“We can help each other,” she said.
He looked away. “And what do you need?”
“I have a problem.” She sighed deeply. “Only you can solve it.”
She wished to move closer to him, to shed her cloak and take his hands. He had turned a shade paler and his mouth was dry. He tried to swallow. She was certain he could handle the truth, but he was beginning to teeter.
He turned his back on her. For a moment, she thought he would storm out of the lab and take his daughter directly to the boat. She would not stop him. It was a risk, but he had to choose to stay. She wasn’t running a prison.
Except for Nicholas.
That was a different story, but not really. He would understand what she was doing and eventually choose to stay. He just needed a little convincing.
He paced around the room with that charming mannerism of rubbing his chin while he went into laser focus. His secret grew heavier with every year. The miser offered to free him. But as much as he wanted to be free from his lies, the truth was even scarier.
It could destroy everything he loved.
“If we’re to go forward”—he stopped in front of her—“I need to see you.”
This was unexpected.
She was braced for his rejection, not a challenge. She’d made him vulnerable; now he expected the same. He wanted her to reveal her true self.
“You’re not ready.” She stepped out of the snow globe.
Her robe was smoldering. Prickly heat stabbed the back of her neck. Pressure filled her chest. Regret transformed into anger. The furniture began to chatter; her cloak began to sizzle. Her emotions trickled into her belly like molten metal. The windows billowed and the air wavered.
Then shredded the cloak.
The third floor was built to withstand her meltdowns. She was exposed for no one to see. She grabbed another cloak from an unending supply. She yearned to be free, to show Naren—anyone—her true self, but there was no solution to what afflicted her. It was too late to change now.
They were both on the naughty list.
She left Naren on the second floor, where he would explore the lab and consider her offer. There was other business for her to attend. She went to the first floor, where her other guest was shivering.
It was time to let him out.
CLAUS
18
Night was perpetual.
There were stars but no Northern Lights. Claus had spent the majority of his life living on the ice. The cold was his companion, the snow warmed his heart. But without the elven, without his wife, it was just a lonely sky.
The hardest part was the unknown.
How was Jessica handling his absence? Were the reindeer safe? These were the things he pondered, occasionally nodding off into dreamless sleep. Time limped along, wounded and sore.
And then the lights went out.
The stars, the moon, the village and valley flickered out. Darkness was all around. Claus waited.
“Are you comfortable?” Her voice echoed from the dark.
The room was filled with the crackle of the fire. Claus remained still. Nothing moved. The silence stretched into minutes. Perhaps he imagined her voice; the conversation was just a dream. Sometimes he wondered if any of this was real.
A latch gave way.
The outline of a doorway seemed to hover in the dark. Gray light spilled into the room. The sound of rustling fabric preceded a cloaked figure.
She stepped into the opening with a pink little dog in each arm, each with a ribbon around their necks like squirming Christmas presents.
“Come.” She stepped aside.
He hesitated. This could be a trick. The doorway could be another illusion. That wasn’t another world out there, just more projections. But something was different this time.
It smelled alive.
The dogs growled as he stood up. Cautiously, he approached. The doorway seemed so far away. He stopped just short of it and reached out. When his hand didn’t bump into an illusion, he stepped through it.
The earth was beneath his boots.
Greenery was all around. The moon was above, the sky an untouchable ceiling. The air was humid on his face and sweet in his nostrils. He gulped another breath and held it. The stars were bright and numerous. They used to guide him on the seas when he was a young man. They were his map when the reindeer soared above the clouds.
Now they were so far away.
“They can’t see you.” Her voice was dampened and distant. “The island is virtually invisible.”
A slight glow was deep inside the hood, like embers in a dying fire. The dogs bared their teeth. He wondered if that was really her. The room had warped his senses, made him doubt what he was seeing and hearing.
“Lose the coat, Nicholas. You don’t need it anymore. Lose the hat and boots and the gloves and scarf... all of it.”
She squeezed the dogs. Her hands were hidden in gray gloves. Her clothing appeared thicker than his.
“You won’t be the jolly fat man for long. You’re going to be the happy skinny man, Nicholas. Haven’t you heard, there’s an obesity epidemic. You don’t smoke that pipe anymore, so why not shed the weight.”
He’d never smoked. The image of him sucking on a corncob pipe was fabricated by calendar makers and storytellers.
“The kids are going to love the new and improved Santa Claus. Imagine a festive overcoat and a stylish cap without all those whiskers hiding that handsome face. Come along.” She pointed at a vehicle. “We have a lot to see.”
He opened the coat. He was already heavy with heat and exhaustion. A drop of sweat trickled to the end of his bulbous nose.
“If you don’t mind, I’d rather walk.”
She considered his request while massaging her little dogs with fingers and thumbs, then took the lead around the glassy tower. The cloak swept the ground. Occasionally, her toes would slip past the hem.
They were as red as his coat.
HE WAS QUICKLY OUT of breath.
The air was so thick and humid and his boots so heavy. He stripped off the coat and folded it over his arm. They walked for several minutes before stopping. A building was nestled in trees and covered in lights. She described it as a dormitory. The next stop was a library then a cafeteria and even a nursery.
“We’re very child-oriented,” she said.
“Why?”
“Nicholas, you of all people should understand—”
“Why are you showing me this?”
She chuckled sweetly. Briefly, a light brightened the inside of the cowl. “Isn’t it obvious?”
This was an empty village waiting to be filled. She was selling him an idea. He was going to be the happy skinny man. He didn’t need the whiskers, he needed to be cool.
This is for the elven.
She continued her stroll down a very narrow path. Every once in a while, she would look behind them. She finally put the dogs down and scratched their chins. He expected them to gnaw on his pant leg. Instead, they scurried into the trees. They would be nothing more than a snack to something that lived in a jungle.
They rounded the next corner to the sound of brass horns and jingle bells. Thankfully, the only reindeer with jingling bells were mechanical ones. Candy canes led to a giant set of doors. A train looped in circles around a sand sculpture of Claus on his throne and children gathered around with presents and candy. The conductor was a mechanical elven waving out the window.
“Surprise!”
Her gloves were thick enough to suit a welder. When she took his hands, her hands were hot as coals. He could see the faint outline of her chin, the structure of her cheeks. And an eerie glow.
The hangar doors popped open and began to slide apart. A cold gust of air wheezed through the burgeoning crack. Specks of confetti flew out. There was singing. It was a group of distinctive voices that Claus had known most of his life. He shivered.
An elven’s voice was unmistakable.
She strode into t
he widening doorway with arms thrown open, hooking her arm through his when he didn’t follow. Confetti stuck to his face and melted.
Snow.
A full-blown snowstorm was inside the building with snowflakes so big he couldn’t see the ceiling. They piled up in thick blankets. Claus felt his boots adjust to ice, the soles extending short spikes to keep from slipping. There were conveyors and stampers and haulers and handlers and stickers and packers and folders in aisles and rows and boxes. Gears were grinding and hydraulics wheezing. Gift wrapping and bows and shiny paper and gifts of all colors and sizes.
“Welcome to the new North Pole!”
Something beamed bright and happy inside the deep cowl. A halo hovered around her. He couldn’t quite understand what it was until he noticed the puddle around her feet.
The snowflakes were melting around her.
“Don’t say anything,” she said. “Not a word. Just soak it in.”
Platforms hovered above them; skyboxes were somewhere near the ceiling with black windows overlooking the floor. And beneath the industrial grind of mechanical production, the song continued.
Santa Claus is coming to town...
“The world’s greatest fabricator. We can double the North Pole’s production, Nicholas. Just imagine, double stacks of presents all over the world. We’re taking Christmas to a whole new level.”
The snow had piled up. His boots were specially crafted, the soles outfitted with nonslip grippers that would slide forward if he pushed ahead and grab the ice when he stopped. He could easily outpace her, but where would he go? This was beyond what he thought possible. And he was Santa Claus.
She brought the North Pole inside.
She wanted to move them to this island. The ice was melting, she had said. They would be discovered on the North Pole and she was just trying to help. This was what she was talking about. It was all about this.
“Why didn’t you just ask?” he said.
“Pardon?”
“You could have come to us. We could have sat down and discussed what you’re doing. My wife is worried; the elven are frightened. They don’t know where I am, if I’m safe, or what happened. The pain you’ve caused, all for this. It could have been avoided if you’d just reached out and asked.”
Her arms slowly lowered. “I did ask.”
The smell of smoke cut through the cold air. A wisp of fog escaped her sleeves and oozed from the brightening cowl.
“You ignored me, Nicholas. I sent letter after letter after letter and they ended up on the slush pile with all the others. You didn’t think I was serious, you didn’t believe me. You didn’t listen!”
A puddle grew around her.
“You thought I was just another needy one of them that wanted something from you when I was trying to help you, Nicholas. I’m trying to help you and you didn’t listen! Do you hear me now? Do you understand? This is not a negotiation. This has to happen and I’ve explained why; it is all very plain and simple. You are moving here. You and all the little ones are coming to Christmas Island.”
A wave of heat pushed against him. A sheet of rain turned the snow to slush. Steam rose from the floor.
“This is a place of happiness, of giving,” she said super sweetly. “Don’t you see? All the effort I’ve made and your having to think about it is a little insulting, Nicholas. A little bit. I’m trying to help you off that melting ice cap; I’m offering you my home to make this world a better place!”
She turned around. Her back to him, smoke hissed from beneath the cloak. She took a deep breath. It sounded like steam escaping a boiler.
The rain stopped and the snowflakes resumed. The puddle was beginning to freeze around his boots.
When she faced him, the light inside the cowl had dimmed. A few wisps of smoke curled out of her sleeves. A trace of sulfur was in the air.
“I’ll come back for you in a few days. You will stay here and explore till your heart is bursting with contentment, do you understand? You will keep an open mind and think of the world. Think of your family. Think of all the children who are counting on you.”
The dogs came running toward them, tongues dragging. Their paws were dirty. They bounded through the deep snow. She swept them up and squeezed them tight. They sort of purred like cats.
“Don’t try to escape,” she said. “There are things on the island we can talk about later.”
Snow was blowing through the wide-open doors and melting before hitting the ground. The train passed the opening, the mechanical elven waving. Her footsteps squished with each step. Holes in the ice appeared from beneath her cloak.
“Don’t worry,” she said, “you won’t be lonely.”
Her laughter could be heard over the closing doors. Behind him, the song grew louder. The voices chorused in harmony. What he had previous mistaken for overhead conveyors had turned to icy belts, and down them, one by one, fat little elven slid. Their mouths were open as they sang their song with big round bellies and thick beards. Their bare feet, large as paddles, expertly guided them down the ramps.
Hundreds of them weaved together and around the floor, their voices rising above the clatter. This was how the island had been built. This was how she’d done it. But where did they come from? These were exactly like his family except for one decisive difference.
They aren’t elven.
TRIPLETS
19
A dark object soared over the mountain range.
It dropped like a meteor then glided toward a sprawling white building tucked into the foothills. Legs extended, the galloping of hooves slowly descended into a wide courtyard.
Three elven tumbled off the back of the snorting reindeer. Dane, Duke and Deke rolled in unison. They stood back to back to back beneath their travel companion’s nose.
Images of the Southern California home scrolled in their vision. The remains of grapevines lined the landscape. Wind turbines stood on the distant mountainside. Blades that once churned in the downdraft now stood still.
The house was a very modern, very private abode that was narrow and long. Two wings bracketed a courtyard of weeds that was once a finely manicured panel of turf. The walls were mostly glass. Strands of dead lights were wrapped around posts and dangled from the eves. Some had pooled on the ground like discarded rope.
It was dark inside.
They let their instrumentation collect data before offering the reindeer food. There were no indications of a human pulse in the vicinity, no recent tracks or heat signatures or elevated pockets of carbon dioxide. Their journey had been long and arduous. Despite the urgency, they avoided the timesnapper for now. They had reached their limits.
In regular time, they worked fast.
Duke and Deke went to opposite ends of the building. Dane stood at the back door. A circular weave of branches was attached to the glass with a faded bow. It had probably looked festive, once upon a time.
It was a sliding door with a touchpad lock. He placed a disk on the black panel. Red lights circulated around it. A few moments later, they turned blue.
The door slid halfway open.
Dane stepped through a cobweb. Without the aid of moon and stars, he reached into one of many pockets and retrieved an object the size of a gumdrop. It levitated from his gloved palm. Imbedded lenses snicked over his eyes.
The room was bathed in a strange light.
There were no neighbors to see him, no passersby to witness the intrusion. If someone should spy them with a telescope, they would not see the infrared gumdrop or the elven it followed.
The décor was as modern as the architecture. Abstract paintings hung on the wall; sculpture was displayed in the center hallway. Dust had settled like a morning flurry.
Dane reached into his bag. This time he threw a handful of particles into the air. The sandy material sparkled as it spread out but never hit the floor. It gathered around him like a cloud of tiny insects. As he took a step inside, they covered his tracks and neutralized any trace of eviden
ce—every shed skin cell or follicle of hair.
There was a magazine left open on the couch. A coffee mug was on the table, a dark stain on the bottom. A ten-foot-tall Christmas tree was centered in the room. Garland sagged on the barren branches. A few ornaments were still attached, but many had shattered on the floor.
Faded gifts were piled around it.
Duke’s and Deke’s viewpoints were displayed on each side of his vision. Duke was looking at a room with a large hospital bed. The sheets were bunched up and the railing on one side folded down. The bedside tables were cluttered but not with medicine bottles. It was canisters and patches and injection guns, the kind of spent technology more likely to be found in a lab than a bedroom.
Deke was in the kitchen. There were curious markings on the door. A handprint was scarred on the touchpad panel. The door had since been secured with a padlock. Nothing Deke couldn’t pick.
The same handprint was branded on cabinets and one on the counter. The refrigerator was left open. Wrappings were tattered on the shelves along with mice droppings. The handle was broken in half.
Dane ventured down the hallway. The swishing of the track dusters followed him into an office. The blinds were drawn. The gumdrop light turned the walls shades of gray. A peculiar aroma hung in the room, like a volcano had burped through the vents.
The chair was pushed back from the desk. The padding was gone. The leather had been seared off. The edges were curled and clumping. Lifeless monitors were on the wall. A keyboard lay upside down. The keys were melted and the mouse disfigured. There was a deep handprint on the desk.
It looked like a brand.
Dane pulled a black cube from his pocket and placed it on the computer. A green light began flashing. The cube powered up the dormant computer. Dane unplugged the monitor before it cast light across the room.
While the black cube downloaded the computer files, he looked through family photos standing in formation. They were mostly taken on vacations where the sun was bright, the sand was warm and the water blue. They were smiling—the woman with her son.
Rise of the Miser: Claus, #5 Page 12
