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The miser stepped out of a life-sized snow globe.
She was clad in a heavy gray cloak, the kind of material steel mill workers wore when pouring molten metal. Steam oozed out of the deep hood and the air shimmered. The temperature in the room suddenly rose.
Her poopies were waiting.
Mr. Goody wagged his tail. Long tongue out, the big blue bow wiggled on his collar. He danced around and even piddled a little. He always danced and piddled when Momma stepped out of the snow globe.
Ms. Doody’s pink bow wasn’t wiggling and her tail wasn’t wagging. She was patiently sitting down, eyes lazy and bored.
When the miser reached for them, Mr. Goody reached into the hood to lick her face while Ms. Doody turned away. The naughty little thing was more like a cat, but the miser loved her anyway. She loved them both the same. Whether they wanted her to or not.
My poopies.
The walls were circular and the floor rotated at an imperceptible speed. A miniature scene filled the snow globe: a man in a red suit hunched over a fire. Not just any fat man.
The fat man.
The globe was a projection from the first floor of the tower. The room had been ready and waiting for his arrival—the illusion of space contained in its walls. She presided over the snow globe like a fortune-teller plotting the future.
She had not been hasty when she planned to bring him to her island. This idea had been incubating for years, and now it was ready to hatch.
But he was smart.
He had found her soft spot and backed off before she went nuclear. If he’d kept pushing—remembering shapes who we are—she would’ve stepped out of the snow globe. If her anger was ignited, he would have uncorked a volcano.
She didn’t want to erupt.
Her anger had its uses. Look at what she’d accomplished. She’d taken a forsaken spit of land and transformed it into a productive paradise. The world had no idea what she was about to do. All that talk about the elven hiding their technology from humankind, well, she was more than a tad guilty of hiding technology herself.
But that wasn’t the point.
Nicholas wouldn’t stay in that room much longer. He had the comfort of an Arctic climate and the illusion of space. If he wanted a prison cell, one dark and gray and wet, she could make one.
She had rolled out the snowy carpet for him.
When the time came, he would understand that he wasn’t ready to see her in person. Nobody was, really.
That will change.
She was on his naughty list, no doubt. But sometimes doing the right thing required a little bad behavior. This wasn’t easy; she didn’t expect anyone to like her. Great change wasn’t always popular. But when he saw the big picture, Nicholas wouldn’t drop lumps of coal in her stocking. Her name would be at the top of the good list. He might even be so impressed that he would dare a kiss underneath the mistletoe.
Because she was smart, too.
Hands tucked into the opposite sleeves, she stood by the gold telescope. She hardly used it anymore. Thanks to her spies, she could look into the snow globe and see anywhere on the island. From her vantage point, the top of the resort was barely visible in the moonlight, but she didn’t need to see it. She knew her prized possession was safe inside his room.
He’s a good boy. And he deserves this.
There were other reasons she was about to change Christmas. Those silly elven really did need to leave the North Pole before they melted into the ocean, but her other reasons were a bit more selfish.
The top floor continued its slow march around the tower. As night fell, the island came alive with multicolored strands of lights and dangling ornaments and tree-sized candy canes. Inflated images of gingerbread people and sandmen and sandwomen were buffeted by an evening breeze, their lighted appendages dancing.
On the other end of the island, the warehouse was trimmed with lights. The entrance was adorned with arching vines and swaying palms. Squatty little helpers were installing a walkway of candy canes leading up to the open bay.
She couldn’t have done this without them.
Nicholas was curled up next to his fire. There would be more wood to keep him warm. She didn’t want him to suffer. Soon, she’d show him why she brought him to the island.
She waved at the globe and the scene changed.
Kandi lay on top of her covers with her arms out and the fan blowing. The other bed was empty. She waved again and the scene went to the computer room, where Naren was finishing an update. The headset was wrapped around his forehead. Soon, he would solve the real reason she’d brought him here. He would solve her greatest problem—a problem she couldn’t solve herself. If she did, she might remember her past.
She couldn’t risk that.
The miser took a candle from the table. Concentrating, she was able to keep it from melting in her palm. With her other hand, she pinched the curly black wick.
A yellow flame leaped between her bright red fingers.
She descended from her tower and went for her nightly walk around the island. No one would ever find the island; the elven wouldn’t find Nicholas until she invited them to do so. She wasn’t certain when she would do that.
Maybe never.
She put her poopies on the ground. Mr. Goody and Ms. Doody stretched out and stalked the jungle. They were made to withstand the heat of her touch, the only ones she could love on. Still, she liked to set them free. They always came back. And maybe they would find something to play with.
Or someone.