“Now, I know I’ve said this, but you aren’t to say anything about Santa Claus,” Whitney says.
“Right.” I nod. “Some of your family and friends have small children, and they all believe there’s a fat man who flies around with magical deer pulling his sled, which carries a magical sack that materializes toys from nothing for good children.” I smile. “See, I was paying attention.”
Whitney sighs. “It’s the magic of Christmas.”
“Aren’t you a little worried that this fat man might damage something when he breaks into your house?” I can’t help my frown.
“He’s not real, remember?” Whitney asks, sounding a little exasperated. “We’ve been over this. The myth has his elves making the toys up in the North Pole all year, and he delivers them.”
“But you said the children don’t tell him what they want until December. How can the elves make things all year if they don’t know what the children will ask for?” I arch an eyebrow. “Would the lie not make more sense if the fat man made them out of nothing?”
Whitney groans.
“And if you were looking for realism, you should have him live in the South Pole. I’ve been to the North pole, and there’s nothing there—certainly not a workshop run by small people with pointy ears.”
Whitney smiles then, and she kisses me. Honestly, that makes all the nonsense worth it. Whitney has a phone interview with a company she’s excited to work for, a contract negotiations team for a company called Equine Elixirs. She was so excited that I got excited for her. It does, however, leave me with nothing to do, which is how I wind up having breakfast with Gabe.
“Tomorrow, when we wake up,” Gabe says, “there’ll be even more gifts under the tree.” He bumps my shoulder with his own. “What’d you get for Whitney?”
Before I can answer, he opens his mouth again.
“You know, Steve always gets Mom something amazing. Sometimes it’s a horse. Sometimes a great piece of jewelry, or the dog she wanted that he said he never wanted.” He tosses his head toward the tree. “You can tell me what you got, though—I’m a vault. I won’t tell her a thing.”
“I—” I clear my throat. “I wrapped up some clothing she liked when we went shopping.”
“Really?” Gabe looks disappointed.
I realize I’m about to lose Christmas. I never lose. Never. I swear under my breath. “Alright, tell me again what Steve gets Abby, and what Whitney’s favorite gifts have been and why.”
After a little coaching, I understand that Christmas is a bigger deal than I thought it would be for humans. Gabe offers to give me a ride into town—they’re all scared of my driving for some reason. He texts Whitney, and then we leave.
“Are you sure she won’t be upset when she finishes her call and I’m not there?”
Gabe slugs my shoulder, which I’ve intuited is similar to how my brothers would set each other on fire or hit one another with a lightning strike. It’s a human male sign of affection, but also a, “stop that, idiot,” reaction. “Nah, man, she won’t be mad. She’ll be happy you have friends.” His brow furrows. “Or at least, she’ll be happy that you’re hanging with her brother.”
“Are we not friends?”
Gabe’s eyes light up. “Even though I shot you when we first met?”
“Barely a scratch,” I say. “And the only reason you were able to do that was that, like your sister, you’re a mixture of light and dark energy. Apparently that’s one of the few energy signatures capable of harming me, even now.”
“That’s super weird,” Gabe says. “What happens if someone else shoots you?”
“The bullet disappears.” I shrug. “So, nothing.”
“No way.” Gabe insists we make an unplanned stop. “We have to test some of this.”
I read the words on the sign at the entrance to the location where Gabe brought us. Green River Batting Cages.
“What on earth could we possibly learn here about bullets?” I ask.
“Just wait and see.” But Gabe’s head-bobbing grin isn’t very encouraging. He plonks some money down on the counter, and then we’re ushered back to a small area where there’s a machine and a basket full of smallish white balls. “Okay, you stand here.”
He’s positioned me in front of the machine. “But then?—”
Gabe must have turned it on, because a moment later, one of the balls flies out of the machine and right at my head.
Just before the ball can strike me, it disappears.
