SOS HOTEL: Ho, Ho, No

Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

I plowed through the doorway. Gnomes scattered under the swings of Zee’s bat, like skittles at a bowling alley. What his chair leg didn’t swipe, his tail smacked away, but as quickly as he repelled them, more surged in.

One sprang at my middle. I swung, channeling all my available strength into it, and when my bat struck the gnome, the gnome exploded, smothering me in a cloud of dust and debris.

Grit burned my eyes, but through the haze I spotted Zee’s outline—his purple beacon of gnome-murdering fury—and I followed, swinging left and right, fending off gnomes.

But more kept coming.

The store must have housed the entire West Coast stock of holiday gnomes.

“Go, go!” Zee ordered, holding back a wave surging at us from the left. I dashed behind him, toward a gap in the gnomes’ frontline.

“Adam, wait!” Victor called. “Not that?—”

I burst from the fray then spun, bat raised, spluttering hard, tasting gnome, and blinked, clearing the blur.

They’d gone—the gnomes, Zee, Victor—all of them had gone. The store was quiet, the kitchen aisles undisturbed as though nothing had happened. I could even see as far back as the restaurant, and there was nothing there. No gnome army. No clouds of gnome smoke. “Victor?”

Nothing.

I lowered my bat. “Zee?”

Had they vanished or had I?

“Okay...” I turned on the spot, expecting something to be lurking behind me, but I was alone... Kind of. The crawl of an unwanted gaze made my skin itch. “So, uhm... Let’s talk about this?”

No reply came. Not even a ho, ho, ho . It was worth a try. But Santa hadn’t seemed the chatty sort.

I still had my knife, and my chair leg. And the real me, hidden under my glamor. If I could get close enough and catch Santa off-guard...

“I get you’re hungry for uhm... people, I guess. You may not believe it, but I know what that’s like.” I drifted forward, figuring we all knew where this was going to end up—in the Winter Wonderland—but I was in no rush to get back there. “Sometimes, folks need eatin’. Am I right?”

If I could lure Santa out by looking small, sweet, and innocent, I’d have the upper hand.

Mariah Carey began to sing again, but just like before, the music dragged, unevenly paced, as though it was sung by Mariah’s slightly unhinged sister who gave a whole new, darker meaning to the lyrics... all I want for Christmas, is you.

This was how it was going to be. One predator to another. But Santa didn’t know what I knew.

I wasn’t the good boy he was looking for.

A snort sounded down an aisle. I stopped, and swallowed at the sight of a reindeer. They’d always looked fluffy and adorable on the holiday cards I’d seen in stores, but this one wasn’t cute. It was big, and strips of what looked like torn clothing hung from its enormous antlers. Rudolf had gotten mean. Another snort, and it scraped its cloven hooves on the smooth floor.

It dropped its head.

Oh deer.

And charged.

I turned on my heel and ran. I’m not going to beat on a reindeer, okay? Demons who mean to kill me? Yes. Vampire dukes who need to be taken down a peg or two? Also, yes. Leg-munching gnomes? For sure. But not reindeer. I have to draw the line somewhere.

I bolted down the cushion aisle. Hooves pounded the floor close behind me. I dashed through the curtains and leaped over piles of rugs. The reindeer snorts came fast and close. Mariah Carey’s darker twin moaned out warped lyrics.

If this was the typical Christmas experience, I wasn’t a fan.

Up ahead, the sparkly winter tunnel loomed. Of course the reindeer had been herding me there.

Fine then.

I plunged in, ignoring how the gnomes all turned and watched me dash by.

Bursting from the tunnel’s end, I stopped and turned.

Rudolf stood at the opening and snorted, his work done.

“Alright, Santa.” I straightened. “You wanna murder me? We’ve got all night. Have at it.”

Mariah Carey’s warbling cut off.

“What are you waiting for? An invite?”

This was getting tiresome. Either Santa was a homicidal, child-eating maniac, or he was wasting my time.

Maybe he needed some persuasion? Zee had lured him out with a show, so maybe I could do the same?

I cleared my throat. I’d never been the best at singing, but nobody was here—just me, the creepy gnomes, and Santa crouched in his grotto. “Alright, fine... Uhm... Here goes nothing. Santa baby, just slip a Sable under the tree...”

My voice fell flat, as did my performance. How did Zee just flick a switch and turn into a Broadway star from one second to the next? If he were here, he’d tell me to rub some funk on it.

I gulped, wet my lips, and took a deep breath. Dancing, I could do . So, with the song’s beat in my head, I imagined Zee on stage working his pole, and put some spicy hip action into my steps. “Been an awful good boy...”

The accompanying music came over the Tannoy, and I got my Christmas funk on.

Dropping my bat, I grabbed a fluffy red hat with a bell on and popped it on my head, getting into the swing of it.

“Ho, ho, ho...” Santa emerged from his gingerbread grotto, wrapped in his jolly red outfit, and as I was committed, I kept on singing “Santa Baby.” I’d like to think Zee would have been proud of my performance, but it was more likely he’d have been horrified. Don’t judge, I was saving Christmas.

Santa’s glamor glitched as he ventured closer.

I kept up the performance, really getting into the flow of it now—adding some naughty steps, hip-cocks, cheeky grins—and maybe I was enjoying it a bit too much, knowing where it would end.

I’d have lured him almost within stabbing distance if the little fishing gnome hadn’t ventured under my feet. I danced around him, but there were more dotted about, suddenly everywhere. I stumbled into a Christmas tree, sending several baubles bouncing off. Their tinny ping-ponging ended my cheeky dance routine.

The music stopped.

Santa’s watery eyes narrowed.

I dropped my hand, and almost made it to my knife before Santa’s jovial grandpa face split in half and the timber-faced, snarling monster spilled out. A foot-long split tongue lashed, red eyes blazed, and Santa freed a high-pitched wail.

I shoved my hand into my pocket, grabbed the bouncy balls, and flung them at murder-Santa.

One of the rubber balls smacked him between the eyes.

His yowl cut off. The ball pranged away, striking a Christmas tree, sending it tumbling into its neighbors which fell one after another like a line of falling, twinkling, bristling dominoes. Balls pinged and twanged , ricocheting up and down, left and right. Gnomes scarpered. Three balls felt as though they’d multiplied into a hundred as they bounced and dinged , somehow picking up speed.

I ducked, and freed my knife.

The rubber projectiles smacked Santa from all angles, jerking him like a puppet on strings. Then one punched him in his meatballs. Nightmare-Santa bent double, spluttering.

I sprang and Santa whirled, trying to whack me aside. I was small and fragile looking. I should have been an easy takedown.

That was the mistake everyone made.

I caught his arm, using all my strength to hold him. His eyes swelled, and just like all the others who dared cross me, Santa had a last-minute epiphany: Adam Vex is not what he seems.

I grinned. My knife flashed. “Ho, ho, ho.”