The Santa Society

by Kristine McCord

  I blink at him.

  Still nothing.

  He’s serious.

  “You’re the Santa Claus.”

  “I am.”

  “And you have other Santa Clauses underneath you, but you’re the big guy, the top dog.”

  “That’s right. They’re my helpers. I can’t visit everyone who needs me in just one night. I only have so much magic.”

  “And I descend from a helper.”

  “No, you descend from Santa Claus too. Cassius was the big guy once. He didn’t fulfill his term, so my father succeeded him.”

  “How long is a term?”

  “A lifetime.” He clears his throat. “But Cassius resigned. My dad said he did it because he lost the Gift.”

  “Is that what you’ll have to do? Resign?”

  “Maybe, if Cassius won’t back down on this.”

  “When did you know who I was? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I didn’t know until last night.”

  “But you provoked him to say more, like you knew it already.”

  “No, it just made me angry how he downplayed what he did to them. He must’ve assumed I knew about you.”

  I’m glad to know he disagrees with Cassius’ choices, even without knowing they involved my mother. I don’t say this, though. Instead, my thoughts return to the fact that a decision has to be made.

  This couldn’t get more out of control. What he stands to give up, I mean. I turn the ring over in my hand, wishing things could be simple.

  “I know what you’re doing. You’re trying to decide if you’re worth it to me. That’s not fair. Erin, the ring is the real answer to your question. The Gift—this ring—shows us both the truth.”

  “How so?”

  “It’s telling you that you are worth it to me. The Gift won’t oppose free will or harm another—right now that means me too. So it’s for both of us. If I didn’t need you—or if it would do harm to me—it wouldn’t be in your hand right now. You just have to believe, Erin.”

  “So, ‘The Gift’ knows all this stuff.” I wish it made as much sense to me.

  “Yes—because the Giver does. I know it sounds crazy. I just need you to trust me.”

  “I hold a ring in my hand that I imagined in my head. How can any of this be real?”

  “I know it’s hard, but do you believe?”

  “I want to. It’s just so huge. If you lose your position in the Society, what happens to the Gift?”

  His eyes cloud as he looks at the ring. “It would be assumed by my replacement.”

  I slowly begin to realize why The Society exists: to protect the Gift and the people who carry it. I shiver as I consider the possibilities in a world with so much darkness.

  “So what do you plan to do with the ring?”

  I look up and find him smiling at me. “I don’t know.” And I honestly don't. I have an engagement ring from a guy who didn’t give it to me yet, who also—funny thing—turns out to be Santa Claus.

  “Maybe you should wear it. There’s time for belief.”

  I guess he’s got a point.

  I slip it on the finger of my right hand. It fits perfectly.

  A vibrating sound comes from somewhere close by. Reason digs in his pocket and pulls out his cell phone. He swipes his thumb across the screen and reads it.

  His eyes shift to me. “Brice needs me at the Sloon. I’ve to go see what’s going on.” Before I know what’s happening, he’s already on his feet, picking up the plates and containers.

  “The Sloon?” I scramble to help. “What’s that?”

  “The compound you saw yesterday—where my men stay.”

  I snatch up the last napkin and toss it in the empty container of sesame chicken. “Why’s it called that?”

  “Because it’s a saloon.” He gives me a sideways glance and I already see the outline of his grin in profile.

  I throw up my hands. “A saloon? Are you kidding me?”

  He chuckles as he holds out my coat. “Nope. Not kidding. It used to be on Main St. The city planned to tear it down, so I got it dirt cheap. All I had to do was move it.”

  “So Santa’s elves are really cowboys who live in an old brothel? Nice, Reason.”

  His eyes open wide with feigned shock. “I’ll have you know the saloon never, I repeat never, housed a brothel.”

  “And I won’t bother asking how you ‘moved’ it to the ranch.” I shake my head as he finishes pulling my coat up over my shoulders and reaches for his own.

  “The Society has a trucking company.”

  “Of course it does.” I’d pictured something much more theatrical, but this totally fits.

  Chapter 19

  “WHY IS SHE HERE?” Brice eyes me with a cool stare.

  “Because this involves her too. Now mind your manners.” Reason gives him a stern look.

  I sit beside him at the head of the dining table in the Sloon. Brice refuses to sit. He paces the length of the table until Reason says, “Park it. You’re making me nervous.”

  I had no idea Reason has so many helpers. At least twenty more men occupy the remaining seats—way too many for it to be this quiet. I study Dex who sits across from me, looking sober and, I suspect, very hung-over. He rubs his temples and stares at the table.

  Reason holds a letter in his hands, quietly reading. Once his eyes drift down to the final line, he looks up at Brice. “When did you get this?”

  “About 35 minutes ago. Mayor Taylor and Brother Cassius dropped it by.” Brice crosses his arms.

  Reason reads it again. When he finishes, he folds it and shoves it in his back pocket.

  “What’s happening, Boss?” Dex’s face turns another shade of pale.

  “The Elders have invoked a security breach response until further notice. The city has responded by shutting down the tunnels.”

  A wave of shock passes around the table. Then, everyone begins talking at once.

  “What about Christmas?” Dex looks stricken.

  Reason holds up his hand, and the men fall silent.

  “I’ll do everything in my power to ensure Christmas won’t be affected.”

  “What do we do until then?” I can see why Reason chose Dex as his right hand man. He has spirit, and he’s committed.

  “I’ve been placed on leave, pending a disciplinary decision. The notice requires each of you to report to the Council for further direction. You are not to take any further orders from me. I’ve acted without Council vote and violated the alliance with the City.”

  A collective inhale passes through the men.

  “But that’s not true. Cassius took the permits. And the Elders voted to include the reindeer—they approved it,” Dex insists.

  “Not according to Cassius.”

  “It’s my fault, all my fault.” Dex makes a choked sound, looking like he wants to cry.

  “The real problem sits right here at this table.” Brice glowers at me. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

  Heat floods my face. I lift my chin and return his gaze, but I’m stinging from his words.

  Reason’s voice crashes down on him like thunder. “You’ve been with me three years, but you’ll not be here another second if you speak to her that way again. Understood?”

  Brice looks away.

  Reason moves his gaze from face to face around the table of men. “Erin is a direct descendant of the Society bloodlines. In the days of our founders, this would have been enough to invoke the Oath of Honor. I trust you will all treat her with the same level of respect.”

  I want to shrink under the table as the heat of everyone’s eyes presses in on me. Brice jumps to his feet, throws down his hat, and walks out. A door slams a few seconds later.

  Reason turns to the other men. “As the Elders ordered, you are free to go now.”

  No one moves. The room as grown so quiet, I imagine I still hear the drip of the whisky bottle from yesterday.

  Slowly, Dex pushes back from the table and g
ets to his feet. “I can’t leave, Reason. I give you my word, just like I gave it to your father.” He removes his hat and places it over his heart.

  Movement a few seats down draws my attention. Another man rises. He removes his hat. Then, one by one, each man stands, hat to his chest. Then I notice they have all turned their attention to me.

  I glance at Reason. He stands hand over heart, with a solemn intensity that humbles me.

  They begin to speak…in unison:

  We were the wise men in the days of old.

  When the Giver brought Light into the world.

  By his feet we laid our humble gifts.

  At his head we touched our lips

  We bring celebration in remembrance

  Blessings in silence

  Hidden kindnesses in giving

  His light still lives.

  God bless your eyes to see beauty.

  Your ears to hear need

  Your lips to speak truth

  Your heart to love completely

  Your hands to give and serve

  Your feet to walk the path of faith.

  We were the wise men in the days of old

  We live on in the magic of the Gift.

  As though a breeze moves over me, tiny hairs raise and prickle over my entire body. I don’t know what to do. I only know I’ve never been the center of a moment like this. The sense I’ve witnessed something ancient and private leaves me speechless.

  Reason motions for me to rise. I stand to face them, fumbling with my hands. No one speaks. They seem to wait for something, but I don’t know what comes next.

  Finally, Dex leans over and whispers. “Just say ‘Amen’.”

  So I do. “Amen.”

  The men nod and return their hats to their heads.

  Reason winks at me with tears glittering in his eyes.

  Once everyone has taken their seats, he continues. “We’ll carry on—business as usual. We’ll continue to prepare for Christmas. Society code calls for the closure of our end of the tunnels. Dex, I’ll leave that to you. To all of you, I’m deeply honored you’ve chosen to stay. I won’t forget it, and I won’t let you down. I promise.”

  He promises. I sure hope he knows how to keep it.

  With that, the meeting ends. A few men come to speak with him privately. I stay seated and give them space, but I still hear their words. They pledge their continued loyalty and service. Some suggest more drastic measures, but to each he assures them he has a plan. Quite frankly, I don’t know what that is. Maybe he just thought of it.

  “Miss?”

  I turn to see Dex beside me. “Yes?”

  “I just want to apologize for Brice, and for my behavior yesterday. I just don’t ever want to hurt the Boss. Never. I don’t drink, neither. I had that bottle twenty years. Something just told me things was bad enough to need it yesterday. I guess I was right. I’m sorry you had to see me like that.”

  “It’s okay, Dex. You’re a good man.” And I mean it.

  His cheeks redden. “Thank you, Ma’am.”

  “What’s the plan exactly?” I ask, as soon as Reason climbs in the truck and shuts his door.

  He puts the key in the ignition and starts the engine. “I have one, but it’s just not solidified yet.” He puts it into drive.

  “Solidified, as in you don't know exactly what it is?”

  “Right.”

  I watch the Sloon grow smaller in the rearview mirror as we drive away. “So, where’re we going now?”

  “To the Office.”

  I look at my watch: five o’clock. “That’s part of the un-solidified plan?”

  He grins. “Yes. I figure I’ll know more about it by the time I get there. And if not, I’ll know by the time I leave.”

  “You’re a confident man. I like that.” I take his hand. I don’t want to think about anything beyond that. Because if it fails, I don’t know if I can bear even the thought of implementing the other plan, so I pray I’ll never have to.

  I rest my head against his shoulder and close my eyes. I won’t let myself think about it right now. I’m that weak.

  We stand on the back stoop of the office building because, this time, someone’s locked the door. Reason rings the bell a third time. Soon, the shuffle of footsteps moves across the floor inside. The lock slides with a metallic click, and the door swings inward.

  Hannah peers at us, looking like a wide-eyed owl. She swivels her head from me to Reason, her face a shroud of folds and shadows. He bends down low and she plants a motherly kiss on his cheek, running her hand over the side of his head. “I’m glad you’re here.” She sounds relieved.

  She steps back and pulls her glasses from the pocket of her robe. Once she’s fitted them to her face, she turns her gaze to me and smiles. I see in her eyes she knows the trouble ahead. Today, I am not the pope. She reaches for my hand and gives it a squeeze. But, I’m at least a welcomed visitor. “Come in.” She steps back, allowing us to pass through.

  “Where’s the mister?” Reason asks.

  “Upstairs. He hasn’t been feeling well the past few days.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” He looks both hurt and concerned.

  “We didn’t want to worry you. You’ve had a big week and at this time of year—” She clucks her tongue and dismisses the matter with a small wave of her hand. “Besides, he’s far too proud for pity. Didn’t even want to tell me. I’m not blind though—not yet, anyway.”

  We follow her though the office and up a flight of stairs. They creak and groan under our weight. When we reach the top, she makes a sharp left. Her speed still amazes me. I round the corner, feeling slow and cumbersome. I’m holding up the line with Reason behind me.

  She disappears around the corner, and I quicken my step. Suddenly, I’m standing in a hallway. I don’t see any sign of her, but up ahead, a door stands ajar. As though she’s heard my thoughts, her disembodied head appears in the open doorway, the threshold concealing the rest of her, and I hurry forward.

  Inside, I find myself standing in an antique store—almost. It’s an apartment filled with very old furniture and hundreds of books in neat rows along built-in shelving. Oriental carpets cover most of the brown, painted floors. Lamps provide the only lighting, giving it a golden and cozy effect.

  I feel Reason’s hand in the small of my back. “It’s okay to go on back.” He points to a doorway. Once again, Hannah reappears, her hands folded in patience. She offers me a kindly smile.

  I make my way to the door, scanning the portraits on the wall as I go. Most of them look old, as in sepia-toned old, but a more recent one catches my eyes just as I reach the door. It hangs on the wall at eye level. A young man smiles at me from the frame. He wears a graduation cap on his head with the tassel dangling just beside his temple. In his warm smile, brown eyes, slight case of acne, and strong soft face, I see a young Reason. Just as I lean in closer to inspect it, Reason’s hand appears from behind me and covers it, blocking my view.

  I cast him a sideways glance over shoulder.

  “No fair. Picture-shame should be shared. I haven’t seen any of yours, and I’ve looked.”

  “That’s because I took them all down, smarty-pants,” I whisper under my breath and return my attention to the room we’ve just stepped into.

  The Mister lies propped on pillows in a king-sized bed. He matches Hannah perfectly. He looks about the size of an eight year old snuggled into a massive quilt, one that must have taken a couple of years to make. It features a Christmas scene, a village—complete with a train station. If it weren’t so enormous, it would make a lovely wall hanging. My mother would love it, and that makes me smile.

  He wears glasses identical to Hannah’s. The more I look at him, the more I wonder if they might be twins instead of husband and wife. “Reason.” His eyes brighten.

  “Ives.” Reason crosses the room in two steps and bends down to embrace the small man. He pats his shoulder and stands back, smiling. But I see traces of worry in his pro
file as he studies the man he calls, “the Mister.”

  “Sit down, son. Tell me how it is with you.”

  Reason pulls two chairs away from the wall and places them closer to the bed.

  He allows me to sit first, before he seats himself.

  “This must be Ms. Sinclair.”

  “It’s nice to meet you.” Yes, I am the infamous temptress of Santa Claus.

  He smiles at me warmly. Exhaustion pulls at the corners of his mouth, but his expression seems sincere.

  I notice Hannah has disappeared. My eyes drift to the TV across the room: a reality show. Ives produces a remote from the depths of his quilt, and his handshakes as he fumbles with the mute button.

  “Ives, things aren’t well with the Society.”

  “So I hear, but I want to know how things are with you first.” He searches Reason’s face.

  “Things are very good for me.” Reason gives him an almost imperceptible nod and a look passes between them.

  Ives nods in return. “Now, let’s discuss the Society.”

  Reason takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. His eyes lower to the floor. “I’ve been put on leave. The apprentices won’t be ready—not in time for Christmas. It could cost me the Office—permanently. I’m not sure what’s driving this yet, but I think it’s about more than Amendment 16. I knew I’d face backlash, but this”—he rubs his hand over his head—“It’s a surprise.”

  “And you’ve carefully weighed what you’re willing or not willing to lose.” Ives studies him closely.

  “I’ve got to stand for what’s right. Not doing so would break my vows. I just never expected the Gift to offer itself to me. I can’t walk away from that. If I tried, the Gift would be gone, anyway. I’d be Father Christmas in title only. If not for violating my oath, then for denying the Giver. What Cassius expects of me is impossible—it’s unjust.” His voice is raspy and urgent.

  “Your conjecture is familiar. As I recall, your father shared such views. Nothing is free of injustice in the hands of men.”

  Reason remains silent as Ives continues, “Sometimes an injustice is worth the greater good. You propose to deny the whole world for the sake of two. Is that how you fulfill the Gift? Are you sure that your own desires have not tainted what you see, what you want to believe?”