Chapter 4

Damien

Xalreth gives me a side-eye full of attitude from the armchair he’s sprawled across, but I keep my eyes fixed on the crackling fireplace ahead. Even inside, the temperature difference is surprising, but I relented and finally removed my coat. A small shudder works through my shoulders as I scoot closer to the flames, soaking in the heat.

A loud sigh comes from my cranky companion, and I unsuccessfully try to rein in my temper. “Are you going to fucking say something, or do you just want to stare at me all day? Not that anyone would blame you. If I weren’t me, I’d stare at myself for hours too. I’d offer to pose nude for you, but your tiny little brain might implode and then you’d really be useless.”

He scoffs and leans forward with his elbows on his knees, pulling his lips between his teeth. It’s a familiar gesture, one that inevitably precedes something I don’t want to hear. How he does it without maiming himself with those pointy daggers in his mouth is a mystery. “By submitting to him, you gave him the upper hand.”

Anger causes my shoulders to stiffen as I fix him with a glare, trying to laser-focus my irritation into tiny little beams to fry his brain a little. Just a little! Eyeball lasers are apparently beyond the scope of my powers, though, so all I can do is fuss. “Mind your fucking tone. I wasn’t giving him the upper hand, nor was I submitting to him.” Not that submitting to Santa Daddy doesn’t sound like a good way to spend an evening, but that’s neither here nor there. “We are in his domain, his world, and we don’t know the extent of the power he holds here. If my memory serves me correctly— and it does —he easily held you at bay.”

He grumbles but can’t deny the unexpected show of strength.

“And besides, we aren’t here to wage war with the North Pole. It serves no purpose to be at odds with them. We’re here to solve a problem… and maybe cause a few while we have some fun.”

“Always with the schemes,” Xalreth mutters as his lips twitch, a sliver of his irritation fading. “What sort of problems are you thinking, sir? ”

I grin, standing and pulling an extra sweater over my head before gesturing for him to follow me. “Come on, let’s go explore the workshop while Santa Daddy is busy.”

“Santa Daddy?” His eyebrow arches so far up on his forehead, I’m surprised it doesn’t take flight. I pretend I don’t hear him, sliding my feet into my boots and heading to the door. He relents, following me as we weave through the hallways.

Each elf we walk past has eyes as wide as snow globes and scurries to the other end of the hallway, even though we’re not causing any trouble. Not yet, at least. Niklaus had responsibilities to attend to and promised we’d regroup soon to discuss the letters. There was no direct restriction to stay in our quarters, so we are not technically breaking any rules by exploring.

It isn’t my fault I’m getting restless.

Or that the elves are terrified of me.

Or that Xalreth’s smile looks like a prehistoric sea creature.

We finally emerge into the main workshop, and I scan the room, absorbing how, despite the initial pandemonium, there’s a synchronized rhythm to the chaos. It’s like watching a river rushing past rocks and navigating obstacles, darting this way and that, all while the flow is somehow never interrupted.

Except, instead of water, they are googly-eyed miniature people in too-bright clothes.

The assembly lines are a flurry of activity as elves dart to and from the meticulously labeled rooms. There’s storage for fabrics and stuffing, mechanical parts, paints, wood, metal, and tools, and those are the few that are visible from where we stand.

Most of the materials are routed to the lines, where they are sorted into stacks by those at the head of the long tables. Others are carried into specialty rooms, such as the one for bicycles directly in front of us.

Curiosity gets the best of me, and I wander over to peek inside.

A smaller group of elves works on assembling bikes, their tiny hands moving so fast they become blurs. It’s fascinating to witness. At one station, two elves are welding a frame, the sparks reflecting off the glass of their protective helmets. Another duo fastens wheels and seats once the metal has hardened and cooled, and a solo worker sprays the finished frame in a vibrant blue behind a drop cloth barrier.

The elf that’s painting meets my eyes and gasps, tripping on her feet as she tumbles backward. Blue paint becomes a fountain and showers over everything in a rainstorm, causing the welders to shout. One of them whirls with his flame still burning bright, and a stack of papers ignites, the paint proving to be an affective accelerant as the fire whooshes into an inferno.

It’s all very dramatic, and I’m quite disappointed that I didn’t even truly earn the reaction, merely standing here.

Such a waste .

“FUNGI!” an elf screams, while another bellows, “Ah, SHEETS! ” A weird chorus of squeaky, censored cursing rings out as more eyes dart our direction, and a familiar deep voice booms in the distance. “What is going on out here?”

“ FUNKY! ” I shout, grabbing Xalreth by the arm and turning to flee. Before we leave, I whip around and narrow my eyes at the gawking elves inside the burning room. “Snitches get their eyeballs ripped out and shoved up their ASPS !”

“That’s not the saying,” Xalreth unhelpfully adds.

“Oh, shut up! He’s headed this way, and he’ll be furious if he thinks I’m involved. Quick!” We duck into a storage closet and pull the door closed behind us, panting as we press our ears against it and listen to the insanity outside. Niklaus’s bellow of rage makes me cringe, and I hope my threat is enough to keep the little shits from ratting me out.

I twist to look in front of me, meeting the eyes of a group of petrified elves. They’re paralyzed, sitting in a circle around a makeshift table littered with playing cards.

“ FUG. ”

“What’s going on in here?” I ask, putting my hands on my hips and ignoring all the noises coming from the workshop… and there are a lot of noises.

“What’s going on in here ? What the heck is going on out there ?”

Amused, I tilt my head as a small smile spreads over my face, walking over to stand beside the mouthy elf. He doesn’t even flinch, just narrows his eyes at me as I flop onto a pile of fabric. “You’re either very brave or very dumb, shorty… or perhaps a touch of each, and that’s a dangerous combination. What’s your name?”

“Why, you gonna turn me in?” The suspicious glint in his gaze makes me smile wider and I shake my head.

“Turn you in? Of course not, my friend... I’m literally The Devil. You think I give two SHIPS about people slacking off at work?” I grimace as my voice carries.

“You’ve been known to torture people for it in Hell,” Xalreth points out, but I dismiss him with a wave.

“That’s different because they’re my workers.” My eyes drift over the other three, who are all fixated on the table. They aren’t nearly as stupid as the one beside me with flame-red hair, which makes them far less interesting. “You’re obviously the ringleader of this little slack-off group. You may call me Lucifer, and this is Xalreth.”

“Bless you,” the elf says, and I throw my head back in a delighted laugh as Xalreth growls .

“That’s my name.” He bears his sharp teeth, which causes the other three to shake with such violence I’m convinced they’re going to hit the ground like a bunch of bowling pins. It’s a stark contrast to my new idiot friend, who looks wholly unbothered when faced down by a razor-toothed demon five times his size.

I’ve decided I like this guy.

“If you won’t tell me, I’ll just call you Poddy.”

“Poddy?” he asks, full of skepticism.

I shrug. “Squatty Poddy.”

One of the others snorts a laugh, then quickly stifles it. “Name’s Jujube,” he finally says, sticking his tiny hand out in my direction. Grinning, I shake it, then gesture for him to deal me into their game.

“Alright, Jujube, lay it on me. I want all the dirty little secrets and juicy gossip from the North Pole. Is there a squashed lawsuit for poor working conditions? Denied vacation times and unpaid overtime? Does Santa have a rotating door of tiny prostitutes that please him with their itty-bitty mouths?”

That suspicion doubles as he arches a brow at me. “You’re not trying to get me in trouble?”

“On the contrary, my friend. I’m looking to get into trouble with you.”

Jujube considers this for a second, running his fingers through his messy hair. “It’s a pretty drama-free environment, honestly. I mean, we’re kind of obligated, you know? Where else are a bunch of mythical three-foot-tall beings going to go live and work in peace? Aside from some niche porn or the occasional fairy tale movie role, there’s not a lot of demand for us. Hours are standard, and our apartments are provided as part of the gig.”

Well, this is boring.

“How about The Santa? What dirt do you have on him?”

“He works us hard and is not overly social. Much stricter than his predecessor, that’s for sure, and none of us know him too well on a personal level aside from Cadbury, but I wouldn’t call him unfair. It’s obvious he cares about those that work for him.”

“Any filthy skeletons in his closet? Scorned lovers or fun kinks that got leaked? Tales of spinning naughty elves on his dick like a basketball?”

“Uh, no, dude, not that I’ve heard. Boss man keeps his personal life private.”

I wave my hand around the room, gesturing at the secretive card game. “So, if the work conditions are good and Santa’s not some creepy bearded perv, why are you in here playing poker instead of doing your job?”

Jujube looks at me as though I have two heads as he rolls his eyes. He’s a ballsy little shit, I’ll give him that. “Because we’re lazy. Being an elf doesn’t mean we hum and sing while we go about our day.”

“You don’t all whistle while you work?”

“That’s dwarves, assho—”

Watching Xalreth slam the snarky elf against the wall fills me with glee that amplifies when I hear the terrified squeak that follows. Xalreth’s black eyes narrow as Jujube looks like he might have a heart attack, tiny feet dangling in the air. “The Lucifer will not be disrespected in my presence, twerp. Do we have an understanding?”

“Yes!” It’s more of a strangled chirp than actual words, but the meaning is clear. Xalreth releases him and he crumples to the ground, holding his neck and wheezing.

“Anyway!” I say cheerfully as I play my next card, and Jujube cautiously returns to his seat beside me. “I had an idea for something… fun… if you’re interested.”

“Oh?” His voice is raspy, but he can’t hide his curiosity.

“How hard would it be to wrangle a few more helpers and gain access to that unused Furby room?” There’s a familiar glint in his eyes that tells me he was the right person to ask.