Do You Feel What I Feel. a Holiday Anthology Read online

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  INTRODUCTION

  Putting together a holiday anthology has become an annual tradition at Ylva Publishing—and one that we enjoy very much.

  Holiday anthologies are like gift baskets that contain a wide variety of everything we love: There are romantic stories of established couples celebrating Christmas or Hanukkah together and stories of strangers who meet during the holidays and become so much more. We have stories written by authors from all over the world— some established writers and others newly discovered talent. There are stories set in the present, in the past, and in otherworldly realms. That versatility is what makes anthologies so special. All stories have one thing in common, though: they will leave you with a sense of love and hope.

  To share some of that hope with people who are less fortunate, we decided to donate all profits from this anthology to YouthCare, a shelter for LGBT homeless youth in Seattle, and to Angalia, a group giving shelter and food to refugees in Greece.

  Thank you to all the authors who submitted their stories to us and to the editors and proofreaders who supported us.

  The authors and staff of Ylva Publishing wish you happy holidays and a new year filled with love, laughter, and a lot of good books.

  Jae & Fletcher DeLancey

  S. CLAUS

  by Blythe Rippon

  Selena waited for her friend Daan’s annual visit with an anticipation she hadn’t felt since she was a child and her parents let her eat gingerbread cupcakes for her birthday. Standing behind a snowdrift in the waning hours of daylight, she could observe the entrance of her igloo without Daan catching her scent.

  Soft hooves sounded on the powered snow, and Daan passed her igloo without giving it a second glance. Selena smiled. She trailed after him for an hour, being careful to stay downwind, until the caribou suddenly stopped and turned around. With his furry brow knit, Daan gazed left and right, then snorted. He spun around again, grumbling softly under his breath. When he sat down and studied the sky, determining the time, Selena could no longer contain her laughter. She stepped toward him and lifted the cloaking spell she had cast over herself.

  He pawed the ground and snorted at her. “Think you’re funny, do you?”

  Relieved that he wasn’t too mad for her to approach, she rubbed his nose and ears. “I wanted to know if I had enough magic to cloak my igloo so no one could discover it.”

  “I do so love being your guinea pig.”

  Over the centuries, Daan had been the unwilling object of many of Selena’s magical experiments. “If you follow me home, I’ve got some hot elfwine with your name on it.”

  His ears perking up, he knelt down and invited her to climb onto his back. The return trip took significantly less time, since he had already forged a path when he overshot her igloo, and before long they were settled in her cozy kitchen, where a fire burned in the pit that occupied the center of the room. Leaning against the icy wall next to her oven, Selena sipped elfwine from a goblet, while Daan lapped it up from a bowl she typically used for baking.

  As the warm liquid hit his stomach, Daan’s eyes softened. “I’ve been meaning to ask, how is it your igloo doesn’t melt when you light a fire inside?”

  “I may not be as magical as my brother, but I’m not without my powers.”

  He studied her. “You’ve been practicing.”

  “All my life. But I’ve recently had a breakthrough. The magic feels easier to access, and more powerful somehow.” She wasn’t sure what had caused the change, but if she had to guess, it was the physical and emotional space to explore her own abilities, coupled with a lack of head-to-head competition against her overachieving brother.

  Daan nodded. “Good girl. Always knew you had more power than your folks gave you credit for.”

  She smiled absently as she finished her elfwine. “We’ll see.”

  “Planning something, are we?” He nosed his bowl forward, and she refilled it.

  They drank in silence for a long moment before Selena turned away and paced around the kitchen. “It’s about time people recognized my brother for what he really is: a two-bit hack of a wizard who takes advantage of the talents of those around him. Seriously, without the elves, and the sled-pullers, he’d just be the king of a frozen village.”

  Ears flickering, Daan snorted. “Sick of being known as ‘Santa’s sister,’ are we?”

  Selena slipped a bit on the ice as she passed her makeshift sink, and she gave him a dirty look. Her pacing slowed until her steps matched the measured calculations in her head. “Centuries of playing second fiddle to Santa. While he’s been gathering Christian and pagan myths and forging them into a single, benevolent figure—one very forgiving of his horrid eating habits—I’m exiled from Claus Village. Some days I don’t even know if I exist.”

  As she approached Daan on another pass around her kitchen, he reached out and nuzzled her. “It’s self-exile, you know. You could return to the Village at any time.”

  As if she ever could. Proximity to her brother made Selena’s skin crawl. “I never understood what Mother and Father must have promised Ianthe for her to commit to that overweight, pompous ass who treats her like a housekeeper.” Ianthe was from one of the few magical families left, and Selena’s parents had proposed the match with the Nordic girl when she and Santa were both teenagers. They seemed to think he needed a companion with a similar life span.

  “I’ve always wondered, why didn’t your parents marry you off?”

  Caribou weren’t known for their tact.

  For this question, Selena brought the entire flask of elfwine to the table by the fire and sat down. “Oh, they were devastated when, two hundred years into Santa’s marriage, it was clear that he and Ianthe would be unable to carry on the family line. Even magic has its limits. Given my paltry magical abilities, they seemed uncertain at first whether they even wanted me to reproduce. A century later, as their magic began to wane, they initiated a series of halting and awkward discussions about the importance of family and love—and when those conversations led nowhere, they tactlessly suggested I consider a well-timed one night stand.” No, she wasn’t at all sorry they were gone.

  “Harsh,” Daan said.

  “Marriage is a crap institution anyway. Seems to me Santa prefers blowing smoke rings with freaky Rudolph to spending time with his wife.”

  “Her sister has recently taken up residence in Claus Manor,” Daan said.

  “She has a sister?” Ianthe had always been a bit of a mystery around the Pole, even to her sister-in-law.

  “Zaida, she’s called. Arrived ten months ago from whatever Nordic land Ianthe originated. Looks nothing like her, though. She’s dark, like you. Tall. Slender. Nice specimen of the human form, if you’re into that sort of thing.”

  Selena rolled her eyes and glanced at the faded photograph tacked into the ice above her sink, taken when Santa was two hundred and she was fifty. She took a moment to be grateful she looked nothing like her brother. Where he was short, ruddy, blond, and fat, she was tall, pale, raven-haired, and thin. No one understood why she looked so different from her brother, but everyone chalked it up to the unpredictability of magic. “Is Zaida a doormat like her sister?”

  “No one really knows. After a rather extravagant entrance in a gilded carriage, she sort of disappeared. None of the elves, caribou, or people have seen her. Come to think if it, no one’s really seen Ianthe either.”

  “This i
s rather disappointing gossip, Daan. Haven’t you got anything juicier?”

  “The elves are threatening to strike.”

  Selena nearly dropped her elfwine. “What?”

  Daan polished off his second bowl while Selena shifted in her chair of hard-packed snow. “According to the elves, the human population has doubled in the last century and a half, while the elf population has shrunk. The proportion of toy makers to gift receivers is unsustainable, and the elves think Santa needs to make some changes.”

  “Like what, decimating all the major cities in the northern hemisphere?”

  “Ah, well, the elves have been pretty vague about how they expect Santa to solve this problem. So far Santa’s only proposal is to install a few private rooms with heart-shaped beds off the left wing of the toyshop. And, given the new soundtrack piping through the entire facility, he seems to think that Patsy Cline will put the elves in the mood.”

  “Oh, yeah, this plan sounds like a real winner. Because nothing puts lovers in the mood like doing it next door to the workbenches where the Tickle-Me Elmos are being made.”

  “Your brother has never been much for romance,” Daan said, as if this were news.

  “I don’t suppose anyone has pointed out to Santa that even if he can inspire the elves to reproduce more rapidly, it will be a while before the elflings contribute to the toy shop.”

  “All I know is that they seem grateful for more breaks from work and, in the afternoon, most of them are too sleepy from their fraternizing to safely operate power tools.”

  That probably meant productivity was plummeting. It wasn’t part of her plan that Santa come up short in the present department this year, but it was good to know she had backup options. “And how are the sled-pullers?” Santa might be able to bend time and space for himself, but he had never successfully conjured enough magic to move billions of presents across the globe. Magic flying caribou were the best he could do. Selena would have thought it a laughable system if she weren’t about to try it out for herself.

  The look of annoyance on Daan’s face almost made her laugh. “Blitzen and Dasher are having an affair and it’s got the whole herd in a tizzy.”

  “Blitzen and Dasher? But they’re both—”

  “I know. Kind of puts a damper on Santa’s policy about the sled-pullers always being males so as to avoid entanglements that will affect the whole team.”

  “But they both have mates.”

  Daan raised a furry eyebrow. “Did. Dasher’s mate left him. Blitzen then decided it would be a brilliant idea to invite Dasher into his, um, existing partnership. Both his mate and Dasher are perplexed by the idea of three reindeer joining together in such a fashion. Who knows what will happen. But Donner and Rudolph are pretty cruel about the whole thing, and Vixen seems to be vying for a piece of the action.”

  Having vowed years ago not to concern herself with caribou drama, Selena changed the subject. “I plan to do a little traveling over the next few weeks, Daan. Know of a caribou who might be up for an adventure?” She would have liked to take Daan, because she trusted his sense of direction and flying prowess. Unfortunately, while he might be her friend, his loyalty would always remain with the Village, and Selena didn’t want to put him in an awkward position.

  If he suspected anything about her plan, he gave nothing away. “Rudolph’s got a granddaughter. She’s much less of an ass than he is. She might be interested—what did you have in mind?”

  “Oh, I just want to get away for a while. Maybe go someplace warmer for a few weeks.” She knew her answer was too blasé, but it was the best she could do. Santa had always been the Claus with the ability to fool people. “What’s her name?”

  “Lara. She lives alone on the outskirts of the Village, just east of the House with Fifty Chimneys that Santa uses for practice. Her barn is painted purple and there’s a sign outside that reads ‘They used to laugh and call me names.’”

  Selena liked her already. “Thanks, Daan. And thanks for being such a good sport about the cloaking spell.”

  Taking his cue, Daan rose and headed toward the door. “Selena Claus, I miss you. I wish you’d move back to the Village.”

  She waved her hand and a saddlebag filled with his favorite leaves appeared on his back. He nuzzled her cheek briefly before stomping out into the snow.

  Selena waited until four the next morning, when the Village was fast asleep and the moonlight was fading, to disappear from her igloo and reappear outside Lara’s barn. She knocked on the door and didn’t wait for an answer. Inside she found a young caribou, maybe fifty or sixty years old, with light brown fur and delicate hooves, bedded down in some hay. Waving her hands, she lit the lanterns hanging in the corners of the barn, and the sudden brightness woke Lara.

  As she scrambled to her hooves and gathered her breath for what Selena expected would be a barn-rattling bellow, Selena shushed her. “I’m not here to hurt you.” She turned over a bucket that had likely held oats and sat on it, taking note of the purple streak of fur in Lara’s mane and the nose piercing. “I have a proposition for you.”

  Lara, Selena discovered, was as eager as she was to make some waves in the predictable Pole. After listening to the plan, her only question was, “When do we leave?”

  “I have a couple of supplies to gather, and of course there’s the business of the map. I hope to wrap up preparations tomorrow, and we can depart the following night. Does that work for you?”

  Lara pawed eagerly at the wooden floorboards. “I’ll be ready. You sure you don’t need more caribou for this trip?”

  Selena shook her head. “I won’t be carrying presents for little girls and boys. Just me and the map, and supplies for a month.” When Lara raised her right hoof, Selena shook it. “Two nights from now, I’ll meet you here.”

  “See you then.”

  It was perhaps the first time Selena felt she’d ever met a kindred spirit.

  It was hard to be stealthy in a toyshop.

  Noise-making objects were everywhere, including scattered across the floor between the workbenches. But there was nothing for it; the hangar where Santa kept his sleigh could only be accessed through the south wing of the shop, where the electronic toys were mass-produced by the elves skilled in engineering. It had been sixty years since she last set foot in Santa’s hangar, and she wasn’t sure what kind of security he had these days. Her cloaking spell couldn’t mute any noise she might make, nor could it mask her smell.

  Her fears were for naught; she made it to the hangar without incident. Stepping through the door, she waved her hand and a small globe of light appeared in front of her, softly illuminating the space. Ahead she could just make out the silhouette of the sleigh, which was even bigger than she remembered. She was pretty sure it hadn’t been accented with chrome the last time she saw it.

  Her brother had long ago perfected the art of seeming open and warm while in truth ferreting away a treasure trove of secrets. His most intensely guarded possession, since he started his ridiculous Christmas Eve ritual, had been his map. While Selena may have begrudged him the innate magical power that he possessed and she lacked, she had no problem acknowledging that her brother was something of a math whiz. Even with his abilities to fold space and suspend time, it would be impossible to deliver presents to every house and every child without the map he developed. It wasn’t a static object—studying wind patterns, currents, something about the position of the moon, and astronomical changes that might alter the earth’s magnetic poles, Santa developed a new map every year that would ensure his success.

  It was possible that Selena was the only person other than Santa who knew when he completed it, and where he hid it. Why the loser never moved out of his parents’ house was beyond her, but there were some advantages to having grown up with him, she supposed.

  She approached the sled, stopping every few steps to glance around and make s
ure the hangar was still. The left runner of the sleigh glowed ahead, and she could just see the faint lines of the panel Santa would have removed to slide his map into the metal. She had just knelt down next to it when she heard a voice above her.

  “Is this what you’re looking for?”

  In her fright, Selena’s globe of light faltered and went out. She scrambled to her feet and struggled to conjure the globe again, but she needn’t have bothered. Before she could summon her magic, the entire hangar was illuminated in soft, warm light. Off balance on multiple fronts, Selena plopped down on the cement floor of the hangar and peered upward. A woman with black hair and a floor-length black cloak stood in the sleigh, gazing down at her.

  Before Selena could gather her wits, the woman jumped gracefully down to the floor and leaned against the sleigh. Power radiated from her as her eyes burned, and her right hand glowed with light bright enough to cast shadows around the hangar. In her left hand she clutched Santa’s map.

  “You’re making a mistake,” she said.

  “No, I’m not,” Selena retorted. It was possible, she reasoned as soon as she said it, that she would be more convincing if she weren’t sitting on her ass sounding like a five-year-old. Gathering what dignity she could, she stood up and brushed off her dusty pants. “You don’t even know what I’m doing here.”

  “I know enough. I’m Zaida,” she said, extending her hand. When Selena shook it, she felt warm tingles spread from her hand through her arm and into her chest. She looked up, confused, and Zaida smiled. “I thought I’d take the edge off. You’re less scared now.”

  Selena took her hand back abruptly, and the warmth faded. “I didn’t give you permission to—”

  Zaida looked abashed. “No, you didn’t. I apologize.”

  Putting more distance between them, Selena studied her face. She had deep brown eyes that seemed to devour the entire room, and her lips were parted slightly, as though she were breathing Selena in. “What are you doing here?”