Page 2 of Nice

“Find anyone yet?” He picks up the tome and starts to riffle through it. “Can’t believe how huge this thing is. It’s at least twice the size of my list. Damn. The world is a worse place than I thought."

Growling, I place my chalk to the side and level a glare at him. "Drop the list, Claus. I won't ask you again."

The smile turns feral as he stalks towards me. Puffing up, I stand my full height, coming at least a half a foot taller than him.

"Or what? What the hell do you think you're going to do about it?"

Snarling, I lean down, my face a breath away from his. "Drop. My. List." My horns ease their way from my skull with a familiar agony. I let the pain wash over me.

Kris tosses it down onto my chair before rolling his eyes. "You don't have to be so touchy. It's not like there's any good ones in there. Most of the naughty ones are too old to enjoy your brand of justice."

Chuckling, he sits down on the hearth, turning his hands to the roaring fire for a moment. Shadows play over his face as the firelight licks at him. For a moment, the clown gives way to something more pensive and somber.

"I take it you know about the funeral?"

I snort and pick up my list before sitting back down. "You mean the one I wasn't invited to?"

The look he shoots me is haunted. There are shadows under his eyes that I've never seen before. For the first time since I've known him, Kris actually looks old. Sadness swamps me as I look back out over the frozen tundra. My heart squeezes in my chest, robbing me of my breath for a moment.

"You know that wasn't my decision." His voice is hoarse and soft, almost drowned out by the howling wind.

I clench my fingers together, digging my nails into my palms, letting that tiny bite of pain wash over me. "You could have overturned it."

"What, and actually let you sully my father? Are you mad?" Kris stares up at me, his eyes wild. Pain, anger, and something undefinable flits through his gaze as he watches me.

"He was my father too."

"Fuck you. He was never your father."

In one fluid movement, Kris rises from the hearth and throws the rest of the eggnog into the fire. The flames sputter and burst up, lighting up every corner of the room for a moment before dying back down to an acceptable level.

I also rise, leveling Kris with my darkest glare. "He was more of a father than my own, and you know it."

Snorting, Kris makes his way over to his coat. "Yes, Father did always like strays."

With a snarl, I lunge towards him. Only the slight whisper of sound alerts me that we're not alone. Before my brain can respond, a strong band of arms wrap around my waist and pull me back. Growling softly, I scent the air. Damn Rudolf. Despite being taller and broader than I am, he manages to sneak into places without so much as a breath of sound.

"That's enough, Asmon. Don't make me confine you."

Breathing erratic, I twist and turn, trying to free myself of Kris' guard. "Let me go, Red. This doesn't concern you."

With a sigh, he simply wraps his arms around me tighter. "I wish that were so, but you know the rules. Stand down."

We stay locked in that embrace for countless minutes. Kris watches the scene, a gleeful smile crossing his face. "That's it. Down boy."

Red tenses behind me. What does he think I'm going to do? I'm not planning on killing Father Christmas, but he could at least let me deck him one. Once my breathing evens out, he eases his hold until his arms hang around me in a limp circle.

"You good?"

Easing out of his arms, I turn and raise an eyebrow. "What do you think?"

He sighs and brushes his chestnut hair back. "You got to stay calm with him."

"You think I don't know that asshole?"

"Woah, woah," Red holds his hands up in front of him. "Don't get pissy with me. I'm not the one about to beat up Santa Claus."

"I'm tired of you two carrying on like I'm not even here."