The Elf

by Max Dune

  I recognize the area. I brought Lily here on our first date last summer, wanting to impress her with the spectacular view of the coastline. She was mesmerized by the ocean’s majestic beauty. The pod of playing whales put the perfect cap on the perfect day. That happy memory offers me a little comfort.

  Oleg clears his throat, jerking me out of my thoughts. “This is the part where you jump.”

  I shoot a nervous glance at the cliff edge just a few feet away and shudder as a cold wind cuts through my coat. “Y-You want me to jump off?” I ask in disbelief.

  “That’s exactly what I want,” he says slowly, as if speaking to a child.

  I scramble to think of how I can possibly get out of this situation but come up empty. I am alone, weaponless, and cornered. I can’t escape. Ironically, my only hope for salvation is Frost. Has he received my signal? Is he on his way to help me?

  I stall for time. “Why didn’t you shoot me back in the village?”

  Oleg shrugs. “I like to mix it up. Besides, this will be much more entertaining.” He has no shame admitting this. I am starting to realize he is a true psychopath.

  I continue, even though I don’t want to learn anything more about his sadistic ways. “Did you bring Chance here too?”

  “Yes. He cried a lot.” He smirks for a moment. “They always do, as if that’s going to save them somehow.”

  My chest caves in at the thought of Chance’s last moments. I’m tempted to insult Oleg, to call him every vile name possible, but instead, I bottle up my rage and keep biding my time. Before asking the next question, I take a breath. “What about my parents?” I whisper.

  He tilts his head. “Do you really want to know?”

  No, I truly don’t. I just want to keep him talking. “Tell me,” I say flatly. “I deserve the truth before I die.”

  “Some people are just gluttons for punishment,” he says, sighing. “No, I didn’t throw your parents off this cliff...although in hindsight, I suppose it would have been more merciful than their actual fate. They died at the hospital, wracked by agonizing seizures.” He studies me, relishing the pain his words bring. “Do you feel better now?”

  I swallow my anger. If I get out of this, I’m going to kill him. I swear it.

  He yawns. “This is beginning to bore me.” He cocks his gun. “You have ten seconds to jump before I shoot you in the stomach. As someone who’s been shot there before, I assure you it’s no fun. Your stomach acids will bleed out and eat through your other organs, till you beg for a bullet in the head. Believe me, I am being merciful.”

  He smirks. “Eight seconds.”

  I believe what he says. Resigned, I turn around and walk to the edge. Just one more step, and it’s all over. Just one more long step. I stare out into the expansive ocean, the water shimmering like sprinkled stardust. Even from this height, I hear the waves crashing violently against the ice-encrusted cliff below. The salty taste of the sea breeze brushes my lips and whips through my hair.

  “Five seconds,” Oleg says.

  Where is Frost? My time is almost up!

  Suddenly I’m reminded of the conversation I overheard between Frost and the mysterious woman. She had stressed the importance of him lying low. She said the village has to think he’s dead. If Frost shows up and kills Oleg, they will figure out the truth. Santa will know Frost is alive, which will put any rescue plans in jeopardy.

  Would Frost make such a bold move? Just for me?

  In my heart, I already know the answer. Any lingering hope for my survival fades away. Perhaps Oleg is right. Perhaps this death will be more merciful. Just one quick drop to the ice and all those jagged rocks.

  “Two seconds.”

  I stretch out my arms and hold my chin high. If Oleg expects me to grovel or beg for my life, he’s going to be disappointed. I refuse to show fear. If I’m going to die today, it will be on my terms. With my dignity intact.

  “One second.”

  I jump.

  Time dilates. My free-fall feels endless.

  All I can see is blue. So much blue. From the clear sky above to the brilliant waters below. It will be the last color I’ll ever see. I struggle to breathe, despite the rushing wind that’s blasting my face at the moment. I decide it must be my own terror that’s making me gasp for air. I try to relax—as much as a person can relax while falling to his death anyway. I try to breathe deeply, but it doesn’t help much.

  My body plummets—down, down, down—gaining speed, slicing through the air like a knife.

  I look around. Everything is so jaw-droppingly gorgeous.

  At least I will die surrounded by beauty.

  That must count for something.

  I know it won’t be long now; the ocean comes into view below me in vivid detail, getting bigger. The roar of the waves rumbles in my ears, so close I can see their whitecaps.

  But then, I feel a sudden jerk. Two strong hands clasp around my chest and pull me to a complete stop in midair. A muffled groan escapes my lips as I reel from the G-force that racks my body. I realize who the arms belong to. “Frost!”

  I twist my head around and receive a brief grin before he regains focus and surges upward. The side of the cliff is almost close enough for me to touch. I’m tempted to reach out and feel the shiny white surface, but I refrain; now is not the time for any movements that could dislodge me from Frost’s grip.

  We stop before an opening, the entrance to an ice cavern. Frost floats us inside, then drops carefully, until our feet make contact with the slick floor. He releases me. I slip and stumble back, panting. While trying to calm my breathing, I stare at the turquoise ice around us. It must be centuries old. But what impresses me most is how it has retained such clarity. Even though the ice is several meters thick, I can make out the rock walls behind it.

  I swing my gaze back to my savior, clothed in blue and white. “What took you so long?” I say.

  He shrugs. “We had to make your death look real.”

  I place a hand over my heart, trying to still the frantic beat within. “Another second more, and it would’ve been,” I scowl.

  “You have a funny way of showing gratitude.”

  I relax. He’s right. “Thank you for saving me,” I say with a slight nod. “Again,” I add.

  “Think nothing of it,” Frost says in his carefree way. “I was in the area and thought I’d make myself useful.”

  I am silent for a long time, pondering all the new revelations. Santa is behind it all. He’s been poisoning my people for years, tainting the coffee, using us to help fill his pockets, and single-handedly destroying Christmas for children all over the world. I shake my head. It is too much to bear.

  “Lucian?” Frost says, frowning.

  “Sorry. It’s just...a lot to think about.” I close my eyes and fight back the tears that threaten to spill. “Everything Santa’s told us has been a lie...and my parents died because of his lies.”

  His voice is soft. “I wish I could’ve saved them.”

  I open my eyes. “You were trying to warn us, weren’t you? That was why we kept seeing you in the woods, right?”

  He nods. “I could never get close enough to any of you though. Santa saw to that by hiring all those guards.” He is thoughtful for a moment. “I doubt it would have mattered anyway. If I did get close, no one would have believed my word over Santa’s, considering what he means to all of you—not to mention the spell he cast over the village.”

  “No one,” I agree. “Santa is the epitome of Christmas. He’s...our hero. Or at least he was.” I nod. “Now I understand now why you were hesitant to share the entire truth with me. I would’ve laughed in your face. You did it right, telling me only enough to nudge me into action.”

  “It was a gamble. I wasn’t sure if you’d heed my advice.” He pauses. “Tell me exactly what happened.”

  I quickly recount all the events that led to my cliff dive. Frost listens intently, never taking his eyes off my face. Even now, he continues scoping me ou
t, but I am not offended. He has every right to use caution.

  Once I finish, he asks, “So they don’t know I’m still alive?”

  “I gave them no indication that you are.”

  “Good.” He leans against a translucent wall. “That’s good.”

  I look around the cave again before turning back to Frost. “So... What happens next?”

  His lips twist into a cold smile. “Simple. We kill Santa.”

  “Happily,” I say quickly. “When? Tonight?”

  My response seems to please him. “Anxious, aren’t we?”

  “He just had me thrown off a cliff.”

  “True, true.” He sighs. “As much as I’d like to end his miserable life now, we have to wait. Till Christmas Day.”

  “How very fitting,” I say, smirking.

  “Well, I doubt he will expect it then. We will have the element of surprise.”

  “And who’s we? Surely you don’t just mean you and me.”

  “No, there are others with me. We’ve been planning this awhile now.”

  “What about my friends?” I want to know. “They might not make it.”

  His expression is pained. “They will have to hang on for the next two weeks. I’m sorry, Lucian, but we must think of the big picture here. There are thousands of other lives at stake here. We must strike when they least expect it, once things settle down a little.”

  I want to argue with Frost on this point, to beg him to reconsider. The idea of Lily and Zeb being so close to that lying monster is unbearable. Still, from a strategic point of view, his plan makes a lot of sense. In the end, I accept his logic, albeit begrudgingly. “Very well.”

  “Thank you for understanding.”

  “I just... I wish I could’ve given Lily the healing potion.” My chest aches. “I didn’t get the chance.”

  “She still has time, Lucian. Don’t lose hope.”

  I nod numbly. A silent moment passes before I speak again. “Frost...”

  “Yes?”

  I clear my throat, trying to think of a polite way to ask, but I find none. “Why are you doing this? Risking your life for us elves?”

  Instead of responding with cheeky humor, his face becomes unsettlingly despondent. “Because the battle is not just yours. We have...a common enemy here. I lost someone I loved too.” He walks past me, to the cave opening, and stares out at the endless sea. “Before Santa hired those guards, he tried to recruit my wife and me for the job.”

  “Why?” I ask his back.

  “He said he’d been attacked by skrillers.” He pauses. “Do you know what they are?”

  “No, what?”

  “Skrillers are reptilian creatures from another dimension. What they lack in size, they make up for in speed and viciousness.” He shakes his head. “A nasty little bunch. Santa told us they’d sneaked into the village, that they’d almost killed him.”

  I frown. “I’m surprised we didn’t hear about that.”

  “Well, he made sure to keep it under wraps. Mind you, this was around the time when elves began getting sick from the Accusol. With his workforce already on edge from the drug he was giving them, he didn’t want to make it worse. So he kept quiet about the skriller invasion.”

  “But why?” I ask, confused. “Didn’t he suspect they would attack us too?”

  “No, the skrillers had strict orders from their master, a warning that if any elves were harmed, they would pay dearly. Their sole target was Santa. He knew that, but he also knew he couldn’t take them on by himself. That was why he sought us.” His voice drops. “My wife, Irina, had a very unique power. She could sense the energy of any living creature.”

  “Like...a tracker?”

  “Yes,” Frost says, nodding. “Santa wanted Irina to use her power to find the skrillers, and he wanted my powers to kill them.”

  I listen in fascination to the story. Santa and Frost, allies? Imagine that! The very thought is surreal.

  “We quickly discovered Santa’s sinister plans. On our first night, we captured two skrillers in the woods. They told us the truth—about the stimulant the scientists were engineering, about Santa’s toy-selling scheme, about it all. At first, I thought they were lying. I mean, who would believe such vile creatures? Deep down, though, we both sensed something was amiss. We bound the skrillers and took them before Santa to question him. It was then that Santa revealed his true colors.” Frost turns around, and I can see fury brewing in his icy eyes. “He killed my wife, Lucian, took my Irina from me. He would’ve killed me, too, if the skrillers hadn’t pounced on him and given me a moment to fly away.”

  My breath hitches in my throat. “He did it right in front of you?”

  Frost gives a single grave nod, then walks up to me. “We’re not so different, you and I.” His voice is bitter. “He took those we loved most.”

  “So he did,” I say quietly.

  “Now, you must join me, Lucian. Join my army. Together, we can make Santa pay for his crimes.” He grits his teeth. “Together, we can make him bleed.”

  My heart lifts at Frost’s dark promise. I meet his gaze without wavering, my chin up and my shoulders back. “Count me in,” I say. If Frost can truly help me destroy Santa and avenge my parents’ death, I will do anything he says—anything at all.

  Chapter Thirteen

  It is early evening in Santa’s Village, almost suppertime, and Lily is surrounded by plastic baby heads. She returned to work right after lunch. Her supervisor wasn’t keen on the idea and actually encouraged Lily to take the whole day off, but Lily isn’t the type to let a measly nosebleed stop her. She’s always been a workaholic. Besides, she knew her production team would have to work overtime if she stayed home. And there was no way she was going to let that happen.

  She waits for the timer to sound. It must reach an exact temperature or the plastic won’t melt correctly. The timer screeches, and Lily pours more plastic pellets into the injection molder loader. Once that’s done, she slides out the molds and removes the fresh-baked heads, then tosses them in a bin. Lily is the best and most efficient machinist in her department, and it won’t be long before she overflows the bins and requires more to fill.

  “Wes!” she calls to the elf across her work area.

  He looks over and nods. A minute later, he comes over with empty bins. “How do you manage to fill them up so quickly?” Wes asks, staring at the countless heads in amazement.

  Lily winks at him. “Magic.”

  He chuckles. “It must be.” He grabs the full bins and takes them to the sewing machines that will stitch nylon hair into their plastic scalps.

  Lily likes to be busy at work. It allows her to feel normal, if only awhile. Other than her supervisor, nobody in her department knows she’s infected, so everyone treats her the same. No special treatment. That’s a relief, because she wants to be like everyone else. If only Lucian could understand that, Lily wishes.

  She knows he means well and that he can’t really help it, but all those pity-filled stares are taking their toll. What she wouldn’t give for him to look at her the way he used to. Even Zeb started looking at her like that, ever since she confessed her illness to him when Lucian ran away, albeit to a lesser degree—only because Zeb has never been the moping type. Zeb seems to take everything in stride, including death. That’s not to say he doesn’t feel sadness, but he chooses to fight it with humor and laughter, to make it hurt less, and Lily appreciates that.

  Before Lily knows it, her shift ends. She clocks out, says goodbye to her co-workers, then steps out into the cold night. Even though dinner starts soon and she’s starving, she heads for the hospital; she knows Lucian’s probably going stir crazy and can use some company. Before entering, she gives the guard outside a cheery wave.

  He doesn’t respond. He just stands there, stone-faced and hostile.

  Oh well. I tried, she tells herself.

  She reaches the ICU and wanders inside, but she sees no sign of Lucian. Was he moved to another room? Dow
ngraded to a less serious problem? Or, better yet, has he been released? She can only hope.

  As she stands there in confusion, watching the other patients and the nurses rush about, Doc Billings walks up behind her and clears his throat.

  Lily whirls around in surprise. “Doc, you scared me!” She smiles and blushes. “Do you know where I can find Lucian?”

  His face scrunches up in a tight grimace. “Lily, I have to talk to you.”

  “Oh.” Her smile fades. “Sure, Doctor. What is it?”

  He takes a deep breath and stares at the floor for a long moment, as if gathering his thoughts.

  Lily tries to wait patiently, clearly seeing his unwillingness to share what’s troubling him. It crosses her mind that perhaps Doc wants Lucian to receive less visitations during his recuperation. It must be. But then why does he look so anguished?

  “Lily,” he whispers, finally peering at her. “There’s no easy way to say this. Lucian... I’m sorry, but he has...passed away.” He speaks the words gently. His brown eyes remain on her face, watching as Lily absorbs the tragic news.

  At first, all she can do is stare, certain she heard him incorrectly. Passed away? As in...dead? How can Lucian be dead? It’s impossible. She gathers her courage and her voice and stammers, “Wh-What are you talking about? He was fine this morning. W-We ate breakfast together and talked and laughed and...” She trails off as a sob makes its way out, crippling her words. Tears pool in her eyes. “I-I don’t understand.”

  “Neither did we,” he admits, then releases a pained sigh. “But then we did a blood analysis and discovered he had the virus as well.”

  “But he didn’t show any symptoms,” Lily says weakly. “He was healthy, perfectly healthy,” she rasps, as if the words themselves are stuck somehow.

  Doc Billings swallows hard. “The strain in his system somehow...mutated. It spread to his brain before we could detect it. By the time we knew what was happening, it was too late. I’m so sorry.”

  Lily stumbles back a few steps, feeling as if she’s been kicked in the chest. She raises a hand over her mouth. Salty tears streak down her cheeks. Her sobs come full force, hysterical and violent. “No, no, no!”