Christmas Fluff

This is post-Daughter of Deception and pre-The Chaos Child & Mistress of Malice and Mercy

Tobias Duke stood on the side porch, just outside the kitchen, mouth agape and eyes comically wide.  When he’d left to deliver a dinner package to the team on Christmas Eve rotation, his wife had been firmly ensconced on the couch watching a ‘50s holiday cartoon.  There were a few decorations around the living room, and a massive, needle-dropping tree wedged in beside the fireplace.  He’d expected to come home to a similar sight. At some point in the two hours he’d been gone, his wife had been body-snatched by a twisted Goth Christmas elf, the pages of North Pole Living had exploded all over his house, and someone had taken to torturing dogs on the radio.

“You’re letting all the cold air in,” the Viola-shaped Christmas Demon snapped, brandishing the floppy, gingerbread man end of a spatula.

Despite the lighted, black-and-purple Santa hat, red-and-green striped tights, and holiday sweater, it was his wife’s voice.  Duke shuffled into the house, but kept on his leather jacket.  With his crappy luck, Christmas Demons exploded into showers of tinsel or something.

Finn, a set of reindeer antlers bobbing on his head, ambled through the kitchen and flopped onto the red-and-green bed under the built-in desk. Bells jingled when Finn rested his head on his paws.  For the first time in his life, Duke felt a pang of sympathy for Viola’s mutt.  

The Christmas Demon twirled away from the stove and beamed up at Duke.  Her eyes were twinkling and she smelled like nutmeg.  It was a shame she was a wife-stealing demon.  Duke enjoyed the way Viola’s whole face lit up when she was happy and nutmeg was a comforting scent.  He was going to regret making the Christmas Demon regret invading his house.

“Did Johnny and Juan enjoy the tamales?  Did you give them the pumpkin bread?” The Christmas Demon asked.  “You forgot the salsa, but by the time I found it in the fridge, I figured you were over halfway there.”

Duke blinked.  He closed his mouth, opened it.  He licked his lips before closing his mouth again.

“Tobias?”  The Christmas Demon extended an arm.  Holiday-themed charms dangled from a silver chain.  A small, warm hand tipped with red-and-white nails pressed against his forehead.  “Are you all right?  Did something happen to you?”

“To me?”  He wrapped his fingers around the Christmas Demon’s wrist and tugged it away from his face.  “What happened here?  It’s like someone killed Christmas Cheer, resurrected it, and set the zombie loose in the house.  And then they shoved the spirit of Baldor the Demented Elf inside you.  And then they attacked the Christmas station so that every song comes out sounding like it’s being sung by screaming cats.  I thought we were having a nice, quiet holiday.”

The Christmas Demon - Viola - deflated instantly.  She tugged her wrist out of Duke’s grasp and shoved her hands in the pockets of her green shorts.  The hat slipped down on her forehead obscuring her eyes.  “Sorry. “

“Vi,” Duke sighed, reaching for her.  She scurried backwards, shoulders hunched in and pigtails drooping.

“Run down to the store to pick up another half-gallon of milk, and I’ll take care of it.”

He started to say something, but the screaming on the radio was just too much. He snatched the stereo’s remote off the counter and shut the music off.  The sudden silence was a balm to his ringing ears. 

“Milk,” she repeated, eyes fixed on the Christmas tree mat on the floor.

“Viola.”

“Whole milk, please.  I need it for the fudge.”

“Viola!”

Her shoulders quivered and her eyes squeezed shut.  He tamped down his irritation.  He was cold, confused, and, thanks to the mouthwatering aromas filling the kitchen, starving.  Was that mulled cider he smelled?  And gingerbread?  And what was that she’d said about fudge?

“Please.”  She swallowed, lifted her head a fraction.  “Just go get the milk, Tobias.  I’ll clean up this and talk to Granny.”

“Granny?”  What did his grandmother have to do with the Christmas Horror Invasion?

“She called while you were out.  Asked if we wanted to have dinner.  I invited her over here.  I ran up to the attic and got my boxes and I guess I went a little overboard.  I just thought that since the holiday is all about family….”  She shrugged, hung her head again.  “It doesn’t matter.  I should have asked you or told her no.”

“Vi, it’s fine.  I don’t mind spending Christmas with Granny.  I usually do.  I was keeping it low-key for you.  You don’t care much for Christmas, so I wasn’t going to force it down your throat.”  That had been his reasoning, but the words sounded wrong.  What was it?  What was he missing?  There had been another reason he’d wanted to spend Christmas alone with his new wife.

She perched on the edge of a stool.  Somewhere along the way, the stool had acquired a big, red felt bow. “It’s my favorite holiday.  At least it was until, well, you know.  Livy tried but we never really celebrated it much because Mom was in the institution and Dad was gone.  Kinda hard to celebrate when almost half your family is gone.  I just thought that now… I don’t know… it would be nice to try again.”

He was an idiot.  The biggest idiot on the planet.   How had he forgotten teasing her about her Christmas obsession?  He’d even helped her hang lights outside her bedroom window one year, and another year he and Sebastian had cut down a small pine tree for her to put in her room.  She’d carried candy canes in her pockets and had been one of the first to memorize his “Twelve Days of Tracking Christmas” song.  Then her father had gone missing, four days before Christmas, and that had been the end of Santa’s gothiest elf.

“What did you do last Christmas, Vi?”

“Nothing.”

He arched an eyebrow.  His wife was a bundle of perpetual energy.  She never did nothing.  “Come on, Vi.”

“I bought myself a Christmas present or three from the liquor store across the street from the hotel and spent Christmas Eve watching It’s a Wonderful Life.  I don’t remember anything else until Boxing Day.”

He looped his arms around her waist and rested his chin on the top of her head.  “You could have told me you wanted to go all out for Christmas, sugar.  One word, and this place would have made Macy’s jealous.”

“I didn’t know I wanted it until Granny called.  We were talking about tamales and queso and eggnog, and it just hit me.”

Duke leaned back, lifted her chin, and pressed his lips to hers.  She tasted like candy canes and sugar cookies.  Her eyelids fluttered against his cheeks and she sighed happily against his lips.  He pulled back and flicked the fuzzy ball on her hat. 

“The Duke Family Christmas Extravaganza is on.  Hold on to your stockings, sugar.”  He grabbed the remote, hesitated.  “Maybe without the Manic Mutts murdering ‘White Christmas’.”

“Deal.”

By the time Granny arrived, there was a gingerbread army lined up on the counter, mulled cider steaming in the crockpot, and a tower of fudge cubes on the table.  Bing Crosby’s crooning was the perfect complement to the laughter and teasing.  Once the tamales were gone and the eggnog had been liberally laced with rum, Duke led the procession to the living room.

Skulls-and-crossbones, bats, and Goth Gabby ornaments were interspersed between the silver balls and tiny cowboy boots on the tree.  Granny had made Viola a stocking to match the one she’d made for Duke nearly three decades earlier, though hers looked like it had been purchased at the Halloween store.

He was distracted by Finn’s attempt to get a gold bow off his tail and missed the bright red gift bag Viola grabbed from under the tree.  It wasn’t until he heard Granny’s bark of laughter and Viola’s squeal that he turned back around.  Viola’s face was as red as the bag and she was elbow-deep in the present.

“Oh, sweet mercy.”

Oh.  Yeah.  There had been another reason he’d wanted to spend Christmas Eve alone with his wife.  Something about the tree and the fireplace and the lights down low…

“Vi, sugar…”

“Seriously, Tobias?  Tassels?”

Vi’s Fudge Recipe

·   2/3 cup cocoa
·   3 cups sugar
·   1/4 teaspoon salt
·   1-1/2 cups whole milk
·   1/4 cup butter
·   1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Grease an 8” dish.  Combine cocoa, sugar & salt in a large, heavy saucepan.  Stir in whole milk and bring to a rolling boil - STIR CONSTANTLY!!  Boil, without stirring, until you reach soft ball stage (234°F  or if small bit turns into a soft ball in cold water) Don’t stir.  Take off the heat.

Add butter and vanilla to mixture.  DON’T STIR!  Let it cool to until the pan is almost cool  to the touch.  Beat until it gets thick and matte.  Spread in pan.  Let it harden and then cut into squares.

 

Duke/Viola December 2001

December 2001

Duke's backup was late. He'd called sent out a general call for assistance ten minutes earlier, but no help had arrived. He drummed his fingers on the top of the tailgate and assessed the four Xrains across the street. If he could avoid their razor-sharp claws, pointy teeth, lethal venom, spiked tails, and the red fur that always made him itch; he had a shot of taking them down. Since bullets didn't do anything but piss them off, he had to slit their throats. It would be tricky to say the least.

"On the sixth day of Christmas my true love gave to me..." he started quietly, having decided to wait another ten minutes for a Tracker to show.

"Six Gregins growling, five silver bolts, four caged Zizks, three days rotation, two Preas prancing, and a detachable box magazine for my FN Five-Seven."

Duke hung his head at the familiar voice. He'd asked for backup and he'd gotten an overzealous rookie. Just dandy. He would have been better off taking on the Xrains by himself.

"Guess we should change that fourth part, huh?" With one foot on the hitch and the other on the rear bumper, Viola Ashwood craned her neck to see over the top of Duke's truck. "Eh, four snarling Xrains doesn't have the same jingle, you know."

"What are you doing here, Vi?"

"You called for backup. I was just sitting at home watching some stupid, sappy Christmas special on the Lifetime network." She narrowed her eyes, shoved a finger in his face. "Say a word about it to anyone and I'll rip out your spleen."

"Easy there killer. Your secret love for schmoopy romantic movies will be our little secret." Duke paused long enough for her to sigh in relief. "For a price."

"How about I not let the Xrain eat you for a late night snack?"

"You really are a pest, you know that?"

"Yeah. So?"

Duke chuckled and shook his head. She was annoying, but being around Viola was never dull. Her blunt honesty was a refreshing change from the Network politics he'd spent a week buried under. If he never had to attend another National Conference again, he'd be one happy region head.

"I've got a couple javelins in my car. If we use them to sever the... falanca-thingy...whatever it is they call that main artery in their neck," Viola suggested, brow furrowed in contemplation. She shivered when the icy wind shifted and shoved her hands in the pockets of her purple hooded sweatshirt. She regretted not grabbing her leather jacket before leaving the house.

"You shouldn't be here, kiddo."

"And yet here I am." She grinned at him and bumped his shoulder. Though Max Sparks was her Tracking mentor, she loved going out with Duke. Max was great, but Duke didn't give off those 'teacher' vibes. Plus, she'd been in love with him since she was six.

"You're only seventeen, Vi. I'm responsible if anything happens to you. Do you know what your brother would do to me if anything happened to you? And even then he'd be stuck with whatever pieces of me Olivia left behind."

"I'm not," she corrected quietly, smile slipping off her face. She turned her face away from him, blinked rapidly.

"Not what? Going to get into trouble? In case it's slipped your notice, Shortcake, that's all you manage to do."

She didn't know whether she wanted to cry or she wanted to break his nose. She pulled the fleece hood over her head and huddled against the cold metal of the truck. She would have thought that he of all people understood why she was freezing her ass off at one in the morning and willing to help him with the Xrains.

"Not seventeen. Not for a whole sixty-four minutes."

"Oh, Via-mia." Duke's hand found its way to her shoulder. He brushed his lips across the back of her head. He'd forgotten all about the time, but he hadn't forgotten her birthday. Underneath the seat in his truck was a wrapped box with two daggers inside. He'd picked out the carving for the handles with her in mind.

She nodded and smiled shakily. She was glad he'd finally caught on. Her birthday wasn't her favorite day of the year, and she'd rather spend it fighting a demon than at whatever party Olivia undoubtedly had planned for the afternoon. "So, the javelin idea sounded like a good plan, but I'm worried about how much maneuvering space we're going to have."

"That's a fair point." Duke popped open the toolbox in the back of his truck. He had a few weapons he could use, but there was one sure-fire way to put that twinkle back in Viola's eyes. "Check underneath my seat, kiddo. There's something there I think you could use?"

Viola's eyes lit up. She rarely got to touch Duke's weapons. "Really?"

"Yeah." Duke smiled to himself when she raced around the truck and flung open the door. "And grab my spare jacket. You're going to freeze to death out here. What in the hell were you thinking leaving the house without a jacket? That sweatshirt isn't going to protect you from the Xrain, either. I swear, Shortcake, you'd dash in after a Gragin with nothing but a stick if we let you."

Viola grinned as she pulled a box wrapped in shiny black paper out from underneath the seat. Presents, a demon, and Duke. Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad birthday after all.

Christmas 2002 - Viola, Sebastian, Olivia

First Christmas story for Cathy who wanted to see a little Ashwood sibling interaction.

December 2002

“On the seventh day of Christmas, my true love gave to me seven Leaud’s swimming, six Gregin’s growling, five silver bolts, four caged Zizks ….,” Viola sang as she pushed the door open with her hip.

“I’m going to kill Duke for teaching you that song.”

Viola stopped abruptly. The plastic shopping bags hanging from her wrists slapped her thighs. She grinned merrily at Sebastian before finishing the song. “Three days rotation, two Preas prancing, and a detachable box magazine for my FN Five-Seven.”

“You don’t even like guns, Vi,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the dresser.

“No, I don’t like to fire guns. I have nothing against them on principle. I can appreciate the shininess.” Viola dumped the bags at her feet and jerked her head towards the parking lot. “C’mon. There’s more in the car.”

“More?” Sebastian’s jaw dropped. He stepped over the small pile of bags and followed his sister to the trunk of his new SUV. Though he preferred driving cars over trucks and SUVs, the vehicle gave them more room during the long trips and the four-wheel drive was handy.

He gasped when he saw the bags piled up in the rear of the SUV. “Sheesh, Vi, what’d you do? Buy out the entire store?”

“Nope.” She pulled a long box free, stood it on end, and shoved it at his chest. “But I gave it my best shot.”

“No kidding.”

It took them four trips to clear out the rear of the SUV. Sebastian lined the bags up along the wall and the edge of the bed so there was a clear path to the bathroom. He tried to peek into one of the bags only to have his hands slapped away by a Santa-hat wearing Viola.

“Where’s the grouch?” she asked, nudging the bag under the bed with her foot.

“Olivia’s doing laundry like you asked her to.” Though he'd agreed that a little cheer was in order, he hadn’t enjoyed listening to Olivia’s ten-minute rant on irresponsible sisters and improperly opened ketchup packets.

“You should join her.”

Sebastian snorted. It was a well-known fact that he and laundry didn’t mix. Left to his own devices, he’d once turned an entire load of white clothes a garish shade of purple. Olivia had exempted him from all future laundry duties but had made him wear the purple shirts and socks as punishment.

“It wasn’t really a suggestion, Bas. Go keep Olivia company.” When he made no sign of moving off the bed, Viola sighed. She wrapped her arms around her middle and stared out the open curtains at the parking lot. Snow dusted the cars and the walkways. “Look, I know I’ve been a real Scrooge the past couple of Christmases, but I want to make up for it this year.”

“It’s not necessary, kiddo.”

Viola shrugged. She knew it wasn’t necessary; Olivia and Bas understood her reasons for being anti-Christmas the prior years. She needed to get out of her funk, though, and she worked better alone. “I brought my rock and roll Christmas CD.”

Sebastian grabbed his coat off the back of a chair. He pecked her cheek on his way to the door. “I think I’ll take Livy a cup of coffee.” The door slammed shut behind him.

“Works every time.”

While singing along with The Kinks and George Thorogood, Viola transformed the bland hotel room into a bright, festive holiday-spirit-palooza. She hastily wrapped the small presents she’d purchased for her siblings and placed them underneath the fiber optic tree along with the gifts she’d picked up weeks earlier. She hung long strands of metallic garland across top of the burgundy curtains, stuck blue snowflake decals to the bathroom mirror, and set cinnamon-scented flameless candles on every available horizontal surface. Stuffed reindeer, snowmen, and Santa Clauses covered the two queen-sized beds.

When she heard footsteps outside the door, she poured apple juice into plastic cups and stuck a cinnamon stick into each cup. She thrust a glass into Olivia’s hands as soon as the door opened.

“Merry, merry Christmas, Livy-liv-liv!”

Olivia glanced over her shoulder at Sebastian, pursed her lips and arched an eyebrow. “Look, it’s a visit from the Ghost of Christmas Crack.”