Christmas Lites II

By Amy Eye

Join us this Christmas season as authors from across the globe unite to spread holiday cheer and raise money for a very important cause. You will delight in the various stories these authors have created in order to take you on a journey from inside their heads and into your heart. Fairy tales, mysteries, journeys with zombies and monsters, vampires, angels, trips to the North Pole and much more await inside the covers of this book. All proceeds from the book are being donated to the National Coalition Against Domestic Violence. Not only will you get a taste of the spirit of the season, but you will do so knowing you did your part in helping a very worthy cause. Merry Christmas!

Contributing authors:

Addison Moore
Amy Eye
Angela Yuriko-Smith
Cassie McCown
E.C. Stilson
Frank Smith
JA Clement
JG Faherty
Kimberly Kinrade
Lizzy Ford
Lynn Rush
Melynda Fleury
Misty Baker (Mysti Parker)
Monica La Porta
Nichole Chase
Patti Larsen
S. Patrick Pothier
Tish Thawer
Tricia Kristufek
Vered Ehsani
Elizabeth Evans

• Language: English
• Publisher: CreativeReviewPub
• Release date: Nov 11, 2012
• ISBN: 9781301474219

Book preview

Santa’s Ninja Elf: Hunter’s Revenge by Lizzy Ford

A (Not) Very Neighborly ChristWitchmas by Patti Larsen

A Mermaid for Christmas by Nichole Chase

Ugly and the Prince by Monica La Porta

The Light of Truth by Lynn Rush

A Fading House by EC Stilson

The Hunt: Vol II by Amy Eye

Wishmaster 2000 by JG Faherty

The Christmas Parrot by Vered Ehsani

Rent-A-Christmas by Kimberly Kinrade

The Locket by JA Clement

Joseph by Melynda Fleury

Table Five by Misty Baker

Momma’s Last Christmas by Cassie McCown

A Monstrous Christmas by Frank W. Smith

The Loving Dead by Angela Yuriko Smith

Merry Christmas, You Guys by S. Patrick Pothier

Accidentally Smitten by Tricia Kristufek

The Rise of Rae by Trish Thawer

Someone to Love by Addison Moore

BONUS STORY: The Unicorn Who Saved Christmas by Elizabeth Evans

Santa’s Ninja Elf: Hunter’s Redemption

By Lizzy Ford

Hunter stood to the side of Santa’s massive chair, glaring at the long line of kids and parents in front of him. Normally, official Mall Elves performed these types of missions, not an assassin-trained Ninja Elf like him. He should be tracking enemy operatives working for the chocolate-obsessed Cupid. Instead, he stood in a mall in Arizona, assigned to gather intelligence on the hottest-selling toys and protect a mall Santa from what? Crying kids?

It was a fitting punishment for what he’d done.

A few days ago, he’d had a little too much eggnog, mistaken a snowman for a snow-goblin and beheaded him on his own lawn. In response to the outcry at the North Pole, Santa banished him to a place where they decorated cacti instead of pine trees. Hunter shuddered, still able to hear the screams of horror from the snowman’s family.

Today was the day Hunter dreaded: when Santa decided his fate.

The mall Santa tapped the arm of the chair to get Hunter’s attention. This Santa didn’t look remotely like the real Santa. The mall Santa was scary looking, with a beard too white to be real and makeup around pretty hazel eyes.

Hunter looked twice. Was a woman pretending to be Santa?

Santa tapped again, this time raising a manicured eyebrow at Hunter.

Kid, time’s up, Hunter said to the boy on Santa’s lap.

I’m not finished! the boy cried.

Hunter bent over until their faces were level. The kid reminded him of Cupid, whose chubby face hid a diabolical brain intent on replacing Santa as the most beloved holiday figure. Hunter had lost more than one of his platoon members after they were lured into Cupid’s boiling pots of chocolate. He’d learned not to trust kids.

If you don’t want me to slip you a poison gumdrop in your sleep, get off Santa’s lap, Hunter whispered.

The boy burst into tears.

Next! Hunter barked.

The first few people in line looked at him nervously. At over six feet tall and fit enough to wrestle a rabid reindeer, he wasn’t the type of elf people messed with. He’d do whatever it took to keep the line moving.

You get sixty seconds each with Santa! he yelled to the crowd.

Can you stop scaring people? the mall Santa hissed at him. The female voice confirmed his suspicions.

He glanced back. It’s 9:05. At sixty seconds each, you’ll be here until noon. I’m expecting the line to grow by approximately twenty percent each hour, meaning—

It’s Christmas Eve. I don’t care if I’m here all night, she replied. Just chill, okay?

Look, I might not be an official Mall Elf, but I know how to run an operation this size, he said. He pointed at the little girl at the front of the line. You, double-time it or get out!

Is there an off switch to you? the mall Santa mumbled.

Hunter ignored her and started the timer the minute the girl sat on Santa’s lap. At the sixty-five second mark, the girl was still trying to determine what color pony she wanted.

"Santa is not going to shove a horse down the chimney, he snapped. Time’s up."

Santa sighed. The little girl looked at her parents before she began crying.

The whole morning went the same way. By eleven, he understood why Mall Elves received hazard pay. By noon, he wasn’t sure he could listen to one more request for the latest video game, puppy or iPad.

Santa rose a little after noon and put up the flimsy, velvet rope in front of the chair.

What are you doing? Hunter asked.

It’s lunch time, and I definitely need a break. Be back in an hour, she replied.

His gaze scanned the line. He calculated how long it would take to catch up. Turning to tell her a break was out of the question, he saw her disappear into the flimsy structure at the center of the workhouse denoted, Santa’s House. He followed and pushed the door open.

There was hardly enough room for the card table where employees took their breaks. To the right was the door to an equally small bathroom and to the left was a white board with everyone’s hours on it.

We can’t… Hunter stopped.

Can’t what? Santa had pulled off her beard and wig.

She was beautiful. Aside from eyes the color of apple cider, her dark hair was curly, her features tan. She had a delicate elf chin, but not the ears, and her lips were shaped like a bow. His elfin senses picked up on the shimmer around her, and he tried to identify it to figure out if she was a threat. It seemed almost like… sorrow.

The line. Too long, he managed.

Tarzan-the-dictator-elf—she rolled her eyes at him—I’ve got to get my daughter.

Hunter watched with interest as she unzipped the Santa suit, wondering what she wore beneath it and hoping it wasn’t much. He was disappointed when he saw jeans and T-shirt. She was a small, shapely woman beneath the fat suit. His eyes went to her feet when she sat to pull on shoes. Unlike elves, humans had five toes on each foot.

You really gonna walk around the mall like that? she asked. She tossed her curls over one shoulder and glanced at him.

I’m required to stay in uniform until the duty day is over, he replied. Hunter wore his green elf clothes, a red hat with a bell and black boots.

The ears are a good touch, too. You look like a real elf.

It’s a deformity. Medical science has proven there’s no such thing as an elf. He repeated the standard line for addressing the ear issue with humans.

Whatever. I’ll see you at one. She grabbed her purse, mumbling under her breath. She can have this one.

Have what? he asked.

You heard that?

My medical deformity gives me sharper hearing than humans.

She squeezed by him. Their bodies brushed, and an odd, warm energy flew through him. It was like the shock of grabbing a short circuiting Christmas light, only it didn’t hurt. A foreign thought passed through his mind. Ninja Elves remained single while serving Santa, because there was no guarantee of returning home from every mission. However, he’d heard normal elves talk about how the thrill of Christmas Eve—a combination of hot cocoa, anticipation and peppermint—filled them when they found their mates.

Touching her felt a lot like Christmas Eve.

The woman was staring up at him with large eyes, caught in the same spell. She was close enough for him to smell the combination of her light perfume and womanly scent, made stronger by being trapped in the suit for hours.

She cleared her throat. A friend and I had a bet to see which one of us could take you out first.

Take me out? he asked, eyes narrowing. Did the snowpeople send you?

What? We just thought you were… you know. A small blush crept across her cheeks, one that made her eyes glow.

Hunter crossed his arms. Unarmed? I have plenty of tinsel traps. They can immobilize a full-grown elf for twenty-four hours.

You’re so weird, but there’s just something about you… She studied him, then shook her head. Never mind. She turned and walked away.

Hunter couldn’t take his eyes off her bouncing curls or swaying hips. His blood was racing, and it had nothing to do with battle. He found himself too interested in touching her again and experiencing the strange energy.

The snowpeople chose their operative well, he thought bitterly. He should’ve brought more than throwing bells and tinsel traps.

Maybe that was why he hadn’t heard from Santa yet. Maybe Santa was going to let the snowpeople have their revenge. There were two places where a body could be buried and never found: the mile-thick ice around the North Pole and the desert. Grimly, Hunter realized he was sent to southern Arizona for a reason.

He left the workshop for the food court. Out of respect for the polar bears that protected Santa’s compound, he couldn’t eat at the place with the panda bear logo. He’d tried chickens long ago, but found the feathers and beaks tough to swallow. There were no spits of roasted reindeer, and he didn’t understand the concept of salads—the food they fed reindeers up north. That left him with one real option: cheeseburgers. They came with sticks called French fries.

He chose a table in a corner and sat with his tray. He examined a French fry, uncertain of its origin. Did it grow like this in the wild? He tried it, pleased to find he liked it.

A little girl at the neighboring table leaned over and stared at him with big blue eyes.

Are you a real elf? she asked.

Who told you? he demanded, looking around. Was it Cupid?

She shook her head, then pointed at his ears. She was alone. Hunter knew enough about humans to know they didn’t leave their kids alone like this in public. But Cupid often used lone children to bait gummy traps.

If you lie to an elf on duty, you’re automatically entered into the Naughty Table of the worldwide Naughty’n’Nice database, he told her. That means no presents. Understand?

Does that mean Santa’s real, too? Her face lit up.

You won’t get to him through me. His eyes narrowed. This one was going to be hard to break.

Just as quickly, she looked sad. Mama says there’s no Santa.

Of course there’s a Santa, Hunter said. Is your mother an elf?

No.

Then why would you believe her?

Really? She gazed up at him. Then I can ask him for something? I only want one thing.

I might be able to arrange that, he said. He’d humor her, until certain she wasn’t an enemy operative.

Can I have a fry?

Hunter hesitated, then nodded. He watched carefully to ensure she didn’t sprinkle any poison glitter on his food. She stuck the fry in her pocket, then grabbed a handful. Those went into her pocket, too.

Where is your mother? he asked.

I don’t know. The sad look returned. Her lower lip trembled.

Don’t, he warned. I can legally trade you to the gingerbread people for ginger spice. You don’t want that. I don’t want that. But if you cry, I’ll do it. Understand?

She swallowed her tears with a nod. Can I wear your hat?

He heard a faint jingle, the sound of an incoming text message. Pulse quickening, Hunter pulled out his phone to see a note from the dispatcher at the North Pole.

Santa’s on his way. Estimated time of arrival: 12:39.

I can’t let a civilian wear part of my official uniform, Hunter said to the girl.

Okay. Will you help me find my mama?

Thus far, she wasn’t acting like an operative of Cupid. There was one more test, though, before he could be certain.

Yes, he said slowly. I will. Come with me.

Hunter stood. He’d left the food court before he realized she wasn’t following. He retraced his steps. The girl was standing in front of the Christmas tree in the center of the food court, fascinated by the lights and sparkling tinsel.

Do you know what happens if you don’t listen to an elf? he asked, arms crossed.

She turned to look up at him. Gingerbread people?

Exactly. Come on.

He started away. This time, he glanced back as he reached the edge of the food court. Her legs were too small to keep up with him, and she’d fallen behind. Irritated, Hunter retreated one more time.

He picked her up. At once, he noticed her skin was softer than the downy fur of a baby reindeer. She smelled like fresh snow, and her eyes were the color of the summer sky at the North Pole. She seemed as delicate as the winter lilies that bloomed behind Santa’s workshop.

She pulled on one of his ears.

Don’t do that, he growled.

Her smile was as sweet as the icing on a sugar cookie. It made him feel funny inside, like icicles melting in spring. He shook the sensation off and strode through the mall, focused on testing her. The girl was quiet, her gaze lingering on anything sparkly, glittering, or bright.

When he entered the candy shop, he waited for her reaction. Cupid’s foot soldiers lived off a steady diet of chocolate and candy and viewed things like reindeer food as treats. They had the same reaction to salad that normal human kids did to sweets.

Candy! the little girl squealed.

Hunter grimaced. Okay, so she wasn’t an enemy operative. That meant she was probably telling the truth about everything, including not knowing where her mom was. He walked out of the store and saw the tears gather in her eyes. He raised an eyebrow in silent warning.

She took a deep breath but didn’t cry.

Where’s your father? he asked.

Mama says he ran away with a witch.

A witch! he exclaimed. They’re worse than gingerbread people. You’re lucky she didn’t hex you.

She nodded solemnly.

Your mother is here somewhere?

Yes, the girl sighed. She says there is no Santa, because she is Santa.

I might know where she is. Does she have eyes like caramel candy and hair the color of chocolate?

Yes.

The faint jingle again. A quick look at Hunter’s phone confirmed Santa was waiting.

Workshop. Now.

He glanced at the girl in his arms. Before he met his fate, he could at least show her there was a Santa. Maybe then, the sadness in her eyes would be gone. She rested her head on his shoulder, and his grip around her tightened instinctively. Her soft scent and skin made him think he might not mind if Santa fired him. He could hang around at the mall with her instead.

Maybe even see her pretty mother again. More icicles melted inside him.

He smelled Santa’s peppermint glitter before he reached the break room. Hunter took a deep breath and opened the door.

Hello, boss, he said.

The girl gasped at the sight of the man in red. Santa’s dazzling presence took up the whole room, spreading glitter and cheer to every corner. The large man looked from Hunter to the girl.

Who’s this? Santa asked, smiling.

Megan. There was a hushed note of awe in her voice.

Megan only wants to ask for one thing for Christmas. Right? Hunter looked at her hard.

She nodded.

What can I bring you? Santa asked.

I want my mama to smile again, she whispered.

Hunter felt worse that moment than when he killed the innocent snowman. When had he become so jaded that he suspected every little girl of trying to kill him?

I can do that, Megan, Santa said softly. Now let us talk.

Megan squirmed. Hunter put her down and opened the door, closing it behind her.

I take it I’m fired, he said.

You are. You’re also banned from the North Pole.

Hunter sighed. He sat down and rubbed his face.

But, in light of your years of service, Santa continued, I’m going to give you one chance to redeem yourself. Will you accept one last mission?

Of course. Hunter looked up, surprised.

You must fulfill Megan’s wish.

But I’m not Santa. I’m just an elf.

You are the only elf who can do this.

Hunter wasn’t convinced this vague mission was better than a quick death. He thought long and hard. He could bury cinna-bomb mines and tinsel traps in the