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Scott, a round green hand pressed to his wrinkled old head, stumbled back into the room.
"What happened?"
"Phyllis killed Kris Kringle," Irena said.
"You go, girl. "
Scott gave Phyllis a high five.
"You all fought bravely. " Bob stood tall, addressing the group. "Except for the pig. For your courage, you'll now have full control over your therianthrope powers. You can change at will, and will retain control of your inner creatures. "
"So how do we turn back?" Irena asked.
"Concentrate. "
Scott went first, morphing back into his human form.
Weston and Irena changed while holding hands.
David's face scrunched up, but nothing happened.
"It's not working," he said. "I'm still coral. "
"How about me?" Phyllis asked. "I'm the one that killed that jolly old bastard. "
"I can turn you into a werewolf, if you so desire. "
"These guys offered me that before. But I don't want to be no wolf, or no cheetah, or no turtle, or no dumb-ass coral. No offense, David. "
"None taken. I'm concentrating, but nothing's happening. "
Phyllis folded her arms. "My inner animal is a hippopotamus. That's what I want to be. "
Bob's shoulders slumped. "I'm sorry, Phyllis. That's the extent of my power. But . . . maybe . . . just maybe . . . "
"Maybe what?"
"I don't know if this will work, because he's dead. "
"Just spill the beans, Lon Chaney. "
"Try sitting on Santa's lap. "
Phyllis raised a drawn-on eyebrow. "You serious?"
"He might still have some magic left. Try it. "
Phyllis walked over to the fallen Kringle and sat on one of his massive thighs.
"Now what?"
"Make a Christmas wish, Phyllis. Make your most heartfelt Christmas wish ever. "
She closed her eyes, and her lips whispered something Weston couldn't hear.
And then Weston felt something. Kind of like a breeze. A breeze made of Christmas magic. It swirled around the room, touching each of them, and then coming to rest on Phyllis.
But nothing happened. She didn't morph into a hippo. She didn't morph into anything. A minute passed, and she was still the same old Phyllis.
