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CHAPTER 7

I plowed through the doorway.Gnomes scattered under the swings of Zee’s bat, like skittles at a bowling alley. What his chair leg didn’t swipe, his tail smacked away, but as quickly as he repelled them, more surged in.

One sprang at my middle. I swung, channeling all my available strength into it, and when my bat struck the gnome, the gnome exploded, smothering me in a cloud of dust and debris.

Grit burned my eyes, but through the haze I spotted Zee’s outline—his purple beacon of gnome-murdering fury—and I followed, swinging left and right, fending off gnomes.

But more kept coming.

The store must have housed the entire West Coast stock of holiday gnomes.

“Go, go!” Zee ordered, holding back a wave surging at us from the left. I dashed behind him, toward a gap in the gnomes’ frontline.

“Adam, wait!” Victor called. “Not that⁠—”

I burst from the fray then spun, bat raised, spluttering hard, tasting gnome, and blinked, clearing the blur.

They’d gone—the gnomes, Zee, Victor—all of them had gone. The store was quiet, the kitchen aisles undisturbed as though nothing had happened. I could even see as far back as the restaurant, and there was nothing there. No gnome army. No clouds of gnome smoke. “Victor?”

Nothing.

I lowered my bat. “Zee?”

Had they vanished or had I?

“Okay . . .” I turned on the spot, expecting something to be lurking behind me, but I was alone . . . Kind of. The crawl of an unwanted gaze made my skin itch. “So, uhm . . . Let’s talk about this?”

No reply came. Not even a ho, ho, ho. It was worth a try. But Santa hadn’t seemed the chatty sort.

I still had my knife, and my chair leg. And the real me, hidden under my glamor. If I could get close enough and catch Santa off-guard . . .

“I get you’re hungry for uhm . . . people, I guess. You may not believe it, but I know what that’s like.” I drifted forward, figuring we all knew where this was going to end up—in the Winter Wonderland—but I was in no rush to get back there. “Sometimes, folks need eatin’. Am I right?”

If I could lure Santa out by looking small, sweet, and innocent, I’d have the upper hand.

Mariah Carey began to sing again, but just like before, the music dragged, unevenly paced, as though it was sung by Mariah’s slightly unhinged sister who gave a whole new, darker meaning to the lyrics . . . all I want for Christmas, is you.

This was how it was going to be. One predator to another. But Santa didn’t know what I knew.

I wasn’t the good boy he was looking for.

A snort sounded down an aisle. I stopped, and swallowed at the sight of a reindeer. They’d always looked fluffy and adorable on the holiday cards I’d seen in stores, but this one wasn’t cute. It was big, and strips of what looked like torn clothing hung from its enormous antlers. Rudolf had gotten mean. Another snort, and it scraped its cloven hooves on the smooth floor.

It dropped its head.

Oh deer.

And charged.

I turned on my heel and ran. I’m not going to beat on a reindeer, okay? Demons who mean to kill me? Yes. Vampire dukes who need to be taken down a peg or two? Also, yes. Leg-munching gnomes? For sure. But not reindeer. I have to draw the line somewhere.

I bolted down the cushion aisle. Hooves pounded the floor close behind me. I dashed through the curtains and leaped over piles of rugs. The reindeer snorts came fast and close. Mariah Carey’s darker twin moaned out warped lyrics.

If this was the typical Christmas experience, I wasn’t a fan.

Up ahead, the sparkly winter tunnel loomed. Of course the reindeer had been herding me there.

Fine then.