Page 11 of Letters to Satan

“FUNKY!” I shout, grabbing Xalreth by the arm and turning to flee. Before we leave, I whip around and narrow my eyes at the gawking elves inside the burning room. “Snitches get their eyeballs ripped out and shoved up theirASPS!”

“That’s not the saying,” Xalreth unhelpfully adds.

“Oh, shut up! He’s headed this way, and he’ll be furious if he thinks I’m involved. Quick!” We duck into a storage closet and pull the door closed behind us, panting as we press our ears against it and listen to the insanity outside. Niklaus’s bellow of rage makes me cringe, and I hope my threat is enough to keep the little shits from ratting me out.

I twist to look in front of me, meeting the eyes of a group of petrified elves. They’re paralyzed, sitting in a circle around a makeshift table littered with playing cards.

“FUG.”

“What’s going on in here?” I ask, putting my hands on my hips and ignoring all the noises coming from the workshop… and there are alotof noises.

“What’s going on inhere? What the heck is going on outthere?”

Amused, I tilt my head as a small smile spreads over my face, walking over to stand beside the mouthy elf. He doesn’t even flinch, just narrows his eyes at me as I flop onto a pile of fabric. “You’re either very brave or very dumb, shorty… or perhaps a touch of each, and that’s a dangerous combination. What’s your name?”

“Why, you gonna turn me in?” The suspicious glint in his gaze makes me smile wider and I shake my head.

“Turn you in? Of course not, my friend... I’m literally The Devil. You think I give twoSHIPSabout people slacking off at work?” I grimace as my voice carries.

“You’ve been known to torture people for it in Hell,” Xalreth points out, but I dismiss him with a wave.

“That’s different because they’re my workers.” My eyes drift over the other three, who are all fixated on the table. They aren’t nearly as stupid as the one beside me with flame-red hair, which makes them far less interesting. “You’re obviously the ringleader of this little slack-off group. You may call me Lucifer, and this is Xalreth.”

“Bless you,” the elf says, and I throw my head back in a delighted laugh as Xalreth growls.

“That’s my name.” He bears his sharp teeth, which causes the other three to shake with such violence I’m convinced they’re going to hit the ground like a bunch of bowling pins. It’s a stark contrast to my new idiot friend, who looks wholly unbothered when faced down by a razor-toothed demon five times his size.

I’ve decided I like this guy.

“If you won’t tell me, I’ll just call you Poddy.”

“Poddy?” he asks, full of skepticism.

I shrug. “Squatty Poddy.”

One of the others snorts a laugh, then quickly stifles it. “Name’s Jujube,” he finally says, sticking his tiny hand out in my direction. Grinning, I shake it, then gesture for him to deal me into their game.

“Alright, Jujube, lay it on me. I want all the dirty little secrets and juicy gossip from the North Pole. Is there a squashed lawsuit for poor working conditions? Denied vacation times and unpaid overtime? Does Santa have a rotating door of tiny prostitutes that please him with their itty-bitty mouths?”

That suspicion doubles as he arches a brow at me. “You’re not trying to get me in trouble?”

“On the contrary, my friend. I’m looking to get into troublewithyou.”

Jujube considers this for a second, running his fingers through his messy hair. “It’s a pretty drama-free environment, honestly. I mean, we’re kind of obligated, you know? Where else are a bunch of mythical three-foot-tall beings going to go live and work in peace? Aside from some niche porn or theoccasional fairy tale movie role, there’s not a lot of demand for us. Hours are standard, and our apartments are provided as part of the gig.”

Well, this is boring.

“How about The Santa? What dirt do you have on him?”

“He works us hard and is not overly social. Much stricter than his predecessor, that’s for sure, and none of us know him too well on a personal level aside from Cadbury, but I wouldn’t call him unfair. It’s obvious he cares about those that work for him.”

“Any filthy skeletons in his closet? Scorned lovers or fun kinks that got leaked? Tales of spinning naughty elves on his dick like a basketball?”

“Uh, no, dude, not that I’ve heard. Boss man keeps his personal life private.”

I wave my hand around the room, gesturing at the secretive card game. “So, if the work conditions are good and Santa’s not some creepy bearded perv, why are you in here playing poker instead of doing your job?”

Jujube looks at me as though I have two heads as he rolls his eyes. He’s a ballsy little shit, I’ll give him that. “Because we’re lazy. Being an elf doesn’t mean we hum and sing while we go about our day.”

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