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”All grown-ups were once children... but only few of them remember it.”
Unforeseen circumstances.
That’s what had tripped Alex up in his latest mission for SCORPIA, and now he and Sagitta were stuck in a blizzard — the worst storm any of them had ever seen. The worst storm in a century, the meteorologists kept saying on the radio. It was a literal typhoon of snow, and they were riding it out in an isolated cabin off the coast of Lake Superior in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula.
For the past two days, the wind had howled, the world had turned dark, and the snow had piled up rapidly. Shale and Aranda had already been up on the roof three times to shovel off the drifts before they could cause structural damage.
Alex sat on the rug near the fire, using the light to work on his Arabic. They had a generator, but were trying to conserve fuel. The storm was supposed to continue for at least another twenty-four hours and then they’d have to dig themselves out. Mace was sitting in one of the armchairs nearby nursing a cup of coffee. Marcus was banging around in the kitchen cooking no one knew what for dinner. All they had were MRE’s. Aranda was taking a nap in one of the other rooms. Shale was shoveling snow again because he couldn’t sit still, Ivey and Jarek were out on watch, and Adams was…
Where was he?
Alex looked up from his textbook just as the back door opened letting in a howling burst of frigid, snow-filled air. Adams stomped in dragging a tree behind him.
“Close the bloody door!” Marcus shouted from the kitchen.
Mace set down his cup and stood up from his chair. “What’s with the tree?” he asked.
“It’s Christmas Eve,” Adams replied.
“And?”
“It’s a Christmas tree, you idiot! If we’re stuck spending Christmas here, we’re going to have a tree.”
Mace shrugged and having nothing better to do, grabbed one of the branches and helped Adams pull it inside. “What are we going to decorate it with?” he asked.
“I’m going to decorate it with your frozen ass if you don’t close the damn door!” Marcus yelled.
Alex chuckled to himself and turned back to his work as Mace shut the door and the two men wrestled the tree into a corner of the living room.
“Oi, boss! Stop working and help us decorate this thing,” Mace said.
Alex rolled his eyes, but set his books aside.
They twisted silver emergency blankets into garland, and then used various electronic bits, mousetraps, and a box of leftover grenades to dress up the tree. Alex stepped back to take a better look.
The grenades were a nice touch, but… “It needs something,” he mused. Mace nodded his agreement.
“A star on the top,” Adams said. “Wait here.”
They stood there a couple of minutes. Adams came back into the room carrying a large cardboard box. He set it down on the floor and pulled a gold tinsel star out of it.
“Wait,” Alex protested, “Where did that come from?” He didn’t remember ordering any Christmas decorations for this assignment.
“It was in one of the closets.”
Alex walked over to the box and poked through it. There were cartons of colorful glass baubles and strings of lights as well as armfuls of garland. “Why didn’t we just use this?” he asked.
Adams glanced at him in astonishment and then set the star on top of the tree. It leaned precariously, but didn’t fall off. “Are you serious?” he said, turning back and dusting off his hands, “Look at it! It’s glorious.”
Alex looked again. The tree did have a certain Sagitta-ish charm to it that made him smile. Adams grinned and pounded him on the shoulder.
Marcus walked into the room. “Nice,” he said appreciatively.
The four of them stood there a minute longer just staring at the tree and listening to the wind blow outside.
Aranda wandered in from the back, rubbing his head and yawning. “What’s all this?”
“It’s a Christmas tree, idiot. What else would it be?” Mace replied.
Aranda studied it. “Huh. I like the grenades,” he said. “Let’s hang up our socks too.”
”I am who I am and I have the need to be.”
Alex woke in the middle of the night. The heavy duvet over him was suffocating, and he needed a drink of water — but there was something else, he realized. Something… off.
It took him a moment to work out that it was silence — thick, unnatural silence. No howling wind, no creaking of the house, no snoring from the other rooms, nothing.
He slipped out of bed and grabbed his gun, then slunk to the nearest window and peered out of the curtains. He slowly straightened. There was nothing but snow piled up against the glass. Had they been completely buried? Was that why it was so quiet?
He crept out of the bedroom door and turned into the living room. The fire had died down to embers, casting a reddish glow into the room.
Despite the silence, or perhaps because of it, all of Alex’s alarm bells were clanging. Someone was here. He could feel it. He saw a faint shadow move against the ceiling.
There was an intruder in the house.
How they’d made it through the storm and past Marcus and Shale, who should have been on watch right now, was a mystery.
He crouched low against the wall, barely breathing. Whoever was in there was moving as silently as Alex himself. He came into view a few seconds later. He was nothing more than a large shadow — a very large shadow, that somehow, in a way, reminded him of Smithers. Alex hadn’t thought of the gadget man in ages.
The intruder reached toward the Christmas tree, attempting to grab one of the grenades.
“Freeze,” Alex said, pointing his gun at the man’s head. His voice was barely above a whisper, but in the silence, it sounded like a shout. The man stopped moving. “I don’t know who you are, but if you touch that grenade, you’re dead. Put your hands up where I can see them.”
The man chuckled softly as he raised his hands. “Don’t shoot! I was just pausing to admire your decorations,” he said. Alex didn’t recognize his voice. It had a strange, musical quality to it.
“Who are you? Why are you here?”
The man laughed again. Alex couldn’t understand what was so funny. It set his teeth on edge. “It’s Christmas Eve,” the man replied as if that explained everything. “I came to make a delivery. In fact…,” he dropped his hands and began patting his pockets, looking for something.
Alex shot him in the shoulder. The noise of it shattered the stillness of the cabin. The wind began to howl again and Alex heard several pairs of feet hit the floor. The intruder cried out in pain and crumpled. Alex moved farther into the room, gun raised, keeping the man in his sights.
Jarek and Ivey came down the hall first. They had their assault rifles drawn. “Clear the house,” Alex told them. “I got this one in the shoulder. I don’t know if there are any more.”
They nodded and moved off together, the lights from their torches sweeping from side to side in the room as they checked every corner. One beam flashed across the man Alex had shot, and Alex caught a quick glimpse of red fabric and white hair. Strange.
Mace ran forward to secure the intruder and Aranda followed behind with a med kit.
“Who is it?” Adams asked. He had a radio in one hand and a gun in the other.
“I don’t know,” Alex replied, and held out his hand for the radio. Adams handed it over, and he brought it up to his mouth. “Marcus, report,” he said.
The radio crackled to life in his hands moments later. “All quiet,” Marcus’s voice came through the speaker. Alex breathed a sigh of relief. “Shale?” he asked, “Anything on your side?”
“Nothing sir, just snow.”
“We have an intruder inside the house. He’s under control. We need to know how he got in, and if he’s got any friends. I’m sending Adams out to help sweep the perimeter.”
“Copy, sir.”
Adams left to get suited up.
Alex turned back to their prisoner. The man was breathing heavily from the pain. Mace directed the beam of a torch at the man’s wound while Aranda inspected it.
“How is he?” Alex asked.
“It was a through and through shot. He’ll be fine, soon as we get the bleeding under control.”
“Do you have any peppermint tea?” the man asked weakly from the floor. “That usually helps things.”
“No… I’m afraid not,” Alex replied. They didn’t even have any proper tea, which had been more than a little frustrating, he had to admit.
“I have some in my pocket,” the man said, starting to reach for it with his uninjured arm.
“Don’t,” Alex ordered, and the man froze. “Not unless you want to get shot again.” He stepped closer and realized the man was wearing a Santa suit, of all things. “What’s your name?”
“Santa Claus,” the man replied as if it should have been obvious.
Alex scoffed. “Santa Claus doesn’t exist. Who are you, really?”
“Fourteen-year-old spies don’t exist either,” the man replied.
So he knew Alex’s history. “Very funny,” Alex drawled. “So who do you work for? CIA? MI6? Must be pretty desperate if you’re tracking me down in a blizzard on Christmas Eve.”
“Not really desperate, no. Just... doing my job,” he chuckled, and then hissed in pain as Aranda poured disinfectant on the wound. “Speaking of doing my job,” he said. “I have a very busy night ahead of me. I just wanted to make a quick delivery, and now I need to go. The clock is ticking, and I have a lot to do. A cup of peppermint tea will see me right, and some biscuits, if you have them, and then I can get on my way.”
Mace glanced at Alex with wide eyes as if to say, ’nuttier than a fruitcake.’
“Search him,” Alex ordered as Ivey and Jarek came back into the room. He walked over to them.
“All clear boss,” Jarek said. “No one else here.”
“Alright. Go shovel out the generator: I want the lights on. Then check in with your commander. We need to know how this clown got in.”
“Yes sir.”
Alex brought out the radio. “Marcus, report.”
“Completing the first circuit now. There’s nothing on infrared, and with the snow, it’s impossible to see more than a foot in front of us.”
“I’m sending Ivey and Jarek out to turn on the generator and then to help.”
“Copy, sir.”
Alex returned to where Mace had finished emptying the intruder’s pockets and Aranda was bandaging the man up. Mace held up what he’d found — a container of peppermint tea and a small, wrapped Christmas present.
“You should tell your men to check the roof,” the intruder said.
“What? For your reindeer and sleigh?” Alex sneered, trying and failing to keep his impatience in check.
“Precisely.”
He got out the radio again. “Marcus?”
“Here, sir.”
“Check the roof. Carefully. Our friend may have left a surprise up there for us.”
“Got it.”
“Don’t shoot my reindeer please!” the man called out as if talking to Marcus.
“He couldn’t hear you,” Alex said.
“Could you tell him?” the man pleaded. “They’re completely innocent, I promise. Also irreplaceable. No one makes flying reindeer anymore.”
Alex rolled his eyes, grateful no one could see him do it in the darkness, and then brought the radio up to his mouth. “And Marcus?”
“Yes, boss?”
“…If you find any reindeer up there, don’t shoot them.”
There was a moment of hesitation. “Copy, sir,” he said.
After a few more minutes the lights came on, and Alex took a good look at their prisoner. His face was wizened and wrinkled with laugh lines. His beard looked genuine, and the suit was impressive. He had to admit, the Santa Claus disguise was exceptionally well done.
But why go to the trouble? Was someone playing a joke on him? Was it some kind of sick test from Dr. Three?
Forcing Alex to kill Santa Claus on Christmas Eve would be right up the man’s sadistic alley. No one with even a shred of morals could do that, but that was assuming Alex believed the man in front of him was the real deal, which he didn’t, so…
No, he didn’t think it was Dr. Three. It did seem a little ridiculous, even for him.
“That gift is for you, by the way,” the man smiled. “I was trying to give it to you when you shot me.”
Alex considered the small, rectangular package Mace had set on the coffee table. It looked to be the right size for a book. It was wrapped in silver, and had a blue ribbon tied around it. “No thanks,” he said. “I’m not interested in receiving gifts from strangers that break into my house. Too many people want me dead.”
The man sighed. “It’s a shame,” he said sadly, as if people wanting Alex dead affected him personally. Then he continued, “You know, it’s been hard to figure out which list to put you on the last few years — naughty or nice.”
“Hm, I bet it has been,” Alex replied sarcastically. This guy was a complete nutcase. Or he was acting like a nutcase. And he was… large. And old. How the hell had he managed to get in?
“You should take the present. It won’t kill you, I promise. It’s a little something from your mother actually. She picked it out when she was expecting you, and was planning to give it to you on your first Christmas, but then… well, you know what happened.” The sadness on his face looked completely genuine.
Alex took a deep breath and tried not to explode at the man. How dare he bring Alex’s mother into this? Pretending like he cared that she’d died? He furiously adjusted his grip on his gun, fighting the urge to shove it in the man’s face to tell him exactly that. Mace looked over at him, worried.
The radio crackled. “Boss?”
Alex spared one more withering glance at the old man, and then turned his back on him. “What did you find?”
“…There are reindeer on the roof.”
Alex blinked. “Say that again.”
“There are real, live reindeer on the roof. About ten of them, no, wait, nine of them. They’re hooked up to a giant sleigh… Lots and lots of presents…” Marcus trailed off into what sounded like shocked confusion.
Alex couldn’t speak for a minute. Had they all gone mad? This was the worst joke anyone had ever played on him, and if Sagitta was in on it, he was going to make them all pay. Like, literally. He was going to dock it from their pay, and then send them to Siberia for a month. In January. For survival training.
“Boss?”
“You’re joking, right? This has just been some stupid, wild prank?”
“No, sir,” Marcus protested quickly. “Come see for yourself.”
Alex swore and then went to change into his gear. Five minutes later, he was at the top of a ladder staring at the strangest thing he had ever seen.
Marcus hadn’t been lying. There were nine reindeer on the roof, and a red and gold sleigh filled with hundreds of presents. The wind and snow billowed around them as if rebuffed by some invisible wall, making them impossible to see from the ground. Alex traced the beam of his torch over them again, watching as the animals’ breath steamed from their nostrils and they pawed at the snow restlessly, clearly wanting to be off.
He climbed down. “How is this possible?” he shouted through the wind to Marcus.
“No. Fucking. Idea,” Marcus replied, still somewhat dazed.
“Bring everyone in,” Alex said. “There’s no point searching for anything else in this snow. Something really, really weird is going on.“
“Yes sir.”
”It’s all a great mystery... Look up at the sky and you’ll see how everything changes.”
Alex stayed outside as Sagitta regrouped inside the house and warmed up. Even in the shelter of the porch, the snow attacked him like a living thing, coming from several different directions. He stood there, letting it pound at him, unable to go inside. He needed to think, to get some kind of handle on what was happening.
He took a deep breath of frigid air.
Santa Claus did not exist. The man inside that house couldn’t be him. It wasn’t possible.
There were reindeer on the roof.
Fuck.
He’d seen them with his own eyes.
Had he and Sagitta been poisoned with some kind of hallucinogen? But then, why would they be hallucinating the same thing?
He needed to see them again. Closer. He had to be sure it wasn’t a fancy hologram or some other kind of trick.
He adjusted his ski mask and turned on his headlamp, then pushed his way through the storm and back up the ladder to the roof. Marcus was going to have a shitfit about him coming up here alone, but he had to know.
He crawled out onto the slick shingles, staying low against the wind, and felt his way up and through the invisible wall. It was like he’d climbed into a snow globe, but in reverse. Inside the bubble, all was quiet and calm. He stood up, looking for the reindeer.
And there they were again.
Alex approached them slowly, watching as they watched him. Once he was within arms reach of the leader, he stopped.
The animal bobbed its head and snorted. A cloud of steam drifted over Alex, fogging up his goggles. He pushed them up onto his head and then reached a hand toward the creature. The reindeer snuffled his gloved fingers looking for a treat.
“Sorry,” Alex said. “I don’t have any carrots on me.”
He made his way down the line, letting the reindeer smell him and pausing to pat them on their necks and hindquarters. They were solid and warm and… real.
They were real.
Alex reached the sleigh, and ran his hands over its polished surface. It was a beautiful thing — red and gleaming, with intricate patterns inlaid in gold. He was tempted to climb into it, but then thought better of that idea. He’d already shot its owner in the shoulder. He didn’t want to make things worse.
Could he believe that the old man he’d shot was actually Santa Claus?
He leaned back against the sleigh and slid down until he was sitting on the roof. He methodically sorted through the information he had.
The man was old and fat and had still managed to get inside their cabin without detection.
He knew more about Alex than most people did, and Alex had the disconcerting feeling that if asked, the man could expound upon his entire life’s story.
He’d parked a giant sleigh and nine live reindeer on the roof without anyone noticing.
And the silence that had woken Alex, it hadn’t been natural. He had felt that from the start. It had been something the man was actively doing. Like, magic, or something.
He hated that word. It didn’t belong in his world, but there was no other way to explain it.
No doubt the peppermint tea was important somehow as well.
And the present.
He finally had to admit to himself that it was all uncomfortably, undeniably real. He’d shot Santa Claus.
None of his training had prepared him for this. He doubted even Yassen would know how to handle this situation. He couldn’t call the man anyway. Phones and internet had been out for days because of the storm, so he had to figure this one out on his own.
He stood up and said goodbye to the reindeer, then climbed down from the roof. Back on the porch, he brushed the snow off of himself as best he could and opened the door. The scene that met him looked like a greeting card illustration from another dimension. A fire roared in the hearth and Santa sat in one of the beat up armchairs with his shoulder wrapped in a bloodstained bandage. The members of Sagitta, all decked out in their dark combat uniforms and weaponry, sat around him like overgrown children listening to a story. In the background, their grenade-laden Christmas tree completed the tableau.
Alex smiled as he took it in. He couldn’t help it. He shut the door behind him and then shed his hat, gloves, and other gear. Santa beamed at him from across the room, and the members of Sagitta smiled as well, everyone full to bursting of Christmas cheer. He wasn’t sure what they’d all been up to while he’d been on the roof, but it looked as though Santa had managed to convince his entire team.
Marcus held up a large, lumpy bag. “It’s a huge sack of coal!” he laughed.
“We’re all on the naughty list,” Shale added with a smirk that said he wasn’t particularly upset by that. He reached over and picked up the silver and blue package from the table. “You get a present though.”
“Why is that?” Alex asked Santa as he walked farther into the room and took it from Shale’s hand.
“Oh, well, it’s because it’s not from me, actually. It’s from your mother.”
Alex bit his lip and looked down at the parcel, feeling it in his hands. It was definitely a book.
“You see Alex, sometimes there are presents that are so important, they live on long after their gifters have gone. This is one of them. It was in your mother’s suitcase when she died. That’s how it came into my possession. This seemed the right Christmas to finally give it to you. It’s your last one as a child.”
Alex started to protest that he hadn’t been a child in years, but Santa interrupted him.
“Oh, I know,” he said, his smile turning a bit sad. “But technically, this one is the last. You turn eighteen in a couple of months.”
Alex swallowed and nodded. “Do you still want that tea?” he asked.
“Yes, very much, if you don’t mind. Can’t deliver presents with a bullet hole in my shoulder, can I? Peppermint tea magically cures just about anything. Well, for me anyway. Don’t think it’ll work on you lot unfortunately. Dr. Three would have a field day with that, wouldn’t he?”
Alex pasted on a smile and nodded woodenly. This magic thing was totally weirding him out. Also, Santa mentioning Dr. Three in casual conversation was more than his brain could handle.
Mace got to his feet and hurried into the kitchen to make the tea.
“Sorry about shooting you,” Alex said.
Santa winked. “It’s not the first time it’s happened, believe it or not. It’s a bit of an occupational hazard when one breaks and enters for a living.”
Alex smiled for real this time. “You’re telling me.”
”Of course I love you… It is my fault that you have not known it all the while.”
There was a lull in the storm, and Alex watched as Santa flew away. The sight of that giant sleigh and nine reindeer defying all the laws of physics made him faintly ill. Magic was definitely not his thing.
He wandered slowly back into the cabin, passing Aranda and Adams out on watch. The rest of his men had made themselves scarce when he got back inside. It sounded like Mace and Shale were in the kitchen. The others must have gone back to bed. Alex picked up his present and sat in one of the armchairs in front of the fire to open it.
The blue ribbon came loose with a tug, and Alex set it aside. He opened the silver paper. Inside was a book — a hardcover copy of Le Petit Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry.
He ran his hand over the cover, feeling the smooth paper of the dust jacket. Then he lifted the book and opened it. Inside was a short inscription written in blue ink.
Alex (my darling boy),
This has always been one of my favourite stories. Ever since I was a girl. I am so excited to share it with you — to have you meet the little prince and experience all of his grand adventures. Someday, I hope, you will have grand adventures of your own.
I also hope that no matter how grown-up you become, you will never forget what is truly important.
All my love (forever),
Mum
Alex forced himself to breathe as he read the message several times through. He set the silver paper on the table, unlaced his boots and kicked them off, then curled into the chair, resting the book on his knees. Carefully, he turned to the first page and began to read.