by Rae Foxx
Howl nearly choked on the sandwich he was eating, hacking and gagging up the last of the three sandwiches he had polished off.
“Wait, is that a thing that’s happening?” he asked through a weird coughing sound. “You’re gonna flash us? Because I don’t really need to be on time for class. I can wait. Go on.”
I reached out and slapped him in the back of the knee, making him falter and almost spill the glass of water he had been chugging down his front.
“I’m not even wearing a trench coat. Get over yourself.”
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“Okay, now that your awkward staring match is over…” Scarlet mumbled, giving me a foxy stink eye. Damn, that look was so much scarier than it should be. “What stole your appetite?”
“I…” I glanced around, but Finn still hadn’t left, he and Howl were talking way too close. “I have things going on.”
She rolled her eyes. “You need to have studying going on. You looked like your brains were asleep back there in Saenger’s. Your mouth was open, and you kept mumbling to yourself about snow.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I waved her off, and she leaned in, her shoulder whacking into mine as she leaned in.
“Or were you thinking about all the things you can do in snow.?” Yep, totally threw a whole handful of potato chips at her head.
“Hey!”
I was one step away from going for the full-on food fight when Saxon leaned between us, fangs flashing as he smiled. “Howl and Finn have made their way to class, my rose. If you still intend to make this journey, we should leave now.”
“Journey?” Scarlet asked, potato chips wound back and ready to make an impact. “Where are you? You know what? I don’t want to know. Go, do your crazy. I’ll stick around here pass my midterms and bail you out when you get stuck in another dimension after fighting a monster sea turtle with an ego.”
“I don’t get myself--” I couldn’t even bring myself to fight her. I knew she was right. She wasn’t even that far off, just a neurotic Santa instead of a sea turtle. I was effectively taking a demon to Frosty’s playground.
Saxon laughed like a mad man in approval, holding up his hand for a high five. Another habit of Howl’s he had picked up.
“I’ll keep your number on speed dial,” I teased her, leaving my pockmarked sandwich for Scarlet to clean up and followed Saxon out the front door of the school, right to where Tommy was waiting.
He stood in the snow in his leather jacket, smoking a cigarette like he always did. Except something was very different. He had jeans on that didn’t look like they’d been put through a woodchipper and his t-shirt held no stains or remnants of a decade that wasn’t good to him. No holes in the armpits either. That wasn’t even the worst of it, he had a motherfucking Santa hat that sat crooked on his head.
Tommy the demon, fucking dressed up, or semi-dressed up, for the North Pole. I tried like hell not to laugh but failed miserably.
“Excited?” I asked as we reached him, his rosy cheeks, thanks to standing in the snow, was only completing his ensemble.
“Don’t say a fucking word, babe. It’s cold up there.”
Saxon squinted at him, fangs already protruding. “Demons don’t feel cold.”
Tommy chucked his cigarette and grabbed me by the waist. “I feel it. I just don’t give a shit.”
My demon, the walking, talking shit of a contradiction.
“So, you’re not cold… then why the Santa hat?”
“Jealous?” Tommy asked, cigarette bobbing through the clench in his teeth.
“No,” I gripped my coat tighter, suddenly wishing that I had a hat or a hood on this thing.
Saxon unzipped his backpack and pulled something bright red and puffy out of his bag. “Here., I thought you might need this,” He said and plopped my own Santa hat on my head, the white fluffy ridge perfectly covering my red-tipped ears.
“Oh my! You are wonderful!” I practically threw myself into his arm.
This sweet, delectable vampire had brought me a hat, despite knowing I had higher than normal temps because of my shifter side.
“Thank you, Saxon.” I pulled back, planting my lips right on his with a wet smacking sound that sent Tommy grumbling predictably.
He didn’t care when I kissed my other mates in front of him. He just loved making a scene.
“You may thank me later. Let’s just get this over with.”
“Geeze, for a Vampire who had just been kissed you sure are grumpy,” I teased as I wiggled my way out of his grip.
“I’m not comfortable being tossed about in a fit of black smoke,” He grumbled, looking at Tommy with a new level of disdain.
“Well, I don’t really appreciate toting around ice-cold vampires, but here we are.” Tommy was going dark and wavy around the edges, blowing smoke in the vampire's face as the two stared each other down.
Great.
“Ready, babe?” Tommy asked, turning to me and flicking his cigarette away where it hissed and sizzled in a flick of grey smoke.
Tommy didn’t actually wait for anyone to respond. I was halfway through nodding, when all that black smoke that smothered him wrapped around us, Saxon swore, and I was promptly hit by a truck driven by Satan himself.
The devil was taking me to the north pole. No wonder I was being stabbed and squeezed and twisted into a broken pulp.
I screamed in pain, but before I could make a sound, the pain was gone, as was Satan’s truck, as was Bloodwood Academy.
Black smoke dropped us like a baby bird, landing us all on our asses in seven inches of snow.
“Thanks for the smooth landing,” I said, wiping snow off my butt as I pushed myself to my feet. At least I had landed on my butt, Saxon was head down, kicking himself to standing as he prepared to rush the demon who stood laughing.
“Stop it, you two!” I yelled, not in the mood to break them up. “We have a problem.”
“What?” they both asked in unison.
“Snow.”
Snow. Snow, and more snow. There was nothing but white as far as the eye could see. Snowy sky met snow-capped land, but where one ended and the other began, there was no telling. It fell from the sky; it blew in our faces and was already gathering on our shoulders like it was going to turn us into little snowy mountains of our own.
Tommy brushed the snow from his hair and the liquid remnants gave him an even more mussed look. More than bedhead, he looked like he’d had a brush with one of Pater’s lion shifters. Sexy as hell in my opinion.
“Are you sure you brought us to the right place,” I asked, brushing snow from my head and shoulders less I become one with the landscape.
“Hey, I’m not a pilot or a flight attendant. I never promised a smooth trip.”
“What about a correct destination?” Saxon asked, his eyes darting around for something. Probably shade I realized. Damn, we had arrived in a Vampire’s murder field.
We needed to get out of here.
I started walking in circles, my eyes stinging from the bitter wind that pulsed against me in a bone-chilling frost. Good thing Saxon had given me a hat. Pulling it lower over my ears, I turned and promptly tripped over something, flying through the air and face planting in the snow.
“Shit!” I turned, trying to see what the hell I had hit, and was met with a tiny silver orb set atop a red and white striped pole.
“Holy gingerbread man dicks. It’s the fucking North Pole!” There was literally a white and red striped pole and a sign at the top, telling us our location.
Nothing about the scene disappointed.
Especially when
the damn pole started to rise like I had seen in a movie once, a spiral staircase rotating around it - and right on the top was a pointy-eared elf dressed all in green.
“Holy shit!” he said, hat toppling as he jumped at the sight of us.
“Holy shit!” I repeated, just as loud when I realized where we were. Santa’s workshop. Holy shit.
“What the hell are you doing here? And how the fuck did you even get here?” He asked, straightening his hat and jacket. The front of his shirt pulled and begged for mercy, the buttons barely keeping his potbelly captured inside the green velvet getup.
“We came to see Santa Claus,” I announced, peering through the snowstorm for some other building or pole, or elf army.
It was still just snow.
Come on Santa magic! What are you gonna bring me next?
“No one comes to see him. Really. Why are you here?” He took another step up the staircase, bell shoes jiggling as he produced a white mug.
Hot chocolate. This was no Swiss Miss, either. The rich chocolate smell almost made me drool.
I didn’t even care that every bit of this was stereotypical as shit. I loved it.
“I am here to see him.” I perked, bouncing on my toes and clearing more snowdrifts from my shoulders.
The elf looked me up and down, maybe for the first time. His eyebrows waggled. “I see. He’s never had visitors like you before. Then again, he must get lonely like everyone else.”
“Ew? Seriously?” I think I was going to throw up. “Just take me to him and I’ll forget you referred to me as a hooker.”
The bastard of an elf just smiled and sipped at his hot chocolate, which I realized probably had a fair bit of rum in it.
Weird.
“Can you show us the way?” I asked, trying to ignore the rum thing as I prepared to see the toy building factory with my own eyes. “I’m sure you’re all very busy since ‘tis the season and all that bullshit. I won’t take up much of his time. I promise.”
Probably not the best way to butter up a Christmas elf, but too bad.
“Sure. Why not. I’d love to see the look on his face when he sees you.” And he was looking me up and down again.
What, did we just find the one horny elf in this place. It’s not like this coat was all that revealing. Unless he had a thing for knees… which he probably did.
He plunged his way back down the staircase, the thing twisting back into the snow once all of us were on.
There was no going back now. I was going to see Santa!
I tensed looking around in preparation for the stairs to open up to a bustling workshop filled with giant candy canes, magical toys, and tinsel.
All the tinsel.
Instead, it opened up to a stone hallway colder than Saxon’s keep.
“I am beginning to wonder about this holiday,” Saxon said, moving closer as he went into bodyguard mode. “Perhaps Finn was not that far from the truth. This certainly seems like somewhere torture would occur.”
The elf laughed but said nothing as he led us to a wide wooden door. The guy kicked it in, not even stopping to knock.
“You’ve got company, you fat bastard. Get up.”
Chapter 8
Santa Claus sat in a chair in front of a blazing fire or at least that’s what my mind was telling me.
The chair was high-backed velvet, the fire roaring from behind an ornate iron grate that featured reindeer with crossed antlers. The room was set with candy cane colored rugs, and squishy bean bags and toys and framed notes from happy children.
It was all as I had envisioned Santa and the North Pole growing up.
And now I was here, in the middle of it, staring at an oversized arm covered with tattoos of sugar plums and Christmas treats, fingers that were tatted ‘M-E-R-R-Y’ clinging a beer bottle.
“What in the--” Okay so the room was perfect, but that…
Santa gave a mighty snore and a gasp as the elf kicked his chair again and we all jumped, Santa included.
The room might be perfect, but Santa was a disaster, more so as he rose and faced us. Red-cheeked from drunkenness with cookie crumbs and candy bits stuck in his beard.
At least he has a beard.
“This is amazing,” Tommy whisper-squealed behind me, the guy bouncing on his toes with excitement.
He must be digging this. He was absolutely giggling when Santa gave a mighty belch, hiccupped and slurred something that might have been ‘who the hell are you’ although it might as well have been ‘why the hell am I in a zoo’.
With the way he was air petting me, I was placing my bets on the latter.
“Oh, this is a disaster,” I mumbled, ignoring his waggling fingers that were now going for my chest.
Guess it wasn’t just the elf that was a horny toad.
I sidestepped him as his reach turned into a forward fold, Saxon turning into an instant bodyguard.
Tommy just laughed his ass off.
“You think this is a disaster,” the elf squeaked, leaning against the wall as he watched this whole thing unfold. “You should see him when he’s drunk.”
“He’s not drunk?” Saxon was appalled and I didn’t blame him. Santa was now trying to guzzle his beer, but most of it was ending up in his beard.
“Naw, he’s sobering up.” The elf should not sound as proud as he did over that. “He’s preparing to be jolly and merry and all that. Well, good luck!”
The elf didn't ask us anything about us, he just left us alone with a drunken Santa who was now trying to lick the candy out of his beard using only his tongue.
“This is amazing,” Tommy was giddy as he stepped toward Santa, breathing in so deep I was sure he was feeding from him.
“Santa being a lush is not amazing,” I sighed, sagging down into one of the massive bean bags, which smelled like vomit and was as hard as rocks.
And I was up again.
“What am I going to do now? I can’t convince this guy to help, no wonder he told Finn all he did about Christmas. Stupid Fae.”
“Finn? Fae Finn?” The large bearded man went from nuzzling his empty beer bottle to staring at me with bloodshot eyes.
“Yes, your cousin,” Saxon spoke slowly like he was translating gibberish into English. Maybe he was. “He is the reason we are here.”
Santa went from passed out drunk to alert so fast that he might have injected himself with an epinephrine shot.
“Finneus, eh? Haven’t talked to that fucker in decades.” He laughed in a dark demonic way that should never be associated with Santa and tried to take another swig from his beer bottle, only to find it empty. “Kilpinier!” He yelled as he threw and smashed the bottle at the back of the fireplace. I couldn’t be sure if that was a name or a drunken slur. “Kilpy, bring me a cold one.”
Okay, drunken slur it was.
“Yes, um…” I stepped forward and so did Tommy and Saxon. Saxon’s hand was glued on my back lest he had to pull me away from Santa who was now staring at my chest. Thank god I was wearing a big puffy coat.
This was a fool's mission, but I plowed on like the stubborn wolf I was.
“I wanted to show Finn a real human Christmas—give him the whole experience and I was hoping you could help.”
Santa chuckled, holding his beer belly while he did. That chuckle soon turned into a hacking cough that even made the flames in the fireplace dance. “Yeah, sure, why not! I clearly have time to help you. Like, I don’t do enough for the fucking world.”
The elf who had shown us down here busted his way in with four bottles, but he didn’t offer any to us, he just set them on the table by Santa’s chair, gave us a look and hustled his way back out.
“Wonderful!” I clapped my hands together, bouncing on my toes and got a questioning look from all of them. “Right. You’re not serious.”
“No,” Santa chortled, grabbing two of the bottles and pouring the liquid into his mouth. Well, over his beard. “But there is a way you can give Finneus the best Christmas he’s ever
had, and it doesn’t require my assistance.”
Oh, god. This dude was about to spout out something very Christmas Hallmark movie. I could feel it in my marrow. I mean, he had to. This was Santa, he couldn’t be all tattoos and beer.
“Oh yeah? How is that?”
“You can do it yourself,” he slurred, leaning over and breathing in my face.
The air was all fermentation and tooth rot and I stumbled back, gagging, which sent both Santa and Tommy laughing.
“Gee, thanks…”
“I’m serious--” Santa said mid-laugh, slamming both of his beer bottles back on the table. “I can give you all the help you need, all you need is to stay here… with me…”
“Ew.” I was going to be sick. So were my mates, both of whom were flanking me, Tommy, all business now. “And rather just pretend to be you.”
Santa perked up, “Would you? Would you really?”
“Yes!” I laughed, stealing Tommy's hat and replacing it with my own. “I know I’d do a much better job.”
“Perfect.” Santa smiled, not a drop of drunken stagger in his voice as his eyes sparkled, and the room turned into a flood of red and green bobbles.
Everything grew heavy and sparkly and I felt as though I was trapped in Christmas barf.
Sick.
Luckily, the Christmas barf left as quick as it had come, although when the room rematerialized it was just me, Tommy, and Saxon.
Santa had gone, there wasn’t even a beer bottle left.
“What the fuck?” Tommy hissed, and I turned, expecting to see drunken Santa passed out in the corner, but he was looking at me. Or rather, what I was wearing.
I looked down and my heart sunk right down into my toes. Toes that were now covered with those fucking black patents leather boots that Santa Claus was wearing when we came in here.
And legs that were wearing crushed velvet...
“You’ve got to be shitting me,” I said, taking inventory of myself.
Gloves. Coat. A hat that was more intense than the two-dollar version I had stolen from Tommy.
I was wearing a fucking Santa Claus suit. Not just the boots, but the full-on bright red, fluffy white-hemmed suit, complete with the black leather belt and the cap on my head. A fucking Santa suit! The ball on the end of the cap tickled my ear and I slapped it away, hoping like hell to slap this entire outfit away-- but no, I clearly wasn’t a delusion.