Storming through the kitchen, the chalet anticipates my thoughts. Lights turn on, preceding each one of my frantic steps. At the picture windows, I splay my hands on the glass. The snow is melting.
“I don’t think that’s supposed to happen,” I mutter to myself. I’m already throwing on boots, a coat, and a hat. When I step outside, I’m knee-deep in gray, disgusting slush. It has to be at least seventy degrees and muggy.
The cinnamon scent that usually hangs in the air is replaced with an unpleasant odor. Fumes mixed with rotting sewage. I plug my nose.
It takes one long, single lap around the property to absorb the magnitude of this. The ice-skating rink has turned into a pond. The gazebo, unreachable without a bridge or a jet pack of some sort, is askew and slowly sinking.
In the front yard, the sharp and shrill cries of the reindeer echo. I resist the impulse to run to them. Instead, I grab the binoculars from their perch on the porch. Each reindeer tries to rev up and fly, only to flop back down to the ground, landing in a crumpled ball.
On the hour, the clock tower chimes as usual. Only it doesn’tplay a Christmas carol. It’s… “Monster Mash.” I groan at the obnoxious melody.
What in the world is happening?
As if it couldn’t get worse, a heavy downpour rolls in. Lightning strikes in the distance. Thunder rattles the ground. I rush inside, where a wide-eyed, pajama-clad Quinn has appeared by the door. “What’s going on?” He sounds scared. I want to hold him. Tell him it’s okay. But I know it’s not okay. And I know he doesn’t want me to hold him. Which is worse?
A ping lights up on the house communication system. It’s Hobart. “Not to alarm you, but we need you in the village right away.”
Before long, we’re standing in the cathedral hall. The Priors form a tribunal before us. We stand nervously with Hobart to our right like he’s our criminal defense lawyer and we’re awaiting sentencing. The air is thick with impatience. My brow is sweaty.
“It’s happening again,” Nicholas says with an unmatched fury. It strikes me in the chest like the sharp end of a sword. Until I notice he’s wearing completely uncharacteristic board shorts with a tropical pattern on them. How can something sound so bad and look so funny?
“Now, hun,” Colleen says. In a yellow sundress, she’s the only one who doesn’t appear disgruntled by the heat.
“What’s happening again?” Quinn asks, shucking his coat.
Chris speaks evenly. “As we mentioned when you arrived, the magic of the North Pole runs on love. Namely, the love between the two of you.” My heart takes off in a frantic gallop. It’s like we’ve inadvertently walked into a high-stakes couples’ counseling session. “If the balance gets thrown off…”
My skin grows tight and clammy. I thought we were doing the world a service by coming here. I thought we were doingusa service.
“The previous Santa and Mrs. Claus were deeply in love whenthe magic chose them, but their love buckled under the pressure of their roles,” says Yvonne.
“Which is why you were able to knock Santa out last Christmas Eve. Their love was weak, so the magic was, too,” Samson adds. “When the magic is weak, it acts out. At least, that’s what we think. It hadn’t happened before in any of our times here.”
“Of course now it’s happened twice. Back-to-back. We can’t catch a break,” Ashley bemoans, biting at her nails.
I want to reach out and hold Quinn’s hand, but I couldn’t if I tried. I’m frozen in place. And Quinn’s standing so far away. Like we’re repelling magnets.
“What can you do?” I ask. Fear piggybacks onto me.
“We can’t do anything,” says Nicholas forebodingly. “Only the two of you can.”
“We’ll do it. We’ll do anything. Right, Quinn?” He gives me his profile. He bites his bottom lip. Tears gather in the corners of his gemstone eyes as he nods. He’s scared, and I feel useless.
Chris stands to deliver this next part. “The last Santa refused, so thank you both for being willing. We know you both understand the importance of our mission. This won’t be easy, but it is necessary. Once again, you’re faced with a choice. The fate of Christmas will hang in the balance. Option one, you two both rescind your positions and leave the North Pole together. Christmas is canceled. Option two, you invoke a marriage separation and Quinn departs to appease the magic.”
The top of my throat towers high with reservations that I can’t spear my voice through.
It’s Quinn who speaks. “Will that work? If we separate, and I leave?”
“We can’t say for sure. All we can say is that we presented the last couple with the same choice. Instead of following our guidance, they decided to stay here while trying to mend things between them. It didn’t work, and it caused chaos,” says Emmanuella.
“The snowballs in the Tundra Dome turned to Nerf balls andthe ribbons in the wrapping room turned to snakes. It was random and unstoppable. No matter how hard the previous missus, Nessa, tried, things just got worse and worse until her husband quit, and she left,” says Jorge.
“From the start, we knew this was a risk. We should’ve expected this given how you two came into your positions,” says Nicholas. “It’s on us as much as it is on the two of you. We shouldn’t have pushed you into this. True love is a scarce resource. The magic made do with what you were able to give, but now it’s out of sorts again.”
Colleen clasps her hands together in front of her chest. “We know this is an impossible ask. We believe if we remove the element altogether, we may be able to reset the magic.”
“Like unplugging it and plugging it back in,” says Samson. Everyone shoots him an annoyed look. It sounds too simple to work.
