Page 20 of Unholy Night
“ What would you like to know?” I ask, reclaiming my seat and turning to face her.
“How does all this work?” she asks. “How do we get all the presents delivered? Why do some kids not get presents? Why is it so imbalanced and unfair if Santa is real? What about families who don’t celebrate, or honor other religions and traditions?”
I frown. These are good questions with no easy answer. At least none that she will appreciate. “You’ve heard me mention magic, and how it’s fading in your realm. This is affecting everything. Even Santa’s magic. Parents of course no longer believe in any of us anymore. So we have relied on the belief of children to survive… to have an impact on earth. But that too is fading. If a child doesn’t believe, doesn’t have at least a seed of magic within them, then they won’t be able to see the gifts left. The magic around them. The truth. As for other beliefs and religions, it is belief that gives us life, just as it gives life to the others. I am but one manifestation of belief, but I am not the only one. Nor is Santa. Every culture and tradition brings with it its own set of beings that share the immortal realm.”
I pause, frowning. “It’s an incomplete answer, I know. But it’s the best I can offer. The truth is, at our last Summit we talked about what’s been happening on Earth and none of us have any real solutions.”
She raises an eyebrow. “Summit? Who’s we? What else is real that I always thought was myth?”
I shrug. “All of it. All of it is real, or has been at one time or another. Where do you think the myths and stories come from? They were cobbled together from the scraps of truth that remained in the minds of the few who still remembered. But the further into despair humanity falls, the less potent is our collective magic. A few of us have already disappeared entirely, never to be thought of again.”
The taste of her swirling emotions permeates the air around us, and I inhale deeply. There’s sadness, shock, confusion, but also… underneath it all, delight.
“It’s real.” She looks at me with shining eyes. “It’s really real.”
7
Lyla
It seems impossible to believe, and yet how can I not? I’m sitting next to Lucifer in Hell. There was a showdown with Santa Claus and now we’re about to steal his sleigh. Cleansed souls float along tree branches waiting to be reborn. A Hellhound tried to sniff my crotch.
And the Devil himself signed a contract in blood promising to tell me the truth.
The laugh bubbles out of my throat before I can stop it. I raise a hand to try and stifle it, but it feels as if something inside of me has been unlocked. My laughter feels lighter, brighter, and I barely notice the tears running down my cheeks until Lucifer offers a hanky embroidered with a large elaborate L.
“The Easter Bunny?” I wipe at my cheeks and look up at him.
“Pardon?” His eyebrows scrunch together forming delicate lines along his forehead.
“The Easter Bunny is real too?” I ask.
“Yes. He is certainly real. Very vocal on the council.” Lucifer looks relieved. Had I worried him? “And don’t get him started about eggs. If I have to hear him complain that rabbits do not lay eggs one more time, I might feed him to my demons.”
I laugh. “What about the Tooth Fairy?”
“She’s very much real. Though she has a nasty habit of trailing glitter everywhere she goes. It gets into everything, you know.”
“What about… the Sandman? Is he real? Surely there isn’t a being that goes around sprinkling magical sand in people's eyes.” I lean forward.
“There is a Sandman, though sadly, he is one of the immortals not powerful enough to enter the Earthen realm any longer. I’m sure you’ve experienced insomnia yourself. It’s a common plague amongst humans now.” He’s watching me with open curiosity. As if my response is unexpected or maybe amusing.
“That makes sense. Too much sense.” I frown and try to think of something else. “What about Father Time? Is he real?”
“Hm. Father Time is a tricky one, but as real as the rest.”
“Why is he tricky?” I’m leaning toward him, hanging on his every word.
“Well, Father Time exists, but on so many planes and at many different times, we don’t really interact with him.” He leans forward, balancing his elbows on his knees. “Though I have him to thank for the time in Hell.”
“What does that mean?” I frown.
“How long do you think we’ve been here? In Hell,” he clarifies.
I think back and frown. “An hour? Maybe two? That’s not good. We’re going to run out of time to deliver the presents.”
“Ah, but that’s where Father Times’ gift is a true blessing. Time does not pass in Hell the way it passes on Earth.”
“What does that mean?” I inch a little closer and he matches my movement until our knees are nearly touching. I’m suddenly keenly aware of his nearness to me, his scent--smoky with a hint of leather. Everything about him is so intoxicating it’s hard to keep a clear head, but I am determined to remember everything I can about this night.