Babes in Toyland II

by Aspen Mountain Press Authors

  Even more than special was the four times Selena took me to a locked room hidden behind all the decorations in the outbuilding. We didn't turn on the lights once she had unlocked the door and let us in. And I'm sure you don't want to know what happened there. Some things are better left private, and a good detective never tells all.

  * * * *

  It was daylight the next day when I opened the door to my apartment. I immediately found a sheet of paper and a ballpoint pen, sat down on my couch-bed, and began writing a letter.

  Dear Santa,

  Thank you for seeing that the case I just solved was a happy one. None of my friends got offed and I now believe that I am safe to be around. I've always believed in you, and I always will.

  Merry Christmas, everybody!

  From,

  Thanet Blake

  Christmas Ink

  Skylar Sinclair

  Prologue

  November, North Pole-Kringle Town, where magic and memories are made.

  "Now Christopher, we've had this discussion before.” Chris Kringle said as he eased into his comfortable recliner. “Your thirty-fifth birthday is next month and before you can take over the business, you have to have a missus. What would Christmas be like without a Mrs. Kringle?"

  "Yeah, Pop, I know.” Christopher wiped his hand down his face frustrated to be having this discussion with his father for the hundredth time.

  "If you know son, what are you going to do about it?"

  Christopher rolled his eyes, shaking his head. Why did I have to be born into a magical family? Why couldn't I have been born into a normal, average, everyday family? Nooo, I had to be born to marry, be merry, and then run my ass off delivering presents around the freakin’ world in a twenty-four hour gift-giving marathon.

  "Holy flying reindeers! I am not in the mood for this discussion tonight. I'm just not,” Christopher whispered under his breath so his father wouldn't hear him. His father didn't like Christopher using naughty language of any kind. It didn't look right for the image of Santa to spew obscenities right and left.

  Christopher glanced at his father, watching him as he deftly clenched his favorite pipe between his teeth and struck a match before touching the flame to the tobacco. Slowly it kindled, drawing short quick puff off the pipe to ignite the tobacco in the bowl, a pipe he knew held special meaning for his father. The elves that worked and lived in Kringle Town gave it to him for his birthday long before Christopher was born. The bowl, crafted from a piece of carved ivory replicating his father's jolly features, right down to the ball that dangled preciously at the tip of his Santa hat, nestled perfectly in his father's large, capable hand.

  The likeness of the pipe's carving was uncannily life-like to his true appearance when he was all dressed up in his Christmas regalia. He was plain old Chris Kringle right now, but the moment he donned his magical red suit, with the fluffy white fur and leather belt and boots, he became what everyone envisioned him to be ... the one, the only, Santa Claus; the jolly old man who made Christmas dreams come true for children and adults around the world, spreading his special brand of merriment and goodness throughout every realm—even the realm of the magical kingdom of fey.

  The rest of the pipe was made of a black wood that Christopher wasn't sure of its origins. He watched tendrils of smoke drift up from the pipe as it slowly caught and danced around his father's head, filling the room with tinges of a sweet cherry smell, a tobacco his father always smoked. One he had always associated with his father—a comforting and familiar aroma.

  His father hadn't changed much in the last thirty or so odd years. He still wore his basic black corduroy pants, with a tucked-in long-sleeved red flannel shirt, accented with suspenders that were striped to look like candy canes. Smooth black leather boots, only he didn't tuck his pant legs in—that was only for Christmas. His magical Santa suit, with its brilliant red hat perched proudly upon his head and his regal looking red velvet jacket and pants completed his persona Being Santa was a sure business to his father and he liked tradition. Dressing up only on Christmas was his way of honoring that special day.

  He really did admire his father, but Christopher wanted to help and care for people in his own way ... by being a healer, not a present pusher, as he liked to say.

  Christopher really did love his father very much, and respected him, too. But he wanted to live his life his way and not follow in his father's famous footsteps.

  This conversation would be going nowhere, so it might be a good time to skedaddle. Gathering his leather jacket off the couch, Christopher walked over to his now standing father and kissed him on the cheek. “I have to go, Pop. Tell Mother I am sorry to have missed her on this trip, but I'll call soon."

  "Sure, Son. Have a safe trip home, and don't go over the air traffic speed limit.” Chris Kringle rubbed the back of his neck. “I got a call from the Air Board the last time you were here. They said you were doing eight sixty-five in a six fifty-six air zone.” The fatherly look he gave Christopher was one that said he loved his son very much. “There are speed limits for a reason and I can't help but be worried about my only son."

  Christopher nodded in a placating manner as he walked out the door. “Yeah, yeah, I'll watch my speed, Pop."

  He grabbed up his helmet, scarf, and leather gloves. Stepping out into the frigid air of the North Pole, Christopher walked toward his motorcycle parked in front of his parents’ castle. The snow under his feet crunched with his brisk steps and the wind whipped his scarf about.

  All bundled up, Christopher straddled his magically souped-up Harley. When he turned the key in the ignition it roared to life, emitting clouds of exhaust. He loved the feeling of power between his legs and the freedom it gave him when he soared through the sky at extreme high speeds. Gunning it a few times, he let out the throttle and away he went. Building up speed, he could just make out his father's parting words, “Take care son and don't forget to turn on your cloaking shield..."

  Within less than a minute, his Harley was airborne and he was once more free to be himself, heading back to the life he had created just for himself. A life he worked hard to establish, gaining the trust of the community he now called home.

  What gave this Harley its magic were the intricate designs painted in brilliant jewel tones on its tank and fenders. If one knew what to look for, they would see the amazing vignettes of different Christmas scenes. To anyone else, it looked like a really cool paint job, and nothing more. Christopher never had to worry about anyone trying to steal the Harley. It would only start for him and him alone.

  Looking back over his shoulder he watched the twinkling lights and fantastical structures that made up Kringle Town slowly fade from view. The sight never failed to make him smile. From his airborne view, all the gingerbread work with its sculpted curves and intricate cuts framed the eaves and doorways gave the appearance of a frosted winter wonderland that dotted and decorated the snowline like glittered icing on a cake. Kringle Town had been the place he had grown up in and would always think fondly of.

  Once he was a few miles away, having sensed his departure, the cloaking dome above the town would automatically closed, hiding and protecting Kringle Town from the non-believers of humankind, forever preserving and sheltering the beloved place of magic and dreams for the children of the world.

  Chapter One

  December 5th—The Town of Wadeville

  Doctor Christopher Kringle looked around at the meager items that dwelled in the room he called a doctor's lounge. He had to confess it really wasn't a lounge per se but more like a room with a few appliances and a couple of old chairs surrounding a round wooden table with a scuffed and age-scarred surface that revealed it had seen better days. A couple of dog-eared medical magazines were scattered here and there, adding a little color to the otherwise drab room.

  The normally sterile white walls had been decorated with pictures of different scenes of the town and some of Christopher's achievements in the community. Now, the lounge
was ornamented with the abundant colors of Christmas, giving the room warmth and a touch of holiday cheer.

  A Christmas tree the residents of Wadeville brought in and lovingly decorated filled one corner. Strands of garland with gold bows were strung along the walls adding a touch of greenery. Tiny blinking lights were hung to flicker around the two windows in the room, framing them with the brilliance of their twinkling glow. The residents had even added their version of snow by spraying the windows to resemble frosted panes of glass.

  The likelihood of having snow in Wadeville, with its elevation, was a rare occurrence. It was said to have snowed there once about fifteen years ago. The residents were hopeful every year that it would snow on Christmas, and really so was Christopher. Snow reminded him of home where it was Christmas every day.

  Strung at eye level, Christmas cards from patients and town folks also graced the walls. Christopher smiled at the exuberance of the town's people when they had come in to decorate, that crisp December morning a week ago. They played Christmas songs and sang carols as they decorated. They adorned every room and even the hallway in the downstairs of the clinic, but the doctor's lounge was the only room where Christopher got to stop and enjoy the holiday spirit their work evoked. Yep, he was a lucky man to have found this quaint and loving community that supported him one hundred percent.

  He lived upstairs, which took up the whole upper floor of the building, and he really hadn't done much in the way of décor, except for his toys. The apartment looked like a bachelor pad, complete with the newest electronic gadgets and a leather sofa with a matching recliner. When he sat in front of all that wizardry while he watched TV or listened to his favorite country western singer croon out another lover gone astray song, he wanted for nothing. He hadn't gotten much time to relax lately.

  Business was booming in Wadeville. How they managed before he came here was still a mystery to him.

  The clinic was a labor of Christopher's love. Taking a large older home, he turned it into the only medical facility in the small foothill community. He settled here two years ago while on a road trip to nowhere in particular and came across the tight knit community who welcomed him with open arms. The closest hospital was twenty-five miles away and they needed a town doctor desperately. He couldn't be happier here, he thought, running a hand through his hair. Man, he needed a haircut.

  Walking over to the coffee pot, he poured a hot cup of steaming coffee, pulled out a chair and sat down. Stretching his legs out in front of him, he took a sip of coffee and leaned his head back to try to stretch out his tight neck muscles and relax for a few moments, letting the calm of the late night settle into his weary bones.

  It had been a busy week and now that it was the weekend it didn't look like the pace would be letting up. He'd just gotten through stitching up poor Joe Potter's hand, cut while out chopping wood, and then he had to give little Tommy Brown a tetanus shot after the boy stepped on a rusty nail.

  Christopher could just make out his only nurse, Janice Marks, muttering into the phone down the hall from the lounge. He'd been lucky to find a registered nurse in this sleepy little foothill town. Janice was a short, round woman in her early fifties, with gray hair and motherly appeal. She had a soft-spoken voice that the patients found comforting. Behind her bespectacled, kind blue eyes lay a woman with a steel-trap mind and quick wit that he never underestimated and could always rely on in an emergency. Her endless energy was a godsend to Christopher. Janice was his steadfast rock and he wouldn't know what to do without her.

  Christopher knew something was up when he heard her say, “I'll tell Doctor Kringle right away."

  Then, he heard the swooshing sound of her crisp white nurse's uniform as she quickly made her way toward the lounge, stopping in the doorway to address him. “Doctor Kringle, we have an incoming patient who was involved in a motorcycle accident."

  She was also very proper; Christopher couldn't get her to call him by his first name if his life depended on it. “I'm right behind you, Janice,” he responded, his tone haggard from little sleep. He noted her frown of concern, cleared his throat and reached over, patting her lightly on the shoulder, “I'm fine Janice. Be right there."

  One slightly gray eyebrow rose over the top her glasses as if to say, I worry about you, but, without saying anything, she turned on her heels, leaving him in a cloud of her invisible energy to ready a room for their newest patient.

  "No rest for the wicked,” he muttered, rolling his shoulders and snapping his neck side to side.

  Taking one last energizing gulp of the coffee, Christopher pushed himself up from the chair, took a deep breath, and walked out of the solitude of the lounge. He made his way to the area the incoming accident victim would be brought to, hoping and praying this injury, wouldn't require an emergency airlift. Whatever it would turn out to be, he would not be getting to bed anytime soon, that was for sure.

  * * * *

  Candi Kane could feel the vibration of the motorcycle's engine through the leather seat firmly situated between her legs, as she sped down the main street of a town called Wadeville. She had glimpsed a sign back on the highway and decided she would stop there and rest for the night. As the crisp December air blew around her in icy tendrils the deserted street fled by, giving Candi the feeling of complete freedom.

  She loved nothing better than something hard and fast between her legs. This beat riding men—well almost. Nothing felt quite as good as a long, hard cock tunneling in and out of her for hours on end, with her legs wrapped around a lean pair of thrusting hips.

  For heaven's sake, she was hornier than hell. She needed to keep her mind on the road and off what was currently not going on between her legs. She had something powerful under her right now that needed her full attention and she certainly should not be thinking about sex.

  And then it happened.

  A car pulled out in front of her, causing her to take quick action. “Oh, holy shit!” she yelled into the wind, cold air filling her mouth. The motorcycle swerved wildly. Her heart raced uncontrollably and numb fear flooded through her body. Candi managed to avoid hitting the car, but over corrected the motorcycle. It tilted madly to one side as it fell, tipping onto her.

  Excruciating pain ripped through Candi as the heavy weight of the machine slammed her to the ground, sandwiching her between it and the blacktop. The asphalt acted like a grater grinding away at the leg of her black leather pants.

  It all seemed to happen in slow motion, and yet she was unable to control her next movement or thought. Her helmet struck the road with a resounding crack, and darkness closed in around her as if a black velvet cape had been dropped over her eyes cutting off her vision.

  The last thing Candi remembered before unconsciousness swept through her was her father's voice inside her head screaming her name. "Candi, what's wrong? I sense fear within you and darkness is closing my mental path to you. What's wrong? Talk to me!"

  * * * *

  Christopher's body tightened in readiness as soon as he heard the sound of the incoming ambulance's siren, his first clue the impending patient was here. He hurried, with Janice right on his heels, through the double metal doors where all emergencies were brought in. He could see the red and white lights flashing and twirling on the roof of the ambulance working in tandem with the siren as it rounded the corner and turned into the driveway of the medical facility, stopping directly in front of them.

  The ambulance driver, Danny Miller, had been driving the local ambulance for the last year. The young man was dependable and quick, which was needed in his field of work. Danny dropped by on occasion just to admire Christopher's Harley. He called it a sweet ride, but a lot of things were ‘sweet’ to this kid. If only Danny knew just how ‘sweet’ his Harley really was, magic and all.

  Christopher, with Janice right by his side, watched Danny jump out of the ambulance, slamming the driver's door as soon as his feet hit the ground. With lightening speed he had the back doors of the ambulance open and was t
aking the patient out. The wheels of the portable gurney made a clanking sound as Danny pushed a lever to bring it up to waist height, then secured and locked the expansion mechanism into place before pushing the gurney into the building.

  The first thing Christopher noticed about his newest patient was how small and fragile she looked, covered up and strapped down to the board having her head immobilized.

  It was hard to tell what she looked like, with her long blond hair wildly arranged around her tiny face, a face that was almost as white as the sheet that covered her. By her head was the helmet she had worn, thank goodness. It was a mess. The face shield was completely torn away and there were deep scratches and missing paint from most of its left side. Even the chinstrap was missing. She had definitely taken a nasty spill.

  Christopher's soft heart went out to the injured young lady. He hated to see anyone suffer, but now he had a job to do. Time to get to it.

  As they started working on her, Christopher heard Janice chuckle quietly. With his head still down, he just had to find out what tickled her. “Okay Janice, what tickled your funny bone?"

  Janice pointed to the medical chart she had started on the young lady. “You are never going to believe what her name is. It is just too precious.” A genuine smile lit up her face as she waited to see if Christopher would bite.

  "Haven't a clue. What is it, pray tell?"

  "Candi Kane. Get it? We are in the month of December with Christmas just around the corner, and we have a patient with the name of Candi Kane. How coincidental is that and with you being Doctor Chris Kringle?"

  Yeah, how coincidental was that when you are the son of freaking Santa Claus. Christopher mentally rolled his eyes. “Yeah, that is wild, Janice,” he replied never missing a beat.

  Why did he have this funny feeling in his gut that this woman named Candi Kane would somehow alter his life? No more time to think right now, he had to keep his mind on business and get this young lady back on the road to recovery. He pushed the thought to the back of his mind and his professional expertise took over.