Prologue
Nick Kringle walked down the Hall of Santas Past, feeling as though every portrait whispered:imposter. He shivered. Not because he was cold. Those who wore the tinsel tattoo never shivered because Christmas Magic protected them from the extreme temperatures found at the North Pole and on sleigh rides at high altitudes.
He shivered because their judgment brushed across his skin like snowflakes.
His fingers twinged with the need to hold leather reins as he worked with one of the faster reindeer. Though he would never tell the beast, Prancer was his favorite to fly because he tore through the stars with athletic grace. A sense of power surged through him as they trained for the once-a-year Christmas Eve ride.
Not that he ever went out on Christmas Eve to deliver gifts. That wasn’t his Kringle talent. No. His was much more destructive: wish granting.
Not only did his unique Christmas ability cost him the only woman he’d ever loved, it also wreaked havoc on those who entrusted him with their Christmas desires. It seemed like everyone he met wished for something that brought them true love. He forced out a breath in a huff that would have created a cloud around his head if the ice castle wasn’t kept at the perfect temperature. Christmas Magic not only had a mind of its own–it loved irony.
Either that–or it took particular joy in tormenting him. Either way, he and Christmas Magic weren’t exactly on the best terms as of late.
This is why his adoptive parents, Harvey and Gail Kringle, had summoned him to the family room.
“This’ll be fun,” he griped as he pushed open the door and stepped inside, finding his adopted sister Lux and her husband Quik there as well.
“…it’ll be the end of his–” Lux cut off as she saw him. He didn’t want to hear whatever doomsday prediction she had this time.
“Have a seat, son.” Harvey pointed to the overstuffed armchair opposite his rocker. He liked the old wooden thing that probably came from his four-times-great-grandfather or something. The Kringle Family history goes back hundreds of years, though only the surface of it was general knowledge for those who left cookies for Santa. For several years, Nick wanted nothing more than to be accepted into this tribe. When Harvy and Gail asked to adopt him, he couldn’t agree fast enough. He’d changed his last name and everything.
However, he soon learned that being adopted didn’t make him like the rest of the Kringles. He’d had to earn his tattoo by performing an act of Christmas Magic–without actual magic. The process earned him the tinsel marking that came at a cost.
He brushed those thoughts aside and sat down on the loveseat. Gail occupied a matching rocker next to Harvey. She was crocheting something–possibly a blanket for one of his nieces or nephews. Yarn fed out of a bag at her feet, and her hands flew in a practiced rhythm without her watching what she was doing. “You look good. I like that sweater.”
Nick glanced down at the sky-blue Norwegian sweater with a snowflake pattern. As a teenager, he’d dressed in all black and tried to hide away from the world. As a Kringle, he found his tastes had brightened considerably, and his collection of Christmas sweaters–those that were fashionably appropriate and those considered ugly sweaters–had grown significantly. Frost, his adopted sister, and the resident fashion queen, sent him that season’s greatest hits each fall.
“Thanks. I think it’s authentic.” He’d have to check the tag to be sure, but since Frost and her husband, Tannon, spent a week in Norway, he would bet his stocking that it was hand made by a talented designer.
Gail smiled at him. She pulled her project to the side to reveal her red Norwegian sweater. “They are.”
He chuckled. Frost would dress anyone who would let her. In a castle full of people hurriedly preparing for Christmas starting December 26th, there were many people for her to outfit. She never minded, though, because shopping was one of her Christmas talents.
Lux cleared her throat as she pushed her glasses up on her nose. She had perfect eyesight, but spent so much time staring at a computer screen that she wore them to protect her eyes. A stray red curl fell over her shoulder, and Quik gently tucked it behind her ear as he gave her an encouraging nod. “We think we’ve figured out the problem. It was simple, really, once we started comparing the data we’ve collected over the last two Christmases to what we accumulated years ago.”
Quik leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He wore a shirt with the Army logo across the front and cargo pants with more pockets than real estate. To Nick, and probably the rest of the world, he looked like a mature Captain America who never lost a muscle. “The last time Christmas Magic interfered with Christmas preparations–it wanted Lux and her sisters to find true love.”
Lux laid a hand on his back. Her green eyes took on a lovey-dovey glow. “It was the best thing that ever happened to us.”
“And to the Magic,” Harvey added with a wink. “True love is the battery that keeps the magic alive and humming.”
The hair on the back of Nick’s neck stood up.
Lux nodded quickly. “Which is why we called you here.”
He pushed to his feet. “No.”
Lux and Quik stood, folding their arms as if they’d practiced the move.
“It’s the only way,” Quik stated matter-of-factly.
Nick shoved his hand through his hair. “I’m not getting married. I’m not going to date. You two are out of your minds. Tell them,” he gestured to Lux and Quik while begging Gail to stand up for him, “tell them they’re crazy.”
Gail continued to crochet as if he wasn’t in the middle of a personal freakout. “I don’t know. I think you should at least listen to what they have to say.”
Harvey nodded sagely. “No Kringle ever died from listening to someone.” He touched the side of his nose.
Nick groaned. He wondered if his adoptive parents would treat him differently than their children. They did not, which meant that they also didn’t hold back when it came to having hard conversations. He grunted and sat back down.
