Lyla takes a deep breath and closes her eyes. When she opens them again I can see the resolve she has gathered.
“Satan.”
3
Lyla
“Can we move this along?” Nicholas--no, Santa Claus--stands up and brushes off his pants as if my house is dirty. “I have more than enough work without this idiot getting in my way.”
When he reaches for his bag, Lucifer lifts a hand and it fills with golden flames, so hot I can feel the heat from here.
Mandy’s eyes nearly pop out of her skull at the casual display of magic, and I don’t blame her one bit. I’m kinda freaking out myself.
“Stop right there, elf.” His voice is stern and brokers no room for argument. This is a man who is used to being obeyed without question.
“See? See how he is?” Santa asks in a petulant tone. “I’m just doing my job and he is in the way.” Santa throws his hands in the air before pointing at Satan, his voice filled with too much whining for my taste, especially from a grown-ass man. “You might be able to laze about, but time doesn’t stop for me.”
I’m not sure which surprises me more. The fact that Satan and Santa are actually real or the fact that Satan is currently threatening Santa because he wants to give Mandy a present. Am I dreaming? Had the wine been bad?
A high-pitched wailing shatters my thoughts and I look up at the ceiling before smacking Satan in the shoulder.
“Are you crazy? Put that out!” I drop the shoe I’ve been wielding as an entirely ineffective weapon--especially against a man who can conjure flames from his hands--and run over to our dinning table to grab a chair and drag it across the room. I climb up and just barely manage to get my fingers on the smoke alarm. The stupid battery case won’t slide open and in desperation I manage to hook my fingers between the plastic and the ceiling and yank it off, leaving little wires hanging in the air.
There goes my deposit.
At least the wailing has stopped. I throw the thing in the corner and climb down from the chair.
That’s when I realize what I have done. I left Mandy next to a stranger that broke into our home. Not just any stranger. But Lucifer, the Devil himself.
It’s difficult to explain why I accept their identities so readily.
A part of me recoils from the idea that either of these beings are real, let alone standing in my apartment arguing. I’m not exactly religious and my belief in Santa is long gone.
The logical explanation is these two men are robbing me. Maybe they’re partners who planned this together. Maybe these are their disguises to keep from being identified, though they’re about as effective as Superman’s glasses.
Maybe they’re part of a local theater group doing a strange—and invasive, not to mention dangerous during a pandemic—kind of performance art.
All of these possibilities scramble through my mind, but they are all rejected just as quickly and all for the same reason.
In my deepest of hearts I can feel the truth of who these men—if you can call them men—are. I know this sounds ludicrous. Like a crazy lady grasping at fantasy. But I have no better way of explaining it.
For anyone who has fallen in love, it’s similar in a way. The way you can go from being a complete stranger to someone to loving them so completely… it’s a strange kind of magic that binds your heart and soul to another. It’s an inner knowing. A surety of something that is impossible to prove or quantify or study objectively.
This is like that. Not love of course, but that inner knowing and surety. When you are in the presence of something so full of magic, it’s impossible to misidentify. To look at these men and think they are robbers or performers or crazy people would be to mistake a poorly drawn circle on a piece of paper for the moon itself. It’s a ridiculous comparison. You know when you are in the presence of true love, or when you are witnessing the moon and not a drawing of a circle. Just as anyone would know that these men are who they say they are.
Not to mention one of them can summon fire in the palm of his hand. I’m sure there are ways to fake that, but it doesn’t look fake to me.
Which puts me in a very tricky position.
Because right now Santa is pissing me off.
“Why don’t you just leave the presents and go?” I put my hands on my hips, sadly aware that I no longer have my shoe handy. Not that it was really going to help against either of these two.
“That’s not how it works,” Santa sneers. “One kid, one wish, one present.”
“Seriously?” It’s my turn to throw my hands in the air. “It’s Christmas. Look at all the time you’re wasting. Just leave the present and get out of here.”
“Fine then. Let’s just prove who really knows what Mandy wants for Christmas.” Santa plops back down on the sofa and quick as a snake grabs my daughter’s wrist before I realize we’re so close to him.
Just as my fingers close around her free arm another hand encircles her wrist.
“Back off.”
“What the hell are you doing?”
Lucifer and I speak at the same time and I can’t help but glance up at the man--or is he an angel--no, now isn’t the time for that train of thought. His jaw is clenched tight, his dark eyes flashing with some kind of power I don’t understand. The hairs on my arm stand up like they say happens just before being struck by lightning. And for the first time, I notice small black horns blending in with the curls of his wild hair.
Demon horns?
“I was going to have her sit in my lap and tell me her Christmas wish.” The older man--elf--whatever he is, doesn’t let go of Mandy, and my anger ignites into something louder, harsher, more violent.
“Let. My. Daughter. Go.” I keep my voice calm, so as not to further terrify my child, but I enunciate each word and lob them at Santa like weapons.
I feel Lucifers’ eyes on me, but he doesn’t say anything. Neither does he look back at the elf. It’s as if he suddenly finds me to be the most dangerous being in the room and the direct attention of his stare only heightens my rage.
A tug pulls Mandy closer to Santa and I growl like a predator before a kill. The sound surprises me, but I give it little thought as I lunge forward, wrap an arm around her waist and practically fly to the other side of the room with her tucked against me.
“Mommy?” She looks up at me with watery eyes and I brush the tears away before they can fall.
“It’s okay, bunny. Don’t leave my side.” She gives me a quick little nod, but I see the quiver in her lips and it ignites my rage all over again.
“Stay where you are,” Lucifer says to us, and I realize he’s positioned himself between us and Santa Claus. “I’ve always known there was something wrong with you--having children sit in your lap to tell you wishes--but you’ve really gone too far here. Grabbing a child? Yanking her away from her mother? Pulling her onto your lap by force?”
His voice is almost a hiss, but fills the tiny room like thunder. Blue and orange flames dance across the skin of his hands, but oddly I’m not afraid of him. Not even a little bit. Which really makes me question my survival instincts. Shouldn’t I be terrified of an angry Satan standing in my living room? But his fury isn’t directed at me. No, it’s directed at the man in the red suit.
“Just what are you implying?” Santa stands up and I swear I can literally feel the tension in the room amp up. Where I have alway thought Santa would be warm and cozy, like a fireplace during a winter storm, he is all hard ice and sharp edges. Instead, it’s the Devil himself filling our half of the room with warmth and a sense of security.
“Pedophilia. I have a place I’d love for you to visit.” Satan closes and opens his hands. “For eternity. I’ve worked very hard to make sure it’s a very special experience for people like you.”
“Pedophile? You’re accusing me of being a pedophile? If I didn’t think it would upset your father, I’d kill you right here.” A howling wind seems to spring to life around Santa, his bushy beard floating in the gusts. “Do
you know how hard it is for children to trust nowadays? To get them to tell me their most heartfelt wishes without fear? You think it’s so easy to do my job? You think it’s simple to make billions of children happy when I only have one night?”
“If someone like you can do it, then I must say it would be supremely simple for someone like me.” The derision in Lucifer’s voice is so thick even Mandy seems to pick up on it, so I wrap my arms around her even tighter.
“Is that so?” Santa’s blue eyes are flickering with their own strange magic. Nothing like the twinkle Mandy and I read about in the stories. More like lightning about to strike.
“Without doubt.” A shadow appears behind Lucifer, stretching and closing, as if it’s a pair of wings. I raise a shaking hand to my mouth. Am I really seeing this?
“Fine.” All of the wind stops, leaving the room oddly still. “Then you do it.”
“I will--wait. What?” The fire disappears from Lucifer’s hands and the shadow behind him vanishes. “Do what?”
“My job. You want it so badly, you do it.” Santa leans over and picks up his bag before launching it at Lucifer, who catches it hard in the gut with an oomph. “I have no reason to stand here and argue with a petulant child.”
“Again, I’m far older than you are.” Lucifer’s menacing words hold a bit of confusion.
“Then act like it,” the heavy-set man snaps. “Go. Be Santa Claus. If it’s so easy, you’ll be done in no time.”
“I’m not doing your job.” Lucifer drops the bag and it lands with a heavy thump.
“Then there will be no Christmas.” The blue eyes narrow. “And tomorrow morning when there is even less magic filling the earthly plane, everyone will have you to thank for it.”
“Now see here!” Lucifer’s eyes are so wide it would have been comical if they weren’t having a showdown in my living room on Christmas Eve in front of my child.
With one last look in our direction, Santa gives us a brief nod before lying his finger beside his nose and disappearing completely.
If there was any doubt these two are who they say they are, this crushes them all. Fire, magic, and a disappearing Saint Nicholas.
Silence reigns in the room before Mandy’s tiny voice pipes up. “How are we going to deliver all the presents? Do you have a sleigh?”
“A sleigh?” A bewildered look flits across Lucifer’s face. “Whatever for?”
“To deliver the presents,” she says, like it should be obvious “We can’t let all the kids be disappointed just because Santa is having a cranky day.” Mandy steps out of my arms and gestures at the sack. “If you don’t have a sleigh, how are we going to get from house to house?”
Wait. Why is she including us in this? I run a hand over my face.
“Mandy. Bunny. We can’t deliver Santa’s presents. We’re human. We don’t have any magic.” I place a hand on her shoulder.
“That’s not exactly true,” Lucifer says. “Magic was gifted to humans long ago, but eventually it was taken away because you abused it.” He looks me over. “Well, it has been dying off over the generations. The idiotic witch hunts had a big hand in that. I suppose there could still be some lineages with a bit of magic left.”
I stare at him. For all the world, he sounds exactly like one of my history professors from college when someone got an answer wrong and he gently corrected them.
“What are you saying?” I ask, holding Mandy close to me.
Now that Santa’s gone, disappearing in a puff of smoke as it were, the tension has drained from the room, along with my adrenaline. I’m cold now, shivering, standing in just underwear and a shirt, and with the way Lucifer’s eyes take me in, top to bottom, I’m keenly aware of an entirely different kind of chemistry filling the space between us.
I blink, pushing thoughts that could definitely land me on the naughty list into the back recesses of my mind. It’s been awhile since a man has looked at me the way the King of Hell is currently looking at me. To be honest, I’m not sure anyone has ever so fully devoured me with their eyes, but this is neither the time nor the place to play out those fantasies. My priority is Mandy. There isn’t time for anything else.
Lucifer grins with such a devilish knowing I wonder if he can read my mind. It’s possible, I suppose. I have no idea what kind of powers Satan has.
“Only someone with magic in them would be able to see me or the pervy elf. Not even most kids can see us, which is how Santa gets away with his breaking and entering schtick every year. And the few kids who can see us usually lose all their magic when they hit puberty.” His voice is smooth as whiskey on a cold night, but his words jolt something awake inside of me.
“Are you saying…?” I can’t finish the sentence. It seems too outlandish.
But he smiles and gives a small nod. “Kids used to channel more magic. But these days, they are too lost in their electronics to notice anything else. But you…”
I shake my head. “As someone who went through two years of divorce court and contentious custody battles, I can assure you my belief in magic shriveled to dust long ago.”
As soon as the words leave my mouth I regret them. I never meant to speak so frankly in front of Mandy, and she looks up at me, her lips quivering. “You don’t believe in magic anymore, Mommy? Did Daddy take it all away?”
Shit. Double shit. I’m the worst mom ever. I kneel down to look at her. “Oh no honey, he didn’t. I just meant that I’m a grown up now and once you grow up you…” realize the magic was never there to begin with. But of course I can’t tell my daughter that on Christmas Eve after she’s just had a confrontation with Santa and his nemesis, Satan. “You realize that there’s less time for it all. For the magic and the play.”
She folds her arms across her chest. “I don’t ever want to grow up if I have to give up magic and play,” she says stubbornly, and I smile and hug her to me.
I’m searching for words to soothe her, words that don’t feel like false promises or lies. But Lucifer beats me to it.
“You don’t have to give up magic to grow up,” he says. “Your mom is proof of that, even if she doesn’t realize it.” His dark eyes twinkle like I expected Santa’s to. “You both have magic in you. More than I’ve seen in humans in a very long time.”
Mandy pulls away from me to face the man before us. Her tears have dried on her soft little cheeks, and she smiles at Lucifer… a smile that nearly lights up the room. “Then that means we can help!”
I stand and look at the man whose cocky grin falters when he remembers Santa just stormed out leaving a bag of presents--and all his responsibilities--behind. “Right. About that. I really am not set up to do that whole… thing.”
Mandy puts her fists on her hips and gives him the look. I know this look because she learned it from me. I hide my laugh behind my hand, but Lucifer shoots me a glare that has probably killed lesser men.
“You will have to suck it up, buttercup, because we can’t let down all those kids.” She turns to me. “Right, Mommy? We’ll help him, won’t we?”
I place my fists on my hips in a very similar manner to my child and assess the man before me. “What do you say, Lucie… you gonna let the elf beat you?”
4
Lucifer
She looks like she wants to suck the words she said right back into her mouth. But also like she will fight me on this, just to keep her kid happy.
I just want to punch a hole in Nick the Dick’s creepy face for getting me into this situation at all. Of all the houses to end up fighting, we choose the house with maybe the last two humans on the planet who still have enough magic in them to be useful.
I mean, they aren’t really the very last two, but it sure seems like it. Magic is disappearing from this dense planet faster than our efforts to curtail it can keep up. I should know, as I was forced to present an entire lecture about it at the last annual Summit. Complete borefest, but since I come into contact with a disproportionately large number of humans--albeit after they have
already made some questionable life choices--it was left to me to adequately explain the severity of the problem. I didn’t have a solution at the time. But maybe if I spend enough time with these two, I can figure out what makes them different.
The only problem is… I can’t let them work for me without a contract. It’s kinda my thing.
I clear my throat. “We will have to enter into a legally binding contract if we are to do this.”
Lyla’s face pales and I taste fear in the air. She’s scared of contracts but not Satan himself? I’m starting to get excited about the prospect of spending the night with her--and her little girl of course.
“What kind of contract?” she asks, her voice hard and low.
“The usual kind,” I say casually. “You bind yourself for a set period of time in exchange for something I give you in return. Usually these are more of the eternal soul variety, but in this case it would just be your assistance for the night. One unholy night, as it were, and in exchange, I would owe you.”
She raises an eyebrow at that. “What would you owe me? And this contract, it would be strictly business, yes? We help deliver presents, that’s it. Nothing… else.”
I taste a whole lifetime of bedroom promises in that one tiny word… else. The potential of it hovers between us, scenting the air with a crashing desire I don’t often feel anymore, especially for a human. The feeling ripples through me and I struggle for a moment to regain control of myself as I smirk at her. “Nothing… else,” I say, emphasizing the word that holds so much enticement. “I don’t have to negotiate contracts for that, I assure you.”
Blood rises to her face, staining her cheeks a bright red that contrasts beautifully with her pale skin. I enjoy getting a rise out of her, even if it is far too easy.
Then again, it didn’t take her much to convince me to do this harebrained idea, so who’s the one falling far too easily I wonder?
“So, Lyla,” I say, stepping toward her and taking her hands into mine. An electric current runs between our fingers and her eyes widen at that. I grin. Definitely magic in her blood. “What is it you most desire from me?” I put just enough compulsion into the question to make sure she gives me an honest answer. With skin to skin contact it should be more effective this time. This won’t work if she lies or holds back. The contract must be true to be binding. “And it must be for you or Mandy. It can’t be something like world peace or an end to the pandemic. Even I don’t have that much power.” It’s sad how few people even bother to ask for something that could benefit all of humanity, but if anyone did, it would be this woman.
Unholy Night: A Paranormal Holiday Romance Page 3
