Page 11 of Wrong Number, Right Santa

I was supposed to know something, and whatever it was, it made him unspeakably sad. My beast sniffed, and a reindeer tear trickled over his snout.

“I used to stare at the sky and send a wish that you’d carry it to the goddess. And you did.”

Now I was crying, and my beast’s sides shuddered as I sobbed inside him. You never knew what life was going to throw at you, and Jonas had been dealt a blow.

“But Uncle and I are a team.” He placed a hand on his uncle’s. “And now I know moving to a new town and starting our lives there is a way forward.”

He offered my reindeer the carrot. It was sticky, and it had snot on it and was smudged with dirt. Maybe he’d dropped it.

You have to eat it. I’ll make it up to you.

I know.

My beast couldn’t hold his nose, so he gingerly took the carrot. All eyes were on him as he munched his way through the vegetable and stringy bits got stuck in his teeth. He swallowed the last bite and the crowd cheered.

That was gross.

But look at the boy’s face.

After giving Jonas a lick, the boy giggled, and Santa’s elf presented him with a huge gift. His uncle took pics of him with my reindeer and Santa before Jonas and his uncle waved to my beast and held hands as they walked toward the parking lot.

You did good. While I didn’t know Jonas’s circumstances, meeting my beast had helped ease his trauma and perhaps smooth the road ahead.

“Dasher is wonderful, isn’t he?” Santa grinned, his hat a little lopsided. His elf whispered to him about the kids lining up for him again and the pile of presents still left to be handed out.

“In a minute,” Santa replied. He put his head close to my beast. “Well done. I couldn’t have planned such a special treat for a child who needed it.”

Why is he talking to me?After wanting to meet the big guy, my beast was taken aback by Santa speaking to him.

I believe that was directed at me. Santa sniffed me out as a shifter. How? He didn’t scent as one of our kind, and yetsomehow, he’d stumbled onto our secret. I pictured being called before the shifter council in my future, but it was worth it because Jonas was happy.

But I didn’t have more time to ponder the answer as Santa told everyone my beast was happy to pose for photos but he’d get sick if offered cakes and cookies. “Only raw vegetables, unless anyone has lichen in their pocket.”

The crowd tittered.

Santa tapped his nose. “And remember, my reindeer can not divulge any secrets about where we live, what we do on our days off, or how we deliver our presents. What belongs in the North Pole, stays in the North Pole.”

“Damn, I wanted to find out how he squeezed down the chimneys,” one man said.

Santa returned to his house and handed out gifts. Everyone wanted a pic with my beast, and after Santa’s warning, no one tried to give him any sugary stuff. They did offer a few bribes of eggnog and mulled wine if “Dasher” would spill all the North Pole secrets.

There were a few grumbles from folks wondering where I was, but there were no emergencies, and I’d fulfilled my duties ten times over. I expected another paper-cup emergency and was trying to figure out how to retrieve my clothes and my skin.

The crowd thinned and many people went inside the community center, my beast’s job was done, and I needed to return as me. I had to give a speech before everyone left and get everyone outside again when I turned on the tree lights.

“Maybe Dario fell asleep,” one of the committee members commented to his companion as he headed toward the building. “It wouldn’t surprise me. He worked so hard to make this a success and we kind of dumped the job in his lap.”

“But he was perfect. Could you have done what he did?” the other guy noted.

“Nope.”

My clothes were in the grove of trees. With people’s attention on my beast, I couldn’t canter along the road and emerge as me. But kids might follow me, and there’d be someone with a camera.

“Your clothes are behind the house.” Santa stood beside my reindeer as excited onlookers took yet another photo.

How did they get there?My beast was confuzzled. He wasn’t himself, and he was sniffing loudly. Someone was sure to comment that he had a cold and offer him medicine.

Santa’s elf had probably sussed out where I’d shifted. And if that was true, they both knew I was a shifter.

---