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9
Bryn, aka Blitzen
Joy boltsout of the cabin, her hand still bleeding. I was half asleep, but the fact that our mate literally just dashed out the door into freezing weather to escape us, blasting us all with arctic air when she yanked the door open, has left me wide awake.
That, and the fact that we’re finally demons again.
How the how? What the what? I stare down at my own hands and just marvel at the fact that I have a thumb again. I won’t have to pick up every damned thing with my mouth. That right there is a miracle.
Cupid—I mean Cal, our leader, says, “We’ve got to find clothes and go after Joy!” He squints around the room, unable to “see” without glasses—I say that sarcastically. His vision is perfectly fine, but he’s a wee bit dramatic—and stomps over to the bathroom to look for something.
Of course he does. He doesn’t even need a minute to process what’s going on. Cal’s all action.
“How are we gonna explain this?” Nico gestures up and down at himself, his huge Highlander body like something out of some middle-aged woman’s Scottish porn book collection
“I don’t fucking know yet, but we’re going to find a way.”
“You’re off your head!” Nico runs a hand through his red locks. “How are we going to explain that we wanted to do the exact same thing as those other blokes, but we failed? How’s she ever going to trust us?”
“She will! Don’t worry about it! She’s our mate, and she needs our help!” Cal yells as I hear him yank on a shower curtain, a series ofpingssounding as all the shower rings fall to the tile floor.
None of us can argue with that.
Joy does need us.
As a sloth demon, I’m not the ideal guy. I’m not really the proactive type. But even I know that our sweet Center has bitten off more than she can chew. My mother’s recommendation when you take too big a bite is just to spit it back out on the plate and eat it later. Pure sloth demon brilliance right there. But I’m not sure Joy will have much later if she keeps letting those other demon assholes run Christmas Village into the ground. They seem intent on destroying Christmas, which seems like a bit too much work, in my opinion. It’s better just to warp it a bit. Make it a smidge disappointing. That sort of thing. Gradually let people down until they don’t care any longer. Sloth demons have been doing it for centuries. It’s a tried and true technique. It works. But I didn’t see a sloth demon amongst that other murder. Idiots. They’re going to try to shove change through all at once. That never works.
Sin is a gradual process.
I glance around the room, looking for something I can wear. It’s pretty fricking bare, and, no surprise, the other demons have claimed whatever could be taken already.
Comet—no, Dem has stolen the tablecloth right off the table and has it on like a toga. “Last one outside is a rotten angel!” he says as he darts to the front door. He’s gone in a flash.
Dasher—dammit, my brain has become used to thinking of the guys as reindeer, and I’m forgetting their real names—Gus runs a tattooed hand through his dark hair and worries his lip piercing before setting his gaze on the couch. He lets his claws extend and rips right through an ancient couch cushion, shredding the edges and using the ragged square of cloth in the middle to make some kind of loincloth for himself.
“Pure dead brilliant,” Nico says, grabbing another cushion and attempting to do the same. The frustration demon is a little more patient with his cushion than Gus was, and his square comes out bigger and better. “Almost like a kilt.” He shreds the underside of his cushion and ties the two squares together to cover himself before flying out the door too.
Gus’s wrath demon nature works against him, and he ends up with basically a man thong. “Fuck it,” he says, once he has it on. He’s gone a second later.
Cal comes out then, a shower curtain tied around his waist like a skirt. Apparently, he found some glasses in the bathroom too, because there’s an old pair with thick frames perched on his nose. “Where the hell is everybody?”
“They left,” I shrug.
He glances down at me. “Well, find something to wear, and come on!” Then he leaves too.
I sigh. Shredding the couch seems like too much work, and all the other good, easy options are gone. I suppose I could see if there’s a sheet…but the bedroom’s so far away. I glance down and notice a bit of gray fabric tucked under the edge of the couch. I bend down and yank on it. A balled-up, old sock comes out.
I stare at it a second, and then at the strips of cloth that Gus left behind. “Perfect.” I tuck my junk into the old sock and use one of the pre-made couch strips to tie around my waist to hold it on. Then I fight off a yawn as I walk to the door and head out into the cold to go find Joy.
Only my mate could make me work so fricking hard.
But I think of Joy’s cookies and her smile and launch myself into the air. Come hell or high water, I’m gonna make that beautiful girl smile again. Right after I convince her that we aren’t working with those other guys.
* * *
When I land nextto the other guys, they’ve got Joy surrounded in a copse of evergreens that are taller than three Christmas stables stacked on top of one another. The snow packed underneath them is still three feet or so tall, because everywhere in this Christmas realm is covered in snow. It’s incredibly annoying when one wants to nap.
But I don’t notice the snow as much as my mate right now. She’s trembling. In fear. Tears shine in her eyes.
