Santa took the stapler from the Magistrate’s desk and squeezed it over and over, laughing as staples fell into his lap. “It’s snowing!”
Jane snatched it away. “Don’t touch anything.” She turned to Ethan. “The king of the fae is really not right in the head.”
“There does seem to be something off about him.”
“That’s an understatement.”
“Ethan Devereaux’s Christmas wish is the same as yours, Jane.” Santa brushed the used staples onto the floor. “To be accepted by your father.” He twisted in his seat to face them. “Are you sure I can’t get you a pony?”
“Positive.” She squeezed Ethan’s hand. “Is that what you’re worried about? That my dad won’t accept you?”
“I did curse his only daughter to a life of darkness.” His jaw worked as he ground his teeth, and Jane’s heart melted. The smartest, most has-it-together vampire in all of New Orleans was scared to meet her father. How adorable.
“Aw. Don’t you worry about Daddy. He’s going to love you.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because I love you. He’ll see that. Maybe not right away, but he will.” And she would keep telling herself that until she dropped the bomb on her poor old man. He would come around…eventually.
The Magistrate entered the office, and Jane and Ethan shot to their feet. She had to drag Santa up by the arm to get him to show their leader some respect. It seemed the king of the fae wasn’t used to having superiors.
The Magistrate had piercing hazel eyes and long, dark hair woven into dreadlocks. Every time Jane looked at the man, he reminded her of Idris Elba, even now. He nodded, his lips curving into the tiniest of smiles as he caught Jane’s gaze. Oh, yeah. This will be easy.
“Good evening, Magistrate,” she said. “You’re looking devilishly handsome, as always.”
Ethan huffed, but he couldn’t get mad at her. Flattery got you everything when it came to these ancient vampires.
“Good evening, dear Jane. Ethan, Gaston. I must get back to the Council meeting, so please, tell me about our newest recruit. Why does his registration require privacy?” His gaze locked on Santa, and recognition widened his eyes. “Is that…?”
“William Wonkers.” Santa grinned. “Your Christmas wish is for the rest of the year to be as uneventful as possible so you can have a few days off to show Darius how much you appreciate him.”
“And I can see that wish will not be coming true.” He pursed his lips and glared at Jane.
She tried her best to keep a neutral expression. Honestly, she did, but she’d just found out the Magistrate…the supernatural leader of Louisiana…was named William Wonkers.
Her eyes watered as she held in her laughter. No wonder no one called him by his name. She expected him to be called something badass like Damon Steele or Kieran Sinclair or Constantine Augustus. Something fierce…
William Wonkers. She swallowed her snicker, wanting ever so badly to call him Willy Wonka, but she refrained. Her undead life was already on the line. Asking him about the Oompa Loompas would probably get her staked on the spot.
“So, I can explain all this, Your Honor. It was an honest mistake.” Damn her lips for curving into a smile against her will.
The Magistrate glanced at the clock before sinking into his chair with a sigh. “Indeed you will, young Jane.”
They all sat, and she told him about losing control of Genevieve, and how she turned Santa Claus into a vampire hybrid to save his life. “So, really, it’s actually the same situation as when Ethan turned me, you see. I saved his life, so no harm was done.”
The Magistrate did his signature finger steeple and cut his gaze between the four vampires. “And you were with her when this happened?” he asked Gaston, who straightened his spine.
“I was.”
“As the senior vampire, I hold you partially responsible.”
“I understand, sir.” Gaston shot her the stink eye.
“And Ethan,” the Magistrate continued, “as her sire, you are also responsible for her actions.”
“Yes, sir. I shouldn’t have left her unsupervised.”
“Unsuper…?” Her mouth fell open, and she fought the urge to shoot to her feet. “They’re not responsible for me in the slightest, Your Honor. I’m my own woman, and I take full blame for running over Santa.”
“Santa got run over by vampire…” St. Nick sang.
“See?” She gestured to Santa. “Even he finds it amusing.”
“My dear Jane.” The Magistrate made a tsk sound as he shook his head. What was it with ancient vampires tsking at her lately? “There is nothing amusing about this situation, and you are overlooking one glaring difference between your situation and Ethan’s when he turned you.”
She remained silent, waiting for him to continue.
“Ethan didn’t run you over. He truly did save your life. Santa’s life wouldn’t have needed saving if not for you; therefore, your actions were far from heroic. How will I explain his condition to the queen?”
Jane shrugged. “Aside from needing blood to survive, not much about him has changed. He already delivered presents during the night. He’ll adjust.”
Willy arched a brow. Hey, the Magistrate didn’t have mind-reading abilities—that she knew of—so she could call him Willy in her head. “Not much has changed?” he asked. “Gaston, would you agree that not much has changed about Mr. Claus?”
Gaston shot Jane another look that sent chills down her spine. For the absolute first time in her undead life, she found the man intimidating. Scary, even. If Gaston the Drunk couldn’t make light of the situation, maybe this was a whole lot worse than she imagined.
Santa sat beside her, gently rocking side-to-side while humming the tune to his favorite song. Yep. A helluva lot worse.
“It appears the transition from fae to hybrid has affected his brain. I’ve never seen him act quite so unhinged.”
“I’d been drinking Pat O’s hurricanes,” Santa sang. “And I really had to pee. But I forgot I was in public. And so I drained my snake against a tree.”
“Hell’s bells,” Ethan groaned. “Is he going to rewrite the entire song?”
“Merry Christmas!” Santa held an obsidian bell toward Ethan, darker than the darkest black she’d ever seen.
The Magistrate hissed. “Where did you get that?”
Jane suddenly felt entranced, and her hand reached toward the bell, almost of its own accord, but mostly because she wanted to ring that sucker more than she’d ever wanted to ring a bell in her entire life, including the little silver ring bell for service contraptions with the plunger you pressed to ding them. People got so annoyed when you rang those when they were already helping you.
Santa smiled proudly and shoved the bell toward Ethan again. “You’re not on the naughty list. Take it.”
Old Willy’s eyes flashed red as he leaped over the desk and snatched the bell from Santa’s hand. “Hell’s bells will not ring in my coven.” He stuffed a tissue inside the device to stop the chime from sounding.
Jane blinked, coming out of her trance. “That was an actual bell from literal hell? What would happen if it rang?”