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Damon materialisesin the middle of the main workshop, bringing everyone to a stop. The humans stare over at him, the fear coming off them nearly bringing a smile to his face. He pulls his bat-like wings back into his body, rolling his shoulders as they settle inside him.
He hates coming here to Nick’s house. The place makes his skin crawl. Always does. There are too many people. Too much chatter. Too many smiling faces. The constant churning out of Christmas music this time of year, like nails down a chalkboard. The whole sickeningly upbeat workshop goes against everything he does. Everything he is.
Nick’s job is to bring people happiness. Damon’s is the exact opposite. People celebrate Nick. They count down the days until he visits them - or at least their image of who Santa is. Damon isn’t welcomed by anyone he meets.
No one in their right mind is going to roll out the red fucking carpet for the Boogeyman. But that’s the contract he signed, and the burden he has carried for the last fifty odd years.
He could have travelled straight to the meeting room, but he wanted the extra time to walk through the workshop, to see if he could pick up on anything from the Christmas jumper clad, far-too-happy, workers.
But there’s nothing out of the ordinary. Or at least the ordinary for this place.
He walks in to the meeting room and takes his seat next to the head of the table, stretching his legs out in front of him. The top seat is reserved for Nick, their leader. The lucky bastard assigned with keeping the rest of them in line.
Damon is second in command, but he only really takes charge around this time of year, when Nick is busy with all the Christmas shit he needs to deal with.
He brushes his jet black hair back from his face, and waits as everyone else arrives. He can travel faster than anyone else, so he usually arrives first.
It’s not common for the team to meet like this, unless they were headed out on a mission. They each have very specific jobs and don’t generally mix, unless something is wrong. They are a formidable team, but have little in common outside that.
Santa, the Boogeyman, the Sandman, the Horseman, Jack Frost, Triton, and Cupid. As diverse a group as you can get, with one common purpose - to keep the legends alive.
Their legends. It’s got nothing to do with good or bad legends. Technically, he’d be on the bad side of the scale. The Horseman too, but what they do is so much more important than that.
It’s about balance. Good and bad. Light and darkness. Downright evil bastards and slightly morally grey heroes. Without this team to keep the balance, the evil bastards would take over. And the regular humans of the world would have a serious issue with that.
He doubts they’d be thrilled about the wholeend of the world as they knew itscenario. A part of him wouldn’t be bothered, but for now, he’s content with the side he’s chosen.
‘Did you make anyone shit their pants lately, Damon?’
He throws a withering look at Cobh as he takes his seat opposite him, with Hunter following right behind him. The merman has his legs, so presumably he hitched a ride with Hunter. ‘Why don’t you go talk to some dolphins, Ariel?’
Cobh grins widely and leans back in his chair. ‘Do I look like a seriously hot mermaid. What?’ he says looking at Hunter. ‘Ariel is totally hot! And I reckon I’d be in with a chance there, being equipped with a tail and all.’
Hunter sucks in a long breath. ‘Hell yeah. I would totally do Ariel. Work a bit of my Cupid charm on her. She’d be putty in my hands.’
‘Who would?’ Jokul asks, taking his seat.
‘Ariel.’
Jokul grimaces. ‘Eh, no! She’s too young for you two bozos. That’s seriously yuck! I, on the other hand, beat you two by a good decade. Better option all round.’
‘Jack Frost and Ariel? No way!’
‘Why not? You think you get first shot because you have a fucking tail? She fell for Prince Eric you idiot!’ Jok smirks and nods towards Cobh. ‘You get in the way and I’ll freeze that tail right off you!’
‘You’d have to catch me first, Frosty! I’m too fucking fast for you.’
Damon suppresses his groan. So much for insulting the merman. Trust Cobh to take things on a sordid tangent. Not that Hunter is much better. Or Jok for that matter. It’s like working with a bunch of adolescents at times.
Thankfully the Sandman arrives next, moving the conversation away from who would do what, to a Disney mermaid. Reve rests his feet on the table and rubs his hands together, producing a small pile of sand in his palms. ‘What are we talking about?’
‘Don’t ask!’ Damon says, cutting off any further discussion. Being second in command has its perks. Ariel can thank him later for stopping these fuckers talking about her.
Eve, Santa’s right hand woman, enters the room with Flint, the Horseman. Shadowing her, Nick’s giant of a personal bodyguard, Kane, shuts the door behind her, silencing everyone in the room. He leans against the door, his massive arms crossed over his chest, glaring at the rest of them like they’re disobedient school children.
Whether he’s blocking them in, or stopping anyone from coming in, Damon doesn't know. And he’s not going to argue. You don’t mess with Kane. He’s the Nutcracker for a reason. He’s seen the man in action, and the name suits him right to the ground.
Kane glares over at him, his black eyes locking on Damon. He returns the look, only slightly relieved when Kane looks away first. Kane probably did it because he was bored, not intimidated. He’s yet to find someone or something Kane is intimidated by.
