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4
Joy
Donner fliesus until we reach the barn roof blossoming amid the snow banks and pine trees near the outskirts of our property like some wayward red flower. My heart is jumping like a child playing leapfrog as we begin our descent, landing in a blanket of wispy snow near the heavy barn door.
Fear for my dad consumes me as I stumble on shaky feet off of Donner’s back. Comet and Blitzen both nuzzle my hands—almost as if they’re attempting to comfort me—but I barely process their touch. It feels as if I’m trudging through oil, the dark liquid sticking to my skin and making my limbs leaden. Dad, the cherubs…
I feel faint, the events of the day rushing to my ears and causing them to pound.
Oh god.Christmas.
What’s going to happen to Christmas?
I’m distantly aware of Cupid nudging me inside, where the air is immediately permeated with the musty odor of straw, days old shit, the dry musk of animal fur, and something akin to copper.
Dad.
Cherubs.
Christmas.
I try to remind myself that this shit happens all the time. Every demon murder wants to be the big bad who steal Christmas from the angels. And every single time, my dad defeats them with a jolly laugh. He loves to teach them a lesson in manners…by turning them into inanimate objects around the village. Candy Cane streetlights. Teddy bears. Hanging bulbs. After a century or two, Santa will release them from his magic and allow them a choice—spend another century in the North Pole as an inanimate object or go back to Hell. Theyalwayschoose the latter.
But despite my belief in my father, I can still see his magical cane crashing against the workshop floor, his magic seeping from the snow globe in a wash of colors. How can he defeat the demons without that?
How? How? How?
I don’t even realize that my feet are moving me towards the barn door, propelling me forward, until Dasher is in front of me, his antlered-head poking into my stomach. I swear that this reindeer looks pissed ninety-nine percent of the time. His dark, Bambi eyes are always slitted and rife with frustration.
I’m positive he growls at me, irritation radiating from his pores, as those dark eyes of his narrow further.
“Stop it, Dash!” I hiss as he continues to push me backwards, away from the barn door. The other four reindeer move until they’re standing protectively in front of me, though Blitzen does immediately lay down, eyes hooded with sleep. “I need to help my dad!” I tell them.
My stomach is a tumultuous mixture of dread and anxiety as, outside the barn, I hear a startled cry and an ear-piercing scream. A cherub! I’m running again, practically barreling the reindeer over. Before I can make it more than a few steps, Cupid grabs the back of my apron and pulls me back behind them.
“Fucking reindeer,” I hiss, though my ire isn’t directed at them. No, the full-force of my anger is aimed at the demon murder attempting to harm my friends and family, while I’m helpless to do anything but twiddle my thumbs like a damsel in distress.
Well, fuck that. And fuck this. I’m not some princess in a tower who needs saving. Dad trained me—to think things through, to stand up for myself, and to fight my own battles. He may embody everything good and pure in the world, but me? His only daughter?
I’m very good at being naughty.
“Think, Joy, think,” I mumble, beginning to pace behind the reindeer. They have turned to watch me, their heads tilted curiously to the side. All of them except for Blitzen, that is. He’s already fast asleep, with Donner repeatedly jamming his hoof into the sleeping reindeer’s snout. “What do you know?
I know that they’re a demon murder, probably hoping to gain favor in Hell. They can only be killed if they have their Center with them, their fated mate, but I didn’t see any female demon lurking around. Besides, most demons kill their Centers as soon as they find them in order to be impervious to harm. Why would they choose to be vulnerable when they can merely kill the love of their entire existence and be indestructible?
Yeah, stellar demon logic.
I swear, I’ll never understand it.
“Okay, so they can’t be killed…” I trail off as Blitzen releases a loud roar, jerking awake and kicking at Donner. Donner flashes me what I almost think is an impish grin as the two of them begin to roll around, their antlers scratching at each other’s fur.
So, they can’t be killed…
But my father deals with them every year…
I snap my fingers as the solution comes to me.
“The staff!” I say, pleased by my own epiphany. Turning towards Comet—the reindeer nearest to me, who is attempting to pull my gloves out of my coat pocket—I squeal, “We need to fix the staff!”
