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Cal immediately starts out after the prints, trudging through the snow, muttering dumb lies like, “She’ll catch her death of cold.” She won’t. She’s half-angel. But when he gets agitated, it gets hard for Cal to tell the truth.
The others trot after him, but I look around the barn, eyes searching for anything I could take that might help us later. There’s a pitchfork near a pile of hay, but despite common stereotypes, we don’t all learn how to wield those. There are saddles and toolboxes that I have no chance of carrying since all I can use is my mouth.
But then I see a rope. We could use a rope, right? Maybe Joy can douse it in gasoline, and then we can lasso those fuckers and set them on fire. They won’t die, but I’m pretty sure they’ll have to rethink their life choices long enough for the cherubs and Santa to get the jump on them.
Pleased with myself, I jump up onto the top of a stall door, using my front paws to hold myself up as I remove a big coil of rope from the barn wall. Then, I hop down and trot happily after the rest of my murder, daring rescue plots dancing like sugarplums in my head.
In my imagination, the guys and I weave the rope into a net with our tongues, using our very underused cherry-stem-tying skills. Then, we fly as reindeer and drop the net on the other demons, freeing Santa. He’s so happy that he turns us back into demons again. And once he’s turned those other assholes into reindeer or whatever the hell he wants, I take the leftover rope to Joy and let her tie me up for playtime.
I’m about to spill my very brilliant plan to the guys when I realize where we are. We’re past the forest, and we’ve broken through the lightest veil between realms that’s ever existed. We’re in Heaven.
Ohhh shit. I glance over my shoulder, suddenly scared that God’s right behind me, about to scold me or smite me or who knows what.
I’ve never set foot in Heaven before. Some demons do…in war, on a dare, just for a laugh. I’ve never been one of them. Christmas Village is as close as I’ve ever come, because who wants to be stuck around uptight goody two shoes all the time? Blech. That sounds about as appealing as oatmeal. Which, I’m never eating again, by the way. Once I’m not a reindeer, oats and carrots will no longer be a part of my daily diet. Ever. I might even find some demonic ritual that burns them just for the sake of defacing them.
I almost drop the rope in my mouth as I stare around at Heaven. It’s set in the clouds, just like Hell. But unlike Thieves’ Tower, where I grew up, the clouds here aren’t black and full of lightning that can burn your hand if you don’t steal quickly enough. There’s no trick fog that you can step in, thinking it’s a solid cloud, where you end up sunken to the waist, prime pickings for any other thievery demon. Everything here is so…bright.
It’s like I’ve stepped onto a movie set and there are thirty spotlights on me. That’s how much damn white there is. White little huts that look like dollops of whipped cream circle around a courtyard just in front of us. In the center of that courtyard is a fountain made of ice that spits out pretty little snowflakes that drift down slowly.
Ugh.
It’s annoyingly pretty and cutesy. I used to think Christmas Village was bad, but over the years, I’ve gotten used to it.Thisis just overkill. There’s not a speck of smog in these clouds. Where’s the bird shit dropping down from above? It’s too white.
I notice the reindeer in front of me—probably Gus, though I’m not that skilled in telling a reindeer by his ass—leave brown tracks on the clouds, and that gives me a twisted sense of satisfaction. Yeah. Take that, Heaven. Not so perfect now, are you?
We trot past houses that have hearts for windows, then some that have shamrocks. What the hell is this? Lucky Charms Village? Are there going to be rainbows and balloons next? The final few houses have stars in the windows, and I nearly laugh at how accurate my mockery is.
I spot a llama wandering the streets nearby, and I have to stifle the urge to charge at him. Heaven and their stupid llamas. Santa’s always threatening to replace us with them when we don’t do something perfectly. My hoof paws the cloudy ground, and the llama turns towards me, narrowing his eyes and widening his stance.
Ohhhh, that’s definitely a challenge.
I square up against him and inhale, ready to charge—until I see the fuzzy fucker belch fire. A bright orange ball forms in front of him and swirls a few feet closer to me before dropping into the clouds and extinguishing with a hiss of steam.
What the fuck?
Are they supposed to be able to do that?
Cal snorts, drawing my attention away from the llama that I’m pretty sure is trying to cause drama. Fucking drama llamas. I turn and watch as Joy slips inside a house on the far side of the courtyard.
“Come on, guys. We have to protect her!” He gallops forward.
White lie.
Angels and half-angels don’t need protection in Heaven.
But because I’m a team player, and because I’m suddenly itching to steal something from an angel, I follow along.
We push inside the little hut, and Joy squeaks with surprise when she sees us. “Boys!” Her hand flies to her chest. “What are you doing here?”
Cal just shoves his forehead under her hand so she can pet him. It’s the only possible answer we can give that she’ll understand.
Behind Joy, a chubby cherub, who’s as wide as he is tall, flutters in from the other room, carrying a teapot and two cups on a tray. His loincloth is stretched quite tight over his…area. He probably needs to give in and buy the next size up. His tummy shakes like a bowl full of jelly when he spots us. “Oh! Oh my! How cute!”
Cute, my ass.I exchange an annoyed look with Nico. I don’t even bother to glance at Gus, because I know that statement will have pissed the wrath demon off.
“I didn’t realize I had extra visitors!” the cherub exclaims.
I swear to Lucillania that if he starts cuddling me or petting me, I’m sticking my antlers into his belly folds.
Joy smiles ruefully. “I’m sorry, Elyon. I didn’t realize these little boogers had followed me.”
Little boogers. Ew. If she only knew…that would be the last pet name she’d give us. I wonder if I could get her to call me Daddy…
“Well, I don’t have any carrots right now.” Elyon sighs in disappointment.
“Oh, don’t worry. I give these guys lots of cookies. They’re fine.” Joy waves a hand and glances at me. “Apparently, Comet is snacking on a rope right now.” She laughs lightly before she sighs and sits down on the cherub’s plush white couch while he sets out the tea service on the coffee table. My girl wrings her fingers as she waits politely for him to pour. Angels have this patience that would never fucking fly in Hell. I don’t get it.
My eyes start wandering the room, wondering if I could fit one of those silver teaspoons in my mouth and still carry the rope without choking myself. But my head whips back to Joy when she speaks after taking that required first sip of peppermint-scented tea. “I did come to see you for a very important reason. Dad’s Christmas cane is broken. I need to know how to fix it.”
