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I didn’t know Dad could do that!
But then a winged shadow appears behind him and slices at him with a sword.
Oh shit!
Dad swivels, his wings swishing in a move I’ve never seen before. He barrel rolls, the white light blasting at the shadow that I realize…has horns.
Dammit! It’s a demon! We’re being attacked by demons!
I turn sideways, glancing for the black metallic evil alarm box we had installed next to the red fire alarm, because these assholes try to take out Christmas every few years. I have to squish past Cupid to get to it. And that’s when I realize that Cupid wasn’t the only reindeer who followed me. All five of my reindeer have lined up in the hallway.
Another blast of sound comes from the workshop, and all of a sudden, I gag. My eyes water.
Oh hell!
One of the reindeers musked up the hall!
“Really?” I ask sarcastically, before realizing the shit scent is so strong that I can taste it. Whenever they’re scared or territorial, deer shoot this nasty-ass—literally, it smells like ass—spray to deter others. It’s really gaggingly effective. I shove a hand over my mouth as my eyes start to water, mentally blaming Blitzen and cursing his poor timing. I use the remaining hand to pull the evil alarm, and a trumpet-like blast sings out the first notes of “Oh Come All Ye Faithful” to warn the angels to come with weapons blazing.
It’s only after I pull the alarm that I realize…my poor reindeer can’t back up. We don’t have a choice. We’re going to have to join the fight.
As the only part-human in an all supernatural realm, that does not sound like a good idea. That sounds like bringing a knife to a gunfight.
But if we stay here, the reindeer are sitting ducks. They can’t get out. And who would I be if I left them?Dammit.I don’t have a weapon. I turn and look at Cupid, lowering my hand from my nose so I can say, “We’re gonna have to charge them. I don’t know how many there are.”
Cupid gives a single nod, as if he understands. Maybe he does. Dad always smiled and said these five are some of the smartest reindeer he’s ever had, even if they’re the most stubborn. Maybe they’ll barrel their way through the room and knock those demons out or something. I share a long, tense look with him, and I swear I feel like he’s trying to tell me something with his eyes.
My hand shakes as I walk back to the door, grab the doorknob, and turn. When I start to push it open, Cupid charges. I feel him knock into me, and I start to screech as I fall forward. But he doesn’t let me hit the floor. His teeth close down on the white fur of my collar, and he lifts me up in his mouth until I dangle, my feet three inches above the floor as he bolts into the workshop.
I hear the thunder of the others’ hooves as they all burst through the doorway.
My eyes travel over the normally beautiful space, full of arched windows with golden sills and floating workbenches spaced every five feet vertically so that cherubs can hover as they work. The walls are lined with gold shelves holding hundreds of thousands of magically miniaturized red and green wrapped gifts. But several of those shelves are broken. And the vibe in here is worse than the first body reveal in a slasher film, maybe because this isreal.
Down at the end of the first row of workbenches, near the wood tools for carving trains, there are five cherubs chained together against the far wall, a demon holding a chainsaw hovering in front of them on gray wings.
Fuck.
My eyes travel over to Dad, who is battling two winged demons right now. They’re locked together in combat, and bright flashes of red and white magic arc through the air.
Fear threatens to choke me, but then I hear Dad laugh. I relax a fraction of an inch, realizing that demons have tried to take over Christmas before. And they’ve always failed.
Dad will win, I tell myself firmly, trying to cement that authoritatively in my mind.
I just need to get out of his way so that I’m not a hindrance.
Comet’s head jerks sideways, and I’m yanked to the right, another demon coming into view. This blue winged bastard burns our precious list of good girls and boys, cackling as the parchment turns to ash.
To his left is a roll-up garage door—the door we need. It’s currently open, letting in moonlight and air cold enough to turn me into an ice sculpture in a matter of seconds. Standing in that doorway, surveying the scene with a grin, is a black-haired demon with at least seven red horns protruding from his head. The fucker is dressed up in an imitation Santa suit.
What an arrogant prick!Disdain bubbles up inside of me until that demon raises a hand and blasts the room with a surge of blue power.
Deep sadness rips through me, and it’s worse than the cold. It’s worse than the numb feeling that comes before frostbite. I want to curl up into a ball. I want to cry. I want to wrench out my hair and scream!
Despair garbles my vision and paints monsters where there were once only shadows. Every negative thought I ever had bursts up at once like zombies, all of them trudging towards me with ruthless energy, determined to destroy me.
There’s a furious snort and a weird bellow behind me, and suddenly, Dasher is charging right at the fuck in the Santa suit. He lowers his horns and smashes into the demon, flinging the man out of the doorway, backwards into the sky.
I find myself swaying precariously, dangling by my dress from Cupid’s mouth as he gallops forward through the workshop, streaking past half-stuffed teddy bears and doll heads that have been painted but not attached to bodies. I squeal and reach wildly with my hands, trying to hold on to anything. But before I can grab hold of something, he’s leapt up high in the air, shooting through the now open doorway into the darkness.
