Down the Chimney Page 7
“Love what you’ve done with the tree,” Candy drawled, a glass of champagne in her hand. She’d come alone, and I could tell by the tightness around her mouth and eyes that her relationship with that hot human CFO was history. Sheesh, this werewolf seriously needed to catch a break romance-wise. There had to be some man confident enough to love a strong, mature werewolf who had risen to become the shifter representative to the Ruling Council.
“Wanna borrow the strap-on?” I pointed to the tree topper. “I’m pulling all this shit down after New Year’s, so if you want to take out your frustrations on some poor guy you pick up in a bar, it’s all yours. I think Leethu used it once or twice, but I’m confident that if you dunk it in some Clorox, it will be fine.”
She shuddered. “I don’t think so. I’m good, Sam. Honestly I’m good.”
She wasn’t good, but that was something I intended to put on the back burner for a bit. Right now I had an eighty-four pound turkey on the spit and nearly twenty pounds of potatoes to mash. Nyalla, Amber, Ahia, Jaq, and Kelly helped in the kitchen and in a few hours we were putting dozens of casseroles, fresh baked bread, and a ton of side dishes onto the tables Nyalla had rented for the holiday. Snip and I went outside and walked in bearing our enormous turkey on a platter, covered in hot sauce, with a giant steamed lobster coming out of its ass. Everyone applauded. Then everyone dug in like fucking piranhas. Once more, I removed the kale salad front the table and tossed it out the front door into the driveway.
After dinner I broke out the booze—eggnog full of rum, cider full of whisky, beer and wine. Desserts filled the table, including disgusting fruit cakes that some idiot had brought as well as that fucking kale salad I couldn’t seem to get rid of. Everyone socialized, a few people beginning to scratch from brushing up against my garlands of thorns and nettles. The young angels and Nephilim played with toys over by the fireplace. I observed it all from the sidelines, a benevolent Ha-Satan among her peeps. They’d all leave in a few hours, then I’d haul some of the leftovers to Hel for my Lows while Gregory and Lux took the rest to the local soup kitchen. And then, it would just be us—our little family.
“Do you wanna get laid tonight?” Rafi strolled up to me and wiggled his eyebrows. “Serious, all-out, no-holds-barred awesome sex?”
Well, yeah. And if Rafi was offering, I wasn’t going to say “no”, although it would have to be quick because I had hostess duties here. Before I could do anything except open my mouth, he’d grabbed me, hauling me under the mistletoe and planting a kiss on me that would have made porn stars blush. When we came up for air I saw Ahia with her arms crossed, glaring at the angel. I didn’t need to look at Gregory, I felt the scalding hot lash of his furious energy from clear across the room. It was then I realized exactly where Raphael had been going with this.
“I fucking love angry sex,” I whispered to him.
“Me too,” he whispered back. Then off he went with a grin, while I winked at Gregory and filled up my eggnog glass.
I heard Lux squeal and glanced over to see him holding a huge present wrapped in silver with a giant red bow. Huh. That hadn’t been under the tree.
“Who’s that one from?” I asked him, glancing around at the others to see if any of them was stepping forward as the giver.
“Here.” He ripped a card from the top of the present, tearing a strip of silver paper off in the process. I took it from him, opening it and reading it because for all of Lux’s talents, he was still struggling to work his brain around human written language. Heck, there were three-million-year-old angels who still couldn’t read a fucking street sign, so I wasn’t going to judge my kid for not mastering that skill at less than a year old.
“To my favorite nephew,” I read out loud. “From the Original Santa.”
“Uncle Gimlet!” Lux shouted, tearing into the present.
Once all the ribbon and paper had been removed and the box happily shredded, Lux stood in front of me holding a giant Godzilla with spinny flying things attached to his back. There was a remote control, which Gimlet had thoughtfully provided batteries for. The unit was fully charged, and in less than ten seconds, Lux was flying the thing around, whacking Gabe in the back of the head before crashing it into the bowl of potato chips.
“Goodbye Tokyo,” the little angel bellowed. He pressed a button and the bowl of chips burst into flames. Thankfully the Super Action Godzilla Droid seemed to be made of some fire-retardant material because it did not melt. In fact, it rose from the flames like a green-scaled phoenix, whizzing across the room and nearly taking the top of Rafi’s head off.
Gimlet was evidently that uncle who gave people’s kids things like drum sets, copious amounts of silly string and silly putty, and flying, flame-shooting Godzilla toys. Which was fucking cool in my book. Everyone needed that sort of aunt or uncle in their life.
He'd been here. I held my breath and hoped the Fallen archangel would pop out of the kitchen or from under the table. Trying to look casual, I walked around the room, but saw no Samael.
I did, however, find Gregory in the kitchen.
“I’m sorry,” I told him. “I’d hoped he’d come, but it was a long shot. Maybe next year.”
The angel didn’t look at all upset. “He was here, and that’s what matters. Even if he snuck in, grabbed a slice of pie and left Lux a gift, he was here. And that is one of the best Christmas presents I could ask for. Maybe next year. Maybe next century. Maybe never, but he was here today. And that’s more than I’d expected.”
I wrapped my arms around him, spilling a bit of eggnog in the process. “You’re not mad then? Because I kinda lied saying he was coming. I tried, you know. I really, really tried to get him here.”
“I know you well enough that I can tell when you’re lying, Cockroach.” He hugged me in return, crushing me against him. “And you are a horrible liar. No, I’m not mad. Well, except a bit at Rafi for taking some liberties with your physical form that were clearly designed to annoy me.”
I chuckled. “I think that was more about him getting angry sex from Ahia. Annoying you was just a bonus.”
“Well, he’s not the only one who gets to kiss you under the mistletoe.” Gregory pointed upward, then gave me the equivalent of a quick peck, his spirit-self doing far more naughty things than his lips. I eyed my guests through the pass-through, hoping they’d soon leave.
“And one more thing we need to discuss.” Gregory gave me that stern look that told me I was in big trouble. My knees got weak when he looked at me that way.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Gabe informed me he received a complaint about you trying to steal a toy from a needy child at a Toys-for-Tots event?”
Fucking tattletale.
“I gave that kid the entire contents of my purse! And my purse, which was a designer one, I’ll have you know.”
He raised one eyebrow, searing me with that disapproving glare. If he kept that up, I was going to fucking orgasm right here in my kitchen.
“Tell them I’m sorry and that I’ll give the kid a ride on Little Red,” I told him. “She really wanted to ride the dragon. That should smooth things over.”
He nodded, but it was quite clear from his expression that he wasn’t done disciplining me for my actions. I couldn’t fucking wait.
“Who put poison ivy leaves in the kale salad?” Gabe thundered, pointing at the bowl that had miraculously reappeared yet again on the table.
“And laxatives in the fruit cake.” Rafi laughed.
I grinned because it hadn’t been me. He might not have stuck around, but Samael had been here. And that made our little holiday celebration complete.
Acknowledgments
Thanks to my copyeditor Jennifer Cosham whose eagle eyes catch all the typos and keep my comma problem in line, and to Damonza for cover design.
About the Author
Debra lives in a little house in the woods of Maryland with her sons and two slobbery bloodhounds. On a good day, she jogs and horseback rides, hopef
ully managing to keep the horse between herself and the ground. Her only known super power is 'Identify Roadkill'.
For more information:
www.debradunbar.com
Debra Dunbar’s Author page
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