by Deanna Chase
“Enough, Tinnie,” Santa said sharply to the female elf. “You all have a lot to atone for, but I do not believe your crime is so severe that you deserve to suffer in Hell for the rest of eternity. If I request the help of this coven, will you all agree to a code of conduct spell that will also bind you to the North Pole for the next ten years?”
“Ten years confinement?” I asked, aghast. I wasn’t too pleased with the elves, but Hell was a place that could break even the strongest will. Punishing them further was going overboard wasn’t it? “Isn’t that a little harsh? I mean, haven’t they already suffered enough?”
“You’re a kind soul, Ms. Calhoun.” Santa smiled at me. “I’m not talking about incarceration, if that’s what you’re thinking. Only that they’ll be contracted to work for me.”
“For free?” Pyper said, just as skeptical as I was.
He chuckled. “No. They will be paid on par with the rest of my elves. But considering the circumstances, I think they’ll need a readjustment period. I think it’s best if that happens in a safe environment. Then after their term is up, they can decide if they want to acclimate into the modern world.”
I turned to Bea. “I’m not sure I completely understand.”
“Give us just a moment, will you, Kris?” Bea said and then pulled me back over toward the stage. “Listen, Jade. The elves have been in Hell for a few centuries.”
My stomach dropped. “Centuries?”
She nodded. “Yes. And from what I understand, this particular group made a deal with Kyros in order to…ah, become more human-like.”
I pursed my lips. Other than their outfits, they seemed plenty human to me. “I still don’t understand.”
“You will once the spell is done. Anyway, they were desperate to change their circumstances. The world was different back then. They couldn’t just leave the North Pole and integrate into normal society. They were too different. There was zero chance they’d be accepted. Kris wouldn’t let them go because he was afraid for their safety, and the spells to modify their appearance were too rudimentary. There are safer, more advanced spells now that could help them change their appearance if they choose to, though that isn’t necessary. Elves live among us. Not many, because from what I understand, the North Pole truly is a magical place. But these twelve? They wanted something different. And they were desperate for it.”
“They made a deal with a demon didn’t they?” There was no other explanation. They’d sold their souls.
“Yes,” she whispered, eyeing the elves still kneeling before Santa. “They didn’t understand the ramifications and once the papers were signed…” She let out a sigh. “Well, they did get their human appearances, but they also got a nice long stay in Hell. The fine print indentured them for a millennium. A millennium, Jade. Can you imagine?”
A lump got caught in my throat. They’d just wanted to live a normal existence like the rest of us, but instead, they’d ended up living a nightmare. “I’ll do it.”
She sent me a grateful smile. “I honestly don’t think they meant to harm anyone. People do desperate things when they feel like they have no choices.”
“I get that.” And I really did. Not to mention the thought of not helping them made my stomach turn. “Okay, everyone. I’d like to lend our magic to Old Saint Nick here so he can free the elves from Hell. Who’s with me?”
Every last member of my coven nodded or called, “Me!”
Bea grinned at them. “Thank you. It would work best if we form a circle around Kris and the elves.”
I took the northern most spot on our makeshift circle, while Lucien stood across from me, and Bea stood to the right. Kane and Pyper stood near the jackass-drawn carriage.
And right in the middle of the circle was Santa, with his elves gathered around him.
“Ready?” I asked Lucien.
He nodded.
Without hesitation, I held my arms straight up in the air and called, “Circumda.”
A brilliant stream of magic crackled to life, pulsing through each of the coven members as we joined hands.
Santa tilted his head up, breathing in through his nose. Then he turned to me. “Well done, Ms. Calhoun. Thank you.”
I opened my mouth to answer, but before I could get the words out, Santa raised his own arms, seemed to grow to almost twice his size, and in a voice that boomed over the square, he said, “Elves of the darkest night, return to thy sights. Embrace the joys, laughter, and flights. From now until forevermore, may each of my charges be wards of the Northern Lights.”
We all waited expectantly.
Absolutely nothing happened.
I glanced at Bea. She gave me a one armed shrug as if to say she had no idea.
The combined magic of the coven still pulsed through us, more powerful than ever, and I started to wonder if Santa had tapped into it at all.
I cleared my throat. “Uh, Santa? Are you sure—”
“Shh, Ms. Calhoun,” he said so softly, I barely heard him. “It’s coming.”
What was coming? I frantically scanned the square, afraid of what he might have called. But still I saw nothing. Squinting up toward the dark sky, I let out an audible gasp.
“Snow?” Pyper said from behind me. “Oh, man,” she whined. “I’m going to freeze in this dress.”
So was I. But it was too magical for me to care. It filled the sky, floating down in soft, fluffy flakes. It wasn’t unheard of for it to snow in New Orleans. It did happen on rare occasions, but not when it was fifty eight degrees outside.
“It’s gorgeous,” I said as the first flakes hit the top of the burnt tree. The limbs started to turn white with the layer of snow. But then the snow started to sparkle and melted off, leaving behind restored, green limbs. I let out a delighted gasp and covered my mouth as the first flakes landed on the elves.
“It’s working.” Bea’s face lit up into a huge grin.
I followed her gaze and blinked.
Holy crap on a pogo stick.
The very human-looking elves were morphing into slightly shorter, rounder versions of themselves with big round eyes, longer fingers, and weathered skin.
The female elf took one look at Nico and started to cry. Through her tears she laughed and danced around until she came face to face with Santa. “Thank you, Mr. Kringle. Thank you!” She threw her arms around him, hugging him fiercely.
Santa returned her hug and laughed with her, his jolly sound creating a chain reaction through the newly freed elves.
“It worked,” Nico said staring down at his newly shaped hands. “I can’t believe it. We’re free.”
“Congratulations,” Bea said, smiling.
Kane stepped up beside me, his demeanor sober. “Yes, and there’s no doubt it created a great disruption within the demon realm. It’s best if you all go now.”
“He’s right,” Bea agreed.
“Into the sleigh,” Santa ordered. “All of you!”
The elves wasted no time. And even though I would’ve sworn the sleigh was only big enough for two people, all twelve of them piled in without trouble.
Huh. All that extra room must’ve been how Santa transported all those packages.
“We’re off,” Santa called, as they rose into the air. “Thank you, everyone. Merry Christmas. And to all a good night.”
We all waved and a second later, the sleigh vanished into the steady stream of snow now blanketing the streets of New Orleans.
“Well, that was…something,” Pyper said, as the coven members broke out into a snowball fight.
“Something?” I echoed as I took in the lush tree all lit up with twinkle lights. “Looks like a miracle to me.”
“That it is, Jade,” Bea said, as she climbed back into her jackass-drawn carriage. “Anyone need a ride? I have a party to get back to.”
Kane and I glanced at each other, both of us shaking our heads. “Thanks, but we’ll walk,” I said.
“I do!” Pyper said and climbed in beside her.
&nb
sp; The rest of the coven ignored her. They were having way too much fun playing in the snow.
“Merry Christmas,” Kane and I said, waving as they took off out of the square.
“Well, Ms. Calhoun? Are you ready to go home?” Kane said, nuzzling my neck.
“That’s Mrs. Rouquette to you, buddy,” I teased, slipping my hand into his. I hadn’t officially changed my last name after we got married, but I did love the sound of it.
A slow grin spread over his face. “That’s better.”
I ran my fingers over his five o’clock shadow. “The faster you get me home, the faster I’ll let you unwrap your present.”
He raised one eyebrow and scanned my body.
I laughed and nodded. “Yes. There might also be gingerbread cake waiting.”
Without a word to the rest of the coven, he tugged me out of the square. Three blocks later we were standing in front of our house with snow kissing the steps and frost tinting the windows.
“It’s gorgeous,”’ I said.
“Uh huh,” he murmured, nibbling my ear.
“You didn’t even look at it.”
“Don’t need to. The only thing I have eyes for is the sexy little witch in the indecent, red-velvet dress.”
“It’s not indecent,” I argued.
“You can’t see the thoughts running through my head.” And then standing right there on our front porch with the snow still falling all around us, he pulled me to him, snaked one hand under my skirt as he caressed my thigh, and devoured me with a kiss.
When we finally came up for air, I was winded and had no trouble matching his indecent thoughts. Too impatient to find my house key, I reached behind me, grabbed the door knob, and unlocked it with a simple zap of magic. “I already got my Christmas present. It was lovely, by the way. Now it’s time for me to give you yours.”
His eyes glittered as he leaned in and touched his lips to mine. “Best. Christmas. Ever.”
About the Author
To read more about Jade and Kane check out the Jade Calhoun series.
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A Very Merry HEX-mas: A Woolven Secret Novella
Saranna DeWylde
A Very Merry HEX-mas: A Woolven Secret Novella
Saranna DeWylde
Copyright © 2015 Saranna DeWylde
All Rights Are Reserved.
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
No part of this book may be used or reproduced without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
Summary
Eleanor Westwood, resident Woolven caretaker and wicked witch extraordinaire, has a slip of the tongue that conjures a real-life goblin king. Enoch needs to give his subjects a white Christmas, but only a certain wicked witch will do for a very merry hex-mas.
1
Winter had come to the Woolven stronghold, Aphelion, and the witch Eleanor Westwood had gone about ensuring that within the boundaries of the main property and town, that it was a pleasant fall day. Not too hot, not too cold. Even on Christmas, there would be snow, but it would linger in the unnatural warmth because magick was an amazing thing. Werewolves generally enjoyed fall the best. As part of her covenant to love and care for the Woolven pack, she tried to see to their comfort at all times.
Unless they acted like alphaholes, and then all bets were off.
Eleanor Westwood enjoyed her job caring for the Woolven pack. Werewolves, they were. She didn’t mind it. In fact, she enjoyed the little buggers when they were pups. Sometimes, she had to be very stern with them—a werewolf needed a firm hand or they’d be tearing up the countryside willy-nilly and one just couldn’t have that. Nothing drove the peasants to revolt faster than cattle mutilations and murder.
Her werewolves weren’t flesh eaters, human flesh eaters, that’s to say. She liked that about them. They had a code and managed to live in harmony with their beast and human side together.
All well and good, but sometimes, a witch still needed a break from her day-to-day chores. Time to seek out powerful magicks and learn their secrets, join a cause like the plight of the underhill gnomes, or maybe just get a little action.
She was old, but she wasn’t dead.
As a witch, Eleanor could take any form she wished. When she went out to the bars, sometimes, when a guy wouldn’t leave her alone she’d turn into her crone face. That was always funny to watch their reactions. These “dudebros” would try to sidle up to her and give her a line of crap and sometimes, just for fun, she turn into an old woman while they were talking.
Or a dragon.
The dragon was her favorite. But she had to be careful with that one. Someone might just get matchstick happy and decide to tie her to a stake. One never knew with some of these mortals.
She knew she was probably too old to be playing bedroom polo with mortals, but they were just so tasty.
Eleanor had considered trying to find a husband, but her first marriage had ended poorly. Very poorly. So poorly, in fact, the High Coven was still looking for a way to reverse the hex she’d laid on him.
Back in those days, a man or warlock could do pretty much whatever he wanted to his wife. He’d been a cheating bastard, an abusive bastard, and when he’d trumped those two things by trying to steal her magic, well… that didn’t go well for him.
She’d turned him into a literal pile of shit and handed him over to Lord of the Flies to do with as he would. In fact, the High Demon Lord still owed her a favor.
Still, a vacation with other magickal types sounded nice.
Eleanor went about the business of reinforcing the wards around Aphelion, the Woolven stronghold, and considered where she’d go.
Her mind had started drifting to strange places. Strange places, indeed. She was tired of all the usual haunts, and the usual people. She began considering a retreat with the Yetis in Himalayas, or maybe even a transdimensional cruise. Although, she’d heard that was some virus one could catch on those cruise ships and you’d be shitting your brains out for a month.
Literally.
She wasn’t sure she was prepared to take that risk.
As she wove her magick, cleaning and straightening Aphelion, renewing the spells to automatically clean everything that came through the door—that dog smell was murder to get out once it got a foothold—she turned on Netflix to finish watching Labyrinth. It was one of her favorite movies.
A vacation in the Labyrinth could be fun. Especially if Hot Pants Jareth could be her host.
She supposed she could weave that spell, but maintaining it would be more work than a vacation merited.
Eleanor spelled the laptop to follow her outside and she nurtured each of the plants, especially the deadly, yet beautiful carnivorous monkshood. She caught a pretty dove in her spell and drew its flight pattern down close enough for the monkshood to snap its black, glosses petals around it.
“There, there, darling.” She cooed to the plant.
A slight purring sound emanated from somewhere deep in the flower.
The poor dear could never get the doves close enough on its own and sweet bird was a rare treat. It generally subsisted on bats, crows, and anything else that could be hypnotized by its nectar.
She followed the path out of the hedge maze and thought about the movie again.
“Oh Goblin King, Goblin King. Come and take me away.” She giggled at the absurdity of it all.
“Ask madam, and you shall receive.”
Before her, in all of his dark glory, stood Enoch, King of the Goblins. Under pain of torture, she’d admit he was
n’t hard to look at. His skin was so white, it was almost translucent. He was finely muscled, as one must be to keep fighting for his crown.
He had a right sexy scar that bisected his mouth—it was where his older brother had tried to murder him with an axe in his crib. Goblins were a violent lot.
His hair was white as well and hung down to his shoulders, interspersed with warrior braids.
And his eyes.
They were amber, like blood, with cat-like pupils with two sets of eyelids that could close horizontally and vertically much like a lizard’s. They were made for seeing in the dark—a dark with no moon, no sun, no light at all. An eternal dark.
But he was a dick, like all goblins.
They’d gone to Academy together. He was an exchange student who’d immediately fallen in with the immortal version of the “dudebros” she couldn’t stand.
Of course, she was a successful, feared and mighty witch while most of her classmates had been burned at the stake, or otherwise disposed of.
“Just what the hell do you want? How did you even get in here?”
“You invited me.” His mouth curved into a smile revealing all of his sharp, pointy teeth.
“I most certainly did not.”
“Yes, you did. You said, Goblin King, Goblin King…”
“I was talking to the movie.”
“Your magick wards didn’t know that.” A laugh rumbled deep in his throat.
“Well, I uninvited you.”
“That’s not how that works.”
And damn if she didn’t just know it. “I know that. I was hoping you’d be a gentleman and kindly fuck off to where you’re wanted.”
“Oh, but I am wanted here. You’ve got some interspecies fantasies, don’t you?” He smirked.
“Not with you. Gross. Jareth, maybe. I mean, have you seen what he’s packing?”
Enoch looked genuinely hurt. “Excuse me, but have you seen what I’m packing?” He motioned down to his loincloth that hung below a belt made of teeth and bones.
