Part I
The Naughty Elf
Billy took a step back and examined the toymaker machine. It gleamed, brand new and sparkling, and Billy was sure that this time it would work. All that was left now was turning it on.
Here goes nothing. Billy took a determined step forward and put his hand over the big red start button, pressing down before he could chicken out.
The machinerumbled. Billy was alone in the experimentation room—everyone knew that today was the day he was turning on his machine—so there was no one there to hear the inauspicious starting noise. Billy wasn’t worried, though—at least not yet. The grunts and grinds of metal gears and magic working together was beautiful, and Billy knew that it might take a few minutes for the magic to settle.
Don’t explode, don’t explode, please don’t explode, Billy muttered to himself. The machine took no notice of his fervent pleas and rumbled on, the sound getting louder.
Fuck.
Billy started edging back, the machine’s rumbling turning into a noisy rattling. A loud clank rang through the room, and the whole machine started shaking.
No, no, no, no.
Billy ducked behind the metal wall the old Santa had forced him to erect after his first explosion, and waited for the inevitable.
The bang was magnificent. Billy groaned as the ground shook with the force of it, his ears ringing. Everyone in the whole castle would have heard the sound, and they were no doubt shaking their collective heads and mutteringI told you soto each other.
It took Billy a few minutes before he gathered up the nerve to stand up and peek around the wall to see what had become of his machine.
It wasn’t pretty.
“Are you okay?”
Billy turned around to see Tulip peeking her head through the door. Her eyes were bright with mischief, and when she saw the wreckage of Billy’s beautiful machine she shook her head.
“I’m fine. The machine on the other hand …” Billy gestured at the heap of metal standing against the wall.
Tulip walked into the room. She was an elf, like Billy, and her fine boned features and pointy ears were the envy of every girl in Santa’s village.
“So we’re still making all the presents the old fashioned way?” she teased, walking right up to the smoking remains and stroking a twisted piece of metal with her fingers.
Billy scowled at her.
It wasn’t that Billy didn’t appreciate how wonderful the magic that let them make presents for Santa was—it was just that he knew he could make it even better.
“This year, at least,” Billy admitted. It wasn’t a defeat, but a setback. He’d have something ready for next year.
“I’m glad you’re okay,” Tulip said, moving to stand next to him. She put a comforting hand on his arm, and Billy sighed.
“Me too,” he agreed, smiling at her. Then he frowned. It was December first. Why in the world was Tulip in the experimentation room and talking to him when she should be upstairs making presents?
“Wait, what exactly are you doing here?” he asked. Tulip’s face split into a wide grin.
“The new Santa is here! You’re not going to believe what he looks like!” Tulip sounded giddy, and Billy was puzzled. He didn’t care about the new Santa or what he looked like, and Tulip knew that.
“Let me guess: he’s a big bellied beta with a white fluffy beard who likes to dress up in a red suit. How did I do?”
“One out of four. Not bad.” Tulip smirked, her whole face alight with joy. Billy was confused.
“What do you mean? That’s what all the Santa’s look like. It’s why they get to be Santa.”
Tulip gave him a pitying look. “No, being able to work the magic is the requirement for being Santa,” she said, shaking her head at his ignorance.
“Then what does he look like?”
