1.

He was back. Janie didn’t need to look out the window to know that. The growl of his old truck grew louder as it ripped down the driveway. A chill slithered down Janie’s back and caused the dull ache around her left eye to begin throbbing again.

Why did he always come back? He said he didn’t love Momma, and his fists told Janie that he didn’t love her either. So why come back? He wasn’t even her real daddy. No, her real daddy died before Janie even got a chance to know him. This was just Lyle, not a dad.

She finished her last bite of Cocoa Puffs and then picked up the bowl to drink the sweet chocolate flavored milk as quickly as she could. Some of the liquid dribbled down her chin, but she didn’t bother to wipe it away. The truck sounds were getting closer, and she wanted to be in her room before Lyle came into the trailer.

Janie put the bowl in the sink and then hurried through the living room past the unlit Christmas tree and down the hall. She tiptoed past Momma’s room because she didn’t want to wake her. Momma had been sleeping since Lyle left the night before. If she woke Momma up, then Janie knew that she might not have time to write her letter and get it into the mailbox before the postman came.

2.

Janie finished her letter as quickly as she could and stuffed it into an envelope. She did not have a stamp, but she hoped Mr. Landon, the postman, would be able to deliver it anyway. He said he would last year, and though she had not gotten everything she had asked for, she did get a purple Care Bear that she had named Ezra. That was on her list.

Lyle had come in the house for a while, but he had not bothered her. He went into Momma’s room and he kept yelling the ‘S’ word, and then he was quiet for a bit. Before he left again, he had yelled to Janie through her door and told her not to bother her mother. Janie knew better than that. Momma was sleeping.

She addressed the envelope just as Mrs. Roy had taught her how to do in class and then looked at the alarm clock beside her bed. It was almost time for Mr. Landon to come, and she had to hurry if she wanted to make it all the way to the mailbox in time.

Janie pulled on her snow boots and her pink winter jacket that had stuffing coming out of the arms and then rushed outside into the cold. She ran along the driveway as fast as her small legs could carry her, pushing her way through the snow as best she could and sticking to the tracks made by Lyle’s truck whenever it was possible. She reached the mailbox just as Mr. Landon was pulling alongside of it.

“Mr. Landon,” she said when he got out of the truck. He was a big man with a big belly and a big smile. He was always nice to her. “Mr. Landon, I’ve got a letter for Santa but I don’t have a stamp. Momma’s sleeping and I don’t want to wake her up.”

“Oh, sweetie that’s okay. I’ll make sure it gets there,” he said. “Hope you asked Santa for a new coat because that one’s about two sizes too small.” He stared at her then, stared at her face and his smile disappeared.

“Sweetie, what happened to your eye?” He knelt down and looked at her closer.

Janie felt her face grow warm. She had almost forgotten about her black eye. It was starting to hurt again now that Mr. Landon had noticed it.

“An icicle,” she said, recalling a scene from one of her favorite holiday movies. “An icicle hit me in the eye.”

“Is that right?” Mr. Landon said, standing up and taking her letter. He kept staring at her eye. “I’ll make sure this gets to Santa. I’m also going to drive you back down to your house so you don’t freeze. And so no more icicles hit you on the way.”

“Okay,” Janie said. “But we can’t wake Momma. She’s real tired.”

3.

“He still slumbers,” Rudd whispered. His voice cracked and tinkled like the sound of ice cubes showering in whiskey. “Only two days before Christmas and still he slumbers. We can’t wait any longer.”

Mince looked up at the great wooden door adorned with gold and silver, and he swallowed hard. This was the first time he would ever set foot into the room, and the prospect of the lair made him shiver. He cast a glance toward Rudd to see how he was faring. The other Elf turned his red-eyed gaze toward Mince and grinned, his sharp teeth showing like the ridges on a steak knife. Rudd had done this many times before; he had been one of Santa’s Helpers for nearly a century.

“He’s not that bad,” Rudd said, as though he could read Mince’s thoughts. He straightened his hat. The bell that dangled from the top jingled softly. “Well, not usually.”

“Does it have to be now?” Mince asked. “What if he needs more sleep?”

Mince had heard the stories of Santa’s rage upon waking, although he was sure they were more legend than fact. He had only seen Santa on a handful of occasions, and only from a distance. It was only a month ago that he had joined the ranks of Santa’s Helpers when a position had opened. Before that, he worked as a Tinker in Candy Cane Village with the Mortals and the Common Elves.

“Of course it has to be now,” Rudd said. “He has lots of work to do.”

Mince nodded and took a deep breath. Together the two Elves turned the large silver knob on the door and pushed it open.

The inside of the chamber was nothing like Mince had expected. He thought it would be more . . . ominous. Instead, red, blue, and green faeries flitted and buzzed about the room, lighting the area in a kaleidoscope of colors. The room smelled of peppermint, evergreen, baked goods, and what Mince thought was copper. A blaze roared to life in the fireplace as soon as they crossed the threshold.

At the center of the room was a large bed, easily larger than the bed of any Elf and even larger than beds Mince had seen in the homes of the village Mortals. Furs draped across the massive form that lay in the bed. The furs rose and fell rhythmically. Breathing.

Rudd dragged a stepstool out from beneath the bed and then climbed it so he could reach the bedside more easily. He cleared his throat loudly and then poked on of his clawed fingers into the furs.

Mince held his breath, half expecting an arm to shoot out from beneath the covers and grab Rudd by the throat. Instead, he heard a loud, long yawn followed by a sigh.

“Damn it, Rudd,” said a surprisingly lyrical voice from under the fur. “Are you sure it’s already time? I feel like I’ve just closed my eyes.”

“I’m sure. You’ve been in torpor for six months, and now you have only two days until Christmas. You’ve slept long enough.”

“I suppose you’re right,” the voice said. Santa sat up. He was far larger up close than Mince thought he would be. His skin was red, scaled, and thick with muscle and fat. The scales around his throat and stomach were white, and Mince assumed that was why the Mortals, the few who had ever really seen him, thought he wore a beard. His eyes were thin black slits framed in deep blue orbs that seemed to glow with some form of unnatural light.

“What happened to Wink?” Santa asked.

“She retired,” answered Rudd. He gestured toward Mince with his crooked nose. “This here is Mince. He’s a good fellow, catches on right quick, he does.”

Mince could feel his heart speed up when Santa turned his eyes toward him. Those eyes seemed to bore into him, to see everything he had ever done and everything that he would ever do. Mince wanted to shrink away but he stood his ground. After all, you did not just give up a job as lucrative as this one.

“Hello, Mince,” Santa said.

Mince bowed. He did not know what else to do. “Good evening, Saint Nicholas . . . er . . . Master.

Santa chuckled. “I’m more sinner than saint, more demon than angel . . . and do not ever call me Master. Never let anyone be your master.”

“Yes, sir,” Mince said, hoping he had not offended the giant.

“Call me Santa,” he said.

Rudd cleared his throat again and reached inside his jacket. He pulled out a crumpled and already open envelope and handed it to Santa. “I have something that I think you will find of particular interest. It came from a Postal Emissary in Silver Point, New York.”

“Spectacles please,” Santa said, nodding at Mince. Mince looked around the room and saw the gilded spectacles sitting on an oak dresser. He retrieved them and handed them to Santa, who had pulled out the letter. Santa placed the glasses on his nose, a small protuberance that could barely be called a nose, Mince noted, and began to read.

“Dear Santa,” he said, and Mince saw a smile creep onto the giant man’s face. “Thank you for the Care Bear that you brought me last year. I love her. I named her Ezra. Could you bring her a friend this year? I like the color blue as much as I like purple. Could you help my Mommy too? Her friend Lyle is sometimes mean to us and he scares us. This is all I want for Christmas. Thank you. Love, Janie Myers. Seven years old.”

Mince felt his stomach tighten. The poor child . . . she was living in fear, even on Christmas. The way Mortals could treat one another appalled him.

“Thank you for bringing this to me, Rudd,” Santa said. “Make sure that we have a blue Care Bear for Janie. She’s a good girl.”

“A note on the envelope says that she needs a coat too,” Rudd said.

“Then we’ll bring her a coat as well. To protect her from the cold,” said Santa, his voice soft. “I need to prepare.”

Rudd nodded and then hopped off the stepstool. “Come on,” he said, grabbing Mince by the hand. “Let’s see how the sleigh is coming along.”

4.

The first several thousand stops they made were sheer terror, and his fear seemed to entertain both Santa and Rudd. By the time the sleigh reached Janie Myers’s house though, Mince had started to enjoy flying. Well, perhaps not enjoy it. At least he no longer felt as though he were going to lose his cookies and milk.

 Janie’s house, a trailer, did not have a proper roof where the sleigh could land, so they pulled alongside a rusted truck in the driveway. Mince hopped out and started to unload the presents. Rudd stopped him.

“Don’t bring those inside yet,” Rudd said. “This one might get a little . . . messy.”

“What do you mean?” Mince asked. They were on a schedule and unloading the presents was the routine. Stick to the schedule. That was the first rule Mince learned in the Santa’s Helper indoctrination course. Bending the rules of time and space was difficult, and if one didn’t stick to the schedule, it could wreak havoc.

“Santa knows what he’s doing,” Rudd said. “Come on inside.”

They followed Santa, dressed in his holiday garb, through the snow to the trailer door. He waved his hand in front of the knob, just as he’d done at all of the other homes that did not have chimneys. The door swung slowly inward.

The house was messy and the Christmas tree was small and balding with only a few ornaments made by a child’s hand. The sight saddened Mince and he thought about the poor child that lived there. He shook the thought from his mind. He couldn’t do anything about that.

A man lay sprawled out on the couch, snoring loudly. Even from where Mince stood, he could smell the alcohol on the Mortal’s breath. It must be the Lyle mentioned in Janie’s letter.

“Rudd, check on the child, and don’t let her come into this room until it is done,” Santa whispered. “My mind can’t seem to find the mother . . . I can’t tell if she was naughty or nice this year. Check on her as well.”

Rudd nodded and scampered across the living room. Mince started to follow, but Santa’s scaled hand stopped him.

“You will stay with me,” Santa said to Mince. “You need to watch this, to see if you are up to the task of being one of Santa’s Helpers. You need to understand certain things.”

“I don’t even know what we’re doing.”

“Santa does not live on milk and cookies alone,” Santa began. “I take the naughty . . . the very naughty, and I make sure their naughtiness stops. Their life is what preserves mine, grants me immortality.”

“I don’t understand.”

Santa did not answer. He strode across the living room in two steps and tapped Lyle on the forehead. The man’s eyes opened and quickly widened.

“What . . . who –”

Santa put a finger to his own mouth to shush the man. “Lyle Albert Mayberry, don’t wake your family.”

“Who are you? Dream?” Lyle’s words slurred together.

“No dream, Lyle. You’ve been very naughty. It is not nice to hurt a child.”

Santa’s words were soft, but Mince could feel the anger, the fire in the big man’s voice. Mince shrank away, crouching beside the Christmas tree. He was glad that he was not the Mortal.

The Mortal was not a small man, but he had nowhere near the size or strength of Santa. He sat up on the couch and tried to push past Santa, but Mince could see that it was useless. Santa shoved him back onto the couch. Lyle struck out with a fist that glanced of Santa’s cheek.

Mince swallowed hard and wished that Rudd would get his ass back out to the living room.

“Always eager to hit, aren’t you Lyle?” Santa said. “You’ve been that way since your naughty mother shat you out. You’ve been on the naughty list for years, and this has been a long time coming.”

“I don’t know who you are,” Lyle said. “You picked the wrong house to rob. I ain’t got anything worth stealing.”

“Oh, but you do,” Santa said.

Not the child, Mince thought. Mortals didn’t like it when the Elves would steal children. Mince thought there was a covenant or some such thing in place to stop that ever since all the problems in the Old World. It did not take Mince long to realize that Santa would not be stealing the girl though.

Santa placed his large hands beneath Lyle’s arms and lifted him off the couch as though he were an infant.

Lyle began kicking and struggling, but Santa’s grip was too strong. Then Santa began to squeeze until the Elf could hear snapping ribs. Lyle tried to scream but Santa squeezed harder, constricting his lungs so that he could not make a sound.

Mince licked his dry and cracked lips. They didn’t teach this in the manual.

Just then, Rudd came back into the living room. “Santa, we have a problem.”

Santa stopped squeezing for a moment and Mince could hear Lyle whimpering and gurgling in the giant’s clutches.

Rudd continued. “It’s the mother . . . her Mortality took hold.”

“That’s why my mind couldn’t tell if she was naughty or nice this year,” Santa whispered. “A shame, really.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter if she’s naughty or nice now. She’s cut up into six pieces and wrapped up in garbage bags.” Rudd shook his head.

Mince spoke up. “What about that poor little child?”

“She doesn’t have anyone else, no family. What was that naughty Mortal gonna do with her?” Rudd said, glaring up at Lyle.

“Give me a few minutes to finish this and then bring the child to me,” Santa said. He squeezed Lyle again and Mince heard more snapping bones. “Mince, you can go get Janie’s presents now.”

“We can’t –” Mince began.

“Bring the gifts now,” Santa said. His voice was still gentle.

Mince nodded and watched for just a moment longer as Santa’s mouth opened impossibly wide and began to devour the Mortal headfirst. Then Mince hurried out the door to do as Santa had asked.

5.

Janie could not have been more surprised when the Elf woke her. He was a little fellow, even smaller than she was and everyone had always told her she was nothing but a sprout. The Elf told her his name was Rudd. He didn’t look like the Elves in all the Christmas shows on TV, but that was okay.

She tried to remember if she left enough cookies out for Santa. They did not have any milk in the house; she knew that. For a moment, she was afraid that the Elf woke her because Santa was mad that there was no milk. She hoped Santa wasn’t mad.

When she followed Rudd into the living room, she saw another Elf.  He was holding two presents wrapped in snowman wrapping paper. She wondered if they were for her.

Then she saw him. Santa Claus, with his large round belly and a red coat, stared down at her and smiled. His skin was red too, and she thought it looked strange. Kind of like the skin of a snake. It didn’t matter though. Santa Claus was in her house and she was able to meet him! Her mother would never believe this. Neither would Lyle. Although, Lyle hated when other people were in the house so she might not tell him.

“Janie,” Santa said. “We have some gifts for you.”

“Thank you,” she said. The little Elf that was holding the presents came closer and handed the first one up to her. She took it and bowed deeply. She did not know why, but it just seemed like the right thing to do. The Elf smiled and bowed back.

“I can wait until morning to open them. That way Momma can see,” Janie said.

Santa’s smile looked sad to Janie now. She wondered why.

“It’s okay, child. I think you should open them right now. Then we have something to discuss,” Santa said.

Janie shrugged and opened the first present. It was another teddy bear, a Care Bear, and from the light of the Christmas tree, she could tell it was blue. Just like the one that she wanted. Just like Santa’s eyes. “Thank you!”

“I thought that would make a nice friend for Ezra,” Santa said. “You have another gift, something you will need it for where we are going.”

She opened the second gift. It was a coat, purple and blue, thick and warm. It was beautiful. Then she realized what Santa had said. “Where are we going?”

“You will be able to go somewhere that very few other Mortals have ever gone,” Santa said. “You will get to ride in the sleigh and return with me to my village. It is always Christmas there.”

“The North Pole!” she said. She was not sure if that was a good idea. The North Pole seemed like such a long ways away. “What about Momma? Can she go too?”

Rudd patted her on the back, and the other Elf grabbed and squeezed her hand gently. Janie thought she saw tears in Santa’s eyes.

“This Mortal world has been too harsh to you already,” Santa said. “It’s time to go, child.”