Page 2 of Elf-napped

Honestly, I’m a little surprised that she isn’t demanding that I make a 180 and bolt from this date immediately. She may be pushy and slightly manipulative, but she’s always looking out for my safety. I can’t blame her, though. It’s been months since she and Deacon have seen each other. And I’m a black belt in taekwondo. I haven’t had to use it on a man yet, and I don’t foresee needing to use it to fend off a drunk and sloppy Daren, either.

I look up and see the man trudging through the woods and singing a sea shanty. I’ve got about 15 pounds on him, and he’s a clumsy drunk, so I think I’m okay as far as Daren is concerned. But it’s getting colder the deeper we walk into the woods. My sense of kindness is too much for this situation, and I decide I’ll have to make sure he doesn’t die of exposure out here.

Me: “Nah. I’ll herd this cat back to the farm and call a cab for him. Grab me some cocoa and make the most of it. Just… don’t go near my Legolas figurines; I don’t want his innocent eyes seeing your nakedness.”

Reba: “Okay, freak.”

Now, where did Daren go? I follow his tracks, muttering that I need therapy to break this habit of being nice to people who exhibit bad behavior.

On the other hand, it is a beautiful walk. I’m enjoying the cold, crisp air and the sunshine through the bare tree branches. The blanket of snow set against the whispering birches looks like the perfect Christmas postcard. There’s even a family of cardinals flying to and fro overhead.

Eventually, the birches give way to a denser collection of massive pines and spruces, their evergreen branches blotting out the sun. I have a growing feeling that we should leave these woods

as soon as possible. The Christmas tree farm is about a quarter-mile back, and my feet are numb. And I don’t see any branches pointing the way to a lamppost anywhere. God, I spend way too much time with my head in books. This isn’t Narnia, Clara.

“Daren!”

“It’s up here somewhere,” I hear him mutter. “The perfect tree.”

I call after him, “We are supposed to be at the farm, making wreaths? Picking an approved tree? Sipping hot cider and cocoa?”

Now I’m just sad and mad.

I should turn back now and never take Reba’s advice ever again. She’s so caught up in her own romance she forgets to be practical. She threatened to kidnap me and drive me to my date this morning when I was on the verge of canceling.

I had high hopes when I arrived at the farm today. Too bad I didn’t stick up for myself. And especially too bad that this adorable North Pole-esque village will never be a place I get to visit with my own children someday.

I just have to face the fact that Legolas isn’t real, and I’m never going to have his little elven babies, and I’m going to die a virgin.

Chapter Two

Eldrin

It’s going on five years since I was exiled for loving a human.

To be punished for who I love… doesn’t feel very Christmassy and charitable, does it?

The old fat man took everything away. My home, my job, my elven community. Worst of all, he took away my access Clara.

I have watched over her since I grew into my role as List Keeper.

I remember clearly the moment when I fell in love. I was following Clara home from high school, and I saw her walking by the park. A van had pulled up along the curb, and the driver was asking a little boy to help him look for his lost puppy. Clara had sprung into action, put herself between the van and that boy, and told him to run. The driver tried to flee, but Clara performed an incredible nose jab with the heel of her palm. He was incapacitated until the police’s arrival. Based on her statements, that man was discovered to be a serial predator and still rots in prison to this day.

That was not only the moment my adolescent brain fell in love with this beautiful human, but also it was the moment I started to question everything. Why were we spying on children and reporting behavior if we couldn’t intervene when they were in danger? And why were we surveilling children at all, if not to use our abilities to prevent adults from doing harm?

“Our time would be much better spent making gifts for all children and using our magic to keep adults in check,” I told Nicholas during my first performance review.

Nicholas told me to do my job and stop asking questions. That was my first warning.

My second warning was less about my personal sense of right and wrong and a lot more about—well, about my horniness. When Clara turned 18 and had aged out of the Naughty or Nice program, I was supposed to cease my surveillance of her. I was supposed to report to the North Pole and replenish my list with a new batch of children to spy on.

But I never showed up to that meeting. I was too busy watching Clara on a date.

I kept my hawk eyes on her at all times, though unable to prevent her from dating a human. I knew I was in trouble, not meeting my deadlines, not doing my job, but that’s what love did to me. I spent all my time feeling frustrated, isolated, and driven mad by jealousy.

And I took advantage of the elven gift of invisibility a few times too many.

One day, Clara went to an outdoor music festival, where she met a man I knew to be bad news. He’d been one of my previous charges, a bad seed. Always on the naughty list and never grew out of it. She’d said no when he put his hands on her. He’d been touching her back, touching her hair. He wouldn’t take no for an answer. I waited for my moment, even though I was half-blind with rage. When he wandered off into the trees to relieve himself, I might have encouraged a dying tree to fall on him. He didn’t die—I’m not a murderer even though I felt murderous. He walked away with a few broken ribs, and in the meantime, Clara had enough sense to stick close to Reba for the rest of the festival.