I hadn’t seen Santos’s evil cousin in, damn, I couldn’t remember. It’d been that long. And he looked nothing like this the last time I did see him. Of course, he’d been tormenting children in the middle of the night, and I’d helped Santos curse him so that he’d stop, so I suppose I hadn’t really paid attention to his wardrobe at the time.
“Wait a minute,” I blurted. “I thought you were banished for millennia.”
Still holding the cane, Krampus spread his arms wide. “I’m back early, baby. And I must say, Destiny, you are looking delectable. Even if your wardrobe choices are a bit…odd.”
As far as I knew, Krampus had no issues whatsoever with iguanas, so I had to assume he was insulting my decision to wear fur-lined boots with gym shorts.
“This is bad,” I said, ignoring his barb. I grabbed Santos’s arm. “This is the threat I’ve been assigned to protect you from.”
Krampus laughed, showing off vampire-like, pointy incisors, while Santos scowled, his face darkening. It was not a good look for either of them.
The problem with this particular scenario was, if there were a single person in this world who could get under Santos’s skin like he got under mine, it was Krampus. They were cousins on his mother’s side, and Krampus was the black sheep of the family. In fact, he wreaked so much havoc during our youth that his parents moved to eastern Europe in an effort to separate him and Santos. It had been obvious pretty much from birth that Santos was the chosen one, the elf who would take over the role of Santa Claus someday, and Krampus had resented all the attention Santos had gotten as a result of such a high honor.
No one could destroy the joy Santos brought into people’s lives quite like Krampus could.
“It takes a girl to protect the great, god-like Santos now, does it?” Krampus said, his lip curling into a sneer.
“Dude, this is the twenty-first century. Are you seriously still that sexist?” Santos asked with a snort.
“I don’t see you doing anything,” Krampus pointed out, and Santos thrust his upper body forward in that way guys did when they were trying to intimidate someone. Luckily, Santos was in his gorgeous guy persona, so it appeared natural, whereas if he’d been in his Santa disguise, he would have looked foolish attempting to be a badass.
Krampus touched the cane to the ground and affected a regal pose. “I mean you no harm. I stopped by only to get this.” He lifted his left hand, which was wrapped around a brown leather necklace with a tiny, silver amulet shaped like a sleigh.
Santos slapped his hand against his chest, his eyes wide as they stared at the amulet. “No,” he cried, lunging for the object. Krampus barked out a laugh and snatched the necklace out of his reach. In the blink of an eye, he was gone, and Santos was grasping at air.
I glanced around, conscious of all the humans milling about, who did not normally see such blatant displays of magic, except on Christmas night (and they really didn’t even see it then, did they?), but no one appeared to have noticed Krampus’s disappearing act. Which meant he must have cast a spell to make him invisible to non-magical beings. I’m sure Santos and I looked pretty funny, talking to nothing at all.
I refocused on Santos, who was tugging at the collar of his shirt, his gaze darting every which way, a look of panic on his face.
“What’s going on?” I asked. The feeling in the air was…odd. Like the joy was being sucked away. That didn’t make sense now that Krampus was gone. He couldn’t steal away happiness from afar—that’s why we’d banished him all those years ago.
“He stole my Christmas magic.” Santos’s eyes were huge in his face and full of stark fear.
I shook my head. “He can’t steal your magic, Santos. You must be a lighter weight than I am if you think that.”
“The amulet. I stored my Christmas magic in the amulet.”
The numbing effects of the alcohol dissipated almost instantly as the ramification hit me. “You what? Are you seriously that much of an idiot?”
“Yes,” he snapped back, his agitation more pronounced than I had ever seen it. “You wouldn’t understand since you’ve never once agreed to go out with me on Christmas night, but the fact of the matter is, using so much magic in one twenty-four hour period is exhausting, and there isn’t time to replenish it before the night is over. So I started storing it in that amulet. That way, I could pour a little into it each month over the course of the year, and there would be plenty to get me through Christmas night without suffering a four-day hangover afterward.”
Huh. Guess that wasn’t so dumb after all. Except now Krampus, aka Mr. Anti-Christmas, had all that magic, which meant…
“You can’t transform into the fat white guy in the red suit.”
Santos shook his head. “Nope.”
“But you can still do the whole gift-giving gig, even if it is exhausting, right?”
“I can, but I have to do it looking like this, and I know it has not escaped your knowledge how much attention this particular version of me draws.”
Yeah, I was all too aware.
“I doubt I’ll be able to get in and out of all those houses undetected—the magic of Christmas will be exposed. Not to mention, I won’t be able to cover the entire world in one night if I’m fighting off randy women each time I make a stop.”
“What a fucking rough life you lead,” I snapped, because yes, I really hated how easy it was for him to pick up any damn woman he wanted. And then some.
“There’s a solution, you know.”
“Obviously. We need to get your amulet back.”
“That’s not—”
I grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him along after me. “Let’s go. We need to get back to that shop and grab my clothes out of the garbage. And we need to find you something warm to wear.”
Santos’s permanently tanned face went pale. “He’s gone to my house?”
“That would be my guess. He’s either planning to take over the role of Santa Claus, or he’s going to destroy all those toys your elves have worked so hard to create. My bet is on the latter, but we should be prepared for both.”
“Wow. You really are good at your job, aren’t you?”
“Know what I’m not good at?”
“What’s that?”
“Getting along with you.”
He laughed, which was good, because his own personal happiness manifested joy that could be converted to magic he could use on Christmas night. Whether we were able to get that amulet back, I was going to ensure he made all those little kids happy on Christmas morning.
Even if it meant I had to ride in his sleigh. For the first time.
Ever.
I shook my head and barreled into the store where I’d purchased this silly outfit.
“Can’t say I’m disappointed that you won’t be wearing that shirt anymore. Although I do like those shorts. Make your legs look like they go on for miles. Which makes me—”
“Do. Not. Say. It.” I rushed to the dressing room before he opened his mouth again.
How the hell was I supposed to get through these next three days as Santos’s constant companion? Especially now that I was kind of warming to the guy. Not I-want-to-climb-his-North-Pole warming, but maybe we could be friends.
Which was a weird, weird feeling.
When I was back in my leather outfit and fur-lined cape, we headed to the bungalow Santos had rented for his little pre-Christmas vacation. While he was in the bedroom changing clothes and packing his belongings, I wandered around the open-air space, which encompassed a kitchenette and living room, spilling out onto a deck with an excellent view of the ocean.
I wouldn’t mind coming back here after I handled these Christmas shenanigans. Take my own vacation. I had a feeling I was going to need it.
When Santos was packed and wearing a long-sleeved Henley and a pair of jeans that fit him far too well, we headed to the airport. At some point, we’d have no choice; we couldn’t get to Santos’s home without magic, but we could at least get to Greenland without it.
So act like humans we did.
Once we were at the airport, waiting to board our flight, I brought up the subject that, much as I hated to admit it, was taking up a whole lot of my headspace.
“So you finally fell for someone, huh?”
He glanced up from the magazine he’d been perusing. “What?”
I flapped my hand. “This little vacation. You said you took it because some girl broke your heart.”
“No, I did not say that. But yes, a girl is the reason I took this vacation.”
“Want to talk about it?”
He stared at me. “Are you serious?”
I lifted one shoulder, let it drop. “We obviously have time.”
There wasn’t a direct flight from Florida—or anywhere in the US, for that matter—to Greenland. I’d spent more than an hour with a ticket agent, working out the most efficient way to get to a place that it wasn’t remotely efficient to get to. Basically, between flight changes, layovers, and time zones, it was going to take twenty-five hours to arrive in Greenland.
We were losing an entire day, but I wasn’t willing to chance using Santos’s stores of magic, in case we couldn’t get that amulet back before Christmas.
So, yeah, he and I had plenty of time to talk.
Listening to him tell me he was in love with another woman was not how I’d normally choose to pass the time, but if it helped him feel better, I’d work through it.
“I’m not sure you’re ready,” he said, still staring at me.
I fidgeted in my seat. “Stop looking at me like I’m an alien or something.”
“That’s not how I’m looking at you.”
“Then what is it?”
“I’m trying to figure out how to start this conversation. It’s been so long coming.”
“Holy cripes, you’ve been in a long-term relationship? How did I not know this?”
“Probably because you’ve been avoiding me ever since that post-Christmas party five years ago when you got drunk and fell into the hot tub and I graciously dove in to save you.”
“There was nothing gracious about it. You wanted to see me with my wet shirt plastered to my boobs, and you were hoping to cop a feel.”
“All true. But anyway, I haven’t been in a relationship, long-term or otherwise. Which you would know if you’d stopped by to visit a little more frequently. And if not me, then either of our parents.”
“I’ve seen my parents.”
“Not mine.”
He was right. I hadn’t been home in forever. I generally talked my parents into coming to visit me wherever I happened to be when I realized I hadn’t seen them in far too long. Luckily, they liked to vacation, so they never complained.
But Santos’s parents were homebodies, especially since his dad retired as Santa Claus. Apparently, delivering Christmas gifts all over the world once a year for a few dozen centuries makes one quite content to put down roots and never leave again.
I could understand that. I’ve spent most of my life traveling for my job by design. Any time I stayed in one place too long, I got antsy, like I was missing something. I could never figure out what it was, and the only way to make the sensation go away was to move someplace else.
I scrubbed my hands over my face. Being around Santos always dredged up emotions I much preferred to bury under a whole lot of denial. “They’ve probably disowned me by now, haven’t they?”
Mr. and Mrs. Santiago had basically adopted me when I was a kid. Mrs. Santiago had visions of sugar plums that her son and I would make a good match, until we both hit puberty and realized we couldn’t stand each other, so we very vocally and maybe a little obnoxiously put that idea out of her mind. Okay, it was more me than Santos, but he was always too busy snogging this girl or that one to bother setting his mom straight.
“You know my parents. Do you think they could ever disown anyone, let alone you?”
That was a fair question. His dad was a retired Santa Claus, after all. Although the tendency to constantly speak in Christmas-themed sexual innuendos had—thank the gods—passed his dad over. Or if it hadn’t, he’d never insinuated as much in front of me.
I fiddled with the hem of my cape. “I suppose I should make a trip home after this is all settled and we’ve saved Christmas.”
Santos patted my knee. “I like your use of we.”
I didn’t reply.
“Maybe I’ll go with you. It’s been a minute since I’ve been home too.”
“No way. If we go together, everybody will think…well, you know.”
“That we’re friends?”
I pursed my lips and gave him a good glare. He laughed, boisterous enough to catch the attention of the kids sitting a few rows over, swinging their legs and trying their damndest to be good, considering it was only seventy-two hours until the big day. I caught the eye of the youngest girl and gave her a smile and a thumbs-up to let her know she was doing great.
“You’re good at that,” Santos said quietly.
“At what?”
“Making people feel good.”
“Me? Ha! On the scale of you to Krampus, I definitely lean naughty.”
“Don’t tease me so.”
I groaned. I’d walked right into that one.
Santos chuckled, and was it weird that we were getting along? It didn’t feel weird.
Which meant it was definitely weird.
“You aren’t using any of your magic to ensure we get along, are you?” I asked suspiciously.
“You’ve said yourself more than a million times that I don’t need magic to make people feel good. Women, specifically.”
“It’s true.” I frowned. “Was your dad like that? I mean, I’ve only known him with your mom, and it seems like he only has eyes for her. And while everyone still kind of flocks to him like he’s a pied piper, it’s not in the same way that women fall all over themselves to try to get to you.”
Santos rubbed his hands over his thighs, which were clad in jeans that made his ass look even more perfect than those board shorts had. I knew because I was staring at it while we were waiting in line to purchase our tickets.
“He was, actually. Just like me. Or so the stories go.”
I snickered. “So all it will take is the love of a good woman to get you to settle down, huh?”
“To get my pheromones to settle, yes. According to legend, once I connect with my destined mate, all of this sexual magic focuses, and no one else notices it anymore.”
“Lucky mate,” I muttered before I could stop myself. Although, holy Santa Claus, could you imagine all that sexual energy being focused on a single woman?
Yes, yes, I could, which sucked since I wasn’t that woman. Not that I wanted to be, mind you. Santos and I, we weren’t meant to be. Hell, it’s taken us two hundred years to finally become friends.
“And I have to connect with her before I leave to deliver presents on Christmas Eve.”
I whipped up my head. “Huh?”
He grimaced and nodded. “I turned two hundred this year. Mom informed me a few weeks ago that if I didn’t connect with my mate by Christmas, I’d have to forfeit the Santa Claus role.”
“That’s not fair. You love being Santa Claus.”
He shrugged. “That doesn’t matter. I have plenty of cousins who could step into the role and do a reasonable job at it. Yes, I was the chosen one, but any elf can be Santa, when it comes down to it. We all have the same magic. I just have more of it.”
“What does finding a mate have to do with bringing joy to kids at Christmas, anyway?”
“It has more to do with ensuring another chosen one is born at some point. If I’m not mated, I’m not reproducing, thus no new Santa to take over when I retire.”
“That’s crazy. How come I never knew this?”
He bumped my shoulder with his own. “You were too busy being mad at me to sit around the campfire and listen to the old tales. And then you ran off to start this business of saving souls and never looked back.”
“You make what I do sound bad.”
“I don’t mean to, and I’m sorry if it came across that way. I do think you can find a balance between the two, though. You can have your career and stay in touch with your family. And mine. And me.”
I sighed. “I’ve actually been thinking about retiring.”
His brows shot into his hairline. “Really?”
I tugged at a strand of my dark hair, twirling it around my finger. “I’m kind of burned out. Ready to find a new line of work.”
“Which is what?”
“I don’t know yet. Which is why I haven’t retired.”
“I might have an idea for you.”
“Don’t you dare suggest I join your toy-making team. You know damn well I’m lousy at tinkering.”
“I think you’d make a fine manager, though, but no, that isn’t what I was going to suggest. I was going to say—”
A nasally voice burst through the loud speaker.
“Attention, passengers on flight 4567. Due to a storm brewing off the East Coast, this flight has been canceled. There will be no air travel from Florida to any area between New Brunswick and, well, anywhere along the East Coast until after Christmas. We apologize for this inconvenience.”
“That’s impossible,” I protested, glancing down at my phone and pulling up my trusty weather app. I waved the screen at Santos. “There’s no storm. And even if there were, it wouldn’t be big enough to shut down the entire eastern seaboard.”
“And Canada,” Santos supplied helpfully.
“This is Krampus’s doing.” I tucked my phone away and surged to my feet. “Son of a—” I caught myself, keenly aware of the little girl I’d waved at earlier watching and listening.
I turned to face Santos and stage-whispered, “How are we supposed to save Christmas now?”