Chapter One
Nicholas sat in front of the big stone fireplace that warmed his home in the North Pole. Instead of toys and Christmas delights lining his wall, contemporary art, books and CDs were there. Loud holiday music did not play all around him. No, the smooth tones of U2 mellowed his thoughts. He thought about throwing in a Three Doors Down or a Sean Paul CD later on to jam out to if the mood struck him. But for now, he was just content to sit in his leather recliner, drink a Jack Daniels over ice, and stare into the fire.
Soon he would be too busy until after Christmas Eve, so he would enjoy the peace while he could. It was one week until he made his usual rounds across the world, and everyone at the North Pole was already in a flutter, his parents, his workers. All he felt was kind of blah about the whole thing. Usually, he was filled with excitement. The winter and the holiday cheer gave him a buzz He should be excited, but this season was different. This year, he just felt as if it was a job, and that was not good.
Nicholas sighed and took a sip of his amber drink. He knew that if his mother and father walked at the moment, he would hear it. “Be cheerful, Nicholas. This is why you are charged with this task.” He was the fifth son of the Viking god Odin, who was married to his third wife and his mother Joko. To the supernatural realm of gods and goddesses, elves, fairies, and other magical folk, he was known by his real name Christkindl . To the entire world and the children who waited for him on Christmas Eve, he was Santa Claus.
He smiled as he thought of his other persona. A jolly fat man who delivered gifts, and that is what the few children who saw him would see. His magic let him change form to suit the job he had had since the beginning of time. But when he looked in the mirror, that was not the man who looked back at him. Parents would not let their children take presents from a man who never aged past thirty-five.
Nope they would probably try to tazer him and call the cops about an intruder. He chuckled at the thought, but that laughter was soon gone. He was bored. That was the only conclusion he could come to. He had spent the year reforming his Santa Claus operation. No more naughty-or-nice list. He hated that. Nicholas knew that children reacted to the situations they were in, and some were just not naughty. He wanted to go case by case to see who he would be visit in his jovial guise instead of just lumping them into one category.
Of course, this idea was met by disdain by the VPs of Santa, Inc. They owned a majority of the big toy conglomerates that cleaned up at Christmas time, so they were looking at overhead costs of providing more gifts. His father had come up with the idea of banding with mortal companies. They would provide most of the toys and cut down on overworked elves. The elves were working twenty-four hour days every year to catch up with toy demands, and as mortals progressed, elves thought wooden toys and stuffed bears were the way to go. But as usual, the greed of men wanted a piece of the pie, so Santa, Inc. was formed. They would provide the toys, elves would wrap and label, and Santa would deliver. In return, big business would get one wish a year from the fairy realm. And what did they wish for? More money.
Greedy bastards. Nicholas frowned. They wanted more, more, more, but were always willing to give less. After a long battle, his father had overruled them and given Nicholas leave to do as he pleased. No one argued with Odin, and no one sure as hell never argued with his son.
“I need a vacation before this madness begins,” he muttered and stood. The idea seemed better and better as he thought about it. He snapped his fingers, and his head elf appeared in his living room. Obviously, he had awakened his oldest friend because he was dressed in a night shirt and barefoot.
“Horace, I’m going out!” Nicholas announced.
“And
Nicholas sat in front of the big stone fireplace that warmed his home in the North Pole. Instead of toys and Christmas delights lining his wall, contemporary art, books and CDs were there. Loud holiday music did not play all around him. No, the smooth tones of U2 mellowed his thoughts. He thought about throwing in a Three Doors Down or a Sean Paul CD later on to jam out to if the mood struck him. But for now, he was just content to sit in his leather recliner, drink a Jack Daniels over ice, and stare into the fire.
Soon he would be too busy until after Christmas Eve, so he would enjoy the peace while he could. It was one week until he made his usual rounds across the world, and everyone at the North Pole was already in a flutter, his parents, his workers. All he felt was kind of blah about the whole thing. Usually, he was filled with excitement. The winter and the holiday cheer gave him a buzz He should be excited, but this season was different. This year, he just felt as if it was a job, and that was not good.
Nicholas sighed and took a sip of his amber drink. He knew that if his mother and father walked at the moment, he would hear it. “Be cheerful, Nicholas. This is why you are charged with this task.” He was the fifth son of the Viking god Odin, who was married to his third wife and his mother Joko. To the supernatural realm of gods and goddesses, elves, fairies, and other magical folk, he was known by his real name Christkindl . To the entire world and the children who waited for him on Christmas Eve, he was Santa Claus.
He smiled as he thought of his other persona. A jolly fat man who delivered gifts, and that is what the few children who saw him would see. His magic let him change form to suit the job he had had since the beginning of time. But when he looked in the mirror, that was not the man who looked back at him. Parents would not let their children take presents from a man who never aged past thirty-five.
Nope they would probably try to tazer him and call the cops about an intruder. He chuckled at the thought, but that laughter was soon gone. He was bored. That was the only conclusion he could come to. He had spent the year reforming his Santa Claus operation. No more naughty-or-nice list. He hated that. Nicholas knew that children reacted to the situations they were in, and some were just not naughty. He wanted to go case by case to see who he would be visit in his jovial guise instead of just lumping them into one category.
Of course, this idea was met by disdain by the VPs of Santa, Inc. They owned a majority of the big toy conglomerates that cleaned up at Christmas time, so they were looking at overhead costs of providing more gifts. His father had come up with the idea of banding with mortal companies. They would provide most of the toys and cut down on overworked elves. The elves were working twenty-four hour days every year to catch up with toy demands, and as mortals progressed, elves thought wooden toys and stuffed bears were the way to go. But as usual, the greed of men wanted a piece of the pie, so Santa, Inc. was formed. They would provide the toys, elves would wrap and label, and Santa would deliver. In return, big business would get one wish a year from the fairy realm. And what did they wish for? More money.
Greedy bastards. Nicholas frowned. They wanted more, more, more, but were always willing to give less. After a long battle, his father had overruled them and given Nicholas leave to do as he pleased. No one argued with Odin, and no one sure as hell never argued with his son.
“I need a vacation before this madness begins,” he muttered and stood. The idea seemed better and better as he thought about it. He snapped his fingers, and his head elf appeared in his living room. Obviously, he had awakened his oldest friend because he was dressed in a night shirt and barefoot.
“Horace, I’m going out!” Nicholas announced.
“And
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