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One of the roll-up garage doors to the workshop is open, and light twinkles from inside, cheery and bright. But it’s deceiving. Nothing will be happy again until Santa’s back.
We fly inside and zoom past the bear-stuffing machine that looks like a giant cotton ball dispenser. We zigzag around the plastic parts of Power Wheels cars that are mid-assembly. No one’s there. Anywhere. The workshop is a ghost town.
I’ve never seen it more creepy. I swear that the clown fromItcould pop out from behind some of the puppets that are currently suspended from the ceiling, and I wouldn’t even be surprised. Freaked out, yes, but not surprised.
I can see some of the demon’s progress already. Quite a few of the toys have been altered into Frankenstein-style mish-mashes that will scare the shit out of any kid who unwraps it. Most of the dolls and bears have had their eyeballs ripped out and replaced with blinking red lights.
Fuck.
I love horror movies. When they’re on TV. But living one? Being part of an Earth-wide nightmare? No thank you.
My eyes scan the room, searching for any kind of clue as to where Dad is. If we can just give him the cane…
I spot a red thread trailing along the floor.
Did Dad unravel his suit and leave it like a breadcrumb trail? Did he hope that someone would come to help? Did he leave it for me?
I’m not even sure he saw me escape last time, but the idea that Dad might have left me a clue latches on, and I can’t shake it.
If I’ve learned one thing from living with Christmas year-round, it’s that people need hope. And right now, that little red string on the floor is feeding me hope that my dad is in here somewhere, conscious enough to be waiting for his rescue.
“The door to the ball room!” I whisper and point for Dasher, realizing he won’t know what I’m talking about if I just say the name.
He flies silently over to the bright green door that leads to where we keep all the balls we make. We used to keep them in the main room of the workshop, but whenever one would get loose, it was a disaster, tripping cherubs or bouncing into their paint pots. About a decade ago, they added a separate room for ball handlers.
I give a wistful smile, because the innocent little cherubs didn’t even realize how dirty that job description sounded.
We get close to the door, which has a little window above the handle. I lean over and try to peer in as Dash attempts to hover in place.
But it’s so dark. I can’t see. I start to slide off when a rush of air hits my cheeks. I pause what I’m doing and turn.
A demon with horns that look as sharp as knives snatches me from Donner’s back before I can take a breath and scream. I recognize him as the one I nicknamed Ugly, with the beak-like nose and copper hair.
His hands have turned into claws, and those sharp nails dig into the skin of my sides where he holds me.
My heart thuds so loudly, I think I might go deaf as my hands scrabble to clutch onto him, so that the asshole can’t just drop me on my head.
He gives off an evil laugh and whispers in my ear, “Well, aren’t you a pretty little thing. I think I might take you and make sure you get on the naughty list.”
Black dread floods my system, and I feel like I’m drowning in oil, toxic sludge creeping over my skin with every touch.
Yes, I saw those demon kids in Hell. They were malicious, sure, and maybe even cruel, but I don’t think I’ve ever faced pure evil before now.
But this man…
He’s pure evil.
I freeze, terrified, and the demon laughs at my distress as he glides back out the door of the workshop and up into the sky, where my reindeer are still battling the other fiends. Donner is beneath us, attempting to lunge for me, but this demon is ten times faster than him, which is hella fast, considering these reindeer pull Dad around the globe in a single night.
We accelerate, and he shoots up fifty feet into the air. I cringe, and my hands claw desperately at his forearms, certain now that his plan is to drop me. As my hands twist, I lose my grip…and the cane drops from my hand.
All thought of saving myself vanishes in the blink of an eye.
I watch it fall, twirling end over end like a baton through the air. It falls into a huge snow drift, disappearing from sight.
I have no idea if it’s broken or not.
But it might as well be.
It’s gone, and I’m caught, and Christmas is ruined forever.
