Chapter 25 Sylvie #2
“Intimidation tactics,” I noted calmly, not moving an inch despite the power swirling around us.
“Section 8.7 of the Supernatural Labor Relations Act specifically prohibits the use of magical coercion during collective bargaining negotiations. Congratulations—you just committed a felony under supernatural law.”
The golden light flickered, uncertainty creeping into Santa’s expression.
I gestured to my mates, who stood with renewed confidence.
“Kenai’s clan has been subjected to discriminatory assignment practices based on subspecies—a clear violation of equality provisions.
Taimyr’s herd has been denied proper representation despite their numerical majority.
And Aleksi’s people have been systematically excluded from decision-making processes that directly affect their working conditions. ”
I paused, pulling out one final document.
“But here’s my favorite discovery—the Mystical Beings Pension Protection Act of 1901.
” Setting the sheet on the table, I continued, “Guarantee of full pension benefits after ten years of employment, and access to the font of magic for life—regardless of employment status. Guess how many reindeer have ever been allowed to access their pensions?”
Santa’s face had gone from red to pale in seconds.
“Zero,” I answered my own question. “Because you’ve classified them as contractors rather than employees, despite the fact that they perform specialized, skilled labor under direct supervision for compensation.
Which, coincidentally, is the exact legal definition of an employee under supernatural law. ”
The room was silent except for the soft hum of magical energy slowly dissipating. Santa’s advisors looked like they wanted to disappear through the floor.
“So here’s what’s going to happen,” I declared, my voice carrying the full authority of someone who’d just demolished her opponent’s entire legal position, and just a little petty smugness.
“You’re going to recognize the United Arctic Reindeer Clans as an official union.
You’re going to negotiate in good faith on their demands for improved working conditions, fair compensation, and safety protocols.
And you’re going to establish a pension fund for every reindeer who’s ever worked for this operation. ”
“And if I refuse?” Santa asked, but his voice lacked its earlier conviction.
“Then it looks like Christmas is canceled.”
He blinked. “You wouldn’t—the children—”
“The children of the world would survive a Christmas without you. Because despite the propaganda you’ve sown, it’s not presents that make Christmas, or some jolly old man delivering them.
It’s family—and the joy of being with those you love as the world breaks out of the darkness of winter.
” I paused. Sometimes, you needed a little drama.
“Holiday magic can survive without you. But can you survive without it?”
You always had to hit these executives where it hurt most: their bottom line.
“Of course,” I continued, “we’re reasonable beings. We’re not interested in destroying Christmas—we want to make it better. For everyone. Workers and children alike.”
“You can’t do this. Every reindeer who strikes will be fired. We will move forward without them—”
“Not this time.” It was Aleksi who spoke now. “We stand in this, united. One clan, one people. No one will work until our demands are met.
Jólnir’s advisors were sweating bullets, and the jolly old elf himself was furious, his jaw clenched.
“You will all pay for this.”
Kenai and Taimyr stepped up beside us, hands on Aleksi’s shoulders.
“Then we go down together. But I don’t think you’ll find it easy to replace your entire workforce on Christmas Eve.
As we speak, sleighs are missing their launch times.
” Kenai could barely hold back his grin as he swiped his hand, and snowflakes swirled, revealing a screen.
Dots all over the east coast of Asia flashed red as deliveries were already being missed. I didn’t understand magic, but I saw what looked very much like a stock ticker plummeting downward.
I slid our drafted agreement toward Jólnir. “Ready to play ball, Yule Father?”
The negotiation that followed was swift and decisive.
Within hours, we’d hammered out an agreement that would revolutionize working conditions in the North Pole.
Jólnir had agreed to almost everything—because, in the end, he knew the truth.
He was nothing without the people on whose backs he’d built his empire.
As we walked out of the corporate boardroom, Kenai’s hand found mine.
“You magnificent, terrifying woman,” Taimyr said, sweeping me into a kiss that tasted like victory. “You did it!”
“We did it,” I corrected as Kenai and Aleksi crowded in, their joy flooding our bond like sunshine. “All of us.”
“The union vote was unanimous,” Aleksi murmured against my hair, his voice thick with emotion. “Clans that have feuded for centuries voted together. You united us, Sylvie.”
“No,” I countered, pulling back to look at all three of them. “You united yourselves. You just needed someone to show you it was possible. Now, just wait until you see what I can do with the healthcare package negotiations.”
My mates laughed—a sound of pure joy that echoed through the glass-lined hallway.
We took the high-speed elevator down one hundred and eight floors, where my mother and grandmother were waiting in the lobby.
Mom was bouncing on her toes. Grandma looked impeccable as always, but I saw a slight smirk twitch at the corner of her mouth when she saw our ecstatic faces. Then that smile dropped, and I heard the sharp clack of expensive heels behind me.
“Well done, Sylvie.”
I turned as my three mates instinctively surrounded me.
Before us stood Mrs. Patterson—but not the Mrs. Patterson I knew.
She was as tall as Kenai now, and instead of a cozy Christmas sweater, she wore an impeccable red pantsuit.
Her white hair was swept up in a crown of braids.
Her face was smoother, almost timeless, but something in her eyes still revealed her age—the wisdom and depth behind that glacial blue.
She was the most terrifying thing I’d ever seen.
My grandmother stepped between me and the ethereal woman. “Stay away from my granddaughter, you old hag.”
Mrs. Claus laughed. “Bold words from one who knows the cost of breaking a fae bargain.” Her grin was pure malice—worse than anything I’d felt in the boardroom. But then she sighed and crossed her arms over her chest. “Stow your claws, Rose. Sylvie was never in any danger.”
“You drugged her and placed her in a highly compromised state—”
Mrs. Claus rolled her eyes. “Do you think it was a coincidence I did that when one of her fated mates was nearby, ready to defend her with his very life?”
I straightened. “How did you know Kenai was my fated mate?”
She picked an invisible piece of lint off her flawless suit. “Darling, when you’re as old as I am, very little escapes you.”
Gears started turning in my head. “You knew what I did—that I could help him, help them.” It hadn’t been a miscalculated distraction after all. “Why?”
She examined her manicured nails. “Marriage can grow quite…stagnant after a few centuries. Jólnir and I enjoy these little games. Keeps things fresh.”
I stepped closer, my voice hard. “These aren’t games. These are the lives of the people I love.”
She took a step back, looking at me like I was something unpleasant that had crawled out from beneath her perfectly pointed shoe.
“You got what you wanted. You should be grateful.”
“What I want,” I gritted out, “is for people like you to stop toying with lives as if you’re better than us.”
“I am better than you.” She said it like a fact—and she believed it.
I’d never slapped a timeless goddess/magical being before, but what was life without the joy of firsts? I raised my hand—only for Aleksi’s to wrap around my wrist.
“Sylvie,” he said gently, “let us fight this the right way. Like you showed me.”
I looked into his dark-green eyes as he kissed the tips of my fingers.
Kenai leaned in behind me, his voice low. “This is only the beginning. We have so many more fights.” He grinned. “So many more victories.”
Mrs. Claus’ lips flattened, but then she smiled. “I look forward to the challenge. This century is shaping up to be quite interesting indeed.” She turned and walked away without a backward glance.
My mates ushered me through the three-story glass doors of the lobby, out into the Arctic night. My mother and grandmother joined us, the aurora glimmering above. Behind us, the glass towers of Santa’s empire gleamed in the shifting light—but they no longer seemed quite so imposing.
After all, even the most powerful magical corporation in the world never stood a chance against me—not when I had my men behind me.
And Christmas, I thought, was going to be much merrier for all of us from now on.