Tits and tinsel fly at my face, the myriad of colors swirling into a dizzying kaleidoscope. Smirking, I give the dancer an appreciative look before staring back down at my bottle of eggnog. For the first time in several decades, the Mistletoe Lodge doesn’t hold my attention.
Instead of fully enjoying the woman in front of me, a pair of green eyes and red hair keeps taking her place. It’s the elf from the tundra. I wasn’t able to get the best look at her, seeing as I was holding a polar bear hostage, but her eyes and hair stood out from amongst the pure-white snow.
What was she even doing there? Elves typically don’t venture out past the gate. Especially not those afraid of my cousin Asmon. They’d rather face death than the dreaded Krampus.
But there she was, a tiny slip of a thing. There was no reason for her to be there. No reason for her to face the blustering cold. So small, so fragile, so very delicate.
It’s maddening how she invades my mind at every turn, taking up mental residence better suited to figuring out what the fudge is happening around here. Taking a swig, I slam the bottle down and wipe my mouth. It’s been two days since I’ve seen her, and yet, I’m still dreaming of her.
Shaking my head, I force myself to get into the game. My dancer gyrates in front of me, her luscious body dipping and swaying in time with the pulsing music. I do my best to feel something, anything.
Nothing. It’s like I’m just empty inside. I look down at my traitorous dick as irritation rolls down my spine. Normally, I wouldn’t be content with just watching the show. I’d want to join in, drowning out the pain and sorrow with something other than spiked eggnog.
With a resigned sigh, I slap some money on the table, wink, and walk away, bottle firmly in my grasp. It’s not her fault she can’t make me rise to the occasion. And if anyone could, it would be the lithe elf doing her best to entice me.
I begin to wander the club, trying to find something to engage me. Maybe I need something more than just a visual to get me going. Moans of pleasure and the obscene sounds of flesh slapping against flesh fill the space as an underlying beat to the music.
Making my way over to the Yuletide Tithings, I spot a few familiar faces. Maybe an orgy is what I need. Those are always engaging. But even as I watch the kinky display, I know in my heart it won’t satisfy me.
Deep down, it doesn’t answer the disquiet filling my very soul. First year as Santa, and I’m already fudging things up. Rubbing my hand across the back of my neck, I opt to head home instead of indulging in any merriment.
Truth be told, I won’t enjoy it, anyway. My head just isn’t in the game. For once, it finally hits me just how much responsibility is on my shoulders, and the weight is far heavier than I ever imagined.
Instead of walking to Northport as planned, I find myself on the secluded trail leading to the Memoriam. The air is still and quiet as I approach the small building. I pause as I near the door.
Did I just see a flash of red? Again, the tiny elf pops back into my head. Why can’t I stop thinking about her?
Groaning, I pry open the massive door and ease my way inside. Cool air eddies about my body, sending a tendril of unease through me. My steps echo against the walls, making me feel like I’m not alone.
Kringle Claus
My father’s name stands out, new and shiny amongst the other nameplates. Next to his name is Nickolas. Not as new, but it stands out, nonetheless.
Forcing back the emotions choking me, I run my fingers across his name. It just isn’t fair. Bending forward, I lean my forehead across the cool marble.
Mumbled prayers and wishes slip from my lips as I try to make sense of the last several days. My first year on the job, and already Christmas is in jeopardy. How did Father ever think I was going to fill his shoes? Decades of training, and what do I have to show for it?
A loud groan snaps my attention to the doors. As I look up, my gaze finds the woman of my nightmares. Her emerald eyes widen in surprise as she sees me. With a gasp, she slips out the door, not bothering to shut it behind her.
I’m not going to let her escape me this time. I make a mad dash for the door and watch as the edge of her cloak disappears around the back of the building. Doubling my speed, I round the corner to find nothing.
It’s like she’s vanished into thin air. Just to be sure, I jog the length of the Memoriam and peer around the other side, but she’s not there. It’s like she’s my own personal ghost sent to torment me. My blood freezes at that thought. Perhaps she died out there in that wasteland.
It’s not like I can check. Any remains would have been disposed of by now by the local wildlife. Frowning, I glance about again, one more time, before trudging back to Northport.
Everyone bustles about with Christmas spirit thick in the air. It’s enough to choke on. Peppermint dances on the slight breeze, giving everything just a little extra kick. Not that any is needed.
While some of the male elves work tirelessly in the workshop, preparing for the big day, the wives are at home cooking, watching the children, and decorating. It’s a touching scene, the same as it has been for centuries.
All around me, children shriek and giggle, tossing snowballs at each other and calling out names. Others walk about dressed up as their favorite North Pole person and play candy or coal. More of them than not are portraying their favorite reindeer—complete with glowing, red noses. Fathers help if Rudolph sees their costumes.
My heart sinks a bit as I watch the revelry going on around me. Christmas is everyone’s favorite holiday. Shaking my head, I clench my fingers and set my jaw. The first year as Santa and everything just goes to Krampus in a black woolen sack.
I strike out with my foot, kicking at a deep snowbank. What I’d rather be kicking is the fatherless reindeer who hacked into my system. I scrub my hand against the back of my neck and contemplate my options. Should I bring Caitlin back in to help?
I drive that thought right out. Knowing Asmon, he won’t let her out of his sight for the next foreseeable future. That brings everything back to me. Slumping my shoulders, I continue to Northport. My steps falter, hesitate, the closer I get. As much as I love my home, that’s not where I want to be right now.
Instead, I pull my coat tighter about me and head out of town. Perhaps a bit of cold will do me some good? Normally, the weather responds to my moods, but instead of a maelstrom to match the storm ripping through me, the night is eerily calm.
I crunch about in the snow, my mind going a mile a minute. How in the world am I going to fix this mess? It seems almost insurmountable. And again, I go back to mourning the loss of my father.
If only I had a few more years with him. Internally, I snort. And what exactly would that have done? Knowing me, we’d be right back here. It’s not as if I paid as close attention as I should have whenever the old man spoke.
Several minutes pass before I reach the spot where I first saw her. It’s surprising how quick a trip it is when I don’t have to battle the elements. So close to the North Pole Proper. So close to me, and yet, worlds apart.
Kneeling into the snow, I brush my hand across the blank canvas, my mind going back to the moment I first saw her. I sigh and stand back up before looking over the white expanse. Why can't I get her out of my brain?
Even in this deserted snowfield, I catch glimpses of her—dark red streaking through the night. Shaking my head, I start the trip back home. I have to face my problems sometimes.
The journey back is silent and still. Not even the animals come near me. At the NPP, the bustling noises assault my ears. I can see now why Asmon lives by himself in the middle of nowhere.
Not by himself anymore. Gritting my teeth, I ignore the happy well-wishes and stay on course to Northport. I fling the door open, surprising my staff, elves scattering as I storm through the hallways and rooms. Not one of them says a word to me.
I make a beeline to my study, the anxiety of being gone so long clawing at my throat. What if it’s been hacked again, and I wasn’t here to catch it? To my knowledge, Father never had to deal with stuff like this. Sighing, I lean my forehead against the study door before opening it up.
If only Nickolas were still alive. I curl my fingers into a fist and slam it against the rough wood. None of this would even be an issue. Turning, I change my direction and head down a side corridor. The list can wait for a bit.
Running my fingers along the wall, I pause, trying to find just the right finger holds. My breath catches, just like every time, and the wall hisses and pulls away. Glancing back and forth, I duck in before the wall closes back.
Once I’m in my studio, my breathing returns to normal. Feeling creeps back into my fingers. Filling my lungs, I make my way over to the bench. Just touching the cool metal of the tools is enough to bring my heart rate down.
I lose myself in my work, letting my fingers dip and twist, tweaking and molding my creation. Time passes by in a blur. I empty my mind, letting all my worries and fears drain out of me.
The Cuckoo clock calls out the time, and I run a weary hand over my eyes. But I can’t sleep. Not yet. My body feels near collapsing, but my brain just won’t shut up. It’s an incessant noise in my head.
Groaning, I walk over to the wall and input my code, waiting for the near-silent hiss as it pulls away. I pause at the entrance for a moment before slipping out into the hallway. With a quick glance, I look again to ensure I’m alone.
This time, my feet point me in the direction of my study. I can’t keep avoiding it just because I don’t want to think about the ramifications. It’s high time I start to face my problems.
It’s time to check the list one more time and then head to bed. At this point, it’s almost a compulsion, an obsession as maddening as the elf who haunts my waking moments and dreams. If I can just see the list, touch it, make sure it’s okay, then I’ll rest.
At least that’s the lie I tell myself as I make the quick trek toward the study. However, as I ease down the hallway, something gives me pause. I stop short, noting the door is slightly ajar.
Unease drips through my veins, filling me with dread. The last time this happened, Caitlin turned my world upside down. What in the holly and ivy will I find this time? And will Christmas manage to survive?
