“We can’t fight them!” he blurted out. “They’re Kallikantzaroi. All the babies they bought, they were all Christmas births. They—”
Jars dropped into the seat next to him and grabbed the back of his neck in one hand. He gave their little brother a friendly shake. “We got that,” he said.
Dylan snapped the reins again, and the reindeer threw themselves against their harnesses as they picked up their pace. Snow was flung up behind them, cool on Somerset’s face as it sprayed over them.
“Well I don’t plan to stop,” Dylan yelled over the wind. “The reindeer don’t seem bothered by your oaths.”
Somerset laughed again, sweet and heady as mead, as he grabbed Dylan and dragged him into a kiss. It was salty and rough, lips scraped, and their teeth jarred together. He didn’t care.
Nik apparently did.
“Eyes on the road!” he yelled. “Eyes on the road, for fuck’s sake!”
Somerset snorted, but dragged himself away from Dylan. True to his word, Dylan didn’t stop as they raced through the streets of Bury. Although he did slow the reindeer down to a trot long enough for Ket and Gat to throw the two women into the Sleigh before they scrambled up onto the backboard.
Santa had saved the day.
Dylan would be his tomorrow. For as many tomorrows as they could get.
Epilogue
It was nearly ChristmasDay when Dylan finally made it back to Bury. He’d left Alice and Irene at a nearby hospital and the Yule Lads back at the North Pole. There had been a long stretch of Christmas Eve between then and now, the second before midnight pulled out like taffy as Santa worked.
Dylan parked the Sleigh on Main Street and climbed down. He winced as his feet hit the road. It might have only been a few hours in the mortal world, but his ass knew how long it had been on that hard wooden seat in practical time.
He stopped to strip off the regalia and folded it up on the bench seat.
“If someone takes this for a joyride,” Krampus remarked over his shoulder, “you get to explain it.”
Dylan turned to look at his dark twin. “I’ll add it to the list,” he said.
Krampus made an unhappy noise in his throat. “Are you sure this is a good idea?” he asked. “You can’t unknow something. Trust me, I’d rather not have a memory of suckingSomerset’s—”
“I’m sick of being in the dark,” Dylan said. “My whole life, people have kept things from me, and I’m done going along with it.”
Krampus sighed and gave a resigned dip of his horned head.
“I’ll tell the Yule Lads you stopped for ice cream if they wonder where you are,” he said. “Don’t trust him.”
Then he was gone in a wisp of coal-sharp smoke.
Dylan wished Krampus had tried to argue more. He was still going to go in, but he’d have appreciated a reason to delay a bit longer. In the absence of that he took a deep breath, the taste of snow clean on his tongue, and walked over to the toy shop. He'd seen it as he'd driven the Sleigh through town, over the rutted bodies of those who'd not been smart enough to run. What he didn't know was if he'd been looking for it, or had he somehowrememberedit.
The front door was locked, but the window had been smashed. Dylan just climbed through, into the middle of a diorama of a nutcracker-based nativity. He watched his feet around the hand-painted magi as he climbed down.
Behind the counter was an old man—although he actually wasn’t that old. He looked a hard-done-by fifty or a spry sixty. Certainly no more than that. It wasn’t what Dylan had expected.
The not-that-old man looked up from the little dog on wheels in his hands. He didn't look surprised to see Dylan and gestured with a paintbrush at a wooden chair.
“About time," he said. "Make yourself at home.”
Dylan sat down. The cushion was threadbare tapestry and what felt like rocks. It wasn’t much more comfortable than the Sleigh’s bench.
“Iamsorry the girls were scared,” the not-so-old man said. He licked the brush, a line of blue on his lower lip, and dabbed the doll. “It was never meant to be like that. No one was meant to be forced to give up their child, or—God knows—be kidnapped. Whatever price you have Ms. Demre pay, she deserves it. What will she face? If you don’t mind me asking.”
Dylan watched the doll take shape with interest. “The police are going to arrest her for trafficking and kidnapping,” he said. “We have a friend on the force who’ll be able to make it stick with only a little bit of finessing. It’s what she did, after all. I don't know about what the Winter Court will do to her.”
The not-so-old man nodded. “I imagine she’ll take a few people down with her too,” he said. “Not me. She knows better.”
