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Patty, the golden-haired Ljósálfr who supervised the launch, greeted us as we arrived at Reindeer Station One. “Merry Christmas, Lady Claus.”
“Merry Christmas to you, too, Patty,” I told him. “Everything on time?”
He winked at me. “Precisely.”
Grinning, I moved to the railing and took in the organized chaos before me. Reindeer Station One sat on a huge balcony, overlooking the Launch Hall. From here, all last-minute prep for Nick’s take-off would be monitored. Huge gears and steam-powered lines hissed and popped before me, running the conveyor belts emerging from all the various workshops. Levers and toothy gears ran between these fast-moving belts and along the wall from where we stood, to the giant, arched launch doors at the end. Above them, an enormous gold clock, ticking backwards, showed the countdown. The doors would be opened by one of the many levers on the platform in front of Patty and his elf assistants.
Though the air outside was arctic, the steam puffing through the room kept the temperature quite comfortable. Nick had been forced to modernize some departments due to the high demand of computerized toys, but the Launch Hall remained steam-powered. Taking into account the Dökkálfar bringing us coal from their cities beneath the surface of the Earth combined with all the snow, we never had a lack of fuel at the North Pole.
Despite my anticipation for my own celebrations, I couldn’t help but be caught up in the fever and thrill of the whole thing. The belts had been running continuously since Thanksgiving, loading the sleigh with toys for all the good little boys and girls. My bleeding heart brother never did give the brats coal.
Guess they were lucky I didn’t run the show.
I’d put some coal in Nick’s bag once, just in case, and he had not been amused.
He’d called me Scrooge then told me I needed to have more Christmas spirit.
Whatever. I’d told him he needed to pull that candy cane out of his ass.
Donna and I headed down the wrought iron spiral stairs, to the main deck of the Launch Hall, to wish Nick a safe journey. Elves raced around, last minute dolls, stuffed animals, iPods, and toy trains coming off the lines. We had been high-tech long before Henry Ford stole our assembly line method. Open ports connected to the different departments transported the finished toys into the hall, all of it whirling overhead on hooks or conveyor belts, steam popping and hissing so loudly I could feel it in my blood. Everything funneled onto one large belt then directly to the open mouth of Nick’s magic bag, already loaded into the sleigh.
Santa Claus’s famous sleigh.
The glorious gold chariot, modified only slightly, had been another gift from Gran. She had used giant cats to pull it, but cats didn’t do so well at the North Pole, so Nick switched to the reindeer.
Beastly things, reindeer. Both kinds.
The fliers were fast, agile, and mean as shit. I avoided them, as did the elves. The earth-bound, on the other hand, were as dumb as doorknobs and a big, fat pain in the ass. Always shitting everywhere and eating up all the snow flowers I tried to plant. Don’t even get me started on how much mead those bastards consumed.
At the front of the sleigh, harnessed in four sets of two, the flying beasts huffed, pawing at the ground and snorting with restlessness. I stayed well out of reach of their gnashing teeth.
And there Santa Claus stood, at the center of all of it.
Nick wore a long cloak, the deep royal red of our father’s tribe. The big white hood, the one the humans mistook for a white beard, hung down along his back. In reality he stood as tall and as slim as me. Blond, blue-eyed, and stunning like a demigod should be. He had goggles on his head, pushed back like an aviator of a bygone era, and a pair of leather gloves in hand. The rumors of his fatness came from his heavy parka, padded against the bone-biting chill. It got damn cold zipping about in an open sleigh at high speeds in the upper atmosphere. I had suggested closing in the sleigh, but he would rather suffer than listen to little sis.
An elf dashed by. “Hold on, Santa! I have one more video game!”
Nick beamed down at him. “Thanks, Pip.”
I stood up straighter and arched a brow. So this cute little Ljósálfr was my peppermint-flavored serving suggestion,hmmm?
As if the athletic little blond could feel the penetrating heat of my gaze, Pip walked taller, slim shoulders pushed back. His hair shone golden, like the reflections bright morning sun would cast upon Valhalla as it rose peacefully above the horizon. The crystalline blue of his eyes reminded me of the frozen icebergs of my homeland.
“Mistress Claus,” he whispered with a sly wink as he walked by.
Ordinarily, the elves referred to me as Lady Frieda, Ms. Claus or Lady Claus. Some of those newly arrived made the mistake of even calling me Mrs. Claus. I hated that. Yet on this night I became their Mistress in every sense of the word, especially the sexual one. Pip’s bold greeting made me wonder if somehow the elf knew he’d been picked as one of my finalists.
“Cocky little thing, isn’t he?” I muttered to Donna, not caring if he was still within earshot.
Donna grinned. “I didn’t think so when I interviewed him, but I do know all the boys and girls adore him.”
I turned and watched him walk away, his little bubble butt bouncing with each step. Hmmm. What a gal could do during a half an hour with....
“Frieda!” Nick called out.
I turned toward my twin, startled out of my lecherous musings.
“Only twenty minutes,” I said excitedly.
