by Heide Goody
“Are you criticizing a woman for taking the initiative?” Esther instantly retorted.
“Absolutely not,” said Dave.
There was a lurch as the carriage shaft linking the sleigh to its animal-driven engine came apart. Newton, eyes staring wide at the gaping hole in the front end of the sleigh, scurried back and up to the seat that Santa had recently vacated, to his family.
***
121
Like Bacraut, Guin found her attention drawn to the reindeer leading the sleigh. Scromdir and Bitber, wasn’t it? The looped leather straps holding them together were now freed and the pair were drifting. Scromdir peeling left, Bitber up and to the right. Where those two led, others followed. The lines of reindeer were diverging, the links to the sleigh lost.
“Ni! Ni! Samat!” shouted Bacraut.
“If the reindeer aren’t pulling this thing forward anymore—” said Guin, feeling a lightness within her as the sleigh began a rapid descent.
“Take hold of me,” said Newton.
“No need to panic, dude,” said Dave, hugging the lad.
“Take hold of me!” the boy shouted.
“Flúga áfrass!” Bacraut yelled at the reindeer. “Flúga tigýrðar!”
The reindeer weren’t flying together. The two trains were heading off at forty five degrees to one another. Down the chain of paired zombie reindeer, they split off – Hlager and Gouper, Bultaða and Paugir, and all the others – until the final pair parted. With a wrenching of wood, the carriage shaft splintered.
It was only in that moment that Bacraut recognised the danger of wrapping himself in the reins. As the last reindeer went their separate ways and the two lines pulled in opposite directions, the thick reins tightened.
“Ni!” he shouted. His voice cut off in a gurgle as metres of rein went from coiled to rigid in an instant. He stretched. Coils sliced. The noose around his neck snapped taut. Guin’s eyes involuntarily followed his forcibly ejected head as it literally popped off.
Both teams of reindeer shook as they violently pulled against each other and swooped to move in a vaguely unified direction, utterly separated. The sleigh, engineless, nosedived like a rollercoaster cresting the first drop.
The floor moved beneath them. Guin turned and grabbed her dad.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
“Hold me!” yelled Newton. “Do it!”
Arms wrapped around chests, a family pressed in close together.
“Flúg!”
***
122
The sun rose. The twisted remains of several crushed containers and the awful cargo they had carried, burned fiercely against a hillside, given extra flame by whatever aviation fuel had still been on board. Crows startled out of their roosts by the explosive crash, circled in the air above. There was no movement around the crash site. Nothing living had crawled away.
To the far south, almost out of sight, dozens of reindeer ran on tirelessly through the sky.
“I wonder where they’ll end up,” said Guin.
“It’s usually birds that fly south for the winter,” said Newton.
Dave inspected himself and his family. They had landed softly in the snowy fields half a mile back from the sleigh crash. “How—?”
“We should be dead,” agreed Esther.
Newton lifted up his jumper. A large quantity of bundled hair poked out. “I got it when I was fixing Blinky. I probably took more than I needed.”
“You stuffed an old man’s beard up your jumper?” said Guin.
“It’s magical.”
“Yeah. Still, it’s a bit…” There didn’t seem to be a word to cover it.
“It’s been a weird night,” nodded Esther.
Dave turned around. “I’m not sure I know where we are.” He blew out his cheeks at a sudden thought. “The car.”
“Underneath an avalanche,” said Esther, patting his shoulder.
“You never liked cars anyway,” Newton pointed out and then thought, “All our luggage!”
Esther pointed in what looked a likely direction to find a main road. “Not much of a Christmas is it, though?” she said.
“Dunno,” said Newton. “Family trip gone horribly wrong. The worst possible accommodation. Flying creatures.”
“People trying to kill them,” added Guin.
“Sounds like the Christmas story to me.”
“Kind of lacking the three wise men and some gifts,” said Esther.
“The mead I bought!” said Dave. “Gone! Man! What I wouldn’t give for a glass of—”
Newton put a hand over his mouth. “No, dude. Don’t even say it.” He looked at Guin. “You lost your toys.”
Guin plucked Tinfoil Tavistock, the only survivor, from her pocket. “I’ll make new ones. I’ve got loads of materials in my bedroom. I’ll show you when we get to our house.”
A look passed between Dave and Esther.
“You kids have surprised me,” smiled Dave. “You’ve changed.” They reached the brow of a hill. Below was a long grey line that might have been a country road.
“I’m thinking about going vegetarian,” said Newton.
“That’s not the change I meant, mate.”
“Sausages.” Newton pulled a face. “They’ve put me right off meat.”
“Oh,” said Esther, surprised but pleased. “No, I think Dave’s right. You have changed.”
“I’m sure it will wear off,” said Guin, feeling the tops of her ears.
“Change for the better,” Esther assured her.
A cool breeze blew in from behind them. The flying reindeer had vanished entirely into the yellow haze of dawn.
“Why do birds fly south for the winter?” asked Newton.
“I don’t know,” said Esther, recognising it as a joke. “Why do birds fly south for the winter?”
“It’s too far to walk.”
Guin groaned. There was a laugh buried in the groan. It was buried deep but it was there all the same.
Newton knew exactly what change his mum was talking about. The worry, the panic, the desperate need to please everyone…
He pulled the bundle of hair out from under his jumper. There was a lot of it but he made sure he gathered together all the remains of Santa’s beard. He held it up until he could feel the breeze tugging at it. Then he let it go.
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Read the novella that is book 2 in the Sprite Brigade Series
A Bridge Too Few by Heide Goody & Iain Grant
Rehoming a mermaid caught in an oil slick? No problem.
Getting a girl out of a devilish deal with a social media sprite? Easy-peasy.
But when every troll in the city is suddenly made homeless, fairy tale expert Dr Epiphany Alexander faces a task like no other.
Can she keep the trolls and the public at a safe distance from each other? Can she fend off the advances of elderly gents who find her strangely irresistible? Most importantly, can she do any of these things without falling foul of the enchantments, tricks and traps that are part of any encounter with the folks of faerie?
US: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B07XP3MW86/
UK: http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B07XP3MW86/
Clovenhoof by Heide Goody & Iain Grant
Charged with gross incompetence, Satan is fired from his job as Prince of Hell and exiled to that most terrible of places: English suburbia. Forced to live as a human under the name of Jeremy Clovenhoof, the dark lord not only has to contend with the fact that no one recognises him or gives him the credit he deserves but also has to put up
with the bookish wargamer next door and the voracious man-eater upstairs.
Heaven, Hell and the city of Birmingham collide in a story that features murder, heavy metal, cannibalism, armed robbers, devious old ladies, Satanists who live with their mums, gentlemen of limited stature, dead vicars, petty archangels, flamethrowers, sex dolls, a blood-soaked school assembly and way too much alcohol.
Clovenhoof is outrageous and irreverent (and laugh out loud funny!) but it is also filled with huge warmth and humanity. Written by first-time collaborators Heide Goody and Iain Grant, Clovenhoof will have you rooting for the bad guy like never before.
F. Paul Wilson: "Clovenhoof is a delight. A funny, often hilarious romp with a dethroned Satan as he tries to adjust to modern suburbia. The breezy, ironic prose sets a perfect tone. If you need some laughs, here's the remedy."
US: http://www.amazon.com/Clovenhoof-ebook/dp/B008PYLULG/
UK: http://www.amazon.co.uk/Clovenhoof-ebook/dp/B008PYLULG/
Oddjobs by Heide Goody & Iain Grant
It’s the end of the world as we know it, but someone still needs to do the paperwork.
Incomprehensible horrors from beyond are going to devour our world but that’s no excuse to get all emotional about it. Morag Murray works for the secret government organisation responsible for making sure the apocalypse goes as smoothly and as quietly as possible.
In her first week on the job, Morag has to hunt down a man-eating starfish, solve a supernatural murder and, if she’s got time, prevent her own inevitable death.
The first book in a new comedy series by the creators of ‘Clovenhoof’, Oddjobs is a sideswipe at the world of work and a fantastical adventure featuring amphibian wannabe gangstas, mad old cat ladies, ancient gods, apocalyptic scrabble, fish porn, telepathic curry and, possibly, the end of the world before the weekend.
US: https://www.amazon.com/Oddjobs-Heide-Goody/dp/0993365531
UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Oddjobs-Heide-Goody-ebook/dp/B01GVT13XQ