The Saint by Melanie Jackson

of whether she
would
fit it in was another matter. The equation might look too much like demons + Saint Nick = goblins. Santa Claus couldn’t be associated with demons.
    â€œYou didn’t know that? It isn’t common knowledge among humans?” Kris asked. He suddenly looked more cheerful. “Well, well. I’ll have to get Thomas to look into it for me. I mean, if the property outside the city is still undeveloped, there’s a chance some of my belongings are still there. . . .”
    She wondered if she should mention the devastating hurricane that had happened last year and decided against it. “You’d never be able to stand that velvet and fur suit down south,” she warned. “And what about the reindeer? They’d croak in the heat. Also, I’m betting that the elves would have to unionize. It would drive the cost of toy construction right through the roof—not good if you’re planning on keeping up the philanthropic work. You
are
planning on carrying on, aren’t you?” she asked as she ran out of breath. “I mean, that
is
the plan, isn’t it?”
    Kris smiled again and shook his head. His pale hair shimmered as it moved, reminding her of moonlight on water. It was distracting.
    â€œI never wore that red suit but twice—one
would
be the one time I was seen and reported in the newspapers. And frankly, I don’t want to use reindeer anymore. Most are mule stubborn and none-too-bright. Horses are much better. Besides, I need to update my image. Just so you know, I don’t actually use animals to pull my sleigh—no point in being accused of equine cruelty, is there? It’s all public relations these days, I see. And I have other ways to travel when I make my rounds. . . . Maybe manatees would be a good replacement, mascot-wise. Or condors. Or a dragon! Kids would love a dragon, don’t you think?” He sounded enthused.
    A dragon. He said
a dragon.
Are you listening? This guy is nuts.
Joy was sniggering.
    He might mean a dragon from the Muppet people. You know, a puppet.
    Adora said, “If not a sleigh and reindeer, what will you use to get around on Christmas Eve—a jet? A train? The Space Shuttle?” The conversation had entered the realms of silliness, but she persisted valiantly. All this could be possible without making sense right away—like super-string theory.
    Kris shook his head. “Now, now. That sounded very facetious—and we were making such progress.
    Perhaps, if you’re a good girl, I will take you to see my favorite means of travel. It is rather unusual, and has to be experienced to be believed.”
    He steepled his fingers and studied her from the depths of his chair, and Adora fought an urge to squirm as her employer’s gaze probed her. It never failed; her nose began to itch anytime someone stared at her intently. Eyes watering and maddened by the unreachable itch, she almost didn’t hear him when he added, “Of course, this tour will depend upon your heritage being what I think it is. I can’t take the wrong sorts to this place.”
    â€œWhat? Are you . . . are you talking about my ethnicity?” she asked, feeling a sudden crushing disappointment. Was this man a bigot? Did he worry that she was a Jew or Hispanic, and he wouldn’t be able to show her off to his WASP friends?
    â€œNo, I’m talking about whether you are descended from a human clan that is part fey.”
    â€œW-what? Fey?”
    â€œYes, fey—elves, faeries, pixies. Don’t look so shocked. Surely you read through the folder.”
    â€œYes, and most of it was written in a language I don’t know.”
    â€œOh.” He looked surprised, then nodded, as if he should have realized. “Well, fey crossbreeds are quite common these days. And you have to know that many of the Scots and Irish have one foot in the land of the still folk. Personally, I suspect you’re a