The Naughty List (17 page)

Rosalie gulped. “I’ll grab my purse.”

“Don’t worry,” he said. “Mom and Dad will think you’re great.” He rose and took her hand. “Like me. That is,” he teased, “if you’re sure you’re totally over Pearce. I can’t believe you had the hots for a demon.”

“Hey, cut me some slack,” she protested. “I didn’t know he was evil at the time. He was…” She searched her mind for a comparison. “My version of a male dryad.” She shot the E.L.F. a wicked look. “Maybe we should analyze your attraction to them.”

“No reason to. I’m now drawn to a brunette with mental problems who hallucinates elves and demons and thinks Santa is real. What a nutjob.” He bent down and kissed her again.

“Lips still numb?”

“Yup.” He nuzzled her ear, sending pleasant little shivers down Rosalie’s spine. “I may try them out several times before we reach New York.”

Before they left, David helped Rosalie sweep up the broken debris from Anthony’s rampage. Then he cleared a corner of her apartment. He stood still, took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Lines of concentration etched his face and then his expression cleared. “The location is locked in now. When I dash-away here, I’ll head right to this spot. No more hard landings.” He looked up in sudden embarrassment. “If that’s okay with you. I-I’ll call first.”

Rosalie blushed. “It’s okay,” she assured the E.L.F., kissing him lightly.
Yup. Lips were definitely on the mend.

Ten minutes later they drove up to the back of the airport to the private jet landing field. A sleek, shiny craft sat parked at the gate. Stairs extended from the passenger door to the tarmac. A man in a pilot’s uniform bounded down to shake David’s hand. “I’m glad to see you. We got the word from the Odin you were cleared.”

“Thanks, Mark. Are we ready to leave?”

“Whenever you are.”

Rosalie and David settled into their seats. Other than Mark and a co-pilot, the plane carried a steward named Malcolm who hovered around them like an overprotective hen with a bevy of chicks. He brought them pillows and blankets and a pair of slippers for Rosalie that he insisted she don immediately because her soggy, mud-encrusted shoes did not look comfortable
at all.
As the plane prepared for take-off, he hustled up front to his seat near the galley after assuring them dinner would be served as soon as the jet leveled out.

Rosalie leaned over to David and whispered, “Is he an Integral?”

“They all are. Mark and his co-pilot are descendents of yōkai, Japanese animal spirits—specifically tengu, shape shifting birds of prey. Tengu make damn good pilots. Malcolm, on the other hand, is a dryad.”

She blinked. “A male dryad? I thought dryads were female?

“Back in the old days they were, but once Integrals intermingled with humans, the standards didn’t apply any more. If two Integrals have children, the daughters inherit the mot shere Inteher’s power and the sons the father’s, but with human/Integral bonding, powers are passed to children—both male and female.” Rosalie tried not to stare as Malcolm bustled around in the galley.

David sighed. “Dryads tend to hover. They take it personally when people around them aren’t happy, so you may as well relax and enjoy yourself or he’ll get mopey. On the plus side, they’re really good cooks and I’m starving.”

So was Rosalie. Malcolm brought them a lovely dinner complete with china service. She wanted to talk to David some more, but Malcolm popped in every few minutes with a hot towel or another drink. When she declined his offer to fluff her pillow, he looked so sad she took it back. He did an awesome job of fluffing, she concluded. By the time dinner was cleared away Rosalie yawned heavily. She decided to close her eyes for a few seconds, but the next thing she knew David gently nudged her awake. The jet was on final approach to J.F.K. Airport.

When they exited the aircraft they found Grace waiting on the tarmac. A man in his late forties held her hand. He was clean-shaven, no dimples, and not a trace of jelly belly. Although wan and haggard as befit an extended prison stay, his eyes lit up with a definite twinkle at the sight of his son.

“Dad! You’re free!” David bounded down the stairs with The Book.

Behind Rosalie, Malcolm sighed happily as David and his parents greeted each other. “I’m so happy to see the family back together, especially with the Santa. The dryads were all worried about him.” He slipped her a small bag. “I packed a few things in case you get hungry on the way. I also put in the slippers, because I know you liked them.” He wagged a finger at her. “Don’t try to tell me you didn’t.” Rosalie thanked him profusely and turned to walk down the stairs before he offered a parting backrub, too.

David called from the bottom of the ramp. “Rosalie, come meet the folks.”

“Don’t worry,” Malcolm whispered, giving her a little nudge. “They’ll absolutely love you.”

Rosalie swallowed nervously. She walked down the ramp, frantically wondering the proper form of address for Santa and the missus. In the end she simply held out her hand and said, “Nice to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Kloss.”

All formality dropped as Brian pulled her in close and kissed her cheek. “The pleasure is ours, Rosalie. Please call us Brian and Grace.”

Grace hugged her and then slipped an arm through hers. “We’re so happy you’re here. We can’t thank you enough.” She slipped another arm through her son’s. “We have to hurry. The wardens have convened.” She led them off to a waiting helicopter.

As they buckled in, David turned to his father. “What happens now, Dad?”

“The wardens vote on officially dropping the charges.” Brian and David exchanged a glance.

Rosalie straightened up. “Is there a chance they won’t?” Neither answered. “But you’re bringing back The Book,” she argued. “The pages clear you.”

Next to her Grace tensed. “Another one of their dumb rules is the wardens have to officially drop the charges. Not all of them will be happy David returned with The Book.”

Brian reached over and clasped his wife’s hand. “They let me out to meet David without any manacles or even a guard. Their actions count for something.” He turned to Rosalie. “I’m sorry you were dragged into this. We didn’t mean to make our problems yours.”

“Too much politics is involved in Integral decision-making,” Grac skinmean toe complained. “It bites.”

“Not to mention,” added Brian, “plenty of good old-fashioned hidebound traditions with little worth. They make no sense in a modern world.”

“Dad wants to jump-start the wardens into the twenty-first century. So, how’s that working out for you, Dad?” David joshed.

“Well the prison thing was a definite set-back, but on the bright side, the charges may get us a sympathy vote from other Integrals.”

“So who are these wardens?” asked Rosalie. “What do they do?”

As the helicopter took off, Brian explained. “Over a thousand years ago, the situation was pretty bad—clan wars, infighting, blood feuds, you name it. Demons against deities, deities against demi-gods, and so on. Wiping each other out became a real threat. Meanwhile, human ranks grew. So, the leaders of the three D’s came together and called a truce. They elected two members of each group to sit on a council and agreed all Integrals would abide by their decisions.

“First thing, they wiped the slate clean. No more vendettas, everyone had to immediately stop fighting. For enforcement, they recruited some of the burlier Integrals into a security force loyal only to them. We still have it. You met Billy. The hellhounds work for the wardens. Others like medusas and valkyries do, too.”

David jumped in. “The other big rule involved secrecy. No more attracting attention to ourselves. Integrals aren’t immortal and powers are limited. One pissed off villager armed with a pitchfork could have easily snuck up and put an end to great-great-great-great grandpa.”

The idea of Santa on the run from crazed peasants tickled Rosalie. “Don’t laugh,” grinned David. “Not all the Santas were on the Nice List from the get-go. Tell her how Langbor got The Book, Dad.”

A smile played around Brian’s lips. “Langbor was a Norse forest deity. He lived in the middle of an ash grove and made a nice living brewing beer and dashing-away into his neighbor’s homes to pilfer valuables. Someone started stealing wood from the grove which he needed to fire up the still, but Langbor couldn’t catch the thief. It didn’t help he drank himself into a stupor each night. Langbor was also an adept, so he decided to use magic.”

Rosalie giggled. “Why didn’t he simply quit drinking and keep watch?”

“Apparently, obvious solutions never occurred to Langbor. Instead he decided to create a parchment to spell out the name of the perpetrator. Since he didn’t know whether he dealt with a human or Integral, he sacrificed a human, a demon, a demi-god, and a deity. ”

Rosalie was horrified. “Santa did what?”

“He wasn’t Santa. He was Langbor. He used the blood of his victims, plus some of his own, and real dark magic. Instead of creating a parchment with one name, he got this book with everyone’s name. Langbor, by the way, was on top of the Naughty List. He immediately sensed a business opportunity, abandoned beer distilling and petty theft, and went into blackmail.”

“Stop,” Rosalie pleaded in jest, “you’re killing me.”

“Word got around,” Brian continued with a chuckle. “The wardens first considered killing Langbor, but The Book had a mystical tie to him because of his blood. If Langbor died, the magic stopped. The wardens liked the idea of a book ratting everybody out. They had a tough time keeping the peace among all the warring factions. They also realized the added benefit of spying on their human neighbors. Langbor received an ultimatum. He could die horribly or become the protector of The Boo sor e ak for use by the wardens. He also had to marry a human and produce an heir so the magic of The Book continued in his progeny.”

Rosalie’s face lit up in understanding. “If he married an Integral and had no sons, the power disappeared.”

“Exactly. As a practical sort, Langbor swore a blood oath he and his descendents would protect The Book. He hooked up with a human peasant girl who figured life as the wife of a drunken forest deity looked way better than battling the constant threat of starvation on the family turnip patch.”

“They lived happily ever after?” Rosalie added hopefully.

This time Grace burst out laughing. “She stabbed him to death six months later when he admitted in a beery haze the human he killed to build The Book was her father. By then she was pregnant. Their daughter inherited Langbor’s Integral power along with the burden of caring for The Book. She was nothing like her father and went on to marry into the Claus family and become the first Santa.”

Brian leaned over and kissed his wife on the cheek. “Santas have always had a thing for uppity humans.”

David jabbed Rosalie playfully in the ribs. “What do you think of our family tree now?”

“I can’t say I have anything to compare, although Grandpa always suspected his second cousin was a bootlegger.” She eyed David questioningly. “You said The Book had a karmic aspect, too.”

“Our ancestors discovered the unintentional side effect early on. Langbor didn’t even realize what he had created. Meanwhile, constant attempts occurred to steal The Book and access the information inside. The wardens decided in order to keep the peace, The Book would be kept secured.” He motioned to his father. “Restricting the use is part of the problem Dad has with them now.”

“My belief,” announced Brian firmly, “is The Book should be used to prevent small problems from turning into big ones. Imagine the potential. Business owners can’t hide environmental damage any more to increase the bottom line. No unsolved assaults. No more missing children.”

“You’ve sold me,” remarked Rosalie. “What’s the problem?”

“Plenty. Traditionally Integrals do not get involved in strictly human affairs, although we all have human blood, so the argument doesn’t hold water anymore. Mostly, the wardens fear increased use of The Book will lead to the discovery of our existence.”

“They have a point, Dad. None of us want to be freeze-dried, dissected, and studied under an electron microscope.”

“I won’t argue with that, son, but I believe judicious handling of The Book benefits everyone. Right now use is strictly regulated, mostly for business decisions. IBM always has us check out corporate partners to make sure their dealings are honest and above board.”

Rosalie raised an eyebrow. “IBM?”

Brian winked. “Integral Business Methods is the parent company of our corporation. We had the name first and saw no reason to change the initials.”

“The six wardens next convene on December 25
^th
,” explained Grace, “to consider new laws or changes to old ones. Any proposal needs a majority vote to pass. Two of the wardens lean in Brian’s direction, one leans toward the Baal who is dead-set against, but the two new wardens this year are on the fence.”

“Another reason I’d like to see a human in the mix,” proclaimed Brian. “Having an odd number prevents deadlock.”

“Firs stifl havet things first, darling,” Grace continued. “The upcoming vote would be the most significant change to Integral rule in a thousand years. We had a shot at passing, at least until The Book disappeared.” Her voice tightened. “Someone spread rumors Brian orchestrated the theft because he grew tired of waiting for the wardens to take action.”

“That’s crazy,” David spouted indignantly.

Brian’s lips twisted in a wry smile. “No kidding. I’m not that clever.”

She turned to Rosalie. “We must convince them neither David nor Brian had anything to do with the theft.”

David patted The Book resting on his lap. “The proof is right here.”

The helicopter made a sudden descent. Rosalie glanced out the window. They were in the heart of New York, hovering above a skyscraper equipped with a landing pad. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach as they touched down.

“The Hershfeld Building,” said Brian with a cheeky grin. “Also known to all Integrals as HQ. It was constructed by a yeti named Ira Hershfeld back in the 1970’s.”

Rosalie thought to ask David if his father was serious, but then decided if yetis really constructed skyscrapers in New York, she didn’t want to know.