'Twas a Dark and Delicious Christmas

by Stacey Espino

  “So, none of this will protect me?”

  They both turned towards the collection of crosses, charms, and amulets.

  “It is really very impressive. I’m sorry to tell you that my name is just a name, though. It doesn’t really hold any true meaning for ways to kill me. In fact, my real name is very common.”

  “You have a real name?” Her mind couldn’t grasp the pure senselessness of the situation that she found herself in at the moment.

  “Yes, my real name is Elliot.”

  She blinked at him, trying to see him as a nerdy Elliot and that name just didn’t fit. She wanted to smile at him, ask him how he became a demon in the first place but it didn’t really matter, and it didn’t sound rational. She only had one more thing to do.

  Holly reached behind her and pulled the gun out from under her pillow.

  “Whoa…whoa…now put that thing away.”

  He held his hands up in surrender.

  She held the gun pointed at him in both of her shaky hands, and slid off the bed trying to gather the courage to fire the weapon.

  “I don’t want to kill you. I just want you to go back to your boss and tell him the deal is off. I’ll move out of the house.”

  Tan’s smile reappeared and more laughter followed suit. “You’re an absolute doll. I’m really going to hate killing you. I think we could have been friends.”

  Holly gawked at him in disbelief. “Are you telling me the gun won’t kill you? I bought silver bullets.”

  He placed his hand over his heart and looked at her with a pout worthy of an Oscar nod.

  “I am deeply offended. Silver bullets are for werewolves and everyone knows they are dirty animals. And if the truth be told, they have a sort of bad breath problem as well. I wouldn’t be caught dead with the likes of those mutts.”

  Unsure whether to laugh or cry, Holly knew her last effort had just been quashed. But before she could make a new plan of action, his arms came around her and his chest pressed firmly against her back. His strong arms, rippled with muscles, hardened around her waist like a vice, and he removed the gun from her grasp and flung it across the room.

  She gasped.

  He pressed his nose to her neck and inhaled deeply.

  “You smell…just…lovely…I really…” Tan stopped and he continued to sniff her. Then he spun her around and looked her directly in the eyes. “Somebody’s been a very naughty girl.”

  Holly blinked back at him with confusion and fear coursing through her body, but she remained silent.

  “You’ve been having all kinds of sex since I was here. Haven’t you, then?”

  Holly wasn’t sure how to answer this question. She wished he’d just kill her now and be done with it.

  Instead, he did something she never would have dreamt of. He released her and began to pace nervously around her bedroom. “This really throws a kink in the words then, doesn’t it?”

  More pacing.

  “I mean, what is a guy to do when his soul has gone and gotten herself knocked up on the night before collection. I mean, seriously!”

  His righteous indignation and sudden change of demeanor totally caught her off guard. Then his words registered.

  “D…did…did you say knocked up?” Her grade school nervous stutter was back with a vengeance.

  He stopped pacing and waved his hands around in apparent frustration. “Yes. You’ve managed to get pregnant and now I’m stuck between a boss and a hard place.”

  Back to the pacing.

  Holly reached down and placed a hand over her womb. “How can you know I’m pregnant if I only had sex last night?” Despite the oddity of the situation at hand, the question warranted asking.

  He stopped pacing and ran a hand through his pitch black hair. “I can smell it on you, okay? It’s one of my abilities.”

  Holly sunk down in the nearby chair and began to bite her nails. She was pregnant with Liam’s baby. An overwhelming sense of joy and trepidation began to spread through her. A warmth she’d never felt before.

  She knew now she couldn’t just allow him to kill her and her baby. She’d put up a fight, no matter what it took. Holly jumped up and dove for the bed. One of these instruments had to work.

  Tan looked at her and shook his head. “I told you those won’t do anything, love.”

  “Stop calling me love and get out of my house! I’m not letting you kill me and my baby.”

  He shook his head again and pursed his lips in a scowl. “That’s exactly the problem. A loophole if you will.”

  Holly glared at him as her body amped up on adrenaline and the knowledge of a tiny being inside her, lit her up inside. “A loophole?” Her mind simply couldn’t follow his train of thought fast enough.

  “Yes, the clause in your contract. It was only for your soul. I can’t very well collect your soul if you are carrying another soul. The contract was not for the unborn baby.”

  Holly sank down on the bed and tears began flowing down her cheeks. “You mean, I get to live? I get out of the contract because I’m pregnant?”

  It seemed too unbelievably simple to be true. Too good.

  “Basically, that’s the deal. Of course, the boss won’t be happy about this but I’ll just tell him what’s what.”

  Holly’s tears flowed freely as she wrapped her arms around her body in a solo bear hug.

  “But remember, I did this for you, one day I might need a favor,” Tan added.

  “Why would I give you a favor when you almost killed me?”

  He turned his back to her and disappeared, but his voice echoed in her room, lingering a moment longer despite his absence. “Because someone will have to pay for the Harvester’s anger, and that person will be me.”

  Holly laid back on her bed and held a pillow tightly. She didn’t know what his warning meant or what danger she might face in the future, but for now she was safe.

  After all her preparations today, nothing could have prepared her for the news she’d just received. She was going to be a mother. She was going to have Liam’s baby and somehow she knew everything was going to be alright.

  This tiny soul inside her had saved her from a big, mean demon. It truly was a Christmas miracle.

  She didn’t know how long she stayed there on the bed, curled in the fetal position, but the sound of loud knocking on her front door startled her awake sometime later.

  Holly sat upright, her mind immediately fearing the worst. The Harvester came back to get her. Instinctively, she touched her belly in a gesture of protection.

  Then the sound of her best friend screeching at her to open the door brought an unexpected smile to her face.

  Holly jumped up off the bed and raced for the door.

  She flung it open to see Rani’s mouth wide open as she prepared to scream through the door again. Holly grabbed her friend and pulled her inside, wrapping her in her arms, holding her tightly.

  “Well, I’m guessing things went well with Mr. Hot Delivery Man, then?” Rani chuckled as Holly continued to give her a tenacious hug.

  “Let’s just say it was a night I’ll never forget.”

  Rani managed to free herself enough to lean back and look at Holly.

  “No you don’t. I demand details.”

  Holly laughed and tears welled up in her eyes yet again.

  “Guess what?” Rani asked, as she finally broke free from Holly and headed towards the kitchen.

  Holly followed along, feeling chipper and suddenly confident thanks to her newly discovered secret. “What?” She pulled the lid off the container of cookies that were left over from dinner.

  “I’m thinking of buying a house out here. Can you give me the name of your realtor?”

  Holly almost choked as she’d just bitten off a big chunk of cookie. Rani patted her on the back.

  “No, I think they’ve gone out of business or something,” Holly managed to get out between coughs.

  Rani shrugged and dug into the cookies with delight.


  It was then Holly knew two things. One, she was going to have a very wonderful holiday. Two, she definitely had to move.

  The End

  Hard for the Holidays

  Copyright © 2010 Skylar Sinclair

  Chapter One

  “What the hell…” came out of my mouth before my brain checked in, and I bolted upright in bed. The noisy clinging and clanging sound of bells chimed loud and clear downstairs.

  My gaze swung toward the illuminated clock setting on the nightstand next to my bed. It read eleven O’clock straight up Christmas Eve night.

  The only bells I had downstairs were the ones strung across the fireplace for decoration. I had to admit there was nothing unusual per se about ringing bells. It would’ve been fine and dandy if they had the little clackers in the center, or if they’d been electronic. Mine, though, had neither.

  Once my heart rate slowed to a beat above normal and my mind cleared of the remaining remnants of sleep, commonsense kicked in. I must be getting summoned. For truth be told, I see dead people. Yeah, that sounded corny, but it happened to be true and the dead aren’t the most patient of spirits.

  Since I was a little girl I’ve talked to these spirits. As a child, I thought they were my imaginary friends come to play with me. I remember having so many friends at one time. I had tea parties. My parents thought it was cute back then.

  When I got older…

  Not so much.

  About age ten, my parents started watching me intently and whispering behind closed doors a lot. One kind spirit revealed to me I wasn’t talking to imaginary friends but people who had passed on. The spirit told me I had a special gift. From that day forward, I never talked about my so called friends again.

  Now, I figured one of the dearly departed must want my attention downstairs. I guess they didn’t believe in taking the holidays off like the rest of us living folk.

  Damn!

  I could try and ignore the spirit; only they’d stick around bugging the shit out of me until I talked to them. They usually had some issue that needed addressing—maybe unfinished business or help passing on to the other side. Why was it some of them couldn’t figure out they were dead? I mean, come on.

  Well, sitting here lamenting about the whole thing would get me nowhere. The sooner I dealt with them, the sooner I could snuggle back down into my nice, cozy, warm bed. I brushed my long dark hair out of my eyes and stiffed a yawn behind my hand.

  It snowed like the devil the night before and the moon hit the snow outside, casting tiny rays of light through the slit of the window drapes directly across from my bed, giving me enough light to not be a stumbling fool.

  I threw back the covers and the cold air hit me as if I’d opened up the refrigerator freezer. Goosebumps formed on my skin like a pimply coat of armor. And, I swear, I saw my breath drift before my face.

  Thank goodness my slippers were on the floor right next to my bed because I had hardwood floors and my feet would’ve turned to icicles on contact. Right now, I wish I had started the remodeling of this old Victorian home going from the upstairs down instead of the other way around. Note to self: replace hardwood floors with soft plush carpeting and the windows with dual panes, as soon as winter is over.

  With a resigned sigh, I heaved my legs over the side of the bed and quickly shoved my feet into my slippers. My robe lay at the foot of the bed and I pulled it on with agitated jerks and cinched it tight around my waist. I pushed myself off the side of the bed.

  My slippers slapped hard on the floor with my irritated stride. I yanked open my bedroom door, the old hinges protested loudly from the force. I made a hard left and headed down the shadowy hallway toward the staircase.

  I expected to be greeted with darkness. Instead, up ahead the landing twinkled from colored lights dancing through the railing and hints of a glow from a fire cast up from below.

  At the landing I couldn’t resist the urge to peek over the railing to the living room beneath. I remembered turning off the Christmas tree lights and the fire had died down to embers before I went to sleep. Yet gazing down, I spotted the Christmas tree in the corner near the living room entrance lit up like nobody’s business, and an inviting fire blazing in the fireplace. The smell of evergreen and smoke tickled my nose.

  I slowly crept down the stairs, my right hand sliding down the railing for support. Just as I was about to hit the last few steps, the bells suddenly stopped; only the crackling of a roaring fire in the fireplace resonated.

  “What took you so long, Little Girl,” a deep masculine voice addressed me.

  “Fuck,” flew out of my mouth in a most unlady-like shriek. My mother would’ve washed my mouth out with soap if she had heard me. My head snapped around so fast, my neck cracked and I tripped down the last couple of steps to the bottom with a loud thud. It was a damn good thing I was hanging onto the railing or I would’ve ended up sprawled on my ass.

  “Such naughty language, Jewell Dupree,” that same deep voice scalded me.

  It’s one thing for a spirit to talk to me, but for as long as I’d been dealing with the dead, not one had ever called me by name right off the bat.

  On unsteady legs, I righted myself and turned toward whoever had invaded my home. He stood arrogantly in front of the fire with his feet slightly apart and his hands planted firmly on slender hips. Before me was no spirit. Spirits had no smell and this man smelled spicy and manly. This was a flesh and blood man.

  I straightened my almost six foot frame and pushed back my shoulders. I wasn’t going to let this guy intimate me. Deep down, I was shaken. I would rather chew off my arm than let him know that. “Well, we got that out of the way. You know my name. What’s yours?” I asked in a hard voice.

  “I think you already know the answer to that question.” He chuckled.

  Yeah, I had a pretty good idea. I still wanted to hear him say it out loud. “Why don’t you humor me anyway?”

  “Most folks call me Santa Claus, but you can call me Chris.”

  His deep voice sent tremors down my spine. I bet if he read the dictionary, he’d make it sound sexy.

  Chapter Two

  I pinched my arm just to make sure I wasn’t dreaming. Nope, ouch…that hurt like the dickens. This may sound weird to say I see and talk to dead people, but Santa Claus is just a myth. Sorry to break the news to you, Virginia.

  Even knowing this, I still had to admit to myself, this was my fantasy come to life. A totally hot Santa and this was one smokin’ hot Santa.

  He had to be at least six-foot-six or better. I’m not a tiny thing by any stretch of the imagination. Not when I’m a size fourteen and almost six feet tall. Hell, I wear a size eleven shoe. Compared to this man though, I felt petite and that was saying a whole lot.

  His teal, almond-shaped eyes gave him a cat-like appearance and they drilled me to the spot. Impossibly long, pitch black lashes and thick dark eyebrows added to his feral look. Hair the color of freshly fallen snow hung in gentle waves just past his very wide shoulders. His features were rugged with high check bones and a strong jaw line. And, his dark day-old stubby was a stark contrast to his winter white hair.

  One of the first things to grab my attention about a man—other than what he packed in the front of his pants—was full lush lips, and this man had lips crafted by the gods. Oh…to have those lips skimming down my neck, sucking on my nipples. Better yet, suckling on my clit, French kissing my sex.

  Though he wore a Santa suit, I couldn’t recall any Santa I’d ever seen before looking this damn good in the getup. When Santa came to mind, I thought of a merry ole man with ruddy cheeks, long white whiskers and roly-poly. The man before me wore the proverbial Santa cap, from there down it, was a whole other ballgame.

  The red velvet jacket trimmed in fluffy white fur hung open, exposing his bare, smooth muscled chest. A chest one saw on those Infomercials on “How to get ripped in ninety days” which had never worked for me and, more than likely, no one else but this man. His stomach musc
les were so defined, I bet I could stick a coin in one of the deep grooves of his abs and it would go halfway in. Yummy!

  A wide black belt accented his trim waist. My eyes came to a screeching halt when they landed on the package between his legs. His Yule log, in and of itself, could’ve made a woman almost come from that sight and my body lit up with arousal like the damn Christmas tree in the corner.

  I managed to yank my eyes from his crotch and move further south to his long corded legs incased in skintight red velvet. The finishing touch: shiny black boots that hugged his large calves.

  I have to admit whatever this guy wore—if a woman, no matter her age, passed him on the street, they’d get whip lashed doing a double take. If sex appeal were water, a person would drown. I’m not kidding. I had to make myself blink because I’d been staring so long at him my eyes were starting to dry out.

  “Do you like what you see, Little Girl?” he purred.

  If the dampness between my legs was any indication, it would be a big fat yes.

  All my senses went on full alert. My treacherous body merrily followed right behind. A handful of butterflies let loose in my stomach, fluttering straight down to my pussy. I became instantly wet and my nipples turned to bullets under my robe. I was so glad to have my bulky robe on to camouflage my body’s reaction to him.

  My body was acting like a cat in heat and I had no control over it. If his voice could do this to me, what the hell would happen if he touched me?

  I’m pretty straight forward. One had to be dealing with the dead, so I threw out a question of my own. “Mind enlightening me on the how and why you’re in my home on Christmas Eve?”

  “A woman who gets right down to business, I find that sexy.” He moved his hands from his hips and rolled his shoulders. The muscles in his chest rippled. The jacket slipped off one shoulder, and then the other, falling to the floor by his feet in a puddle of shimmering red. Biceps and triceps bunched and knotted as he reached down and unbuckled his belt. It fell with a muffled thud onto his jacket by his feet.