Naughty Elf: Twinkle (Santa’s Naughty Elf Mates)

1. Chapter One

Chapter One

“Twinkle!”

Santa Twenty-Seven’s growly voice rumbled down the corridor. Every machine stopped and the heads attached to the elves running them turned my way. Nosey little bees.

I shrugged and stood, took my time straightening my clothes and applied more lip gloss before making the twenty-foot walk of shame, though none of that showed on my face. I was the epitome of calm, cool, and collected though I was anything but on the inside. I was Twinkle, for the love of Christmas. The best dressed, most well put together, near perfect, except for that one pesky mole on my back that I got removed. Scratch that, perfect elf.

With a penchant for mischief.

Just a smidge.

“Yes, Santa twenty-seven.” My nonchalant attitude only exacerbated his anger.

Steam came from his ears, and his skin was an ugly shade of red, slightly darker than his Santa suit. His face contorted as he growled my name.

“Twinkle.”

“Oh, you know how I love it when you get all growly with me.” I winked and swayed my hips as I approached his desk, knowing full well I’d pushed him too far.

‘You’ve been warned time and again not to mess with the naughty and nice lists. Those aren’t your concern, they belong to…”

I cut off his tirade. Another thing about me he despised. No wonder year after year my stocking was filled with coal.

“Merlin.” I blew on my nails, they still hadn’t completely dried. “Perfect Merlin handles the perfect list.” Wasn’t my fault the fool left his computer unattended. The list beckoned me from across the room. Who was I to ignore such a grand gesture ?

Santa rose and banged his fists on the desk, and I jumped. “Enough!”

I’d never seen him this angry in all the decades I’d worked for him in Santa’s Village. The elves who never made it this far were jealous of those of us who landed jobs here. We were considered the elite having worked this close to the many Santas at the North Pole. Yes, I said many. How did you think they hit all those stops around the world in a single night?

“It’s going to take a team of elves and a lot of overtime to fix what you’ve done.”

One little delete button, and you’d have thought I fed his beloved reindeer laxatives.

Again.

Yeah, shoveling reindeer poo while following Blitzen nineteen, yes multiple Santas equal multiple generations of reindeer, around for three days straight was punishment enough. Lesson learned and all that. Or so one would’ve thought.

Hey, I never claimed to be the brightest elf in the village. Just the best dressed and most handsome one.

It was like I just couldn’t help myself. Mischief should’ve been my name, yet I somehow ended up with Twinkle. Though I do shine like the beacon of light that I’m named for .

“You’ve changed out salt for sugar and ruined cookies. You’ve fed my favorite reindeer laxatives. Poor fellow was afraid to eat for a week. But this,” he tapped a chubby finger to the pile of papers on his desk. “This was the last straw!” Santa only had one volume when addressing me—loud. And angry. So very angry.

Year after year I watched the same kids on the good list get presents while the bad ones received coal. How was it that the Santas got to decide who was truly bad? Didn’t seem fair to me. I mean, I’d have taken a pair of scissors to my sister’s hair too if it looked like a rat’s nest. Little Jimmy in Des Moines had the right idea. Now her hair would grow back nice and shiny and stay that way. As long as she washed and brushed it, that was. See, problem solved and oh so helpfully.

I shivered at the thought. My hair was perfectly coiffed under this ridiculous hat we had to wear as part of our uniform, for which I hated. Every red and white piece of material. Don’t get me started on the green, that shade did nothing to highlight my attributes, and the pointy shoes. Ugh. Horrible choice.

I did get written up for that present swap though, but I refused to back down and said my piece. Please, like I didn’t know hair and make-up. Mine was flawless, after all, as was I .

“No. More. Twinkle.”

Shoot, I’d forgotten about him. Were we still at this?

“Understood, Santa twenty-seven.”

“No. I’m serious. You are officially relieved of your duties as inventory elf effective immediately.”

“But…”

Sweet boughs of holly. What had I done?