The Master by Melanie Jackson

and never coming back.
    â€œIs
that
Christmas?” Gretel asked, sniffing at the cooler in his arms. “It smells good.”
    Nick blinked back his weird fantasy and looked down.
    â€œIt’s a bit of Christmas,” he said. “Let’s get inside. After I change, I’ll show you how to make eggnog—
virgin
eggnog,” he added hastily.
    Â 
    Zee returned with her heavy load of wood a short time later; she’d had to go farther than expected to find enough to keep them warm until morning. While she was glad to see that the children were enjoying themselves with their unexpected guest, she was rather surprised to step inside and find them whirling like dervishes, quite literally bouncing off the walls. They had been subdued and quiet since their encounter with that—that
thing
—at the mall who was pretending to be Santa Claus.
    Nick turned to her as she came through the door, rushing over to help her with the wood. He had managed to change his shirt, but his pants were still wet and he looked a little harried.
    â€œTheir eggnog wasn’t spiked—I swear,” he said. “I don’t know why they’re acting this way.”
    â€œDon’t worry. It isn’t alcohol that does it,” Zee said.
    â€œThen what? The sugar?”
    Zee walked over to the table and sniffed at one of the mugs. “No, it is what you call . . . nutmeg.”
    â€œNutmeg?” he repeated.
    â€œNutmeg.”
    â€œWell, I’ll be damned. I’ve never heard of this type of allergic reaction before,” he said, watching the children literally bumping off the walls and furniture, and giggling ferociously when they collided with one another. “Will the hyperactivity get worse?”
    Zee looked at the half-empty cups.
    â€œNot much. And they will sleep well after.”
    â€œNicholas Anthony!” Gretel called from under the rickety table that filled the middle of the room. “Can we have some more Christmas?”
    â€œNot right now,” Nick answered, laying the wood a safe distance from the fireplace. “And it’s called eggnog. Why don’t you come out from under there and I’ll tell you some things about Christmas?”
    â€œOkay.” Gretel called something to her brother in their native tongue, and then both children giggled. But they obediently came to join Nick by the fireplace, though Hansel couldn’t resist doing one more somersault on the way.
    â€œWhat else is Christmas?” Hansel asked, throwing himself on the blanket with an audible thump.
    Zee could see that sitting on the blanket in his wet pants was uncomfortable for Nick, but he did it anyway, patting the rough wool coverlet encouragingly until Gretel joined him and her brother.
    â€œWell, Christmas is the season of love.”
    â€œLove!” Hansel said scornfully. “Who wants love? That’s for girls.”
    â€œBrotherly love,” Nick explained hastily. “Peace on earth and goodwill toward all men.”
    â€œJust men?” Gretel asked, her lower lip protruding. “That doesn’t seem fair.”
    â€œWomen, too,” Nick added. “And children.”
    â€œWhat about frogs? Or fish?” Hansel asked. “Or grasshoppers?”
    â€œYes, goodwill toward them as well. Peace on earth for everybody,” Nick added. Apparently he was wise to the ways of children, and knew they would spend hours naming species if he didn’t include them all upfront.
    Zee handed Nick a mug of herbal tea, and he gave her a distracted thanks. Amused, Zee gave tea to the children and then unfolded a second blanket, joining them on the floor. She was closer to the fire than she cared for, but it wasn’t intolerable and she liked the way the firelight played over Nick’s features, making his eyes gleam a sort of green-gold. Where she came from, everyone’s eyes were dark.
    â€œWhat else? I like
food,
” Hansel said.