Such Violent Delights: A Holiday Paranormal Romance Anthology

by S. L. Jennings

  A hazy light at the bottom started to break through the darkness, and I knew that was where my bones would break into tiny pieces. Funny what comes into your head at the last moment. I knew how upset my family would be never knowing what happened to me, but what stuck out the most was the outlandish thought I would never find out where the deer man went or what he was late for. Was he real? Was I hallucinating?

  And curiosity really did kill me in the end.

  The ground came at me like a speeding train, and I closed my eyes, knowing these were my final seconds. My heart smacked against my chest, a sob forming on my lips.

  Then, as if the world flipped, my elf costume caught like a parachute, halting my rapid descent. Resembling a feather, my weight gripped the air and floated on it until my feet touched like I being gently set down by the air itself.

  My hand went to my chest, feeling my heart screaming out against my palm, I sucked in oxygen, shock dancing along my nerves.

  I’m alive. I’m alive. I patted myself, taking another slug of air, my throat dry and cracked. My gaze drifted around the space. I blinked. And blinked again.

  Holy tinsel, where the hell was I?

  The room I was in was square-shaped, going up two stories. The brown walls were crumbling and dilapidated, like no one had been in here for years, but the smell of something sweet still clung to the air. The A-line roof tilted to one side looking as if it would collapse any minute. What looked like white chalk glued the seams together, or used to hold the place together. Now age had sucked out the adhesive, making it as fragile as the walls. I could see no doors or windows, but a single lantern on a small table next to me, lighting the room with eerie shadows.

  I inched up to the walls, my hand running over the texture, crumbs falling into my palm. The scent of spice wafted up my nose. Taking a deep breath, I held it close to my face.

  Gingerbread.

  “Holy-fuckin-silent-night,” I muttered, taking a closer look at the white paste near me.

  Frosting.

  I was in a fucking gingerbread house.

  “What is this place? Where the hell am I?” Panic spread over my chest like icing, seeing no way out of this room. “Wake up, Alice. Wake up!” I squeezed my lids together, pinching my arm, trying to stir myself from this bizarre dream, but when my lids popped back open, the gingerbread walls still surrounded me, looming down on me like a threat.

  No doors. No windows. No exit.

  Trapped.

  What happened to Mr. Rudolph-man? Didn’t he come this way? Did he know a secret way out?

  I walked along the perimeter, running my hands over the cracked, dry walls, trying to find some hidden escape. This place felt as though it could fall at any moment. In life I was extremely clumsy and overly curious, but never did I imagine death by gingerbread would be my end. If I pushed at the walls, the house might collapse on me. Normally I’d relish the idea of being buried in gingerbread, but only if I had a spiked hot chocolate to dip the pieces in.

  Oh. That sounded good. I needed a drink about now. Maybe then something would make sense.

  Sighing, I gazed around the room, trying to find anything that might get me out of here. My eyes landed on the table, a new object catching my eye, causing me to gasp in fright.

  “Holy-fuckin-night.” My attention narrowed in on the steaming mug that now sat on the table. A chill covered my skin, knowing it wasn’t there a moment ago. My pulse thumped in my ears as I tiptoed closer, my gaze darting around, expecting something to jump out at me. The mug was red and green striped with something written on the side. I peered down into the dark liquid, smelling a mix of peppermint schnapps and chocolate.

  Spiked hot chocolate!

  I tried to keep my breath even, knowing I had wished for it a moment ago and now it was sitting on the table, like I conjured it up.

  My mouth watered at the aroma, my parched throat aching for liquid. Slowly, I picked up the mug, turning the scripted text on the side to me.

  “Drink me.” I read the words curling over the side of the cup. A tiny warning bell went off in my head, telling me not to follow the instructions, I had no idea what was in it. Poison? Sleeping drug?

  Staring around the room, a chunk of cookie fell from high up on the wall to the floor, I jumped, spilling some of the hot drink. The cookie splintered into tiny pieces like wood chunks, a slice cutting across my cheek like metal.

  “Ow!” My fingers went to my face, pulling them back, blood covered my hand. “Shit.” I stared up at the walls, realizing I was in more trouble than I thought. And this was real. You didn’t feel pain in dreams. The stinging ache and blood told me whatever world I was in right now could kill me.

  A crackling-moan sounded, and a piece the size of a sofa hit the ground, fracturing across the floor. Debris cut through my striped tights, slicing my legs.

  “Shit!” I screamed. “Okay, I was half joking when I said death by gingerbread.” I could feel panic swirl in my stomach.

  Crash!

  A portion equaling a small car hit the floor near me, tossing me into the air, ripping the cup from my hand, the contents splashing everywhere as my spine slammed onto the ground, spouting a groan of pain from my lungs.

  “That’s the way the cookie crumbles” was taking on a whole new meaning.

  I had to get out of here. No different than a house falling down on you, the gingerbread would kill me. I had nowhere to hide except a small table.

  Move, Alice!

  Bones aching, I pushed myself up as smaller chunks crashed in around me. I dove under the table just as another part of the house tumbled straight down, collapsing onto the table, sharp slivers slicing at my exposed skin like darts. The table groaned under the weight. It would not hold for long.

  “Think, Alice,” I berated myself. Dinah was good at solving problems and figuring her way out of situations. I would think of crazy things, but not the steps to achieving them. My parents always said I was the big idea person, while Dinah was analytical one. Basically, my head was in the clouds, and I loved living in my fantasy world. But right then I wished to be more like Dinah.

  Haze billowed from the debris, getting caught in my throat, coating my tongue with stale gingerbread. The inner wall seemed to be collapsing, giving me no way out.

  A loud creak echoed down from above, the roof swaying on the decrepit structure.

  Dread swelled in my throat, my body pulsing with adrenaline. I needed a way out of here, now, and to be strong enough to push through the walls without getting pulverized.

  I peered out from under the table as cookie rained down identical to hail. Big crumbs covered the floor like dirt and boulders. My gaze searched around, landing on something right by my hand, my eyebrows furrowing.

  A fully decorated gingerbread man cookie laid next to my thumb, the words “Eat me” written on his green and red striped sweatshirt.

  Again, I glanced around, knowing it wasn’t there before, but I saw no one place it there either. It simply appeared. Like magic. I read about magical lands and fae beasts, and I always preferred it to real life, but I completely understood the difference between reality and books. In this moment the truth of this place was slamming fear into my stomach and down my limbs. Reality did not hold real magic. But I couldn’t think of any other explanation. The drink and cookie appeared out of nowhere.

  Bang! Crack!

  The table covering me fractured down the middle, only one strip of wood holding it together.

  “Shit!” I screamed, covering the back of my neck and head. I had no idea what would happen if I ate the treat, but I had few options. The gingerbread house was going to fold like a house of cards, flattening me under it.

  “Fuck it.” I grabbed the sweet. It was still warm, the frosting absolutely perfect on the little man, his face painted into a smile, his dark beady eyes staring at me. “If you scream or come to life, I swear…” I closed my eyes, biting down on the spiced cookie.

  “Ooooohmygod.” I groaned as t
he warm sweetness covered my tongue. I had never tasted a gingerbread cookie this so good in my life. And it wasn’t even my favorite type of cookie. “Crap, it might be worth getting squashed over.”

  As soon as the words left my mouth, the table screeched, fragments tearing through the last bit holding together, splitting it open, exposing me.

  Terror hitched me up on my toes, still crouching close to the ground, looking around for a place to hide. I darted and weaved as chunks rained down, feeling like I was in some warped version of a war zone.

  The floor shuddered, and I froze in place. The entire wall in front of me rocked like it was coming down. And I had no place else I could go. It was going to crush me.

  A loud noise tore through the space as the wall ripped away from the frosting, the section falling toward me.

  A scream bubbled in my throat, and I dove to my knees covering myself, bracing, my mind screaming no, my thoughts hoping for a way out of this. Energy buzzed around me, coating my skin.

  My eyelashes pinched together, and I curled into a ball. I waited and waited, hearing the ground thud around me. It shook as the wall collapsed, but not a speck touched my skin.

  Huh?

  Lifting my head, it took me a moment to register what was happening. The large wall was in shards about me, but where I laid was untouched. I could see an electrical charge, like an energy field buzzing around me. It was as though it protected me by cutting through the thick cookie like it was paper, pouring pieces all around me.

  Curious and curiouser.

  Slowly I stood up and brushed myself off, watching the electricity hum a foot around my body.

  “What the hell was in that cookie?” I looked back at the shattered table. If the rest of the cookie was still there, it was buried deep below the rubble. Debris still tumbled down from one wall that had yet to fall. Nothing touched me, sliding over the protective bubble I was in. “Okay, this is pretty bad-ass.”

  The tweeting of a bird pulled my attention past the wrecked house. I stared out into what looked like a Christmas tree farm, but the trees felt dark and twisted, like evil coiled their branches.

  Moonlight streamed through the trees, lighting a path. Climbing over the remains, I noticed several huge gumdrops on the ground. Tall enough to reach my waist and wide enough to be a loveseat. Dried, discolored, and wrinkled as if they had sat out for years. I turned, staring back at what was left of the house. The final wall was barely standing, then groaned, toppling forward, bursting my eardrums as it crashed to the ground sending out mushrooming clouds of frosting, cookie, snow, and dirt. I automatically jumped back, covering my face, but once again not a single thing touched me but instead hit the magic bubble I was in, falling or skating over me.

  “Crap on mistletoe.” I shook my head, still not able to grasp what was happening.

  The sound of thumping feet swiveled me around. Going on guard, my heart spiked in my chest. A red light glowed in the dark forest, and my mouth let out a hiccupped gasp. The deer man stood a dozen yards from me, moving into the woods.

  “Wait!” I screamed, my legs immediately running for him. “Mr. Deer Man, wait!”

  He looked over his shoulder, his black eyes rolling over me. “Very late.” His deep voice responded before he bounced forward. In a blink, his body transformed from a shirtless man to a four-legged deer, the red light he was holding morphing into his nose.

  “Tinsel shit.” My feet came to a halt, my mouth parting with shock as I watched the deer leap through the forest, the red light gradually disappearing into the darkness. “Holy. White. Christmas. It was actually Rudolph…”

  Gingerbread houses. Magic. Rudolph.

  I was certainly no longer in my own realm. I was in some twisted version of Christmasland.

  Chapter 3

  The crash of limbs and needles brushing together caused me to peer backward, my eyes staring up at the tree I stood next to. They were definitely the same various kinds of Christmas trees we had in our lot, but they were enormous, rising into the dark sky like a redwood tree.

  High up on the balsam fir trunk, two yellow eyes stared down at me. It tilted forward, bark snapping and crumbling off as it bent over, a limb swiping out at me like a hand.

  “Ahhhh!” I screamed, backing away as another one came to life, its golden eyes narrowing in on me and a limbed arm reaching out.

  “You don’t belong here.” An old crackled voice boomed from the Douglas fir tree, a mouth opened where a huge knot formed on the trunk, causing me to stumble back, terror exploding in my throat. “You come to chop us down? Is that why you are here? Kill us and then prop us up in a corner and decorate us like tarts?”

  “N-n-noooo.” I waggled my head, my mind trying to wrap around the fact an oversized Douglas fir was talking to me. The trees were alive. Actually-fucking-alive.

  “Sure.” Another voice boomed from behind the Douglas, a noble fir. “That’s what they all say. Probably has an axe on her, I’ll bet! Look the way she’s dressed. Already defying the laws!”

  Faster then I could move, a limb pinched at the bottom of my short elf costume, pulling it up. The tree craned its huge honey colored eyes, inspecting me.

  “Hey!” I slapped at the twigs he used as fingers. “You can’t lift up a girl’s skirt like that.”

  “Who says?” The Douglas fir asked.

  “Yeah! Who says?” The noble mimicked.

  “The laws.”

  “You’re silly. There are no laws like that.” The balsam reached for me again.

  “Then I do.” I whapped at the tree as it grabbed for my long dark hair, trying to peer under it.

  “And who are yoooou?” The Douglas yanked at the tulle under my elf costume. “You are not the Queen. So…who are you to say so?”

  “Stop!” I hit at the Douglas as the balsam tugged at my hair again. “Stop, both of you!” I shoved back, knowing I was still not out of their grip.

  “Why should we listen to you? Who. Are. You?”

  “Nobody important.” The noble spoke, slanting enough through the other two trees to grab for me. I peered down at my body noticing the energy that bubbled over me earlier was gone. It was there, right? I didn’t imagine it? I was probably imagining this whole thing.

  “Wake. Up.” I demanded to myself, knocking at my head. “Wake up now!” I twisted and moved, and the trees kept grabbing for me, but the nightmare did not alter. I turned to retreat toward the gingerbread house, but it was no longer there. Trees surrounded me. Burning yellow eyes stared, and limbs stretched for me.

  How did that happen? It made no sense! I hadn’t moved more than a few yards from it.

  “Stop!” I yelped, pushing with all my might through the limbs, hearing snapping of branches and yelps from the trees. I bolted forward, ducking and weaving as more and more trees came to life, grasping for my costume or my long hair. The bells on my shoes chimed as my feet pounded the earth. Breath puffed in front of me, and snow covered the ground, but I didn’t feel cold. My exposed skin felt neither warmth nor cold, like weather didn’t mean anything here, even though there was snow.

  Curiouser.

  Reaching the end of the forest, I let myself pause for a moment to catch my breath. Hands on my knees, I bent over, inhaling deeply.

  “This place is mad,” I mumbled to myself.

  “Maybe it is you who are mad,” a voice replied, jolting me back with a cry. My mouth and eyes opened wide. Before me stood a six-foot, three-tier snowman. Coal mouth and eyes, a large button for a nose, wearing a scarf and top hat, a corncob pipe in his mouth, his branch arms crossed. He leaned against a monster size poinsettia plant, stretching over his head. “What makes you mad might be normal. And normal might be mad.”

  Frosty? Frosty, the fucking snowman, was talking to me right now. I had to be going mad…or already was. Please say I’m asleep and this is all some strange dream I would wake from.

  I stared down at my torn tights and costume, dried blood painting the tights a deeper red.
Unfortunately, it felt way too real.

  “Clearly you are the crazy one for wearing such an outfit.” Frosty’s voice drew my attention back, his coal lined mouth curving into a huge creepy grin. “Only the insane go against the Queen.”

  “The Queen?” The trees had mentioned her too. Who was this Queen?

  “Yes. The ruler of our land. The maddest of all!” Frosty’s smile coiled at the end like the tail of a snake. “Christmas is not allowed here. Hasn’t been for a very long time.” He nodded to my costume. “Ms.?”

  “Alice.”

  “Greetings, Ms. Alice.” He tipped his top hat at me, making me feel like I need to curtsy or something.

  “What do you mean Christmas isn’t allowed here?” I snorted, staring directly at one of the symbols of the season. “You’re kidding, right?”

  “Crazy doesn’t need to joke because we are mad. The sane ones joke to feel insane and the insane joke to feel sane. Or is it the other way around?” He straightened away from the tree, moving closer. He had no legs but seemed to roll over the snow like he did.

  “You don’t make sense.”

  “Who says?” He inclined until his face was even with mine. “You?”

  “Yes.”

  “And who are you to say so? Think yourself the boss of the land? Now which one of us is crazy? And I can’t trust a mad person.”

  “My head hurts.” I couldn’t keep up with him. With this whole night. Why didn’t I stay in the warm cottage and not go after Rudolph? Damn my curiosity. “Please, tell me how to get out of here.”

  “It depends what you mean by out of here.”

  “Out of here!” I motioned around. “Out of this place. Home!” I felt my temper rising. I had my fill of this ridiculous night.

  “But home means different things to people.”

  “My home.”

  “How would I know? Have I ever been to your home?”

  “No.”

  “Then how would I know how to get there? Shouldn’t you know?” He tsked. “Really, girl. I think you are the maddest of all.”