My Orc Santa Claus (Eastshore Isle #5)

Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

Nikki

If you’ve never heard Up on the Housetop performed by twelve second graders, consider yourself lucky. I mean, don’t get me wrong, it was adorable as hell. It was just…

They sucked at the lyrics.

There, I said it.

Our holiday concert was tomorrow after school, the last Friday of classes before winter break. Every class was performing a secular song, and the administration, in its infinite wisdom, had assigned the second graders a song they’d rarely heard, and expected them to clap and stomp at certain points.

I’d given up on the stomping, frankly.

While my first graders—who were singing Jingle Bells , which they already knew, thank goodness—assembled the little pipe-cleaner-and-bells contraptions they were going to shake aimlessly during their performance, I worked with the older kids .

Two days ago, in exasperation, I’d written the lyrics out on posterboard, and now pointed to each word with exaggerated mouth movement.

“Good, good!” I cheered as we finished up. “Great job reading! We’ll go through it a few more times. Michael, stop touching Zane. River, honey, please step into the front row—fingers away from your nose, remember!” I shot the tallest second grader a smile. “Great clapping, Emmy.”

She wasn’t singing, of course—wasn’t even moving her mouth—but the fact she was clapping and stomping in the correct spots told me she knew the song better than anyone else.

As we launched into the song yet again, I studied her.

Her father hadn’t told me how her biological parents had died, or what kind of trauma she’d experienced. But the little research I’d done in the last few days had made me more curious. Apparently, her therapists had been correct; Doctor Google agreed that the way she shut down was a trauma response, and the fact she was slowly opening back up again was a positive sign.

I’d carefully refrained from searching for information about her parents, although I suspected I could find it if I wanted. There weren’t that many orcs in this country, much less orcs with children, that I couldn’t find information on a death.

But that was something private, something sacred to Sakkara and Emmy.

Last night, during that amazing conversation on MonsterSmash, I’d found myself tempted a few times to ask CallMeDaddy if he knew anything. It wasn’t likely he was part of the same cohort as Sakkara, the first ones through the veil. But surely the subsequent immigrants had kept in contact?

Oh yeah, I was fairly certain now that my fuck buddy was a real orc.

Which was amazing, really.

All this time, I’d thought he was just a human masquerading to fulfil some fantasy, but I had to admit, last night’s conversation, and the details CallMeDaddy had so casually included, convinced me.

He was an orc, a real one, who had helped me fulfill a fantasy… And I’d been too chicken to ask him to do it again.

No, that wasn’t the case. I just…after meeting Sakkara, after responding to his nearness and his touch, even if it had been professional…I’d been conflicted about asking CallMeDaddy to make me come again.

Luckily, the conversation we had instead was brilliant.

After what I’m going to generously call “rehearsal,” I got all the kids settled on the mat so we could read some Christmasy books out loud, and I led a discussion about different cultures’ holidays. Since Eastshore had celebrated the orcish tradition of Kap’paral right before Thanksgiving, we led with that.

Then it was time to wash our hands so we could head to lunch.

During that chaotic time, Ro popped around the door, waving an envelope. “Hey, lovey. The front desk asked me to drop this off for you.”

Without paying much attention, I took it and offered a smile. “Your kiddos at recess?”

“Yes, Paula is on duty. You ready for Friday’s performance?”

I winced theatrically. “Not even close. Even if we spend all tomorrow rehearsing, there’s the party on Friday, so you know they’re not going to be able to focus on anything.”

Ro just waved dismissively. “Everyone knows half the fun of elementary performances is how ridiculously bad the songs are. Have fun!” she called as she popped out the door.

Shaking my head with a smirk, I glanced at the envelope. Yep, it was addressed to me, all caps, and I slit open the end while eyeing the room. “Michael, what have I told you about keeping your hands to yourself? Iris, you’re the line leader today, please get your lunchbox. Beckham, toys do not belong in your pants.”

I wasn’t really paying attention to the letter as I pulled it out and unfolded it, but when I glanced down, I had to do a double take to understand what I was looking at.

It was a photocopy of a certificate of parole. For Peter Papalopodopoulos.

My mouth opened, my throat going dry, and my heart… Dios mio , my heart. I’m pretty sure it stopped for a moment, before starting again double time.

Peter was getting out on parole.

With shaking hands, I turned the envelope back over.

There was no “from” address, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that “to” address: Nikki Rios, Eastshore Elementary School.

It was a message.

Peter knew where I was.

He was out of prison, and he knew where to find me.

Both papers fluttered to the floor as I stumbled sideways, reaching for the doorframe to hold myself up.

Dios mio. Dios mio . I had to run. I had to run now .

My heart was hammering in my chest, and my vision had gone blurry.

If Peter knew where I worked, did he know where I lived? Well that was easy enough, I could just not go back to the apartment. And we were so close to the end of term now, I could quit and leave. Contact the US Marshall assigned to my case and tell her I needed a new identity, needed to move. Nome, Alaska, maybe.

He wouldn’t be able to find me there, would he?

He found you here, and Eastshore Isle isn’t exactly a bustling metropolis .

Yeah, that was a good point. Maybe I needed to disappear some place bigger, more crowded. As much as it would hurt to leave this beautiful little community, I couldn’t risk Peter coming here and hurting the people I was coming to love.

As all these thoughts were whirling through my brain, I felt someone step up beside me.

As I glanced down, a small hand slid into mine.

Emmy was holding my hand.

She wasn’t looking at me. In fact, she was watching the other kids lining up for lunch and recess. But she was holding my hand, and her lips were moving.

I blinked, happy to have something to focus on.

Her lips were moving, little breaths of air escaping…and I realized she was almost-whispering words. Up on the housetop, reindeers pause. Out jumps dear old Santa Claus …

It was the song. The song I’d just taught them.

And my heartbeat began to slow. This little girl was calming me, thank goodness, as I understood how truly monumental this was. Emmy, who didn’t speak, had learned the song I’d taught her.

She’d learned her math facts, and the vowel-consonant-consonant-vowel pattern, and the names of the seven continents and major oceans. I’d taught her that. She’d learned that from me .

How could I leave her?

You have to, to keep her safe.

But…

She was singing .

Okay, well, not really singing. But she was mouthing the words to the song for Friday’s performance, that had to count for something, right?

I glanced around the room at these small people who looked to me to guide them. Being a teacher was frustrating and beautiful all at once, and I was so lucky to teach in a place as wonderful as Eastshore. And the Christmas performance…

I felt as if it was the culmination of what we’d been working toward for the last few months.

Stooping, I snatched up the parole paper and looked it over once more. According to this, Peter would have been released yesterday.

Okay. Okay .

I forced myself to take measured breaths.

If Peter got out yesterday, there’s no way he’d be able to get down here so quickly. Besides, that wasn’t his M.O. He would want me to freak out, to live in fear. Or to run again. Hell, maybe that was why he sent this letter; not because he was actually coming after me, but because he wanted me to be afraid.

That was so like him.

I glanced down at Emmy again.

Okay .

So, I move out of my apartment. I turn in my resignation, let admin know I’m leaving town. But I could stay through Friday. I could finish this semester with my kids, I could lead them through their performance…and then when it was over, I could hug them each extra hard, be grateful I was able to be part of their lives for a brief while, and slip away.

I clutched Emmy’s hand, knowing why my heart was breaking.

I’d miss them desperately. My students…and Eastshore.

Sakkara

In the last ten years, I have been lucky enough to see some truly beautiful performances. Orchestral, theatrical, and ballet pieces that moved me to tears.

And not a single damn one of them could compete with Eastshore Elementary’s holiday show in terms of sheer adorableness.

Even the fierce thunderstorm roiling outside couldn’t detract from the joy of watching these kids perform.

When the fifth graders acted out A Visit From Saint Nicholas , I found myself laughing along with the rest of the audience at the little boy who was playing Santa with such silly antics. I clapped loudly for each of the classes’ songs, but when it was the second graders’ turn…

I’m not sure I’ve ever been prouder.

Emmy was standing up there at the end of the row. She wasn’t watching her teacher’s frantic gesturing, she was just sort of smiling as her gaze swept over the audience, as if she was amused by the chaos. She was the only kid who clapped and stomped on the correct beat, and she might not have been singing, but it was obvious she knew the song.

I gave her a standing ovation, even as Karnak rolled his eyes and chuckled at my enthusiasm.

Afterward, I gave her a big bouquet of red and white carnations, since Jess told me it was traditional to give actresses flowers. The way Emmy smiled and threw her arms around my middle—crushing the flowers against my back—told me she liked them .

“Well, kitling, do you want to show Uncle Karnak and Jess your classroom?”

Nodding eagerly, Emmy took Jess’s hand and pulled her down the hall amid the chaos of the other parents and students rushing about, grabbing backpacks and artwork.

Chuckling ruefully, I followed more slowly, listening to the sound of the rain on the roof above us and the crash of thunder. Vaguely, I wondered how old the building was, and if I needed to do anything to ensure it wouldn’t be damaged by future storms.

As I approached the door to the combined first and second-grade classrooms, I felt something in my chest squeeze. My Kteer had chosen this moment to make itself known? How strange.

But although I might pretend ignorance, my Kteer couldn’t. Nikki was in that room, and my steps had quickened because I was excited to see her again. What a confusing response, particularly after that stimulating conversation the other evening with Turquoise. I would think my Kteer would be focused on her, even though we didn’t know anything personal about one another.

If I hadn’t been so distracted, I might not have been surprised when a woman stepped in front of me. I reared back, not wanting to run into her.

“Mr. Mayor?” She stuck her hand out and tipped her head back to glare up at me fearlessly. “I’m Ro Younger, I’ll be Emmy’s teacher next year.”

“Oh. Yes.” I carefully enveloped her hand in mine. “It’s very nice to meet you, Ms. Younger. How can I help you?”

She didn’t release my hand, but used her grip to actually pull me closer, as if threatening. Of course, since she was almost two feet smaller, she only succeeded in pulling herself closer, and her grin turned almost predatory.

“ I don’t need your help, but there’s someone else who does.”

My attention was suddenly focused entirely on her. “Who is it? What can I do?”

She shrugged and dropped my hand. “I don’t know what you can do, but all I know is that Nikki has been acting strange. I don’t know if it’s the letter she got yesterday, or if you said something to her during your dinner on Tuesday, but she’s scared of something.” Her scowl grew fierce. “And I just want you to know that if it was something you said to her, I can ruin your career.”

“Nikki—Ms. Rios is scared?” Ignoring this woman’s well-intentioned threat, I glanced around. “Where is she? Is she hurt?”

The woman folded her arms. “I asked her that. She says she’s fine.” She tipped her head closer and lowered her voice. “She’s not fine. I don’t think she went home last night, and if it’s because you’ve scared her—”

“I would never,” I snapped, already stepping away, twisting my head to look for Nikki.

And then there she was, and I felt the band of fear around my chest loosen. Why was I so worried about this woman I barely knew?

But her friend was right; she looked terrible.

I mean, beautiful, yes, of course. But terrible too.

She wore a ridiculous Christmas sweater—a red and white design—over a pair of dark slacks that hid that amazing ass, and her hair was pulled back in a messy sort of bun. She wore makeup, but it did little to disguise the dark circles under her eyes, or the tightness of her jaw.

Nikki was worried, or scared, and my Kteer demanded I fix it.

“Sakkara,” she announced too loudly, too cheerfully, offering me her hand even as she glanced around at the other people in the hall, fear in her usually warm brown eyes. “I’m so glad you were able to make it. Wasn’t Emmy brilliant?”

I hadn’t released her hand. Hadn’t wanted to; her touch made my whole arm warm. Instead, I held her and studied her face.

“The whole performance was wonderful, Nikki,” I said in a low voice, and was surprised when she twitched away.

“I—I’m glad you were able to make it.” Her cheer was too forced, and she was repeating herself. I doubt she realized it, though, since she was looking around almost frantically.

I exchanged glances with the other teacher, who glared pointedly at me. From Nikki’s responses to me, I wondered if I had done something to scare her.

But then someone across the hallway laughed, a harsh bark of laughter that made Nikki whirl frantically, fear in her eyes.

It wasn’t me she was afraid of.

But her movement had swung her hair around her cheeks, and as I watched, she brushed that teal lock behind her ear. The ear whose lobe bore the same blue stone as she’d been wearing on Tuesday.

My gaze dropped to her chest—not for lecherous reasons, mainly because her plump breasts were hidden behind that ugly sweater. But there, nestled among the riot of red and white swirls, was a blue stone, dangling from a chain around her neck.

“Turquoise,” I murmured. She was wearing turquoise.

Nikki stiffened and slowly turned back to me. Her eyes narrowed as she tipped her head back to study me. “What did you say?” she whispered.

And something rose within me. It might have been my Kteer , but I’d never experienced this level of certainty with another being. I knew her. I knew her .

Allowing my claw to grow just slightly, I carefully lifted my hand and tapped my finger against the stone nestled between her breasts. I lowered my voice to the way it sounded when I used MonsterSmash, and I repeated myself. “ Turquoise .”

Her eyes widened, and she gasped, “ Daddy? ”

I’d found her.

My mysterious human pet was Nikki Rios, my daughter’s teacher. This delightful woman was the delicious bundle of curves I’d been playing with on the app for months.

Inside my chest, my Kteer sat up and howled with glee, and I wasn’t able to stop the grin from tugging my lips out of the way of my tusks.

It wasn’t until Ro wryly repeated, “Daddy?” that Nikki gasped again and slapped her palm over her mouth.

I couldn’t help my chuckle.

“Ms. Younger, do you think you might give us some privacy?” I asked smoothly, turning a winning grin her way. “I swear to you that I will keep Nikki safe from whatever she’s afraid of.”

Her friend glanced between us, clearly uncertain if she should leave Nikki alone with me, but my favorite human nodded shakily. Her fingertips were pressed to those plump lips, and she spoke around them. “I’ll…Sakkara is right,” she managed. “I’ll be fine with him.”

“Daddy?” Ro murmured again, then snorted and shook her head, turning away. “You’d better text me later, woman,” she threatened before hurrying toward another classroom.

Leaving Nikki and me alone in the corridor among a hundred other people.

Her dark gaze flicked to the side. “I—I have to go,” she declared before she darted back toward her classroom.