by Johnny Miles
Suddenly feeling calm and with depression at bay, Griffin realized the quiet that lay within the cell like a blanket. But it wasn’t just the cell. The unearthly quiet extended beyond, into the hallway, into the building,. Griffin suddenly found it odd that he was all alone in the cell, not even a token drunk picked up for indecent exposure. Were they under a spell?
Something was coming, something that made Griffin’s skin prickle. His life was in danger, and there was nothing he could do about it, nowhere he could go. Then Griffin saw him, an older man who reminded him of a young Sam Elliot but darker, more brooding and foreboding, with thick black hair streaked white. The man possessed an air of quiet vitality and reeked of testosterone.
The man wore faded, form-fitting jeans, scuffed motorcycle boots, and a lumberjack shirt that accentuated his physique. His face was lined and weathered, the face of a man who'd spent much of his life outdoors, and he looked to be in his late forties, early fifties.
No, Griffin realized. The man had no age. He was…ageless.
The man walked silently, with a limp that seemed to be his only flaw. And yet, even limping, the man held himself with a firm but casual manner. His was the gait of someone who had nothing but time on his side.
Griffin felt the man’s gaze as their eyes locked. Suddenly, his body went cold as the man riffled through his brain, picking at emotional wounds long since scabbed over. Tears sprang to Griffin’s eyes, and globs of sorrow made him sob as an incredible pain took his breath away.
What…who…why? Griffin thought, but all he heard was a low, earthy rumble that resembled laughter.
It felt as if he’d been stabbed in the heart for all the hurt that suddenly gushed forth. It gurgled and bubbled like a swollen river overflowing. There was so much agony, so much concentrated emotion coursing through his body with no place to go, Griffin felt he would explode, drowning in his own memories.
As darkness encroached, Griffin closed his eyes, ready to accept his fate.
Chapter Nine
Dressed in his everyday Santa suit rather than the thick and luxurious maroon-and-white ensemble normally reserved for Christmas travel, Kris turned this way and that, observing his reflection in the full-length, trifold mirror of his bedroom.
Unlike the once-a-year suit, which allowed people to see him as they wished, the one he’d donned made him look more like a knock-off mall Santa. Still, something wasn’t right. Then it dawned on him. He stood too tall, too proud, too…confident.
Kris morphed from the tall, muscular, dark chocolate black man that he was to an older and shorter, more gaunt version of himself. His eyes rimmed with red, the Santa staring back at him lacked Kris’s usual vitality and looked like he could have passed for an alcoholic working to pay for his booze habit.
Satisfied with his new outward appearance, Kris turned to look at Bucket, who lay asleep, facedown, after their heated fuck in the surveillance room. Kris could still smell the musky scent of their coupling oozing from Bucket’s pores. Kris would have loved nothing more than to climb back into bed for round two—this time making love instead of rutting like an animal—but there was far too much at stake. A voice spoke in Kris's mind, helping him remain grounded.
“Your sleigh is ready, Kris. I’ll bring it to you. Wait for me out front.” It was Melchior, Head of Transport.
Quiet as a mouse, Kris let himself out of the bedroom and pulled the door shut behind him. Best to pop downstairs from the hallway lest there be residual energy that might wake Bucket.
Finger to his nose, Kris closed his eyes. He visualized himself outside, just beyond the front doors of Santa’s mansion. When he opened his eyes, he stood atop the stone steps of the castlelike home that had been at the North Pole for close to two thousand years.
Fat flakes of snow swirled on the wind as if he were in a giant snow globe. The ancient, ornate gas lamps on the street glowed bright, and the flames flickered in the wind as Dunder and Blixem, who were more like caribou, appeared, pulling the sporty cruising sleigh behind them. Melchior himself, was at the helm.
The massive creatures came to a halt, and Kris descended. He approached the lead reindeer on his annual trek, greeting each of them in turn. Kris stroked their muzzles. The reindeer nodded in acknowledgment, as if greeting an old friend. They flicked their ears and stomped the snow-covered ground, waiting.
Kris Magicked a handful of carrots for each of them as Melchior jumped down from the sleigh and landed in the snow with a soft ploof. He brushed himself off and walked toward Kris. The two silently greeted each other as Kris then produced a handful of feed for the deer.
“Evergreen didn’t say which sleigh you needed, so I took the liberty of prepping this one. It’s smaller, sleeker, and faster. Plus the cloaking device is far superior than the work sleigh.”
“I wasn’t clear, but you made the right choice. Thank you.” Kris slipped on his riding gloves as he made his way to the driver’s side of the sleigh. Melchior followed close behind, easily walking in the drift Kris had created.
“I’ve programmed a flight path into the sleigh’s navigation system, so you shouldn’t have to do much maneuvering. Here’s your communication device. It will allow us to speak to you as usual, and it also allows you to contact us. Should you need to. It’s ultrasensitive, so be sure to speak in a normal tone.”
Kris slipped the device over his ear. He still marveled that something barely two inches in length served to transmit and receive.
“It also has a built-in GPS. We’ll be able to track you at all times.” Melchior cleared his throat, almost embarrassed. “In case anything happens.”
“Why do I sense a big but coming?” Kris asked snidely.
“It’s just…energy flow is still a bit wonky. Satellites inform us it should clear out in the next day or two. If you could postpone your trip until then—”
“That’s not possible. It has to be tonight.”
“But Kris…the static energy patterns…communication might be…erratic at best.”
“Then why bother with this?” Kris tapped on the device.
“It’s better than nothing?” Melchior shrugged. A chortle escaped Kris, but Melchior forged on. “I know you used to travel without these tech toys back in the day, but…times have changed. People are different. You know that. They’re more fearful and suspicious of…well…everything, it seems. Though I’m not certain how the device will work with the static being broadcast, I’d feel better knowing there’s a chance of staying in touch during your journey as opposed to not knowing anything at all.”
“Fine. I’ll take your advice and leave the piece in place.” Kris climbed up into the sleigh and settled into the upholstered seat. Melchior hadn’t moved.
Kris sighed. “You’ve something else to say?”
“I don’t think you should travel to Earth Realm. Not alone. Not now, with so much energy fluctuation. At least let one of us go in your place, Kris.”
Kris wondered how much Melchior knew.
“I can’t put any of you in that position. It has to be me.”
“Kris…” Melchior seemed to weigh his words. “The truth is…there isn’t enough Magic to safely see you through. And without your navigator beside you to open the necessary portals…”
And there it was. Obviously, they knew magic had been dwindling. How could they not when the Elves were so finely tuned in to their environment? How could he have been so foolish as to think he could keep anything so huge from any of them?
“How long have you known?” Kris asked quietly.
Melchior thought a moment before replying. “A… A few years? Five? Maybe ten? We weren’t sure at first. I thought the fluctuations were just a series of anomalies. Especially since they didn’t occur every year. But within the last five, it’s been constant.”
“And that’s why I must go. That’s why it must be. I won’t risk Bucket. I won’t risk any of you. And because Magic is in such short supply, there’s too much at stake for me not to make
the journey so close to Christmas. Their world. Our world. For all I know, the entire universe and all the realms within are in jeopardy.” Kris sighed heavily. “Who else knows?”
“Just my team, as far as I know. I’ve asked them to keep quiet about it until I’d had a chance to speak with you. Alone. Like this.”
In the silence that followed, the reindeer grunted. They stomped the ground impatiently.
“We’re wasting time, Melchior—”
“And if…if anything should happen to you while…?” Melchior gazed up at Kris, a worried look on his face. Their eyes met. Kris was reminded once again of the selfless life the Elves had led for centuries, to please him—the Santa Claus and the Magical brothers who came before.
“Nothing will happen to me. I swear,” Kris said firmly, hoping he sounded more confident than he felt.
Melchior cleared his throat and nodded. He visibly swallowed back anything else he might have wanted to say and walked away, slipping on his own one-piece telecom unit.
The reindeer grumbled and snorted, clearly sensing the moment of departure at hand.
Kris fastened the seat belt around his waist and grabbed the reins, anxious to be in flight. He glanced to his right. Melchior now stood at the top of the steps.
“Can you hear me?” Kris spoke into the earpiece. There was a faint crackle, but he clearly heard Melchior’s reply.
“Loud and clear.” Then mentally, “Travel in peace, Kris.”
Kris turned his attention to Dunder and Blixem.
“Let’s move, boys.”
With a snort, the deer began to move. They pulled the sleigh along the circular drive, around the large fountain—turned off for the winter—and pointed due south, toward the entry gates. Kris couldn’t help the sudden butterflies in his stomach as he stared down the long and empty, dual-purpose street and runway. The shops were all closed, but the buildings themselves were outlined with soft glowing lights.
Dunder and Blixem knocked horns as though high-fiving each other, then hunkered down. They dug their hooves into the ground. Faster and faster they went, the shops now a blur as they slid past and galloped. They picked up more speed.
Kris waved a hand beneath a dispenser in the dashboard. A blue, sandlike powder fell onto his palm. He clutched the Magical dose tightly, then brought his fist up to his mouth. With a mighty intake of breath, Kris pursed his lips together and blew the powder into the wind. The powder, meant to give the sleigh a boost since it wasn’t as powerful as the other sleigh, swirled about them with an all-encompassing sparkle.
Dunder and Blixem leapt into the air. The sleigh lurched and bucked, dragged along as the deer defied gravity. Kris cast a glance over the side as the ground seemed to fall away. The quiet fear he’d begun to feel earlier was replaced by the thrill and exhilaration of flight.
But Kris soon felt an unexpected, yet familiar warmth that dampened his spirits.
“Bucket! What the hell are you doing here?” Kris shouted angrily. The Elf suddenly popped up beside him. “You were supposed to be sleeping!”
“Yeah, well…obviously I was faking it, wasn’t I?” Bucket gripped the handrail with one hand while pinning his green cap to his head with the other to keep it from blowing off.
“You need to go back.”
“No! You thought you could ditch me so easily? After all we’ve been through? That’s not how we work, Kris. And you know it.” Bucket scowled.
“Bucket, please. You’ve got to go back. I’m begging you. It could be dan—”
“I’m not going anywhere!”
Higher and higher they climbed. The reindeer kicked at the air. The sleigh rocked. Gold and red sparks arced around them.
“Bucket…please. The portal is about to open. Go now, before it’s too late!”
But it was already too late.
A blinding white light flashed, and the very atmosphere seemed to ripple and melt. The sleigh shuddered and let out a metallic groan as it always did just before slipping into another realm. With a final blast of energy, they hurtled into space, vanishing from their world and slipping into the void.
Kris and Bucket experienced zero gravity. Everything moved in slow motion, and Kris took advantage to reach into his pocket. He pulled out two pieces of peppermint to avoid sickness. He handed one of them to Bucket, but in that instant, they emerged more quickly than anticipated. Gravity returned with a vengeance, and the candy slipped from Kris’s fingers as they jettisoned into Earth Realm. A split second later they entered a massive cloud formation that knocked the wind out of them and buffeted both deer and sleigh.
“Melchior? We’re experiencing a lot of turbulence on this flight path. Can you steer us toward another one?”
No reply came. The sleigh continued back and forth. Bucket came perilously close to falling out as he leaned over the side and vomited. Kris reached out and grabbed Bucket by the seat of his pants, pulling him back into the sleigh.
“Melchior? Melchior!” Kris tapped the piece again. “Is this damn thing even on?”
Static.
“Shit. We’re on our own,” Kris muttered. “Hang on, Bucket.” Kris pulled back on the reins, indicating for the deer to rise above the clouds. They emerged from the wet turbulence, soaked to the skin from the sky vapor, but at least the ride smoothed out.
Kris looked down at the blanket of clouds that stretched toward the horizon. Once upon a time there would have been an accompanying silence to the breathtaking view. Now, however, even at this altitude, Kris heard the steady hum he’d come to associate with the modern age, the ever-increasing population, and the exponential use of technology.
And the unmistakable whine of turbine engines.
Kris glanced over his shoulder and nearly crapped himself at the sight of the round black nose of a commercial passenger plane. In fact, they were so close Kris could make out the panic and stunned fear on the faces of the crew against the glass—as if they’d been suctioned on—staring through the tiny, rectangular windows.
“Lower, Kris! Get us lower!” Bucket cried almost shrilly.
Kris tugged on the right rein. The deer changed direction on a dime. Their legs pumped the air as they banked sharply and descended far enough to avoid getting creamed by a jumbo jet. Bucket moaned and hurled over the side once more.
“I told you to go back,” Kris said mentally.
“Fuck off,” Bucket replied in kind.
Kris directed the deer to fly lower, through a break in the clouds, then just below the fluffy-looking white stuff in order to stay out of the thick, cloying damp. Once out of danger, Kris chuckled. For Bucket’s sake, he tried to stifle himself, but he kept seeing the dumb look on the face of the cockpit crew. The more he tried to contain himself, the more he shook with mirth. Soon, Kris roared with laughter, and the sound echoed through the skies.
“Ho! Ho! Ho!”
“What’s so funny?” Bucket asked feebly.
“Did you see the looks on their faces?”
“No. I was too busy barfing.”
“I can only imagine the tales the crew will tell!” Kris grinned.
“Only in private,” Bucket replied matter-of-fact. “I doubt pilot, copilot, or flight navigator will ever admit to seeing what they saw.”
“A black Santa and his Elf flying along in a sleigh pulled by two reindeer.” Kris laughed heartily.
Bucket snorted. Even Dunder and Blixem let out a sound that was part grunt, part whinny.
“What’s the plan, anyway?” Bucket asked, sounding a little better. “How are we breaking the Magical out of jail?”
“What do you mean? I’m just going to pop—”
“You can’t just pop in, say hello, then pop back out. How do you think he’s going to react?”
“After the things we’ve seen him do, I’m fairly certain he won’t be all that surprised.”
“What if there are other prisoners in the cell? What if there are policemen? You know we can’t have witnesses.”
“I…I’m not… I guess I hadn’t thought about that.”
“I’ve got an idea…” Bucket started, then heaved over the side of the sleigh once more as they hit an air pocket.
Kris felt Bucket’s energy waning.
“Just sit tight, Bucket. We’re almost there.”
Kris pulled on the reins, left, then right. Slowly, they lost altitude. The ground seemed to rise up to meet them. Store signs and their logos were more discernible. Lights grew brighter, and Kris could see actual street lamps instead of the spidery wisps of glittering lights they’d seen from high above.
Tossing Bucket a casual sideways glance to make sure he was all right, Kris then faced him full on. Bucket leaned back in his seat and wiped at his lips with his sleeve. Kris felt his eyes widen and his jaw go slack.
“What?” Bucket turned to Kris. “What are you gawking at?”
But Kris couldn’t reply.
Bucket reached for the side mirror, which had flapped shut from the force of the wind.
“Oh, no! Wh-what’s happened to me?” Bucket stared at his now wrinkled face, touched his sagging cheeks, his bulbous nose, his forehead, which resembled that of a Sharpei. He looked down at his gnarled, liver-spotted hands with something like revulsion. A soft, pained mewl escaped him. Kris thought his heart would break. He wanted to console Bucket, except Kris needed to focus on landing them safely and making sure they remained out of sight.
Sensing trouble afoot, Dunder and Blixem sped up, banking on their own, flying lower and lower. They landed with a bump and a thud, sliding effortless along a thin layer of snow, and stopped almost directly in front of the police station.
Kris punched the button that activated the cloaking device. The sleigh shuddered, gave a wheeze, then backfired.
