Then it hit me. “Santa Claus. Oh my gosh. You can’t be that Bad Santa Mallory was talking about … can you?”
He bowed again. “I can and I am. And I thank you for following instructions. That sorceress never thought anyone would actually repeat her curse backward.”
“Curse?”
“It’s a combination of Gaelic and an ancient Druid tongue. It means, ‘Evil spirit, be commended to the grave’ but if you reverse it, the spell has the opposite effect.” He grinned, almost proudly. “Don’ worry—ye’ll be spared.”
“Spared? Spared from what?”
He adjusted his cap and drew his robe more tightly around him. “Sorry. Places to go, people to find. But thanks again. Oh—and Season’s Greetings to ye.”
He let out a raucous laugh, spun around twice and vanished in a cloud of dark gray smoke. I was so flabbergasted I didn’t realize Mallory was there until her hand came down, heavy on my shoulder.
“Autumn,” she said, her voice thick with reproach. “What on earth have you done?”
I offered her a weak smile. “Let Bad Santa out of his cage?”
“It’s not funny!”
Mallory looked as mad as I’d ever seen her—and I’d seen the witch plenty mad. There was some other emotion playing across her face, too. I realized suddenly it was fear, and a chill nudged its way down my spine. If Mallory were afraid …
“How did it happen?” she asked, and her words dropped like chips of ice.
I related everything in detail, including imitating the voice in my head, and when I’d finished Mallory just stood there, her eyes slitted, her mouth slashed into a thin line.
“Diantha imprisoned him in that box, and used that spell to keep him in check. He was able to reach out to you, and able to control you enough so that you followed his instructions to repeat her spell backward, cancelling it out.”
“Thanks, but I don’t need a replay of my stupidity.”
Mallory’s expression softened and she laid her hand on my arm. “You’re not stupid, Autumn. You’re just not schooled enough yet in our ways. We can be a devious lot.”
“Thanks, but I deserve to beat myself up for that one. Honest, after what’s happened the past few weeks, I really should have known better.”
“Be that as it may … we need to trap him again, get him back into that box. If we can get him inside, I can say the spell over it, use some wards to make the binding stronger so he won’t be able to do this again.”
I eyed her. “You make it sound so simple—but he was sure happy as a clam to break free of his prison. Just how do you plan to get him back into it?”
“There are ways.” She tapped at her chin with one long, fuchsia-colored nail. “Tomorrow is Christmas Eve—that’s when his powers will peak. His first thought will be to try and find Diantha, and exact revenge. He will be so totally focused on that, his guard will be down.”
I shot her a puzzled look. “I thought you said Diantha was dead?”
“She is—but Bad Santa doesn’t know that.”
I nodded. “How would he go about finding her?”
“He would look for someone familiar with her, someone who might lead him to her, either willingly or not.” She inverted her hand toward her chest and I gasped.
“You?”
“He would, no doubt, remember my presence at his imprisonment. He knows I studied under Diantha. I’m a logical choice.”
“So you’re going to set yourself up as bait—and then what?”
“Don’t worry. I’ve got a plan.” Her hand shot out. “I’ll need the box.”
I hesitated. “I haven’t got time to get Logan another present.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll only need this for the ritual. You’ll get it back, good as new—better even, considering it’ll be minus one evil spirit. You can put it in a gift bag for Logan after we’ve disposed of BS.”
I fought a sudden urge to snicker at the nickname she’d given Bad Santa and placed the box in her outstretched hand. “This plan better be a good one.”
“It is. There’s only one small, teeny hitch.”
Uh-oh.
“We’ll only get one shot at imprisoning him. If we fail—Bad Santa will be free to roam the earth … forever.”
***
December 24th
I moved through work the next day like a zombie. My spine tingled in mingled anticipation and fear each time I thought of Bad Santa and the potential danger he presented, and I wondered what Mallory’s plan to trap him might be.
Then I decided I was probably better off not knowing.
Seven o’clock found me walking onto Stage Nine, which had been set up for the party as a grand ballroom, complete with dangling icicles and snowflakes. I walked through the doorway and caught sight of my boss, Henry Bourne, standing by the punchbowl. He was deep in conversation with the VP of Daytime Programming, Melvin Feller, and he definitely looked in need of rescuing. His gray eyes lit up as I approached.
“Autumn—how lovely you look.” His gaze roamed over my red velvet midi skirt and black ruffled v-neck blouse and I gave him my sunniest smile.
“Thanks, Henry. You don’t look so bad yourself.” He truly didn’t, for someone well over four hundred years old. Henry was a premier Inheritor Vampire, who reminded me more of Vincent Price than Count Dracula, both in looks and manner.
Henry gave Feller a pointed look. “Excuse us, Mel. I’ve been away all week, and Autumn and I have some catching up to do.” Without waiting for the shorter man to respond, Henry took my arm and led me into a nearby corner. “I understand something big is brewing?”
I looked straight into his steel-gray eyes. “Mallory told you about … Bad Santa?”
Henry nodded. “Yes, indeed.” His brows drew together, and he definitely didn’t look happy. “I told her that I didn’t approve. Her plan is very dangerous. And for all we know, Bad Santa might not even be around here anymore. He might have gone anywhere in search of Diantha.”
“Mallory seemed to think he’d sense her presence and come after her, thinking she could lead him to Diantha.”
Henry gave me a grim smile. “Let’s hope.”
Simon, elegant in a black tux, approached us. He bowed at his uncle. “Uncle Henry. Good to see you. I’m assuming Christmas dinner is on for tomorrow.”
“Yes. Be at my penthouse at three.” Henry slid me a glance. “You’re welcome to come also, Autumn. You know you are like family to us.”
Henry’d asked me weeks ago, but I’d hemmed and hawed—mainly because I’d been hoping to spend the day with Logan. “Thanks, but—I’m hoping to have other plans.”
“Ah, so Slade’s able to make it tonight?” Simon asked, raising one blond eyebrow. “What a nice Christmas present … for you, Autumn.”
Before I could answer, there was a rustle of movement at the far end of the room and a woman stood framed in the doorway. She was unlike any woman I’d ever seen. She seemed to positively radiate. Her skin was porcelain white and matched the long off-shoulder gown she wore. Platinum hair cascaded around her slim shoulders and down her back. The snow-white of her skin was offset by her stark red lips, and eyes black as coal peered out from a fringe of impossibly long lashes.
“Oh golly,” I said. I was mesmerized by the woman, unable to take my eyes off her. “Who’s that?”
I felt Henry’s fingers dig into my arm. “That is Diantha.”
I whirled to stare into his eyes. “But she’s—”
“Dead,” Simon supplied. “The real Diantha is, sadly, yes. But that’s …”
“Holy Hell.” I looked again at the figure. “That’s Mallory?” I whispered.
“I’ll say this—it’s an excellent likeness. She’s done herself proud,” Simon observed. “Now we have to hope Bad Santa takes the bait.”
I glanced quickly around the room, and caught a sliver of movement near one of the far curtains. “I think he just might have,” I murmured.
Simon pulled three vials fro
m his jacket pocket and pressed one into my hand. “Quick. Drink this.”
I eyed the purple-colored liquid dubiously. “What is this?”
“Something to protect you from what’s about to happen. Just drink it.” He tipped his head back and swallowed the contents of his vial. Henry did the same. I uncapped the bottle, put it to my lips. It had a bitter, chalky taste, but I swallowed it.
And then all hell broke loose.
Bad Santa stepped out from behind the curtain and waved his arms. People stopped talking—they stopped moving. They stood frozen, some in very inelegant positions. Across the room I saw our admin, Dixie Chick, frozen like a statue with a big piece of chicken wing stuck to her bottom lip. Brice Benson, Henry’s other nephew and Mallory’s significant other, was frozen as well, his mouth open as he talked to one of our lighting crew. Mallory/Diantha, however, didn’t seem to be affected by the spell Bad Santa had cast. She moved slowly through the throng of statue-like people, her gaze intent on the rotund figure who stood at the far end of the room, hands across his wide belly.
I gasped and was surprised to find that, unlike all the others, I could move. So could Simon and Henry, and they dragged me back behind a nearby pillar. “We weren’t affected,” I murmured. “Is that why you made me drink that god-awful stuff?”
In spite of the circumstances, Simon chuckled. “Mallory figured he’d do something like this, so she prepared a counteracting serum. Just in case.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Just in case what?”
He cleared his throat. “In case we need plan B.”
I thought about asking him what in heck plan B was, and then decided to focus instead on the scene unfolding before me. Mallory/Diantha had made it all the way across the room to stand in front of Bad Santa. I jumped when she spoke. Her voice was low, musical, and quite unlike Mallory’s. It had an undercurrent of steel, though, that cut through the eerie stillness like a knife.
“Bad Santa. You have somehow managed to escape your prison.”
He bowed low. “Diantha. We meet at last. When I realized your apprentice was here, I figured you’d be around, too. I owe you for all those years of imprisonment.”
Mallory/Diantha’s hand dipped into the pocket of her gown. “Do you?”
His lips twisted into an evil leer. “Yes—a pity I cannot repay you. You are dead, you see. I can, however, repay your apprentice who would think to imprison me again.”
Mallory’s arm shot out, and I could see she clutched something in it, something purple colored that was shaped like an egg. She was fast, but Bad Santa was faster. He caught her arm in midair, and he mumbled something I couldn’t quite catch.
The egg-shaped charm flew out of Mallory’s hand across the room and exploded in midair.
Behind me, I felt Simon’s breath on my neck. “That’s not good,” he whispered.
Mallory’s disguise melted away, and she faced Bad Santa as herself, dressed in a long aqua gown. “How did you know?”
“My telepathic powers increased over my long imprisonment. I was able to tap into your mind, find out your plans. And now I can counteract them.” He looked at Mallory derisively. “Foolish witch. Your charm would not have worked on me anyway. Diantha found the only method to counteract my power, and without her to repeat the spell …”
He spread his hands, then quickly snapped his fingers. Mallory started to wheeze and gasp. Her hands flew to her throat as she slowly started to rise into the air.
“He’s choking her,” I cried and started to move forward, but Simon held me back. I whirled on him. “We have to do something.”
“We are.” He looked deeply into my eyes and I felt him press something into my hand. “If I maneuver him under that chandelier, do you think you can cut that thin cord that hangs from it? The one holding the mistletoe?”
I opened my hand, saw a small pocketknife. I nodded, and Simon and Henry both moved out of the shadows and into the ballroom.
“Leave her alone, Bad Santa,” Simon growled. His face was already stretching, morphing into his werewolf persona. “You’ll have to go through me before you kill her.”
Henry also stepped forward, fangs gleaming. “And me.”
Bad Santa rubbed his hands. “Oh, goody. A were AND a vamp! Just the kind of supernaturals I like to have for dinner.” He flashed his row of razor-sharp teeth, and then waved his hand at Mallory. “I’ll save the witch for dessert.”
Mallory fell to the floor with a thunk and lay still. Simon and Henry ran toward Bad Santa. They crisscrossed back and forth, first Henry advancing and then Simon. Bad Santa seemed a bit indecisive as to which of them he wanted to kill first. After what seemed an eternity, Simon managed to lure the rotund demon right under the mistletoe.
“Now, Autumn,” Henry called over one shoulder.
I stepped out of the protecting shadows and hurried over. Henry raised his arms, as if to shield me from Bad Santa’s view. I found the thin nylon string hanging down and sliced through it with the knife Simon had given me.
A net made of the same gossamer material that had been wrapped around the statue when I’d first found it suddenly unfurled from the lights and wrapped itself around Bad Santa. He screamed and cried out, and dug at the netting with his sharp nails.
The netting held.
Henry, meanwhile, hurried over to where Mallory lay and helped her up. She shook herself off and then hurried over to where Bad Santa writhed around on the floor and stood over him.
“I would never dream of attacking you without a backup plan,” she hissed. “I had a feeling you would try something, and I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist showing off and trying to defeat a were and a vamp. Fortunately, I remembered Diantha’s spell for creating this magic netting.”
“Hah—but you didn’t figure on me getting more powerful during all those years in captivity, did you?” Bad Santa hissed right back. “I can break free of this magic netting, witch, and then I’ll kill all of you. And just to make sure you don’t get away …”
He mumbled something under his breath and as Mallory bent toward him, she suddenly froze. Likewise Simon and Henry.
Crap.
I didn’t seem to be affected, though. I saw Bad Santa’s razor-like teeth attack the netting and I knew I only had a minute, maybe two, before he was free. And then I heard Mallory’s voice in my head.
The teak box. It’s underneath the rear table. Read the inscription and then shatter it over him. It’s the only way.
I didn’t even hesitate. I ran, got the box, and then hurried over to the lump on the floor. Bad Santa was almost free of his prison.
Quickly.
I held the box over him and haltingly said the strange words emblazoned there:
“Go dri an uaigh, especta can amasole.” I hesitated only slightly. It seemed words had been added. “Go hifreann leat!” I added haltingly.
Bad Santa started to twist and writhe. He spat at me, and I jumped back. The box slid out of my hands and fell to the floor, and when it hit, it shattered into pieces, spraying the wood all over Bad Santa.
And then he—and what was left of the net—vanished in a puff of smoke.
I stared at the empty spot on the floor, and then at Henry and Simon, who were mobile now. “What—what just happened?”
“Thanks to you, Bad Santa’s been consigned to Hades where he belongs,” Mallory was the one who answered me. “I added another phrase onto the box—just in case something like this happened.”
I pushed the heel of my hand through my red ringlets. “But how on earth did I do this? I’m not a witch.”
“No, but that potion you drank temporarily gave you some of my abilities,” Mallory said. “Don’t worry—it’s worn off now.”
“And it looks as if things are returning to normal.” Henry motioned toward the center of the room, where people were once again talking and milling about. Brice detached himself from the crowd and hurried over to us. He gathered Mallory into his arms and placed a kiss on her for
ehead.
“Did everything go off all right? Did you destroy Bad Santa?”
She smiled up at him. “We had to use Plan B—Autumn was brilliant, by the way—but yes, he’s gone.”
Brice flashed me a grateful look. “Good. Then we can enjoy the holiday tomorrow.”
Mallory leaned against the vampire. “I think I’ll go home now, if you don’t mind. Tonight’s events have taxed me a bit. I’ll see you all on the set Monday.”
As Brice led Mallory away, Henry turned to me. “I think I’ll call it a night too. Are you sure you don’t want to come by tomorrow?”
I glanced over toward the doorway, and my heart started to race as I saw Logan framed there. “Thanks, but I think … I’ll pass.”
Henry turned his head, caught sight of Logan and smiled. He leaned over and kissed my cheek. “Merry Christmas, Autumn.” He pressed a white envelope into my hand. “You deserve this—and more.”
Simon kissed my other cheek. “I think I’ll join Uncle Henry, Mallory and Brice. My gift’s in your office.”
“Yours is in your dressing room. I hope you like it.”
He flashed me a big smile and followed his uncle out the side door. I glanced up and saw Logan approaching. He gave me a wide smile.
“Thought I might not make it in time but—here I am.”
I went right into his waiting arms. “I am so glad to see you, Logan.”
He looked at me. “You look a little upset. Is something wrong?”
I shook my head. “Not anymore. It’s a long story. I—I’ll tell you about it later.”
He bounced his eyebrows. “We could go somewhere more private—have a little celebration of our own. I’d like to give you your gift at midnight.”
“Oh!” I suddenly realized something. “My gift for you—it’s gone.”
“Gone?”
I sighed. “Part of that long story.”
“Don’t worry,” he laughed, gathering me into his arms. “Being able to spend Christmas Eve and Christmas Day with you is gift enough for me.”
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