I have some hot chocolate in this thermos I can share with you too.”

  Okay, the dragons couldn’t eat Grandma, not if she was going to share her cookies and hot chocolate with me. I dug one out of the bag and took a bite. It was double chocolate chip and still warm. Grandma totally got to live.

  The sun set. There were twenty people in line behind us. I was shivering my ass off, even with Grandma’s hot chocolate, and just about to call Nyalla when Gregory appeared. I immediately forgave him the tardiness because he had his wings out, his arms full of stuff, and was approaching us with a scowl so fierce that three people ahead of us in line took off running.

  We all promptly shuffled forward three positions.

  “Here.” Gregory dumped a pile at my feet that included blankets, a pillow, a bag of chips, a bucket of Kentucky Fried Chicken, and a six pack of beer.

  “Original or extra crispy?” I asked eyeing the chicken.

  “Original. Why are you sitting here with all these humans? And why could you not just go get these things yourself? You can teleport, after all.”

  “Hey. No line busting, mister,” one of the men behind me shouted.

  “That’s why. If I leave I have to go to the end of the line or end up with twenty four-nine-five reports to fill out because it’s kinda like a gladiatorial sport with these people.” If the guy behind me wasn’t intimidated by a scowling archangel, he wasn’t likely to let me “just pop off for a few seconds” without a fight to the death.

  “I admire your restraint,” Gregory drawled. “But I still don’t understand why you of all angels are subjecting yourself to the punishment of sleeping outside a store in the cold with forty…no fifty humans.”

  “Super Action Godzilla Droid with articulated hands and the Goodbye Tokyo option,” Grandma told him, handing him a cup of hot chocolate. “Here, dear. You look chilled.”

  The angel blinked at her and took the hot chocolate. Since I knew he wasn’t going to drink it, I snatched it from his hands and downed the beverage. Grandma had put a little something-something extra into her thermos, if you know what I mean, and it was doing an excellent job of making me not care about the cold.

  “It’s a toy,” I explained to Gregory after finishing the drink. “Lux really wants it for Christmas and Nyalla guilted me into getting him one. But it seems no one has them available until May, so we’re all spending the night here in the hopes that when the store opens in the morning, we’ll get one.”

  He nodded. “I applaud your adherence to the human rules governing store giveaways, Cockroach, but Lux does not need to have this toy. Cultivating patience, not falling prey to the desire for instant gratification, is something
every angel should learn. In addition, Lux must put his own wants secondary to others and be grateful and appreciative of any gift he receives. That’s the spirit of the season, correct? Or were those movies we were watching last night incorrect?”

  “It’s hard to disappoint children,” Grandma spoke up. “We want the world to be a wonderful place for them, full of joy and magic. That way when they grow up and realize that life is hard and unfair, they won’t become bitter.”

  Yeah. That. Although I’d be thrilled to just give Lux a gift card and a scarf, I really didn’t want to disappoint him. Or Nyalla. And although I knew he’d be gracious and appreciative on Christmas Day, I’d see behind that to his sadness.

  And Lux sad made me want to crumple up in a ball.

  Gregory eyed the Grandma. “Perhaps you are right. It’s important to have positive early experiences to fall back on when life does not go the way you’d expected. You are quite wise for someone so young.”

  Grandma blushed and waved him away. “No flirting with me in front of your wife here. You just keep your phone handy and bring her whatever she needs tonight, because she’s making herself very uncomfortable trying to do something nice for your son. That’s a good mom, and a good wife you have here.”

  Yeah. That. “How about you go convince the people ahead of Grandma and me to go home,” I told him. “That’s what I need right now.”

  He arched and eyebrow. “Don’t push your luck, Cockroach.” And with that he was gone.

  “What a nice, handsome young man your husband is,” Grandma told me.

  “He’s six billion years old,” I informed her.

  She smiled, sipping her hot chocolate. “Well he doesn’t look a day over five million.”

  I shivered through the night in spite of my comforter and pillow. The chicken and beer were gone before midnight, and while Grandma snored away, I was afraid to sleep, absolutely convinced that one of the assholes in line behind me was going to sneak up, or that someone in front of me was going to allow their cousin’s brother’s ex-girlfriend’s dog sitter to cut in line with him. Come morning my feet were numb and my eyes were bleary from lack of sleep. Desperate, I made a tiny fire with the six-pack cardboard and the tub that held the chicken. It didn’t help.

  Texts and calls to Gregory had gone unanswered, but finally around six o’clock, Little Red showed up with two lattes—one for me and one for Grandma.

  Three more people ahead of us took off when they saw the dragon. The others were made of stouter stuff, and even Little Red spewing a line of fire down the sidewalk and declaring how tasty human flesh was didn’t motivate anyone else to leave.

  “Here.” I handed Grandma a cup. “I had the dragon put some rum in it. I’m more of a vodka person myself, but I figured you might prefer rum.”

  “Oh, thank you dear. And the fire your dragon started in that trash can really takes the edge off the chill this morning.” She sipped the latte and smiled at me. “So tell me about your little boy.”

  “His name is Lux. He’s an Angel of Order, which is tough because I’m not really used to being around angel babies, let alone Order babies. I’ve managed to keep him alive so far, although there were a few close calls here and there, especially that time with the chipper shredder.”

  “Oh, children can be so naughty, can’t they? You’ll wind up with a lot of gray hair before he’s grown, dear. Clairol is your friend.” She sipped the latte again. “So does he look like you or your husband?”

  “Neither,” I told her. “He’s adopted. His sire died and made me pledge to watch over him and keep him safe. The Ancient that formed him tried to kill him, so he ended up living with me at my house.”

  She shook her head and clucked. “You can’t pick your family, you know? He’s a lucky boy to have the both of you. I have the one son and two grandkids. They’re just beautiful—my reason for living, you know? My granddaughter is twelve, and my grandson is nine. I hope I can get this toy for little Scotty. He wants it so very much. Now that your husband and your dragon have scared six people out of line, we might actually have a chance here.”

  I hoped so. The people around us were beginning to gather up their belongings and push them against the wall, nervously standing and eyeing the front of the store. I looked at my watch and saw it was nearing the seven o’clock opening time.

  A man came out of the store, bundled in a parka and carrying a clipboard. He went down the line, getting information from each person and handing them a slip of paper with a number on it. I was number twelve.

  “Oh darn,” Grandma announced. “I was hoping to be ten or under. I’ve got no idea how many of these toys they have, but usually it’s less than ten.”

  Probably more like five. I eyed the people ahead of us and seriously thought about whether those four-nine-five reports would be worth it.

  Nope. So not worth it.

  The doors opened, and in spite of the dude with the clipboard and the numbers, people rushed forward, pushing and elbowing anyone in their way. I saw one person try to snatch a number from someone else, the pair of them getting into a fist-fight right in front of the glass doors. The folks behind them weren’t about to wait and see how the fight turned out, so they shoved forward, trampling the pair of them. Grandma managed to get inside unscathed, brandishing a cane in one hand and the latte in the other. About twenty feet from the door was a man up on a podium. He was calling out number and giving voucher slips to people as their number came up. It seemed the process was to take the voucher to the cashier, pay for the purchase, then pick it up at the customer service area where they had the foresight to have rent-a-cops armed with batons and pepper spray.

  As expected, there were only ten toys and by the time Grandma and I were called, the Super Action Godzilla Droids were all claimed. We each got a raincheck voucher in case more came in stock before Christmas. Grandma’s shoulders slumped and she gave me a watery smile.

  “Oh well, dear. Maybe I’ll be able to get one off eBay instead.”

  “Be careful of frauds,” I warned her. “I paid three grand for a fake earlier this week.”

  We wove around the crowds, trying to make our way outside. The chaos was far from over, though. It seemed some people were unhappy having only scored one toy and there were additional fights of people trying to take vouchers from each other, and in the parking lot trying to knock people down at steal the toys from their hands.

  Where the fuck were the rent-a-cops when you needed them? Evidently they were only concerned with making sure none of the store employees got mobbed and less worried about toy theft or assault in the parking lot. My temper, while never as short as Gregory’s, was a bit on edge from the cold night and the disappointment of not scoring a toy, so when the eBay seller man punched a woman in the face, stole her bag, and took off across the parking lot, I lost my shit. Running after the man, I tackled him, probably giving him the worst road rash he’d ever had in his life.

  The packages fell from his hands and slid out of reach. Two other people rushed for them, but I snarled, my wings revealing and snapping to their full width, making them reconsider.

  “What’s your FICO score?” I demanded. “Because I’m looking for a reason to rip your head off.”

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He put his hands up in front of his face.

  “FICO score,” I repeated. “Now, or I say ‘fuck it’ and risking doing the report.”

  “Seven twenty,” he squealed. “I’ll give the toy back. I’ll give it back, I swear.”

  Damn it. Seven twenty was too high. And I hated to have to do a report over the holidays. “You’re leaving without either toy,” I told him. “And if I ever see your face again, you’re dead. Got it?”

  He nodded frantically and I let him get to his feet. With a quick glance of longing at the two packages, he decided my threat was in earnest and ran for his car. I gathered up the two bags with a glare at the people hovering nearby. One package I returned to the woman who was
trying to stuff a mitten up her bloody nose. She thanked me, then started to cry and threw her arms around me, dripping blood and snot all over my shirt.

  I was a demon. I’d had worse dripped on me and paid for the privilege. I patted her on the shoulder, then slid my hand down to give her ass a quick squeeze before stepping back and wishing her a Merry Christmas.

  “It seems you scored one after all,” Grandma pointed to my bag with a smile. “Your little Lux boy is going to be so happy. Congratulations.”

  I hesitated, thinking about what Gregory had said regarding angels and patience and gratitude. I also thought about that sweet brandy-laced hot chocolate that had gotten me through the cold night. Lux was an angel. He had every advantage in the world. I’d still try to get him one of these toys for Christmas, but if he had to wait until May to get one, it wouldn’t be the end of the world. Five months to an angel was less than a blink of an eye.

  Five months to a human was like a fucking lifetime. So I handed the package to Grandma.

  “Don’t tell anyone I did this. I’ve got a reputation, and I don’t exactly want it getting out that I do nice things for humans. But if your grandson ever asks, tell him that Satan is pretty fucking cool, and that you’re a big fan, okay?”

  She smiled, clutching the bag tightly in her hands. “Bless your heart, dear, I’ve always been a big fan of Satan. Now you have a Merry Christmas, you hear?”

  Chapter 8

  It was Christmas Eve Day, or Christmas Eve Morning, or whatever the fuck the humans called it. Normally I would have been relaxing with coffee and a plate of bacon, but instead I’d endured the horrible traffic on I-270 to stand here with my wings out and a Santa hat plopped on my head, surrounded by a dozen buff Marines as we handed out toys.

  Okay, the dozen buff Marines thing kinda made it worth the effort. While a lot of humans were wary of angels, and even more cautious of me with my being-of-Hel reputation, these guys seemed to give zero fucks. They swore just as much as I did, and no one refused when I asked if they wanted to stroke my wings.