I watched for a while, hypnotized by the whirring and clanging, when all of the elves suddenly gathered near the end of the line. A final present reached the labeling station, and once it had its label, the machine was turned off and everything fell silent. The elf with the master list double-checked the label, nodded triumphantly, and carried it to a bin marked New Zealand. He placed it gently on top of the pile of presents, smiled broadly, and then stepped back. I heard in my head: The last toy! The elves clapped, a soft pitter-patter of delicate hands. Some hugged. One even danced a jig. A year’s work, finally complete, with only hours to spare. The elves, it seemed, were ready for Christmas.
The gnawing in my gut began during dinner. The time drew near for Santa and the Defenders to leave, and I couldn’t quit thinking about Grandmother’s prediction that the Masked Man was about to try something. I had moved past pouting and now was in full-fledged Worry Mode. Throughout my two weeks at the North Pole, I had placed Christmas Eve on a back shelf in my mind, kind of like when you know a dentist’s appointment is coming and there’s going to be drilling involved. You try hard not to dwell on it. But the day had finally come, and all I could think about was the danger they faced, the Masked Man out there, waiting.
After dinner I sat on the front porch swing and watched the final preparations. The elves tethered the reindeer to the sleigh and loaded Santa’s initial batch of presents high on the back. Another elf with a list checked off names as Santa’s sack was filled. The Defenders inspected the bridles on their reindeer, and I thought of Ramon and how he’d never see another Christmas, never see another Three Kings Day in the Dominican Republic. I tried to push those sad thoughts away and focus on the Defenders. Some had saddles, others rode bareback, depending on their skill as a rider. Dad preferred no saddle, and though I was frightened for him, I watched with pride as he consulted with Santa over every detail. Santa trusted him and depended on him.
Mr. Winters noticed me sitting on the swing and strolled over. “Good evening, m’lady.”
“Hi,” I said unenthusiastically. I rocked slowly, the swing squeaking in a gentle rhythm.
“So rumor has it you’re an elf,” Mr. Winters said and laughed. “I must say, m’lady, that caught me by surprise.”
“Well, part elf, I guess. And a bunch of generations removed.”
“Ah, but that explains so much. It appears your Defender and elf blood make for a powerful mix.”
“Then why can’t I go? I’m worried about you all. I’m worried about Dad.”
Mr. Winters sat on the swing beside me. “He loves you, Carol,” he said softly. “He worships the ground you walk on. He wants to protect you.”
I sighed. “I know.”
“I will watch out for him, m’lady. That will be my sacred mission.” Mr. Winters leaned closer. “You want to know a secret?”
I nodded.
“I’ve never told this to another soul.” He looked around to see if any Defenders were listening. “The reason I do the whole ‘m’lady’ and ‘m’lord’ thing is that I think of the Defenders as knights, like King Arthur’s Knights of the Round Table. Only Santa is our king. Is that weird?”
“Maybe a little,” I said and smiled at him. “And you call everybody m’lord and m’lady.”
He smiled back. “Just habit, I guess. So then, m’lady, I want you to consider me a gallant knight who is forever in your service.” Mr. Winters got up and knelt before me as a knight would before his queen.
I couldn’t help but giggle. He was the oddest person I’d ever met, but I really cared about him and he really cared about me. I grabbed my cane, standing to play along, and announced, “I hereby knight you Sir Winters of the North Pole!” I tapped him lightly on the shoulder. The cane pulsed, and Mr. Winters jolted. He must have felt the energy coursing through him.
He smiled and said, “You never cease to amaze me, Christmas Carol.” He stood and bowed grandly. “I will not fail you, m’lady. You have my word.” And my gallant knight marched off to battle.
I didn’t want to let my father go. We were hugging just as darkness settled. The pang in my gut had only grown sharper after Santa and all of us Defenders had stood in a circle, holding hands and powering up. As Santa boarded his sleigh and the Defenders saddled up, I clung to Dad.
“Carol, honey, I have to go,” he said gently. “Don’t worry, we’ll be careful. I love you bunches, OK, Angel Butt?” He smiled at me sweetly.
“I love you, too, Daddy.”
He bent down and kissed my cheek. I stepped back and watched him climb onto his reindeer, a powerful animal with a distinctive white spot around his left eye. Mrs. Claus materialized beside me and put her arm around my shoulder. I wondered how many times she had watched her husband fly off on Christmas Eve. He had always returned safe and sound. I had to have faith that this time would be no different.
“Ready, Defenders?” Santa yelled.
“Ready!” they called in unison, a thunderous response that made me feel better. There was real power in their unity.
“Then away we fly,” Santa called, snapping the reins to his team. The reindeer reared at the crack of leather. Then as one they lunged forward, running hard across the yard and taking off into the night sky. The Defenders followed, each waving. Mr. Winters yelled, “Back soon, m’lady.” My father was the last to go. He blew me a kiss and mouthed the words, “I love you.” I mouthed the same words back, and up he went, soaring into the darkness.
Mrs. Claus squeezed my shoulder. “You want to come inside for hot cocoa, dear?” she asked. “Or are you going to The Gathering?”
I looked at her, surprised. “How did you know?”
“I thought they might invite you. The elves seem to have taken a liking to you.”
“What goes on there?” I asked. Grandmother had acted all mysterious, not explaining much about it.
“The elves gather every Christmas Eve. Some send the toys through the portal, working in shifts because it’s a very long night. The others just watch, I think, though I’m not entirely sure. It’s an honor to be invited. I never have been.”
This I knew. Grandmother said some elves objected to my being invited. No human had ever witnessed The Gathering. (“We elves just love the melodramatic names,” she joked, rolling her eyes.) But the elf king and queen had granted special permission for the Gifted One to come. I would report to them at the toy factory, where The Gathering was to take place. “I could ask if you can come, too,” I said to Mrs. Claus.
“No, dear. You go. Tell me all about it afterward. I must say I am curious, but it wouldn’t be right for me to intrude.” She smiled and squeezed my shoulder once more, and we went our separate ways, each of us anticipating a long and nervous night of waiting for the ones we loved.
All the elves in the kingdom—hundreds and hundreds of them—must have been there. Tents had been set up outside the toy factory, and elves gathered around tables filled with every kind of food and drink imaginable. Elf children played games. There was laughter and music and dancing. It was odd to hear such merriment from the elves, who usually communicated so silently. The Gathering was not at all what I had imagined. I had pictured a solemn event; this was a party.
Some of the elves noticed my arrival, and the whispers began. I suspected not all of them had gotten the message that I could hear their thoughts. What’s she doing here? Who invited her? No humans allowed! Or maybe they knew about my ability and wanted me to hear. Grandmother certainly heard. She suddenly appeared, loud and angry in my head and theirs. BE QUIET, ALL OF YOU! I INVITED HER. The voices ceased. I saw bowed heads and sheepish looks. Grandmother led me into the heart of The Gathering. Don’t mind them, she said. She raised her voice again—or however you would describe making her telepathy louder. THEY’RE SILLY CREATURES WHO CAN’T DEAL WITH THE SLIGHTEST BIT OF CHANGE!
“I don’t want to cause any trouble,” I said aloud.
“Nonsense. You are my guest. And if what I suspect is true, by the end of the n
ight they will be happy you’re here.”
“What do you mean?”
“Never mind that now. Are you hungry?” I shook my head no. With my stomach so tied in knots, I couldn’t imagine putting food into it. “All right then. To the portal we go. The king and queen await.”
We walked along the edge of the factory where I’d watched the final toys come off the assembly line, and when we rounded the corner, I was stunned to see what most definitely had not been there a few hours before. At the end of the building, where the doors were flung wide open to bring out the bins of packages, stood a massive structure made of ice. It looked sort of like one of those magnifying mirrors you see in hotel bathrooms. There were two columns of thick ice on each side, and hanging in the middle was a giant circle of ice. Where the mirror would have been was empty air. “The portal vessel,” Grandmother said.
Beside the vessel stood two stunningly beautiful creatures with long, white hair that flowed around their red robes. Their faces were as pale as the moon and glowed just as brightly, more so than any of the elves I had encountered. Their eyes were blue ice, cold and deep and full of mystery. If you want the truth, they scared me a little. They wore no crowns, but I guessed who they were before Grandmother said: My king, my queen, I present to you the Gifted One.
They were so beautiful that I wasn’t sure which was which. The elf on the right was larger, his face slightly more masculine, so I assumed he had to be the king. But it was the queen who addressed me first, stepping forward. Come closer, my child. Her voice in my head was soft and kind, and when she smiled, her beauty made me tremble. A power radiated from her, an inner strength. As I stepped toward her, I wondered what it would be like to be such an extraordinary creature.
But you are, my child, the queen said. And what’s within you is more powerful than you can ever know.
I don’t feel that way, I said, chagrined that I had revealed my thoughts to her.
Then you are foolish, she said, not unkindly. Always remember that you are an extraordinary girl who will grow to be an extraordinary woman. You are the master of your fate.
I bowed awkwardly, and Grandmother gave her usual grunt. “Too old to bow,” she grumbled.
We are about to begin, Carol, the king said. We are honored to have the Gifted One at The Gathering. It is the culmination of our yearlong purpose, a celebration of all we’ve accomplished and the joy we help spread around the world.
“Cool,” I responded, unsure of what to say but pretty sure that wasn’t it.
The king smiled. Yes, very cool. He turned to the giant ice structure. The queen walked to the other side of it. Massive bins of gifts had been pulled close by the reindeer, each of them being ridden by an elf. The bins nearest to the structure were marked NEW ZEALAND, where night first fell on the earth. The king raised his hands. The queen raised hers, too. The Gathering fell silent. The elves closed their eyes, even Grandmother. I started to but changed my mind. I wanted to see what was happening. I was of no help anyway, since I didn’t have a clue what they were about to do. Once again, the Useless One. There was a low hum, and I realized it came from the elves, their voices one long, drawn-out note. The hum never paused, and I wondered how they were able to maintain that note and still breathe.
Electricity crackled in the air. What looked like tiny bolts of lightning shot across the empty space of the ice circle. The humming grew louder. The air in the circle flickered and pulsed. An image began to form. The humming was so loud it began to hurt my ears. I put my hands up to cover them, and just like that, the humming stopped, the elves’ eyes popped open in unison, the king and queen put down their hands, and there was Santa, as plain as if he were right in front of us. The Defenders flew in formation around the sleigh. The image drew close, as if we were looking through a video camera and someone was pressing ZOOM. I caught a glimpse of my father, then Mr. Winters. None of them seemed aware they were being watched. Santa glanced toward us and gave a slight nod. Our view swung around to the back of the sleigh where two elves were perched next to the stacks of presents. The image zoomed in tight on the elves and that’s where it stayed. One of the elves waved. The king waved back. He turned to the elves who were on the reindeer pulling the bins, motioning for them to spur the deer close to the portal. Then we waited.
I watched, fascinated by the idea that Santa was on the other side of the world, somewhere over New Zealand, and the elves were about to hand him packages. So cool! I heard Santa say, “Whoa!” and the sleigh bumped to a stop. I turned to Grandmother and said, I thought you couldn’t hear through a portal.
This is The Gathering portal. Only through our combined powers can we create one this strong.
The elves with Santa asked, Ready? Then an answer. Ready! And a group of elves on our side lined up and began passing presents from one to the next, the elf standing closest to the portal tossing the package through. I noticed he kept well back. He can’t reach in? I asked.
He would be pulled through to where Santa is. And portals are one way, so if he tried to come back through, he’d be sucked into oblivion, which would be rather unfortunate.
It was the strangest thing, watching the packages being transported. The elf would toss the present in, and the eyes of the elf on the other side would follow the flight of the package. There would be a three-second pause, and then he’d reach out and catch it. Again and again, an elf would toss from our side, three-second delay, catch. Toss, delay, catch. We watched for what seemed like an eternity. There would be breaks while Santa traveled to his next stop. The elves doing the tossing would get a drink, and maybe a piece of candy or a cookie. But then it would start all over again, more bins rolled out and more toys tossed through.
After a while, if you must know, I got bored, my legs cramping from standing still so long. I wondered how Grandmother could endure it, as old as she was. Naturally, she heard my thoughts, and I was embarrassed. I’m fine, my sweet. We’re built for this. Time moves much slower for us. Go get yourself a treat. But stay close. I may need you.
For what?
Just do as I ask, please. Her voice sounded impatient, and I cringed. I must concentrate, she said, gentler this time.
OK, I said. I made my way through the elves. Except for the ones unloading the toys, not a single elf moved. Every elf at The Gathering stood and stared at the portal, as if hypnotized. Honestly, it creeped me out. They looked like they were in some kind of trance and didn’t act like they even knew I was there.
I meandered back to where the food was set up. In our visits, Grandmother had offered an array of elfin treats. “Sweets for my sweet,” she would say. My favorite was a gummy-like candy, always red or green, that she jokingly called “our power pills.” They did seem to give you a burst of energy, and, obviously, I liked the colors. It was going to be a long night, so I grabbed a handful and stuffed them into my jacket pocket.
I wandered over to a seat that resembled a lounge lawn chair but was made of ice and gave me a clear view of the portal. I leaned back and popped a few “power pills,” which made me feel warm and fuzzy, instead of giving me an energy boost. I laid my cane across my lap and watched the portal, hoping to catch a glimpse of my father or Mr. Winters. But all I could see was the endless parade of presents. My eyes grew heavy. I shook myself a few times, trying to stay awake for whatever task Grandmother would ask of me. But I didn’t hold out long. Like children all over the world on Christmas Eve, I drifted off to sleep.
The next thing I knew I was startled awake by a horrible sound, a wrenching in my mind, like tearing metal. I sat up in a panic and wiped drool from the corner of my mouth. It took a second to remember where I was. But when I did, what I saw horrified me. As far as the eye could see, elves lay motionless. And silent. The portal was gone. The bins of toys sat lined up, one after the other, the reindeer waiting patiently to be guided. But no elves were awake to do so. Even the king and queen lay sprawled on the ground. Were they unconscious? Dead? I leaped to my feet, the cane clat
tering to the ground. I reached down to pick it up and heard a faint voice in my head, Carol, my child. Help.
I raced to where Grandmother lay among the elves. “Oh, no!” I said, my voice piercing the silence like a gunshot. I squatted next to her. “Are you hurt? What happened?”
“He came,” Grandmother said weakly, and I didn’t have to ask who. The Masked Man. “He destroyed the portal. He cut us off.” I helped her sit up.
“What about Dad? Santa?”
“I don’t know. I heard screams, so I disengaged from the portal. I sensed what was coming. The rest …” she looked at the downed elves, “ … they were all connected when the portal was destroyed. It was too much for them.” The elves were breathing, but their eyes were wide open, as if in shock.
“What do we do?” I asked.
“Not me. You.” She pointed to my cane. “Use it. Make a portal. Go to them.”
I looked at where the portal had been and at the stunned elves, and that gnawing in my gut spread through my body. I felt like I might be sick. “But I’m afraid,” I said. For all my begging of my father to take me with them, for all the boasting I had done to Grandmother that I was ready, now that the reality of the Masked Man was before me, my body trembled.
“You should be, my sweet,” Grandmother said softly. “But still you must go. They need you.” She pointed to the ice ring. “Think of your father. Your connection with him is the strongest. Then focus the energy into the cane and point it toward the vessel. I will help as best I can.”
I nodded and stood. I closed my eyes and held the cane in front of me. I thought of my dad and him teasing me and calling me Angel Butt. I imagined the feel of his arms when he hugged me goodbye. I pictured him mouthing the words, “I love you,” as he flew off. A tear rolled down my cheek. I whispered, “I love you, too,” trying to tap into the deep power of my emotion. I could feel the energy gathering, like storm clouds in my mind, stronger than I’d ever felt, even stronger than when I destroyed that poor pine tree in the field. I opened my eyes and aimed the cane at the center of the ring, keeping Dad’s face in my mind. For good measure, I thought of Mr. Winters and him together, two men I knew as well as any on Earth. The ring pulsed with electricity, the air shimmering. The image slowly came into focus, and what I saw was terrifying. The Masked Man gazed back at me, directly into the portal. Santa and his sleigh were in the background. The enemy hovered on his flying machine. His body convulsed with rage at the sight of me, and he aimed his staff in my direction. “Now, Carol!” Grandmother screamed, and I ran as hard as I could toward the portal, closed my eyes, and dove through. Only then did it occur to me that I had no reindeer.
Christmas Carol & the Defenders of Claus Page 12
