Page 21 of Letters to Satan

My preoccupation with Damien can’t shoulder all the blame. Things were already running uncomfortably tight when he arrived on my doorstep, but now that he’s here, my attention is even more scattered.

At this rate, we won’t be done in time for Christmas, and that’s never happened. It’s not an option.

Exhausted, I scrub my hands down my face with a sigh, but a timid knock on my door interrupts my thoughts. “Santa?” Cadbury calls from the other side, and my fists clench in my hair before I take a calming breath, releasing the tension from my shoulders.

“Come on in.” As soon as I spot his expression, I’m tempted to slam the door and pretend he was never here. “Gods…” I groan, slumping in my seat. “What is it?”

“Nothing major, sir… well, at least, I don’t think it’s major.” Unable to find the energy to speak, I wave my hand, urging him to continue. “There seems to be a bit of a… record-keeping issue.”

Yep, I should’ve slammed the door. “Whatkindof record-keeping issue?”

“Like I said, I don’t believe it’s anything major. When the elves working in the electronics department were pulling supplies, there were some tools and materials that were… well,missing, for lack of a better word. The problem is likely as minor as someone neglecting to sign the log, but I thought it was necessary to bring it to your attention.”

A small frown tugs at my lips as I rub my forehead. “It’s all electronics related?”

“Well, er… no…” he says, wringing his hands. “There are also a few missing heating elements and…” Cadbury pulls out a pocket-sized notebook and glances over the scribbles. “And quite a bit of silicone.”

“Silicone?” My brows shoot up in surprise.

“Yes, sir… we use it for suction cups and figurines, amongst other things.”

A headache threatens my temples as I shake my head, wishing I could fall asleep and wake to find this laundry list of problems solved. “Can you show me?”

“Of course, sir.” Cadbury opens the door and gestures for me to go first, the quiet of the hallway contrasting with the symphony of sounds coming from the workshop.

Lost in thought, it takes my brain a moment to notice the elf with fire engine red hair walking past, causing me to do a double take and turn around to watch them. “Who was that?!”

“Oh, er… that was Mallow, sir, but she’s going by Blayze with a Y now.”

What the hell?

Jujube comes into sight, looking far more cheerful than usual, with a pep in his step that hasn’t been there in years. “Yo, yo, Santa Daddy-O!” He’s loud, words lilting with a strange accent I don’t believe actually exists anywhere in the world. My brows dig deeper as I glance at the cut-out red H safety-pinned to his shirt.

What the actual fuck is going on around here?

Is this some sort of crazy fever dream?

Am I in a goddamned coma?!

Movement in the corner of my eye catches my attention, looking like it might come from the old Furby room. Right as I turn to look, Cadbury steers me into one of the storage rooms, and the thought slips away.

“This is where we’ve been finding the most discrepancies,” he says, handing me the supply logs to review. Honestly, I’m not entirely sure what I’m searching for, but I fixate on the list of names as if it holds the answers and will share its secrets.

A few minutes pass, and I realize that staring at the logs isn’t inspiring any dramatic breakthroughs, so I heave another tired sigh. “Will our production be impacted by the shortage?”

Cadbury shakes his head, taking the clipboard from my hands. “We’ll be fine for Christmas this year.”

That’s one positive tally mark, at least.

“Alright. Remind the elves to handle logging their supplies with more care to avoid any more issues. And if anything else… strange… happens, let me know right away.”

“Yes, sir, of course.”

“Oh, is there a party in here I wasn’t invited to?” Damien’s cheerful voice rings out from behind me, and I turn to find him with a giant grin on his face, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed. He pushes off and takes a swaggering step towards me, absolutely coated in mischief.

“Why, Santa!” He puts his hand up beside his mouth as he whisper-shouts. “I didn’t know you were still in the closet!” As soon as he says it, his eyes get wide with glee. “It’s the Santa Claus-et!”

“Oh, my god,” I mutter, dragging my hands over my face as I groan. “Never say that again.” As I glance up at him, my grin grows wider at the sight of his proud smile beaming at me.