“He does deliver gifts,” Ethan said, “just not to human kids.”
“Why not?”
“Hundreds of years ago, he did. But once people stopped believing in magic, it got harder and harder for him to do his job. People didn’t like the idea of a strange man sneaking into their homes at night, even if he was leaving presents behind.”
“I can see how that would be creepy.”
Ethan fed Blitzen another carrot. “So, he gave up on humans, and now he only brings presents to supe kids. He still embodies the spirit of Christmas—or Yule or Saturnalia, if you want to call it by its older names—and his magic is responsible for the holiday cheer, so I’m glad you decided to turn him. Who knows what would have happened to Christmas if you didn’t.”
“Gaston said he’s known Santa since he was a kid. Didn’t he start out human like you and me?”
“I certainly did.” Gaston stepped onto the porch and sank into a chair before taking a sip of blood from his glass. “But a pack of shifters lived next door. My family was poor, so the wolves took me in and allowed me to celebrate the holiday with them. That’s how I met Santa as a human.”
Jane joined him at the table. “If you were practically raised by wolves, why are you a vampire now?”
Gaston chuckled and shook his head. “Daylight is approaching. You can sleep in the guest room until your charge awakens.” He rose and sauntered inside, and Jane glared at his back. One of these days, Gaston would share his story. She’d make it her mission to get it out of him.
She and Ethan followed him inside, and as soon as she closed the back door, Gaston flipped a switch on the wall, activating his vampire protection system. Thick black shades descended over all the windows, and steel plates rose from the floors to block the doors. Nothing was getting in or out of Gaston’s mansion until sunset…not even light.
Chapter Three
When a “Ho, ho, ho” roused Jane from the death sleep, she rolled over, snuggling into her pillow and smiling. Instead of sugarplums, visions of her spicy-hot husband danced through her head, and she reached for him.
But the bed was empty.
“Ethan?” She rose onto her elbow and blinked the room into focus as another “Ho, ho, ho” sounded from the living room. “Hell’s bells and buckets of eggnog, it wasn’t a dream. Damn.”
With a groan, she rolled out of bed and put on her clothes. She left her stilettos behind and padded barefoot down the stairs toward the sound. Gaston lounged in a recliner, reading from a thick volume of Edgar Allen Poe stories, and Ethan sat on the loveseat, his hands fisted on his knees, the tendons in his neck stretched tight as he ground his teeth. Uh oh.
“Hey, sweetheart.” She sank down next to him, resting a hand on his thigh. “I see our new friend is up early.”
“He’s been ho, ho, ho-ing for an hour straight.” His fists clenched tighter.
“Really?”
Gaston set his book on an end table. “He seems…how should I put this? Not quite right in the head. Did you notice any bleeding from his ears before you turned him?”
“No. Wait…are you saying I gave Santa brain damage?”
“Something is damaged,” Ethan grumbled. “We need to get him to the Magistrate so he can get a feeding permit, but he’s not interacting with us.” He looked at her. “He needs his sire to explain what happened, but you’ve been sleeping.”
Her nostrils flared as she huffed. It wasn’t her fault the death sleep kept her under longer than it did Ethan or Gaston. She was barely a year dead. She needed her beauty sleep.
“All right. I’ve got this.” She moved to the sofa and sat next to her charge. “Hi, Santa. Remember me? I saved your life last night.”
“He needs to know the truth, dear Jane.” Gaston steepled his fingers in the Magistrate’s signature move, and Jane wondered if the old vampire gained strength with every new branch that was added to his family tree. If she wanted to use the family analogy, Gaston would be Santa’s great-grandpa…but gross. Just imagining that made her shudder.
She thought back to how she felt when she woke up in Ethan’s attic. Other than being disoriented and not remembering a damn thing at first, she’d felt like herself…just excruciatingly thirsty. So if Santa was nonstop laughing, this must have just been his jolly old self, right?
“Jane Devereaux.” He patted his legs. “Why don’t you sit on my lap and tell me what you want for Christmas?”
Her lip curled. “No thanks. I’ve seen what might pop up.”
“You’ve seen…?” Ethan looked alarmed.
“Long story. Not what you think.” She turned to Santa. “What’s the last thing you remember?”
He stroked his beard, which was still stained red, and stared at the ceiling. The blood around his mouth and his biker clothes gave him a creepy horror-Christmas vibe, like he belonged in The Gremlins, not here. “I had some pralines, and then I went to Pat O’Brien’s for a hurricane. They were playing my favorite song in the piano bar, so I had a few more before I left with Blitzen.”
“Let me guess. Your favorite song is ‘Santa Claus is Coming to Town’?” She snickered. Her first choice would have been “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer,” but since he’d come to town on Blitzen, she didn’t figure that was it.
“Ho, ho, nope. It’s ‘Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer.’”
“Oh, goat cheese.” Jane guffawed. “That’s your favorite song?”
Santa handed her a foil-wrapped cube. “It is.”
“What’s this?” She couldn’t help the giggle rolling up from her throat. Santa-Fucking-Claus had just given her a present! How cool was that?
She peeled back the foil and found a white blob of something inside. Bringing the chunk to her nose, she took a whiff. “Is this goat cheese?”
Santa smiled proudly. “Exactly what you asked for.”
She pursed her lips at the cheese.
“Not only is he a sugar fae,” Gaston explained, “he’s also a gifting fae. He and all the ‘workshop elves’ are.”
“What are the air quotes for?” She set the gift on the coffee table.
“Workshop! Ho, ho, ho, there’s no such place. We make all the gifts with magic. Ho, ho, ho. Ho, ho, ho.” His ho’s turned maniacal until he was cackling like a crazy man, and Jane made a help me out here face at Ethan.
Ethan lifted his shoulders. “You were out of sorts when you woke up, but you weren’t insane.”
Gaston let out an irritated grunt. “Vampires these days… You rely on your new-fangled technology—cellular phones and whatnot—when you should be using your instincts. Get your fledgling under control so we can take him to the Magistrate.”
“What’s his problem?” Jane sent her thoughts to Ethan’s mind.
“I don’t know, but I hope he pulls the candy cane out of his ass before your dad gets here.”
“Ugh. Don’t remind me about my dad. I can only handle one fiasco at a time.”
“Touch him.” Gaston shook his head like a disappointed father. “You and he share a connection. Physical contact will help him focus.”