Annie’s hand lifted toward the keypad
to the left of the door. Awana stood
behind her, mentally praying that everything would work out. She fidgeted where she stood and glanced back
at her four companions; none of the elves, not even Dale, had been bold enough
to venture a look at Santa in his wicked state.
The evening’s events replayed through her mind, particularly Jonathan’s
confrontation with the rotund man. Santa
had exuded such a daunting presence and moved so quickly that she doubted the
ability of six companions—even with Frankenstein’s monster involved—to out-maneuver
or restrain him. She sincerely hoped it
would not come to violence. If my
theory is correct, and he has consumed the potion of ‘goodness turned to
blight,’ then the potion must be somewhere on the premises, she
thought. Not that Santa is likely to
hand it over if we ask nicely. But when
he spoke in Johnny’s house...he was able to think and express himself. Maybe he can be persuaded to change.
She looked down at her shoes and felt a
pang of sorrow. It was hard to believe
that she had faced so much in just a couple of months: the memory of Halloween
had been erased from her mind; she had joined Jonathan and his companions on a
trek to the Vaca Hills and fought an epic battle not many miles from her home;
she had fallen off a turkey and nearly died by tumbling along a mountainside,
then engaged in another battle beneath the shadow of an impending super-eagle;
now her childhood hero had executed judgment on the town—and the boy—she
loved. But once we get rid of the
final potion, that’ll be it...right? We’re six days from the end of December. Soon it’ll be a new year, and then there will
be no more adventures! She looked up again, smiling. And we’ll all live happily ever after.
“Are you ready, my dear?” asked Mrs.
Claus, starting to input the code.
“Ready!” Awana answered.
The others muttered their agreement,
but Cat made an unusual sound—something like an alert, warning purr. Her fur stood on end, and it almost seemed as
if she were ready to bolt. Once Annie had
put in the correct code, the door swung open of its own accord. There was a rustling sound. Faster than the eye can move, Cat lunged
forward and bashed her head against Mrs. Claus’s calves.
“What in Adam Warlock’s name?” cried
Witch, snatching up the feline.
Mrs. Claus fell straight back in
response to Cat’s tackle, and a machete lodged in the wall where her head had
been just a split second before. Awana
squawked and caught the falling woman, but even with all her jiu-jitsu
training, she did not have the strength to bear her. Together they collapsed in a heap on the
floor. Bat’s eyes filled with rage (he
was already growing rather fond of the old lady), and he burst into the room,
twirling about as various weapons were heaved his way. Witch released a battle cry and zoomed in on
her broom, followed by a very cautious-looking Frankenstein’s monster (having
put his broom away after making a comment that he preferred moving on his own
two feet).
“He--he just tried to kill me,” said
Annie, her voice shaking.
“You said you lost thirty pounds?”
Awana groaned and managed to squeeze away from the woman’s girth.
“My--my husband just tried to kill me,
Awana Humphree.” The old woman sat down where she was, and tears rolled down
her cheeks. “How could he do such a
thing? Is he truly lost?”
“Lost, ma’am?”
“Yes.” She fell against the wall
nearest her. “Is my husband really
gone?”
Awana’s face hardened, and she shook
her head. “As long as he is alive, Mrs.
Claus, we have to assume that he isn’t.
Shouldn’t we assume that with everyone this side of eternity? The most we can do is urge them in the right
direction while they still live. And
when they’re no longer alive—well, that’s in God’s hands.”
She studied the woman’s face with
compassion but did not wait for a response.
In the face of all her fears, she rose to her feet and approached the
doorway. A quavering sigh left her
lips. May we be victorious, she
prayed, and may Santa deliver presents to children once again. Then she dashed in with a yell and joined the
fray.
Santa was standing in the opposite
corner of the room with his toy-bag, reaching in and lobbing various items at
his assailants. Out came a machete, a
pair of scissors, a shuriken, a spear, and countless other items. Bat twisted away from two shuriken and then
ascended a foot in an instant, dodging an ax.
He crashed into the man’s belly, which did not make much of an
effect. Santa backhanded the poor
creature across the room, and Bat slammed into a wall. Seeing this, Cat let out a mighty meow, leapt
out of Witch’s arms, and landed on her opponent’s chest; then she made frantic
swipes with her claws and tore part of Santa’s red coat to ribbons. The fat man fumed, turning as red as the
coat, and tried to grab her—but she leapt over the razor-sharp appendages and
slashed the back of his left hand. Now
beyond enraged, he seized her with his right hand and threw her out the nearest
window.
It came as a surprise to him, then,
when Witch smacked him in the face with her broom. He turned his head slowly to her and exposed
his menacing teeth, but only felt a second crack of wood to his chin. With a grunt he arched his arms arched back
and lunged forward with both sets of claws.
Witch stood in place without a morsel of fear in her eyes, and it seemed
that the claws were right on her...when poof! she vanished in a puff of
black smoke. The observant eye would
have noticed her reach into her alchemy bag and mouth a magic word before
disappearing. Frankenstein’s monster
jumped through the smoke and slammed a powerful fist into the face of his
enemy. Santa staggered and made an
attempt to recover when another fist came crashing into his paunch. He was thrown into the corner of the room and
became the monster’s personal punching bag for the next several seconds. Bat snapped out of his daze, zipped over to
the brawl, and proceeded to buffet the man’s head with his wings.
“OK, good game, guys!” Awana cheered
them on, approaching from behind. Witch
reappeared in purple smoke, holding Cat in one arm and her broom in the other
hand. “Now, Frankenstein’s monster, hold
him down where he is. Bat, take a
rest. It’s time for us to have a chat.”
Her two companions heeded her words:
Frankenstein’s monster pinned the heavy man in the corner by pressing his arms
against the wall, and Bat alighted upon the ground beside him. Witch halted a couple feet behind the
monster, and Awana approached on the right.
Santa looked like nothing more than a wild beast trapped in a net. His attention was everywhere at once, and his
piercing red eyes flitted about in desperation.
Again and again he opened and closed his hands, eager to use his claws
to maim or kill. At first, Awana felt
deep pride for her team’s victory; but then a great pity weighed on her heart
when she witnessed such profound corruption up close. It’s going to be OK, she
reflected. You’ll be OK, old St.
Nick. We’re almost done here. You’ll be back to normal in no time. We’ll find Apo’s evil potion and destroy it,
and then we’ll save my beloved Johnny boy.
In the background, there was a chorus of elven voices and several
other sounds that were difficult to make out; there may have even been the
sound of hooves. Awana collected her
thoughts and opened her mouth to speak.
But just at that moment, Santa roared and lunged forward, knocking
Frankenstein’s monster away from him like a rag doll. In the same motion he smashed his hands
against Bat and Awana, sending them soaring into walls. Frankenstein’s monster collided with Witch
and Cat, sending them sprawling across the slick floor. So it was that most of the Halloween Friends
were knocked unconscious while their adversary loomed over them.
Awana, lying flat on her stomach,
placed her hands on the floor and lifted her eyes. Her unexpected flight across the room had
disoriented her; she thought she would see Santa directly ahead, but instead
there stood a cauldron in an open closet.
Black steam and bubbles rose from the liquid contained within. The potion! St. Nick has been breathing in
its fumes the entire time! She
gritted her teeth and told herself to stand, but her body was still jolted from
the man’s strong backhanded attack.
“You’ve won, Nick,” came Annie’s voice
as the woman walked into view. She
stepped over Frankenstein’s monster.
“You’ve punished the ill-behaved children of the world. You’ve kidnapped Jonathan Legcheese. Now you’ve defeated the Halloween
Friends. You have dealt out judgment to
everyone. Isn’t it a good time to rest?”
Santa’s brow creased with thought at
the voice of his wife. “There is...there
is still more work to do. The evil must
be vanquished. All must be stopped. Death must now come.”
Awana watched as Annie approached the
man. She struggled to her knees, but
when she attempted to cry out in warning to the old woman, nothing came
out. She was exhausted from travel and
battle. But maybe...maybe I have
enough strength to knock over that cauldron, she considered, the spark of
hope in her heart refusing to go out.
Just like Super Pumpkin. I have
to try.
“Death, Nick?” asked Annie. “Death? One month ago, you spoke only of
coal. If coal is the extent of the mercy
you can grant to these children, then give all the children in the world coal!
But not death, husband. You can’t see
what they might become, or the choices that they’ll make.”
She stopped a few feet away from him,
and nothing separated man from wife except for the evil that consumed the man’s
heart. But such coddled malice might as
well be as imposing as the thickest wall.
Even so, Awana observed the conflict in his face as he wrestled with the
effects of the potion and the conscience-awakening words of his gentle
wife. He looked here and there, mumbling
to himself, flexing his claws. Awana
stood and lurched toward the cauldron; she took hold of its rim and began to
shift it away from the closet as silently as possible. Mrs. Claus bridged what remained of the
physical gap between her and the man before her, and she touched his chin with
her hands. She made him meet her gaze.
“I know you’ll come back to me, dearest
husband,” she told him. “For many
generations you have been known as a jolly man.
That is who you are. And I know
in my heart that you are still good.”
That
really seemed to get Santa’s attention.
His head turned to the side, and he revealed his teeth. “No one is good,” he replied slowly, and
without saying anything more, he lifted a set of claws in the air.
Awana screamed as the lethal hand
lanced down at the woman, but her scream quickly ended when Jonathan suddenly
appeared, sitting on the back of a reindeer, holding up a long double-edged
dagger. The claws met with the dagger in
a great ding! that rang across the room.
Mrs. Claus retreated toward the open closet, her face pale with
fear. The reindeer, his red nose shining
dully, moved into a position that gave Jonathan a better angle at Santa.
Awana’s eyes grew as large as
donuts. “Johnny boy. Riding Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. Saving the world. Save your hubby yourself, Mrs. Claus. I’m about to propose.”
Santa disengaged his claws from
Jonathan’s dagger and studied his newest foes.
His chest heaved up and down from the fervor of battle and anger from
his deathblow being thwarted.
“Man, I’m glad I grabbed this thing
from Santa’s bag earlier!” Jonathan remarked.
“It’s not as undeniably majestic as Ms. Unicorn, but it’ll do the job.”
“We’ll see, Legcheese!” shouted
Rudolph. “Just remember our agreement:
no killing! Although in all honesty, that might be a bit harder to follow
seeing that this lunatic has apparently hurt an innocent bat, cat, witch,
and—oh, good God! What is that thing?”
“Focus, Rudy....”
Santa huffed and puffed, and almost
looked like he wanted to blow the house down.
He stamped his feet and opened his mouth in a furious cry. Then he charged at the reindeer and boy
before him, throwing his claws forward.
Rudolph created an extremely bright flash of light with his nose that
momentarily blinded Santa, and the man was too dazed to see Jonathan’s fist
come straight toward his nose. The blow
sent him reeling back. He shook it off
with a groan, regained his composure, and came on again. This time he quickly reached down and lifted
a sword from his bag, then flung it at Jonathan’s head. The boy did not have the reflexes to dodge
it, but Rudolph was not idle; he whipped his body around so that the blade
missed Jonathan by a foot. Now facing
the other direction, the reindeer sent his back legs out with devastating
strength and catapulted Santa into the ceiling.
Right at that moment, Bat and Cat woke up and noticed Awana and Mrs.
Claus pushing the cauldron.
“Meow!” said Cat with great urgency.
“I don’t care if Jeopardy is on right
now, Cat!” screeched her flying companion.
“Jonathan and the red-nosed horse seem to have Santa handled. Let’s help Awana with the cauldron.”
“Meow.”
Jonathan and Rudolph continued to
battle Santa as the four others pushed the cauldron out of the closet. Awana was shocked by how heavy it was, and
she marveled that Super Pumpkin had been able to move the cauldron in Armenor
all by himself. She had noticed upon
first entering the room that the tile floor sloped gently toward a drain in the
center. All they had to do was muster
the strength to push the object over, and the corrupting concoction inside
would be long gone—far away from any weak-minded creature. They pushed, and pushed, and pushed, grunting
as they put their full strength into their effort. They had to stop several times after moving
the cauldron half a foot or so.
“Even if we move it any farther, we’ll
never be able to knock it over with our strength,” Awana explained dismally.
“Looks like you could use our aid, my
sweet,” said Witch, helping Frankenstein’s monster to his feet. “I apologize for being out for so long. I was having the most intriguing dream about
an old boyfriend of mine from witch school.”
“No one wants to know, you old hag!”
cried Bat. “I’m sorry for saying that!
I’m under a lot of stress right now.
Santa has backhanded me into a wall twice tonight.”
“Meow,” said Cat.
“How can you even think of
eating right now, Cat? And seafood? Really?!” Bat flew into a fit of cursing.
Witch took a vial from a bag and spread
it all over the tile near the cauldron, while behind her Jonathan blocked and
parried blows from Santa. Rudolph’s nose
flashed again and again, blinding their vicious opponent for seconds at a
time. Frankenstein’s monster stood
between Awana and Mrs. Claus, and he firmly grasped the cauldron. Then, with a great sum of strength, he threw
his body against the iron object and sent it gliding across the substance that
Witch had spread on the ground. It slid,
then came to a stop, and tilted slowly.
Awana watched as it seemed to hang in place forever, although it must
have only been a second. Then Rudolph,
somehow catching on to what the group had been trying to do, kicked out his
back legs and knocked the object over fully.
Out of it the black liquid flowed and steamed and boiled and bubbled as
it washed down the drain. Soon there was
nothing left. The cauldron was empty,
and Apo’s final potion was gone.
St. Nick fell to one knee. Over the next several seconds, his face
transformed from one of wildness and anger to joy and peace. The laser-red of his eyes vanished, and his
pupils returned to a solid black state.
His ferocious claws dwindled until his fingers were all that
remained. He lifted a hand to his mouth
and felt the conversion of his spiky teeth to regular old pearly whites. Then he rose to his feet slowly and examined
the room around him. Weapons mottled the
floor; a bit of blood was specked on the tile, having dripped from the gash Cat
had put in the back of his hand; the window to his right was broken, letting in
the freezing air; the cauldron that “Aponowatsomidichloron” guy had delivered
to him as an early Thanksgiving gift was on its side, devoid of all liquid. Then he watched as Annie approached him from
the opposite side of the room.
“Ho ho ho!” he bellowed, putting his
hands on his belly. “Oh, my sweet Annie!
What have I done?”
Annie stopped before him and took his
hands. “My dear, sweet husband. You forgot your first love, the very thing
that drove you to bear gifts to the people of the world so many hundreds of
years ago. And you forgot that mercy
triumphs over judgment.”
“How could I have forgotten?” His
flushed face was stricken. “How could I
have fallen so far?”
She gave him a kiss and stared into his eyes. “It is not too late to repair these evils, or
to turn away from them forever. And I
will be by your side to help you, every step of the way.”
As they continued to talk, Jonathan
smiled and dismounted Rudolph. He petted
the animal’s head, and the reindeer whinnied heartily. The boy felt a deep sense of accomplishment,
perhaps more than that which he had felt on Halloween and Christmas. Instead of destroying, he had saved. Instead of fighting to punish, he had
fought to help. Something within
him was changing. He had first sensed it
when he had made it his personal responsibility to take care of Awana and bring
her home safely from Armenor. He had sensed
it again after losing Ms. Unicorn.
Although Jonathan was not yet sure of what this change was, it was
something that he would spend considerable time pondering in the months
following Christmas.
“I’m sorry I was so intent on killing
Santa Claus,” he said to his furry ally.
“I know that’s why you were trying to get us out of the compound. You were trying to save the man you had
served for hundreds of years, and you wanted to spare me from giving in to
violence. If Dale hadn’t heard you
yelling and let you out of the snowmobile, I don’t know where we’d be right
now.” Tears came to his eyes. “You’re a
good friend, Rudy.”
Rudolph nodded in agreement. “Oh, I know. I’m the best. That’s why all the
reindeer love me and can’t help but shout, ‘Yippee!’ when they see me. I mean, they used to. Really hoping that starts up again. I’m just glad I talked you out of doing what
you planned to do!”
Jonathan was preparing to respond to
that when a massive form rammed in to him, knocking the long dagger from his
hand and causing him to plummet to the ground.
His knees smashed against the tile, and he only barely avoided getting
knocked out by turning his head to the side at the last moment. He’s back! he thought mournfully. Knocking over the cauldron didn’t work!
It’s all over, now! He anticipated the feeling of claws cutting across his
back, but nothing happened. Confused, he
flipped over and sat on his bottom.
Awana was kneeling before him, her arms open wide.
“Johnny boy!” she cried
exultantly. “You’re OK! You made it!”
“Hey, babe,” he replied dizzily.
Awana looked back at Witch. “Did you hear that? He called me ‘babe!’”
The hag shook her head.
Jonathan snapped out of his daze, and
his heart leapt within him. All I
want for Christmas is you, he remembered, and he threw his arms around the
girl. “Awana! We’re both alive! We made
it! We saved the world!”
“Gooooo us!” cheered the girl. “I just love Easter!”
He released her and gave her a
concerned expression. “What?”
“April Fool’s!” she laughed. “I know it’s Christmas. Now get back here.”
Rudolph went around the room, making
introductions to everyone. Witch asked
him if he was indeed aware of the alchemical properties of the fur that
collected around his hiney. Rudolph
refused to answer. He made some comment
about not trusting cauldrons, witches, flying brooms, or potions. Frankenstein’s monster informed him that they
may have met at some point in his ‘days of solitude,’ during which he had
planned to incinerate himself somewhere in the arctic. Rudolph did not think this was possible, and
also suggested that the monster invest in therapy. Bat asked the reindeer if he had ever won any
horse-racing competitions, and if it would be worthwhile to bet on him. Rudolph did not understand either question,
but told him to discuss all horse-related business with Prancer. Cat asked Rudolph if he was edible, so he did
not speak to her again.
“I see you made a new friend here,”
Awana told Jonathan, her voice tinged with jealousy. They both rose to their feet. “Were you
planning on telling me about him? Was he the one who gave you the cool panda
beanie?”
“Um....” Jonathan scratched his
head. “Um...Awana, this is—”
“Rudolph the Red-Nosed friggin
Reindeer!” she shouted, sprinting over to the astonished animal. “You are such a hero, you have no idea! I am
so starstruck right now.” She put one hand in the air, the other on her
diaphragm, and wiggled her hips as she proceeded to sing the famous song about
him.
“Legcheese, I think I’m in love with
your girlfriend,” said the reindeer.
“She’s not my girlf--” the boy replied,
but stopped himself.
St. Nick went to the center of the
room, holding Annie’s hand. He looked at
all those around him and let out a great laugh.
“Ho ho ho! The joy in this room is palpable. A childlike joy it is, and one that I desire
all to feel on this holy day. I will not
command a pause to the jubilation, but it is time that I get right to
business. First and foremost, I must
thank each and every one of you for going to these lengths to save me from the
effects of such an evil tonic, and for securing generous gift-giving for
generations to come. Not an iota of your
efforts will be overlooked, I assure you.
“Secondly, while I would like nothing
more than to sit down at a joyous supper with you good folks, such an occasion
must wait. For alas! I have committed many
atrocities this eve, and that is something I must attempt to make amends
for. I am thankful to God that I did not
kill, but many children have been injured in the wake of my corruption. Now I must provide gifts that will hasten
their healing, physically and emotionally! I am in need of haste, the likes of
which has never been seen, nor may ever be seen again. Pray do not perceive such haste as poor
hospitality. Before dawn, I must cover
the world in gifts.
“Now, Dasher! Now, Dancer! Now, Prancer, and Vixen! On, Comet!
On, Cupid! On, Donder and Blitzen! We must dash away, my friends!”
There was the roaring sound of hooves on the roof, and they
stopped almost directly above the group.
St. Nick took a remote control from his pocket and toggled a switch
labeled “homing missiles” to the “off” position. He also pushed a large button in the
center. A circle opened up in the
ceiling overhead, and everyone inside the room saw the eight reindeer in front
of Santa’s sleigh.
“Who in the world comes up with this crazy technology?” Awana
asked no one in particular.
The plump, jolly man laughed, the sight of his reindeer filling
him with joy. He then turned to the
group again, and all could see the eagerness in his eyes. “Rudolph, with your nose so bright! Won’t you
guide my sleigh tonight?”
Rudolph leapt in place, something he referred to as dancing. “Absolutely, Santa! Nothing would make me
happier!”
“Then let us away!”
The reindeer looked at Jonathan and Awana. “Legcheese.
Humphfree. Getting to know you has
been the most exciting thing in my life, but duty calls. Somehow, though, I have the strangest feeling
that this isn’t the last we’ll be seeing of each other.”
Jonathan nodded at him.
“Only time will tell, but until then, I’ll miss you. I’ll think about you every day, especially
when I rub it in Pumpkin’s unchanging face that you and Santa are real. Now get out of here, Rudy! Show those boring
louts what haste really looks like.”
The reindeer revealed his teeth in a thankful smile, then
crouched down where he was standing.
Santa took hold of his bag, made an annoyed comment about all the guns
and swords, and hopped onto Rudolph’s back.
The next moment, the red-nosed reindeer was at the head of his eight
companions. Santa was seated in his
sleigh. He belted out a mighty “Ho ho
ho!” and the group disappeared in a flash.
“Wow,” muttered Annie, “he could have at least given all of you
a ride back home.” She scoffed. “Anyway,
do you guys want some stew? It’s been cooking for thirty days, so it should be
ready by now.”
“I think we need to get back home, actually, Mrs. Claus,”
Jonathan responded with a frown. “My
parents must be worried about me.”
“Understood,” said the woman.
“But how do you intend on getting home? We don’t even have an airport!”
Witch glanced into one of her satchels, and then peered into the
cauldron lying on its side. “Do you
happen to have any spare brooms, my sweet?”
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