Dane Monday Saves Christmas (With Help)

by Dennis Liggio

  Dane Monday Saves Christmas (With Help)

  Dennis Liggio

  Copyright © 2015 by Dennis Liggio

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Author's Note

  The events of this story occur after the second Nowak Brothers novel Jabberwock Jack and the upcoming and not yet announced second Dane Monday novel. This story spoils neither, nor is any knowledge of previous novels really needed. Also, the time frame which this story occurs wouldn't actually be December, but like all good Holiday Specials, the opportunity for a cheap Christmas cash-in warps all space and time to do its bidding. Happy Holidays!

  - Dennis Liggio

  Austin, TX

  December 2015

  1

  "So I'm not sure if I buy this whole Santa Claus thing," said Dane Monday, investigator of weird occurrences, thwarter of villains, and mediocre poker player. He threw down his cards. "Fold."

  "What's there to 'buy'?" said Jaya, technophile, robotic expert, and car mechanic. Her cards were fanned out in her hands in front of her and her feet up on the table. She was smoking a cigar.

  "Don't get me wrong, you know I'm a big fan of Christmas. But I've always wondered about Santa. Y'know, the whole Saint Nick living at the North Pole and delivering all his toys through magical means once a year," said Dane. "What if it's not magic or the supernatural? What if he's just some guy using Avalon Brass inventions?"

  "It's possible," said Jaya. "But why discount magic? What would be so strange about the existence of a mythic figure that supposedly uses magic to do good things for the world? You deal with works of magic and fantastic things all the time. You see the 'impossible' on a daily basis."

  "Yeah," said Wong. "I'm a fox." Wong was a Chinese fox spirit who masqueraded as a human.

  "And even if you want to say it's all Brass, who cares?" said Jaya. "Why would that change things?"

  Alastair coughed from Jaya's cigar smoke, which always seemed to waft straight toward him. An old school occultist, he was dressed down from his usual impeccable attire. He was not wearing his usual blazer, but he still had a crisp white shirt and red-and-green striped tie for the holiday. His sleeves were rolled up to his arm garters. "And the figure of Saint Nicholas has existed for centuries. A single individual would likely have died from old age if nothing occult was involved." He pause and looked at his cards. "I call."

  "What if it's a succession of people?" said Dane. "Some hereditary title and set of gear passed on through the years."

  "A long line of Santa Clauses back to medieval times?" said Jaya. "I guess it could be plausible, but Avalon Brass wasn't found back then. And not in Europe."

  "It could have and we don't know it," said Dane. "Linda, what do you think?"

  Linda, a university history professor, did not hear Dane, as she was in the kitchen, which currently was a warzone. Since she did not play poker but had arrived for the Christmas Eve celebration, she had been baking cookies for everyone in the small apartment kitchen. But this was Wong's home and his wife, Meilin, also a fox spirit, was not taking kindly to the interloper in her kitchen. They were currently arguing.

  Instead, Dane was answered by Abby. An aspiring journalist and Dane's latest sidekick, she was sitting at the small bar near the kitchen. Next to her was a small folding table where Dane had placed the numerous Christmas hams he had arranged to have delivered for everyone. Nobody was excited about their gift hams, but Dane was very excited to give them as it was his traditional holiday gift, so they did not say anything. They'd all take them home, put them in their refrigerators, pick at them for a week, then throw them out. Just like every year.

  "I think she's maybe a little busy," said Abby. Since she also did not play poker but was not attempting to bake, Abby had nothing to do but sit around and drink while she enjoyed everyone's company. This meant she had drank a little more than everyone else. She was only drinking eggnog spiked with brandy, but she had so much that she was already somewhat red faced and clumsy.

  "Husband, would you get this crazy white woman out of my kitchen?" shouted Meilin in exasperation.

  "I'm just trying to bake!" said Linda in exasperation, oven mitts on her hands, her fifth batch of cookies on a tray in her arms, and white flour on her nose. She wore a far-too festive holiday sweater, an endless amount of green, red, and white Americana.

  "Husband, do something!" said Meilin.

  "Dane," said Wong, turning from his cards, "please tell Honorable Wife that I am in the middle of a game, trying to win moneys for our family."

  Dane didn't say anything but turned to Meilin with a what-can-I-do gesture that was half shrug and half supplication. Meilin asking Wong to do things during the regular poker games was a time-worn fight between the two of them.

  "Dane," counted Meilin, "please tell Honorable Husband that if this white woman does not get out of my kitchen, I will break my centuries-old vow against killing." No one mentioned how recent events may have called that vow into question.

  "I'm just trying to bake for everyone," said Linda, her voice weak and sad. It was more than just being unappreciated. She didn't want to get killed by an angry fox spirit either. She just wanted to bake cookies for everyone.

  Wong sighed and put down his cards. "I guess I'll have to fold."

  "We can wait if you want," said Jaya, blowing a smoke ring. "That way we can get your money fairly."

  "I would find that acceptable - ow!" said Alastair, reaching down to rub his ankle.

  "Meilin, the kids are awake and got out of their room again!" said Wong, looking under the table. Then he carefully got up and bent under the table. His children, Yuju and Lili, were so young that they did not know how to shift their shape. So instead of appearing as human children, they were two red fox cubs with white stripes. In addition to getting in all sorts of trouble, they liked biting people's ankles under the table. For some reason they particularly liked biting Alastair's legs.

  Meilin quickly left the kitchen and crouched by the poker table. "I have Lili!" she said, scooping a small fox up in her arms.

  "I've got Yuju!" said Wong, stroking the small fox's chin. "Who's a mischievous little monster? Is it you? Is it you?"

  "I kind of feel like you'd be that sort of parent," said Jaya to Dane.

  "If I had monster babies?" said Dane.

  "They're not monsters," said Meilin.

  "No, I think he's correct," said Wong, receiving a dirty look from his wife. He smiled.

  "No, I mean -" started Jaya, but she didn't get to finish. Suddenly the unused cards on the table jumped into the air. They swirled together in a momentary dust devil. They all saw this and stared in shock. But Dane saw more. In the middle of that swirl of cards he saw a sight that was strange but appropriate for the day - Santa Claus.

  Then the cards fell to the table as quickly as they arose, the strange phenomenon and Dane's vision gone.

  "Okay, what was that?" said Jaya.

  "A localized psychokinetic event," said Alastair. He clutched at a necklace under his shirt. "It's not demonic or angelic. I would know."

  "My kids haven't learned that trick yet," said Wong defensively.

  "It's a case, isn't it, Dane?" said Abby, her voice a little slurred.

  Dane nodded.
"Yeah, I saw something in all that. A vision. Something I need to go take care of."

  "But it's Christmas Eve!" said Jaya. "Don't you get a night off? It's midnight already."

  "Evil doesn't take a night off, so neither should I," said Dane.

  Nobody said anything for a moment. Then they started laughing.

  "I can't believe you said that with a straight face," said Jaya, wiping tears.

  "Seriously, what movies have you been watching?" said Wong.

  "Okay, the point is, if I'm getting a message, I still need to go," said Dane finishing his mug and then standing up. "I've also had like five cups of coffee, so I'm good for the night. Abby, you coming with?"

  "I've had a little too much to drink, I think," said Abby, lifting her mug to see it was empty again. "I also told Will I'd stay put until he picked me up. Which seems like a good idea right now."

  "Your government agent boyfriend is coming here?" said Jaya. She looked over to Dane, who was a person of interest in various arsons around town, then at the two human-looking but non-human fox spirits, and finally at Alastair, who was known for some under the table dealings for occult objects. She did not even mention her own technically illegal salvaging runs to the Husks and elsewhere. She guessed only Linda wouldn't be a person of interest for the government agent.

  "Oh, no, I'm going to meet him around the block," said Abby. "He'll call when he's here."

  "Ask him if he got his ham," said Dane.

  Abby rolled her eyes and then watched Dane get his coat on over his Christmas sweater. "Be careful, they're saying it could get as bad as a blizzard out there."

  "Evil doesn't take a night -" began Dane again.

  "Just go," said Jaya.

  2

  Not far away across New Avalon, the mood wasn't as nearly as warm and festive. The Christmas spirit was lacking in at least one individual.

  "So that's why I think Christmas isn't worthwhile," said Szandor Nowak, unlicensed monster hunter and lifetime curmudgeon, age twenty-one.

  "Come off it, brother," said Mikkel Nowak, unlicensed monster hunter and his brother's keeper, age twenty-three. "This is not the time of year to be cynical. You're being a Scrooge."

  "I'm just saying that Christmas seems like a rich person holiday," said Szandor, a glass that was now empty of whiskey in his hand. "A consumer holiday. It's about buying stuff for your families, buying tons of food, and purchasing terrible Christmas decorations. If you don't buy, you are left out."

  "The commercialization of Christmas is a relatively new thing, historically speaking," said Carly, Mikkel's girlfriend. She spent more time here at Mikkel's apartment than at her own, so the fact that she was spending Christmas with the Nowak brothers wasn't surprising. Especially since she wasn't always fond of her own family.

  "See?" said Mikkel. "It wasn't always like this. Maybe things got out of hand, but it's still a time for family and friends. Loved ones. Goodwill toward men. That kind of stuff."

  "I don't have a lot of goodwill to give," said Szandor. "This wasn't my year." It had been a rough year for him. He was still dealing with the lingering emotions that come from nearly dying from a traumatic fight that had put him in a coma. The fact that he was getting abusive calls from collections agencies about his hospital bills added insult to injury.

  "I get that, brother, but the important thing is we're both alive. We have each other, and that's how Mom would have wanted it. You know how important Christmas was to her," said Mikkel.

  Szandor nodded faintly. Their mother had always done the best to make their Christmas as good as she could, but money was often tight. Their holidays were nothing like the ones Szandor saw on television, with their impressive decorations, the family sprawled out in front of the fire and the tree, a huge roasted goose or turkey with enough for unexpected guests, and everyone getting their Christmas wish. Szandor could count on one hand the times he had ever gotten the present he wanted. He understood why that was back then and he understood even more why now as an adult, but sometimes the old hurts are unreasonable. He still carried a strong feeling of disappointment for the whole holiday.

  He looked over to his brother and Carly who were laying on the couch, her head resting on Mikkel's chest as they watched The Christmas Story on the television. Szandor was a little envious. He had been moving from one odd job to another, perpetually single, and had almost been killed by a gigantic serpent. Not a good year. Mikkel, however, had been reunited with his probable one true love. That seemed like a much better year. Okay, Szandor admitted, so maybe his brother also saved Szandor's life. Szandor still felt like he always got the short end of the stick. Things never went his way.

  The bad feelings crawling up in him, he suddenly felt like he didn't want to be here with the loving couple. He wanted to be elsewhere, somewhere he could breathe. He also didn't want to spoil their holiday. If he was going to be a jerk to someone, as typically happened when he started feeling bad, better that be someone other than his brother.

  "I'm gonna get going," said Szandor, rising from the armchair. Most of the whiskey had worn off and he felt something resembling sober.

  Mikkel shook his head in disappointment. "You're welcome to stay, the snow might get bad on your way home."

  Szandor shook his head in disagreement. "No, I'm fine. The snow is fine. I think I just want to be alone."

  Mikkel opened his mouth to say something about being alone on Christmas, but then he looked to Carly and back to his brother. He got it. Even with his only family, Szandor must have been feeling a little bit like a third wheel.

  "You're coming over tomorrow, right?" said Mikkel. "Can you drop by the store and get a can of cranberries for the sauce? We forgot to get that at the store."

  "I don't know if I'm coming over," said Szandor.

  "Oh, come on, we'll have food. Lem will be over after he finishes at his aunt's. You can bring Dickie. We'll have alcohol and drink until we're stupid."

  "Dickie's out of town for the holiday," said Szandor.

  "Well, still come over," said Mikkel. "Carly's sister is invited, so she might come. She's cute."

  "Eh," said Carly with a lazy shrug. "If you like that sort of thing."

  "You're not really selling it, brother," said Szandor.

  "Brother," said Mikkel very seriously. "I would really like it if you came over and spent Christmas with me. And all of us. It would mean a lot to me for you to be there."

  Szandor sighed. "I just don't think it's a good thing."

  "Spending time with family is always a good thing," said Mikkel.

  "Maybe I'm sick of family," said Szandor angrily.

  "Maybe you do need to spend some time alone tonight," said Mikkel in a too hasty retort.

  "Are you kicking me out now?" said Szandor.

  "What the hell, guys?" said Carly.

  Mikkel sighed and shook his head slowly. "I'm sorry. Look, brother, do what you need to tonight. Maybe you'll be less of a jerk tomorrow."

  Szandor did not answer, he just shook his head and left, his heart still full of anger.

  3

  When Szandor hit the street, it was snowing. Not a blizzard or at least not one yet, but enough snow that the streets were thinning of people. Of course, it was late at night on Christmas Eve - most people were home with their families. Those that weren't were closing out the night at their favorite bar, so they still had a few hours to go before stumbling out onto the street.

  Szandor wasn't dressed for the snow. He wore his jacket, but he didn't have a hat nor gloves. Admittedly the jacket was not meant for very cold weather either. He pulled the sleeves of the jacket down and wrapped his hands around them, holding them in place. He realized that he had a bad habit of leaving places too quickly while ill prepared for the weather outside.

  Mikkel lived in Chinatown, so as Szandor walked toward home, he was seeing the odd mix of Chinese advertisement and Christmas decorations. Sometimes he saw both, like when he saw a neon green Christmas tree covered with o
range neon Chinese characters. Much of Chinatown had been rebuilt since recent fires, so there was a mix between new construction, old buildings, and just a few places that still showed fire damage. As he walked on, Szandor saw a familiar sight during the holidays: a volunteer Santa collecting donations for charity.

  The man was dressed in a cheap red Santa suit, the white trim missing in places. His beard was poorly made, looking to be made up of cotton balls. He was standing in front of a big cauldron where people could toss in donations. He didn't have a sign saying the Salvation Army or any other charity; there was nothing to identify who he worked for. On the ground next to the cauldron was a red sack typical of Santa. His arm swung a bell rhythmically, up and down, up and down, never failing in the exact repetition. His voice also had a very specific rhythm to it, always saying, "Ho ho ho!" at just the right pitch and interval.

  Szandor had to walk past the charity Santa, but he did so with a distaste that rose from his current anger and longstanding disappointment with the holiday.

  "Ho ho ho!"

  "Not interested," said Szandor.

  Then as he was just past the Santa: "Ho ho ho!"

  "I said I'm not interested!"

  Then when he had finally walked away: "Ho ho ho!"

  Szandor whipped around. The Santa was looking right at him, but he couldn't discern any real emotion in the Santa's face, probably because of the fake beard. Szandor considered going off on the Santa, letting out some of that pent-up frustration. But he thought better of it, realizing that even he didn't want to be the guy who got into a fight with a charity Santa on Christmas Eve. He'd never live that down even if the police didn't show up.

  Instead he turned back around and decided to mind his own business. He ignored the additional "Ho ho ho!" behind him, though he really wanted to go back and punch the annoying Santa in his stupid face. Instead, he kept his self control and kept on walking.