Hunted in Holly

Chapter 1

Kill him. The intrusive thought pounded through my skull, and I rubbed the bridge of my nose in an effort to dispel it. The thoughts had been getting stronger and more clear the closer I got to the Pole. Maybe that was my subconscious trying to keep me motivated. It would have been easier to back down and roll over, but it would be impossible to truly grieve and move on so long as that need flared in my chest.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to crush any remaining doubt and hesitation, only to open them abruptly when the visions of flames started filling the dark space in my head again. I inhaled deeply, and exhaled slowly, once, then twice, then a third time. By the time I’d counted to ten, I’d found calm equilibrium.

My brother had taught me that trick.

Cresting the mountain pass, I gazed upon the fortress situated in a snow covered valley. An expansive forest covered its flank, while these white mountains protected the helm. December’s Cold Moon illuminated the blanket of heavy snowfall, creating an entirely too bright night in this frigid winter at the North Pole .

I hugged my arms around my waist, shrinking into the warmth of my fur-lined coat. A shiver shook through me, more from nerves than the subzero temperatures. Just one more day was all I needed. Once I took him out, I wouldn’t care what else happened to me. I would get revenge for those I loved.

I would survive until then no matter what.

With a heavy breath, I knocked fresh snowflakes from my eyelashes with my mittens, then I replaced my soft hood, dipped my chin, and started the long descent through smooth, unblemished snowpack. The champagne powder stuck to the fibers of my suede winter boots, while every step compacted the soft piles into hard, icy footprints. The sound of crunching snow beneath my heels had once been a comfort, but today, it was like war drums, beating slow and steady in my ears.

The path steepened, and I skidded down the hill with bent knees to keep my stability. At the bottom, the true size and grandeur of the fortress fully sank in.

A massive cylindrical tower in the center shot towards the sky, reaching so far into the heavens, I couldn’t see the top. It was identical to my own fortress in the south, only where my tower was green and radiated peace, his was redder than a slaughter. We were opposite sides of the same globe, polarized in both our colors and our moral character.

To think, I once believed we were the same despite the distance. I should have known better.

I flattened against the towering walls that enclosed his castle, doing my best to stay out of sight while I concentrated my energy. My power over frost and winter made conjuring icicles an effortless task. I pieced them together to form a ladder of frozen shards that would help me scale the high barrier. One day, I’d have the magical strength to control all of the seasons, but for now, this would get me by.

I started up the fifteen meter stone surface, while increasing wind speed and a swirling blizzard fought to throw me from my path. Just a few feet from the top, I stilled long enough to let a patrolling soldier pass by.

I wouldn’t be caught here. I might be able to overpower one of the elves using my magic, but I couldn’t see well enough to know if there was but one sentry or ten. It was safer to not draw any attention.

Nicholas’ elves were strong and lean and well trained warriors, and I never understood what fueled their unyielding loyalty to the northern dictator. Though he was known as one of the world’s seven immortal Saints, there was nothing good or kind or just about that man. He was evil incarnate in a red, tailored suit.

Another heavy gust pushed against my side, and I took that as my cue to get moving, lest I be thrown back into the waiting snow below. The blizzard had already covered my tracks, but I couldn’t risk the noise or spectacle of my fall.

Over the lip of the wall, I landed on the parapet on silent movements. Blazing fire rings were evenly dispersed in each well placed battlement, and the complacent guards were huddling by the fires, lingering there too long between patrolling the walls. On a nicer night, they may have been more vigilant, but not when the weather was bad, and they had no known enemies who could stand against them. I’d picked this night for exactly that reason. I’d always have the advantage in the snow.

The near white out conditions served as a helpful veil as I crossed the narrow stone walkway and started lowering myself into the courtyard. Within five feet of the ground, I dropped into the building snow, and I landed in a squat to disperse the momentum.

Nicholas’ courtyard was a maze all its own, with interwoven walls of thick ivy, crowned with decorative red berries and poinsettias. It was beautiful despite its danger. The touches of life in a frigid winter would always speak to my heart.

My green coat blended into the leaves, offering the slightest advantage as I ducked the attention of more patrolling elves.

Why his compound was so intensely guarded, I honestly couldn’t say. It’s not like many people had the courage to attempt an assassination on someone like him.

You’d have to be an idiot to even try.

Heh.

The weather worsened, though I was thankful for every tree shaking howl and deafening gust that aided my infiltration. Footprints were ordinarily the most blatant tell in winter, but the well-worn path of pacing guards and the constantly blowing powder worked to my advantage tonight.

I hugged another ivy wall as an oblivious elf marched past, then I made my way to a bush at the base of a window that would serve as the perfect entry point.

Conjuring ice into a sharp scalpel, I drew a large circle in the glass, removing the first pane of his well-insulated windows. I set the glass behind the bush, out of sight, then I started on the next pane.

The room on the other side was pitch black. Based on my memory of this place, from when I’d come here as a child in a diplomacy meet-and-greet between the North and South Poles, I was confident this led to a conference room. At this hour, no one would be holding any meetings, so it seemed like a prime point of entry.

Once I cut through the final barrier, I slipped inside, and replaced the glass in the hole, gluing it in place with a ring of ice magic to prevent any loud blowing and whistling that might merit investigation from a passerby. The room was warm and toasty, but my magic ice would take a little longer to melt than standard frost.

I dusted the abundant snowflakes from my coat and my pants before they could soak through my clothes, then I removed my boots for better stealth. With a heavy inhale, I turned my attention towards the door to the hall.

Getting in was easy enough. Now the real challenge began.

So late at night, Saint Nicholas was likely asleep. His guards were proving easy enough to outsmart, so it should have been simple to make my way through the expansive mansion to his bed chamber.

The first hint of an icicle sparkled in my palm, and I suppressed my rising emotions to quiet my own magic. I’d read all the stories, and done my research on how to topple a Saint. All I had to do was stake him through the heart with my ice, and that would be the end of the great Tyrant of the North.

Then maybe my people could rest in peace.

I exited the conference room into an empty hallway, and I stepped lightly on the long red rug that extended the full length of the floor. A soft rustle caught in my ear, and I darted for the first door I could .

Thanks to well-maintained hinges, I slipped silently into what was, fortunately, a dark closet. I stayed out of sight until the footsteps passed. Holding my breath, I waited a few extra moments to assure they had plenty of time to get far out of range. When I heard the sound of another door opening and closing, I exhaled slow and steady, then I slipped back into the corridor.

I didn’t know precisely where his bedroom would be, but I knew he was in another wing from the board rooms and cleaning closets. I still had a long way to go to reach my target.

Around a bend, I saw another guard at the end of the concourse. While I couldn’t get past him, I could easily sneak through the kitchen to get to the dining hall, which should be empty this time of night.

I slipped through the nearest door, then ducked into a dark scullery. I stayed low, crouching beneath the height of the sink and countertop, as I made my way through the kitchen. It was a large and empty commercial kitchen, with enough rows of preparation stations and equipment to house a small army who had to feed a large one. Dimmed bulbs overhead cast heavy shadows on every surface, offering just enough light to navigate, but not enough to discern every detail. Though I didn’t see any guards or servants, I stayed vigilant just in case someone wandered in for a midnight snack.

A clang reverberated through the space, sudden and loud and alarming in what was previously dead silence. My whole body froze, while my heart instantly accelerated to a heavy, hammering beat. I swallowed the thick terror that was rising through me like bile, and I foolishly tried to convince myself that I was being paranoid .

In nervous, jerking movements, I tipped my chin towards the source of the sound, staying low and otherwise still.

A disturbed pot swayed back and forth on its hook, clanging into the pans on either side of it. Every hit was another red alert for the castle guards.

I hadn’t touched it. There was no breeze in the room. But neither was there any sign of a guard, animal, or person.

I held my position, still and silent, no other option making sense in my mind. If I tried to run, I’d give myself away, and it was unlikely I’d escape. My only knowledge of the building was my vaguest memories, and that couldn’t touch a trained guard who lived here every day.

Alternatively, I couldn’t hide without making noise. These metal cabinets wouldn’t be silent, no matter how slowly and stealthily I moved. My fight-or-flight instincts warned heavily against flight, even if fight was unlikely to be much more successful. My only choice was to hold my breath and hope.

Several seconds passed—it could have been a full minute. I didn’t pick up on even the softest breathing or lightest footsteps.

Then I saw it.

A cat. A simple black and white cat wearing a red jingle bell collar, wandering across the countertops as it traversed a space it didn’t belong. Just a playful creature being a little rebellious late at night. I relaxed for only a second.

Just a cat .

I’d admit I was a little surprised that he had pets. Caring for sweet animals didn’t track for what I knew about the Saints. But my judgment aside, fair or not, I was grateful that’s all it was. I continued my quiet crawl through the kitchen.

I made it another few meters when a sharp pinch stung the right side of my neck with all the subtlety of a bee sting.

I swatted at the pain on instinct, only to have my hand snatched out of the air by a decisive grip. Panic hit my heart hard and fast.

Attempting to whirl on my assailant was immediately the wrong move, as my shift in position only sank the needle deeper into my vein. Everything was happening too quickly for me to stop it. I latched on to whatever information I could discern, burning in the image of the bright red, near glowing eyes of the man depressing the plunger on his syringe. I didn’t even get the chance to scream before he injected failure, unconsciousness, and a guaranteed death directly into my bloodstream.

Merry fucking Christmas to me.