Nick (The Kringle Boys Book 1) (12 page)

“What are you doing here?” she asked, but she already knew.

“Santa sent me right away. Gotta hold this place together. I knew it was a mistake to put that Frost boy in charge. Now, I don’t like to judge, by gumdrop, but even though he’s half Kringle – ”

He didn’t finish the sentence, but tut-ted disapprovingly.

“Have you seen him?”

“If I did, I’d throw him back out again. This factory was shipshape when I left. Time to see if there’s anything to salvage after this debacle.”

Phoebe clenched her fists at her sides, the insult to all the hard work she and Nick had done over the past few days almost pushing her over the edge. She forced herself to ask the next question.

“What about me?”

Mr. Berry squinted at her over his glasses, his lips pursed.

“Well, now. Let’s just get through the latest catastrophe and we’ll see where we are.”

That was bad.

Phoebe forced herself to nod politely and assure Mr. Berry that she’d be available for anything he needed, and was quickly ushered out the door.

“Don’t worry, my dear. I’m here now. Everything is under control.”

Outside, Phoebe looked down at the factory floor, where the busy and tired workers were hustling overtime to pretend it was still business as usual. She had nothing to do, Phoebe realized with a pang.

With a heavy heart, she slipped up the stairs to Nick’s apartment, found the spare key in the overgrown peppermint planter by the door, and let herself in. Numb, she tugged off her suit, the material itchy and uncomfortable, bundled herself into one of Nick’s shirts, and crawled into sheets that smelled of him, letting the pine and spice soothe her as she cried herself to sleep.

NICK HAD WALKED MOST OF Manhattan and back by the time he felt calm enough to turn his steps toward the factory. He had to talk to Phoebe, but first, he had to control the anger and disappointment that churned through his system like cold fire. He couldn’t blame her for her initial reaction, and not too long ago, he would have walked away.

This time, he didn’t want to. They couldn’t build a relationship with doubt between them, and it still rankled that Nick had to prove himself to Phoebe, but these were less than ordinary circumstances.

Fuck it,
he thought.

He knew with certainty down to the marrow of his bones that Arthur Canning was behind the candy theft. He may not be able to banish that doubt from Phoebe’s eyes, but at least he could make this right before she kicked him entirely to the curb.

As Nick turned the last corner a block from the factory, he spotted three people across the street, staring starry-eyed up at a lamppost.

“So pretty,” mumbled one.

“Like a shiny Christmas star,” agreed another.

The third, a burly man in an overcoat, started trying to climb the pole to reach the “shiny Christmas star,” tumbling back into the snow, only to get up and try again.

Drunk
, thought Nick, and dismissed them.

Twenty feet further, half a dozen humans were doubled over in laughter over something, holding their sides and gasping for breath. Nick slowed. There was something not quite right about it. He approached the group, who were still laughing, but their eyes held panic.

They can’t stop.

He spotted a wrapped sweet on the ground – CANNING’S CANDY – read the festive paper, but underneath, a scrap of distinctive red-striped foil. Suspicious, Nick unrolled it and popped it into his mouth, shuddering with happiness as the warm magic slid down his spine in a friendly, gentle hug. The world suddenly seemed very bright.

The magical candy.

Arthur had repackaged it and sold it as ordinary candy to unsuspecting humans, not knowing what would happen. The humans would be unprepared for the crazy effects of the hopped-up super sugar.

Disaster.

Nick spit it out and slowly felt the effects beginning to fade. He had no idea how long it would take for the candy to wear off a normal human, nor how bad it would get if left untreated. The smart course of action would be to go to the police, but he knew he’d spend half the night trying to prove his theory. No, first, he had to help the humans, then he had to retrieve the stolen candy and set North Pole Village to rights. Shops along the street were closing up for the night – a relief as that would limit the amount of candy Arthur could have sold in a day.

“Hang in there,” he told the laughing humans, “It’ll be okay.”

Hoping he was telling the truth, he raced into the factory and skidded onto the factory floor, ignoring the looks of shock from the tired workers as he looked around for Spokes. The factory was still going full steam – Phoebe’s doing, no doubt. A neat, mustachioed elf that Nick didn’t recognize hurried forward with a frown.

“You can’t be in here – ”

“Who are you?” Nick interrupted.

The little elf drew himself up proudly.

“Rupert Berry, Factory Manager. Now, Mr. Kringle, if you’d like to discuss the terms of your resignation, we can set aside a time – ”

“Hold that thought,” said Nick, spotting Spokes rolling a massive spool of ribbon toward the packaging department.

He raced after him, startling the old elf into a shocked, “SWEET SANTA’S BEARD!” when he explained the situation with the poor, dosed humans. Spokes immediately scurried off to the lab, barking orders as an entourage of helper elves abandoned their posts to help him, sending Mr. Berry into fits as chaos erupted on the factory floor.

Nick took the stairs to his apartment two at a time. He had just enough time to change into dark clothes for the next step of his plan. With the candy repackaged, Arthur would feel no danger in leaving it with the rest of his inventory in his main warehouse behind the store, he surmised. Given that Christmas was at stake, he felt no remorse over breaking and entering.

He paused, finding the door unlocked, and frowned.

Cautious, Nick slid into his apartment on silent feet, and checked the front rooms – nothing amiss. Puzzled, he moved to the bedroom, and
stopped.
Phoebe was asleep in his bed, snuggled up with a pillow, dressed in nothing but one of his shirts that swallowed her up, but rode up to leave shapely thighs bare, along with the upper curve of one creamy breast where it pulled away at the neck. He could see the glint of the resin pendant on its long, red ribbon, disappearing into her cleavage.

For a long, frozen minute, Nick couldn’t think of anything other than sliding into bed and kissing Phoebe awake, watching the sleep clear from her eyes as he whispered how much he had come to care about her, how nothing mattered except that she didn’t believe Arthur’s grotesque accusations. She would believe him, soothing him with warm kisses from that delectable mouth, then wrap herself around him and let him drown in pleasure until the whole sordid episode was forgotten. The world could go fuck itself.

Nick sighed quietly and let the vision evaporate. He ran a feather-light hand over Phoebe’s curls, then moved silently to the closet to find the darkest clothing he owned. Better that she didn’t know what he was planning – she’d probably try to talk him out of it. Besides, Nick had seen the tearstains on her cheeks, and the sight of them twisted his gut. Phoebe was clearly exhausted and upset, and that was partly his fault, letting Arthur push him to lose control like that.

Does she think I’m a monster now?

Nick had worried about it all day, but he pushed it aside.

There was work to be done.

THE SOUND OF THE door
clicking
shut pulled Phoebe out of sleep. For a drowsy instant, she reached for Nick, surrounded by his scent in the tangle of sheets. Finding only pillows, she pried her eyes open. Night had fallen outside, snow falling softly to layer over the crunchy earlier layer that had frozen during the day.

Phoebe was sure she’d heard the door shut.

Had he been here?

Why didn’t he wake her?

Shaking the sleep from her eyes, she tugged on a pair of Nick’s sweats, rolling up the ankles, and borrowed a pair of socks. Right now, the thought of climbing back into her own tailored clothing was distasteful – she wanted to be comfortable. There was a pair of abandoned sneakers at the back of the closet that couldn’t be Nick’s, dusty and clearly made for someone with much smaller feet. They pinched a little, but it was better than the neat heels she’d worn all day.

The nap had done her some good, she realized. Her arousal had abated, and she felt clearheaded for the first time in hours. She hurried down the stairs, focused on her new plan – she was going to find Nick and they would figure this out together, just as they should have from the start. They were a team.

Phoebe realized that something was wrong the moment she stepped onto the factory floor.

It was empty.

Silent.

Deserted.

The sounds of shouting and laughter came, muffled, from the direction of the loading dock, and Phoebe hurried toward the noise.

Chaos.

The loading dock and the vast warehouse floor were crammed with people, and it took Phoebe a minute to make sense of what she was seeing – a horde of humans all under the influence of
something
, and the elves desperately trying to keep them contained. Even Mr. Berry had dropped his clipboard and was trying to reason with a tall redheaded man who couldn’t seem to stop singing the chorus of “Jingle Bells” at the top of his lungs.

A hex? Frost mischief? It could be anything.

Phoebe spotted Spokes on the other side of the warehouse, mixing a vat of something blue that bubbled madly over a brazier. She pushed her way through the crowd to reach him.

“Spokes! What happened?”

“Humans got into the magic candy,” said Spokes, tossing a few handfuls of curious blue peppers into the pot, then wincing as they exploded, giving off a noxious blue gas, “Havin’ some weird side effects.”

Two women nearby started jumping, reaching for invisible fireflies above.

“Where would they get – ”

Spokes tossed her a wrapped sweet. Phoebe took one look at the label and saw red.

“That
bastard!
”

The dozen elves in earshot looked up at her in shocked disapproval, but Phoebe didn’t care.

“Can you help them?”

“Mebbe,” Spokes shrugged, “Got some elves out there roundin’ up the rest. Good thing Mr. Kringle caught ‘em.”

“You saw Nick?”

Spokes nodded.

“Ran off to fix things. He’d better hurry. North Pole Village is winding down.”

Spokes mimed a wind-up toy losing steam, and Phoebe felt a curl of dread.

“Do you know where he went?”

Spokes shrugged again and turned back to his brew.

She could only assume that Nick was off somewhere searching for wherever Arthur had hidden the missing candy. Wrapped for purchase, it could easily be mistaken for an ordinary Canning food. Phoebe had a strong gut feeling that Arthur, with his smug confidence, would have no qualms about hiding it in plain sight among his inventory.

Phoebe took a shuddering breath as she realized that she was about to break the law.

It had to be done – sometimes there was no choice but to throw out the rule book and wing it.

Inspiration struck.

The old elf’s eyes widened when Phoebe explained what she wanted.

“Sure,” he said, “But you might end up on the Naughty List, Miss Phoebe.”

“That’s a chance I’m going to have to take. It’s time to teach Mr. Canning a lesson. Thank you, Spokes. We’re all counting on you.”

Flinging on her coat, Phoebe left the chaos behind and hurried out into the cold.

NICK PULLED OUT THE shiny doorknob from his pocket as he examined the brick wall at the back of Arthur’s warehouse. He’d considered simply picking the lock, but realized that he had a magic tool at his disposal. A little tinkering from Spokes and it no longer simply worked as a skeleton key to unlock all the portals, now it
also
created
them.

He set the base of the knob against the brick and turned slowly clockwise. For a moment, nothing happened, and then two bright blue lines of light burst from the top and bottom of the knob, shooting up and over to meet again on the other side of a six by six square. The brick dissolved underneath into shimmering nothingness. With Spokes’ instructions in mind, Nick pocketed the knob before stepping through. On the other side, he inserted the knob base into the portal and turned counterclockwise. The portal shrank to nothing and disappeared with a POP!

Taking a piece of glittery putty from his pocket, Nick pressed it up against the brick. The putty would disrupt the surveillance cameras, which would record only snow.

Nick marveled at the old elf’s innovation. He’d have to give him a raise. With a pang, Nick remembered that he was no longer the boss.

Maybe the new guy will give him a raise.

Nick focused on the task at hand – the warehouse was huge, stocked with endless aisles of boxes, crates, and barrels of foodie delights. He only had so much time before security decided that the snow on the surveillance tapes was not a glitch.

A muffled “oof” had him turning his tiny penlight up to the top of a stack of crates marked “Olive Oil”, where he was shocked to see Phoebe, clinging like a spider monkey to the peak.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he demanded in a furious whisper.

“Nick?” she asked, twisting to look down into the shadowy depths of the factory.

“Get down here before you break your neck!”

“Don’t order me around!” she replied, but clambered down to the ground.

When her feet were firmly on the floor and Nick’s heart had stopped going a hundred miles a minute, he grabbed her tight.

“How the hell did you get in here, anyway?”

Phoebe yanked herself back, glaring at him.

“I do have
some
abilities, you know. I popped.”

“I thought you couldn’t do that?”

He reached out to steady her as her knees buckled a little.

“I can’t. Not often anyway.”

“Then how were you planning to get out? This plan of yours was really dumb, Phoebe.”

“My plan was dumb? You’re not supposed to be in here either! What exactly were you going to do if you had gotten caught? By morning, Arthur’s going to have everyone in town thinking your main purpose in life is to steal presents from hungry orphans and set Christmas trees on fire.”

They glared at each other in the darkness.

Nick was pissed, and the words just flew out of his mouth –