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CHAPTER 6
I madeit back to our rainbow nest with Zee, where we cut the lights and sat on the bed, half-buried in cushions, and stayed there, panting in the dark until Victor appeared a few minutes later, confirming we hadn’t been followed.
“So, what did we learn?” he whispered, standing watch at the doorway.
“Santa is definitely a pedo, and Adam looks great in a red hat.”
Zee wasn’t wrong. We did learn that.
“I was thinking of answers more relevant to our dire circumstances,” Victor grumbled. “But far be it from me to get in the way of your fashion expertise, demon.”
“You like me in red?” I asked Zee.
“Kitten, I love you in red. But I love you out of it more,” he purred, and scooted over, scooping me under his arm.
“Aw.” I snuggled closer, needing to feel him so I knew we were both alive and safe.
Victor’s scowl softened. “Perhaps we should focus on our efforts to survive this night and not whether the color red complements Adam.”
“It really does though.”
I pulled my fluffy red hat off. It was a great color, but Victor was right. We had a Santa problem. “We found the murderer.”
“Fancy Fangs, you speak Swedish, why don’t you go back there and talk to him? For science. Adam and I will wait here. If one of us is going to be Santa’s Christmas sacrifice it should be your ancient ass. We’re too young and pretty to die.”
Victor gave Zee his resting Victor face. “Santa spoke English.”
“Oh, yeah . . .” Zee draped his arm around my shoulders, and tucking me closer, drew circles with his fingernail on my thigh.
“He didn’t seem all that interested in talking,” I said. “If the store opens tomorrow with Santa in his grotto, he’s definitely going to eat people. Not that I would know anything about eating people. He just . . . seems the sort . . . to do that.”
“What else did we learn?” Victor prompted.
“He’s fast,” Zee replied. “Super old. He smells musty, like he’s been stored in an attic most of the year. Huh, kinda like you, Fancy Fangs.”
“If you channeled all that wasted sarcastic energy into bettering yourself, you’d be remarkable.”
“Ha! Joke’s on you. I already get remarks. Lots of them. All over the internet. And some are nice.”
Victor slid his nonchalant gaze to me, where he probably hoped to focus our efforts toward dealing with murder-Santa and less on Zee’s unique perspective. “Now we’ve managed to get a better look at who and what we’re dealing with, we can at least better formulate a plan.”
“Does this plan involve meatballs?” Zee asked.
Victor hesitated for a heartbeat. “Why?”
“Is nobody else hungry?” With a shrug, Zee hopped from the bed and adjusted his baggy sweater. “Attempted murder makes me peckish.”
“I could eat,” I agreed.
“Great. Let’s go find some meatballs while His Lordship gets his rocks off making plans.”
“And should Santa make an appearance while you eat, we’re going to . . . what?” Victor asked. “Share a hot dog with him?”
“I don’t think Gramps Beardo is interested in that kinda sausage.” Zee flashed Victor a smile. “You’re cute, though.”
Victor huffed a long-suffering sigh. “As it appears Santa is reluctant to leave his grotto, we’ll visit the restaurant and see if there are meatballs. But we must do so quietly, and quickly.”
“Pfft, I can do quiet. It’s like you’ve never met me.” Zee sashayed off in the hope of finding an arrow or sign pointing toward the restaurant. I followed, tossing Victor a grin, which grew wider when he smiled back. He wasn’t nearly as annoyed by Zee as he let on, but it was important he let Zee think he was. Reyzee was complicated—but cute.
