Santa's Destiny (A Paranormal Chick Lit Novel) by Tami Lund

Author:Tami Lund [Lund, Tami]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Tami Lund

Chapter Five

I rushed through the doorway and once again smacked right into Santos, although this time, it was his back.

So naturally, I used the close contact as an excuse to touch his ass. Yep, just as firm as it looked.

Weird that he didn’t make a crude comment suggesting we have sex.

I leaned to the side and glanced around his arm. Ah. He probably hadn’t even noticed that I’d touched him.

He was too busy gawking at the utter chaos laid out before us on the arena’s main floor.

Krampus had, in fact, managed to corral the entire population of elves from the North Pole into this building. There were no Christmas carols being sung, though. No one was whistling or bouncing around cheerfully, telling jokes. There was no raucous laughter. No hugging or pats on the back.

No joy.

In fact, it was the complete opposite. Lots of crying and shouting. Angry voices. Scowls, frowns, high tempers.

What was the absence of joy?

Misery.

“They can’t survive like this,” Santos said, his voice pitched so low I could scarcely hear the words over all the ruckus.

He was right. Elves thrived on happiness, and they withered and died without it. Even I, possibly the grumpiest elf ever—outside of Krampus, who was only part-elf—knew that. It was probably why, even as I dreaded doing it, I came up with excuses to make a trip up here to the North Pole at least every decade or so. Santos may make me batty, but joy permeated every single aspect of his home. Hell, one brief visit to his reindeer barn and I was good to go for a couple years.

“How is he doing this?” I asked. “He can’t possibly possess enough magic.”

“Maybe not,” came a voice from my left. “But this does.”

I whipped my head around. Krampus stood in the next aisle over, about four rows below us, Santos’s amulet dangling from his hand.

“Give me that,” Santos demanded, starting toward him. I grabbed the back of his shirt to keep him from possibly walking into a trap. Or getting blasted by his own magic. I imagine that would hurt like hell.

“Isn’t it lovely?” Krampus asked, waving to the unhappy elves on the arena floor.

“No,” Santos said shortly. I’d never seen him so on edge. “You’re killing them.”

Krampus lifted one shoulder and let it drop again, and I released Santos’s shirt so I could go after the mofo myself.

“Destiny, stop,” Santos called out, leaping over plastic chairs as I scrambled down the row toward Krampus.

The bastard stood where he was, watching us with a sardonic smile until I was almost within grabbing distance, and then he squeezed the amulet in his hand and disappeared.

“Son of a—”

“Over there,” Santos said, pointing across the arena. All the way on the other side. He grabbed my hand. “Ready? We’ll magic to him.”

“Santos, you’re burning far too much—”

Too late. I felt his magic manifest, and I quickly summoned my own so that I could go with him of my own volition and not because I was connected to him through our clasped hands.

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