Chapter 27
NEO
Snow clings to the edges of rooftops and curls in the corners of windows, softening the sharpness of stone and steel.
Twinkling lights hang from crooked lampposts, covered in cobwebs, they flicker in odd rhythms, pulsing like heartbeats rather than bulbs.
The scent of cinnamon and pine drifts from unseen bakeries, mingling with the cold.
Everyone did such a good job making Mournton festive.
I walk beside Zilla, her breath visible in the air, with boots crunching over salted cobblestones.
The streets are busier than usual. It makes sense…
we are just days away from Creepmas. People move fast, wrapped in scarves and urgency, chasing last-minute gifts and fleeting warmth.
The city center shimmers with holiday charm.
It looks festive, but it obviously has spooky touches as well.
Snow dusts everything like powdered bones.
A pine tree towers above us. It’s the one Nox dragged from the forest’s edge, its bark still scarred from the ax, branches wild and gnarled.
It seems like someone tamed it rather than trimmed it.
Some witches walk around it, their hands glowing with soft, spectral light.
They whisper incantations as they string enchanted bulbs across the tree, each one flickering in a different color.
Ice stands in front of it, proudly telling everyone what to do and how to do it.
The little snowman is trying to bring to life another snowman, looking exactly like him.
A choir of skeletons is wearing matching red sweaters; they sing in eerie harmony as if rehearsing carols from the underworld. Above them, crows are perched on the rooftops, cawing with the rhythm.
I shiver, but not from the cold.
Zilla smirks. "It’s festive," she says. "In a haunted sort of way."
I nod, my gaze fixed on the tree. "It’s perfect."
Truth is… I can’t wait to see Nox wearing Santa’s costume.
***
The candy shop is a kaleidoscope of chaos and sugar today.
Glass jars line the walls, filled with enchanted sweets that shimmer, giggle, or try to escape their lids.
The air inside is thick with the scent of peppermint, burnt caramel, and something smelling suspiciously like syrup.
The cauldron is filled with chocolate that bubbles, stirring itself with a cinnamon stick.
I stand near the counter and look over my list. Zilla leans against a shelf of licorice wands, her arms crossed, eyeing a jar of gumdrops that blink when stared at.
Hex curls up on a chair, purring like a haunted kettle.
Nox stands awkwardly in the center of the shop, his skin still pale from the wounds the Krampus inflicted.
He looks wildly out of place—his broodiness and all black clothing in stark contrast to the pastel chaos and sugar sprites from his surroundings. He’s just so handsome and hot.
"Right," Ice says crisply, not looking up. "Nox, is it? I forgot your name."
I laugh at Nox rolling his eyes.
"All you have to do is get the gifts to the right doorsteps. Think you can handle that?"
"Nope." The room seems to pause; Nox is being so calm it borders on being cinematic. He puts his hand in the pocket of his coat, pulling out a cigarette and letting it dangle from his lips. Then he looks up at us. "What?"
The elf’s voice cracks with disbelief. "What do you mean ‘nope’…
" His eyes dart wildly as he begins pacing in frantic little circles, boots squeaking against the polished floor.
His hands flail with each step, as if trying to physically grab hold of a solution that refuses to appear.
"I knew it," he mutters, half to himself, half to the universe.
"I knew it; this was bound to happen. Of course, it would happen now.
" He stops abruptly, spinning towards us with a look of manic urgency.
"Where do I even find another Santa? Is there a backup?
A registry? A hotline? Let someone please give me a sleigh-sized miracle! "
I stride towards him, my boots clicking with purpose, my eyes locked onto the spiraling elf like I have laser sight.
No hesitation, no theatrics, just cool and collected fury wrapped in leather and resolve.
I stop inches from him, slightly tilting my head and smack my hand meets his cheek in a clean, decisive slap. The sound echoes through the shop.
The tall elf freezes mid-rant, blinking as if rebooting. I stand up on my toes, my voice low and razor-sharp, my index finger pointing at him. "Shut up! We don’t have time for meltdowns."
"Hot." Nox is the only one brave enough to speak.
"Nox will handle the deliveries. I’ve got the map, so the gifts reach the right places. You, on the other hand, need a strong drink and a good fuck." Then I turn, leaving them in silence and stunned with respect.