Secret Santa

 It was two weeks before Christmas, and Circle Strange were celebrating as they did every year: with an enormous meal accompanied by an equally enormous bowl of mulled wine, followed by the unwrapping of this year's Secret Santa gifts.

 Despite the fact they all bought one another presents, the buy-on-a-budget had continued, mostly because it was so much fun. It had become a competition to see who could by the most useless present for the least money. The more useless it was to the person you were buying it for, the better. Thom had scraped the win last year by giving Jepar a tatty old fur coat.

 But this year, Chatoya was convinced she'd won it. She'd drawn Lisa's name from the hat, and on a rummage through the weekend market, had managed to find a cracked codpiece. The stall owner had been so shocked she'd actually wanted to buy it, he'd let her have it for ten cents.

 After a meal of epic proportions cooked by Lisa's skilled hands, they were scattered about the lounge, chattering. This year, Dragon and Matt had joined them, and the half-human boy was lying on his back with his hands on his stomach, groaning.

 "I told you a third helping was greedy," said Dragon without an ounce of sympathy. A Santa hat was askew on her silver hair, and with her delicate features and flushed cheeks, she really did look like one of Santa's elves.

Of course, Chatoya had the sense not to mention that. Dragon could be very prickly about her appearance, oddly enough for someone who could alter it with a droplet of power.

 Matt raised his head to glare feebly at her, the sleepy eyes irate. "You had third helpings."

 The petite dragon patted her belly smugly. "I have a fast metabolism."

 "And you can change the shape of your stomach," put in Alisha. She was on the sofa above Matt, peering down at him with something between amusement and pity. "Matthew, Matthew, don't you remember what happened when you tried to out-eat your sister's soulmate? I mean, I know you two were competing for territory and all, but really...six burgers."

 "That was different," he objected, waving a hand in her direction. "I was proving a point."

 "What point? That coronary failure doesn't have to be the result of years of neglect, a week'll do it if you've got the willpower?"

 He stuck out his tongue from his prone position. "Women. You just don't get it."

 "It's not just women." Cougar entered the fray, throwing in comments from beside Alisha. "I mean, I admire your freakish ability to eat your own bodyweight in meat, but damn, it ain't pretty to watch."

 "And you, of course," retorted Lisa, "are the world's neatest eater."

 He bared pearly fangs at her. "C'mon, babe, dropping the cranberry sauce was an accident."

 "Cougar," the made vampire said, a motherly glint to her eyes, "I can always tell where you've been because there's a ring of food strewn about it. And I'm not even going to get into what happened the one time we let you have chopsticks..."

 "No, no, get into it, please," pleaded Dragon, her eager tone matching her wicked smile.

 "Let's just say that he managed to throw so much rice, I started looking for the bride and groom," Lisa said wryly. She ignored Cougar's nuclear glare with the ease of long practice.

"Jepar's taking his time," remarked Thom as he wandered in from the kitchen, wiping his hands. "Washing up's half-done. I volunteer Jepar for the rest, as he's not here and can't object. Honestly, how long does it take to put on a beard and some padding?"

 "Shush," Chatoya said reprovingly. "We all know that it's pure coincidence that Jepar's out of the room every time Santa visits."

 "I just hope he keeps his homoerotic lust to himself this year," Cougar muttered.

 "I don't," Thom quipped.

 The lamia rolled his eyes. "Hey, you want him, go get him. But fat men in red just don't do it for me. And Jepar with a lot of padding and a moth-eaten beard is just a little too wrong."

 Lisa gave the lamia a fond look. "Just because he never asks anyone else if they want to sit on his lap..."

 Cougar gave a theatrical shudder. "Yeah, it's bad enough without him putting the padding in creepy places."

 Chatoya met Lisa's eyes, and the laughter she'd been trying to suppress burst out.

 "It wasn't funny!" protested the vampire. "I haven't been that traumatised since he came in drunk from that Hawaiian party wearing a grass skirt he'd robbed from some poor girl. And then he insisted - bloody insisted!! - on showing me his hula." He gagged. "Friendship only goes so far."

 "Friends don't let friends drink dance," proclaimed Lisa in a booming voice, then promptly spoiled the effect by sputtering into helpless giggles.

 Hah. Chatoya knew that trying to stop Jepar getting his groove on was almost impossible. He combined a very British eccentricity with the kind of dress sense that suggested he'd been stuck in a 70s time-warp. "We all know that the only way to escape Jepar's little routines is to put on Abba in another room and hide while he's distracted."

 "I never get these routines," said a baffled Alisha.

 Chatoya couldn't imagine anything more sobering than arriving home to Alisha's assessing eyes. Much as she liked Tali, there was an aloofness that shielded her like a layer of frosted glass.

 "Count yourself lucky," advised Cougar, his mouth twisted in mock disgust. "He probably knows you'd never touch him again if you saw him doing Night Fever in a spandex suit."

 "He has a spandex suit?" squeaked Alisha.

 Thom raised a hand, blinking those big blue eyes in an attempt at innocence. "He hid it in my wardrobe so you wouldn't find out. His go-go boots are in there too."

 Alisha silently mouthed 'go-go boots?', while Chatoya tried to erase the memory of Jepar in them before she went blind.

 Before they could dive into a discussion of Jepar's fashion foibles, the doorbell rang. Lisa clapped her hands in delight, while Matt groaned and tried to sit up straight.

 "Why, who could that be, knocking at our door?" Chatoya asked, pretending surprise. This was always her favourite part of their Yuletide celebrations.

 "I'd better go and see," Thom said in an equally startled voice. They had perfected this routine over the years. "It's probably just a poor urchin seeking shelter from the cold winds."

 "Going on our past history," grumbled Cougar, "it's probably a psychopath who wants to kill one of us."

 "Now, now," Lisa chided, her brown eyes soft and stern. "Sometimes they just want to love us in a obsessive, terrifying way."

 "It could be zombies." Matt had perked up, despite his bulging stomach. "Flesh-eating festive zombies. We haven't had those yet.

 "I don't think zombies usually knock," Cougar said, flashing a savage grin. He looked more relaxed than she had seen him in the past weeks, all the strain gone from his shoulders and legs, a liquid heap of dishevelled vampire. His hair was ruffled, as if someone had run their fingers through it, and his hands were laced behind his head. He looked like an emperor taking his ease, and it warmed her heart to see him so carefree.

 Thom vanished out into the hall, and they heard him shout. "Goodness gracious! You'll never believe who's here!"

 "Is his padding in the right place?" called back Cougar.

 "See for yourself," said the human, reappearing in the doorway. He stepped aside, and Santa Claus stepped in, a hemp sack over one shoulder. A vast fake beard covered most of his face, but above it, green eyes twinkled, glancing over them all. The suit was a darker red than she remembered, and concern nipped at her.

 "Well now." Jepar was being quieter than usual, but he stomped forward with the same gusto. "I hope you've all been good this year."

 "I've been fabulous," declared Cougar, arrogance curling under his words.

  Lisa rocked her hand. "I've been consistent. Does that count?"

 "It all counts," replied their Santa. "So, let's see what I've got for you all."

 "You forgot your ho-ho-hos," objected Matt.

 "Nah." Cougar gave an exaggerated yawn. "Toya, Tali and Lisa are all here."

"Hey" she said, in unison with Lisa and Tali.

 "Bad taste, Cougar, very bad taste," added Alisha.

 The lamia batted his eyes. "Well, bite me and find out just how wrong you are."

 Santa was digging in his sack: he began to pull out packages one by one and hand them round. Cougar shook his, frowning. Alisha stared at her as if she could burn a hole in the paper, while Matt felt over his carefully, grinning.

But...the present he handed Lisa wasn't right. It wasn't the right wrapping paper - it wasn't even the right shape. And around the room, her friends were squinting at other parcels with equal bemusement.

 At last, Santa came to her, and spurred by that niggling doubt, she stared into his eyes. But they were the deep, clear green she knew so well, even if they seemed a little harder. An his skin was the pale gold of savannah sand, and the voice was exactly right: that clipped accent, the chirpy tones. Yet...

 One touch, and she would know. As he handed her the gift, she tugged down his head and planted a smacking kiss on his cheek.

 And she knew.

 "You'd better watch out," he said softly, for her ears alone. No matter how flawless the impersonation, that was Blue Malefici's dark, divisive mind beneath the face, his elsewhere blue eyes peering out from an emerald screen. "You'd better not cry, and you'd better not shout..."

 Frozen, she only sat and stared. What was he up to? What did he possibly hope to gain from this?

 "Merry Christmas!" he said in Jepar's stolen voice, swinging the empty sack over his shoulder. "Now remember...this is secret Santa. And believe me, there's some delightful secrets here."

 Lisa scrambled to her feet - she, at least, had twigged, but Chatoya could only watch her with aghast eyes. Whatever he had done, it wasn't going to be pleasant. The vampire reached for that retreating red-clad figure-

 Unseen winds screeched into the room, and Chatoya struggled to stay upright under their glacial onslaught.  When the gales died down, their malevolent visitor was gone.

 "Well, we'd better find out just what the Ghost of Christmas Unpleasant has left us, hadn't we?" said Cougar through gritted teeth. Every trace of ease had gone from his frame, replaced by that all-too-familiar stiffness.

 "We could leave it," Thom murmured. "We don't have to know."

 Lisa shuddered. "Actually, I think we do. I wouldn't put it past Blue to hire half the Furies to kill us and then put a warning in the presents."

 Several pairs of eyes turned to her, all of them uneasy. "He would," she answered. "I don't think he has, but..." But he might. That was the problem.

 She turned the small package in her hands. There was no point in putting it off, was there? How bad could it be?

 With tingling hands, she tore of the paper. A scrap of white paper fluttered into her lap, but it was the gift she studied at first. It was a glass rose with streaked with flaring scarlet bands. Just by touching it, she knew it had been made by magic, and...

 She flipped it over and found the ankh etched on the bottom. Surely not...but that was the symbol of Lux Deluxe, the Florentine business that specialised in small, exquisite glass pieces. More often than not, expensive spells were wound into the ornaments.

 With that in mind, she prodded it with her magic. The glass was just glass: anti-breakage spells, a couple of dust-repelling charms, if complex ones, nothing extraordinary there. Puzzled, she slid a tiny thread of magic into those red streaks-

And then realisation struck her like a knife scraping along her spine.

 Oh Goddess! There was blood mixed into the glass, that was what those scarlet swirls were: frozen as fresh and bright as the day it had been shed. Worse...oh no, no...she recognised that psychic touch. That blood had belonged to Sonj Jameson, who had died in scarlet hues and by her hand.

 By her hand.

 She flung away the rose, old sorrow rising to lodge painfully in her throat. Only then, driven by dread curiosity, did she pick up the note.

 You never forget your first kiss, or your first kill. You never forget how bad your first kiss was, and how good your first kill was.

Bastard, she wanted to snarl to his treacherous face. It had his black and artful touch to it, the whole thing. Those biting words, the craftsmanship in the rose, and in the cruelty too.

 Did you just want to see me bleed? Why did you come in here, was it some sort of sick joke?

 There was a sharp crack. Her eyes flicked up - Lisa had smashed what looked like a picture on the corner of the coffee table, and piece of glass glittered on the carpet. The made vampire's eyes shone with such fury that Chatoya's breath caught in her chest.

 "I second that sentiment," Thom said in a voice that was dangerously soft. Behind his glasses, all the kindness and serenity of his eyes had vanished, and something harder sat in its place. What looked like a broken violin bow lay in front of him, and a scrap of paper identical to the one she held.

 Cougar had gone pale, his eyes spitting golden fire. His whole body was as still and taut as a tiger waiting to spring, but she didn't know why. What looked like a small glass bottle dangled from a chain, which he swung idly between his fingers. Another scrap of paper: what venomous words had Blue written to make put that queer mixture of shock and rage into his eyes?

 "What does he want?" Matt was staring at his gift: a battered lipstick, but he seemed to recognise it. "I...I don't understand. That wasn't Jepar, was it?"

 "It was Toya's soulmate," Thom told him, steely hate chopping his words into snapped sounds. "And he just wanted to spoil our Christmas."

 "He's like the goddamn Grinch, only with an 18-rating," snarled Cougar.

 Dragon rubbed the metallic thing she held. Patches of copper shone through the green and scaled layer. "He went to a lot of trouble," she said. Nothing of anger in her: only a muted sadness. "And I think he missed his aim."

 "What is it?" said Matt, squinting.

 "A belt buckle. My father used to wear it. I don't know how your soulmate got his hands on it, Toya. We buried it with him, and...well...that was a very long time ago."

 I bet I know how he got his grasping hands on it, Chatoya thought. Hael would have known.

 "And the note..." Dragon shook her head, her mouth grim. "Pure pettiness." She picked it up and read it aloud. "'He died fighting a war he knew he could not win. And he betrayed your mother, who he could not love.'"

Drax adored humans, whispered Bhari's voice, but he didn't love them. He thought them amusing and infinitely entertaining and more than worthy of the lives Kheo was so determined to take from the, but love...? I doubt it, however soft-hearted he was.

 "My father loved my mother," Dragon declared. "This is utter rubbish."

"Well, at least he kept to the theme," Alisha said bleakly. She was clutching something in her hand, but Chatoya couldn't make out what it was.

 The doorbell rang, interrupting their discussion. A bedraggled Jepar staggered in, the sack over his shoulder: this time, the suit was the bright fire-engine red she remembered. "One of the Pack tried to mug me!" he said indignantly. "He stole my sack, it took me ages to get it back-"

 He blinked at the discarded wrapping paper - and at the one present still wrapped, left for him by Blue. "What's going on?"

Chatoya sighed. "I think we'd better do the Secret Santa some other day."

~*~

 In the days that followed, she puzzled over why he had done it. The only answer she could come up with was the one Thom had given: because Blue was cruel. The whole thing had the feel of a prank, if a black and jagged one.

 No one else had been willing to say what Blue had given them, but she thought that without a roomful of people watching, they might. She went to Matt first, because he and Dragon were leaving to spend Christmas with his family.

 He had kept the worn lipstick. "It belongs to my sister," he said softly. "She never uses anything else."

 The note was short and to the point.

Last time her soulmate hit her, he smashed the lipstick clean off. If he sobers up, sometimes he kisses away the blood. Beware of destiny. It may not be what you expect.

 "What if it's true?" he whispered. "Dragon says it isn't - that hers was a lie, but..."

 She swallowed. Blue was many things: unfathomable, brilliant, brutal, wicked, malicious - but he had lied to her once, and only once. "You'll see her in a few days. Ask her."

 He gave a small gasp. "You think it's true."

 She didn't want to say yes or no: it stung her to put further pain into those shocked eyes. But he had found his soulmate and found love with it, and so Matt had no real comprehension of just how much damage someone's soulmate could do if their heart was dark and violent. "I think you should find out for sure, that's all."

~*~

 Lisa seemed glad to show her. Her lips were badly bitten, as if she'd chewed the skin off to distract herself from other pains.

 Her gift was a picture: it was Cern Akafren in miniature, painted in water colours that dulled the vivid violet of his eyes and the mahogany of his hair. The insipid brushstrokes gave the painting an ethereal look, as if he hung halfway between here and heaven. It was oddly beautiful: in it, she saw the same elegant taste that had commissioned her little glass rose.

 The note was tucked into the corner of the painting, in the same bold, slanting hand.

Lost loves should be remembered. And soon this is all you will have to remember him by, love and loss.

"Lost loves?" she said without thinking.

 The made vampire's smile was forced. "I thought I loved him once. And I certainly lost him. We all did."

 Lisa...and Cern? How had she missed that? "I never knew."

 "No one did." Lisa abruptly turned the picture to the wall, where it had been when she came in. "No one else will."

~*~

 Alisha was harder to persuade. It took three visits and a promise never to tell Jepar before she would show Chatoya the heavy gold locket. Inside were two portraits: the head and shoulders of a couple. One, Chatoya recognised as Alisha, though her hair was piled up in an elaborate style and the neckline of the dress she wore looked dated. The other was a young man she didn't know, whose mouth hinted at a smile even in repose.

 "Who is he?" She handed back the locket, and Alisha stuffed in into her jewellery box.

 The lock of the jewellery box clicked and Alisha put the key into her pocket. "Someone I knew in another life. A werewolf. To be honest, I thought he was long dead. He...I...we were married. He loved me very much, more than I ever loved him."

 "Married?" Chatoya squeaked.

 Alisha shrugged. "Those times were very different. I was thirteen when my father introduced me to my betrothed, and fourteen when we were married. He was nineteen."

 Chatoya could only imagine how her face looked, because Alisha gave a dry smile.

 "It was a long time ago, Toya. But..."

 Alisha held out the piece of paper, and Chatoya glanced at it.

 You found what you are looking for. He is still looking for you, and it has cost him dear. What price your love?

"It might be nothing," she said, but knew it for false reassurance.

 "It might be something. Can you find out?" Direct. Alisha might not approve of Pursang, but her icy logic won out over her dislike. Practical beyond all else, that was Alisha. Practical - and hurting.

 Chatoya recognised that in her face at once. She had seen that same expression in the mirror, after all.

~*~

 Slowly, she began to see a pattern. Every gift was a macabre reminder: a variation on their own theme. A keepsake of someone they loved, someone who suffered. Each note concise, each word a knife intended to but deep.

 Cruel, and inspired. She could not deny it.

 Thom refused to explain his gift, and after several abrupt conversations, she gave up.

 Jepar handed her the broken glass with nothing worse than mild bemusement on his face. "I don't get it," he admitted. "I mean...I've broken a few glasses in my time, but it's not like breaking mirrors, is it?"

 "Hopefully not," she said, testing it to see if it was another Lux Deluxe piece, if one cunningly disguised. Nope, it was exactly what it seemed. "Where's the note?"

 he rifled through his sock drawer. "Here. It doesn't help much."

 Drink of this, and bleed. Prophecy is a poisoned cup, and it has been served to you.

Her skin felt clammy. She had not yet told Jepar about the prophecy she had found in Pursang's files. The one that said he must play some part in defeating Kheo Rastaban when he came seeking out war, and that to do it, he must see someone close to him die.

 "It helps." She took a deep breath. "You'd better sit down, Jepar. I...I owe you an explanation."

~*~

 Jepar's response had been harder to bear than anyone else. He hadn't shouted at her for keeping it from him: he hadn't berated her at all. He'd only put his head in his hands and said, "But what if it's Alisha? I can't lose her again, I just can't. How can I possibly do anything to hurt Kheo Rastaban? He's a dragon, he's the greatest dragon of all time."

 "I don't know," had been her answer, and all the answer she could give him.

 "What if it's one of you?" he asked, his eyes wide and child-like. The terror in them shook her to her core. "Toya...I...I..."

 She could give him no reassurance, nothing but time and space to deal with his future.

~*~

 She hqad left Cougar until last deliberately. The enmity between him and Blue had lessened not one whit: if anything, it had worsened. Without a word, he had handed her the little bottle. It was filled with a dark liquid, and she didn't need anyone to tell her what it was. Blood. Not much of it, a teaspoonful, and it seemed an odd gift for a vampire.
 
 "What...what did the note say?"

 His face was closed to her, set in grim and stony lines. Pure sunlit gold filled his eyes, punctured by the black of his pupils. Nothing but rage looked out at her, and the intensity of that emotion made her step warily around him. He passed it to her, holding the paper as if it were a dead maggot.

 You chose to steal what was given to me freely.

 She thought she knew the answer before the question left her lips, but haltingly, she asked, "Whose blood is it?"

 He would not meet her eyes.

 "Yours," he said, and the low, harsh pain in his voice made her heart clench in her chest.

 I am so sorry, she wanted to say, but she knew that sorry was worth nothing. It would not obliterate her rejection, it would not heal this rift between them that could not be forgotten, no matter how they tried.

 All those secrets, out in the open, raw and painful.

 She wondered how many more remained hidden.