A CHRISTMAS CLARA I FLYNN CARSEN

Sunsets And Marmite

Sunsets And Marmite

"WHAT!?" Cassandra screeched, looking like she was going to explode.

"Follow me," Jenkins said cryptically, Scarlett O'Hara becoming Sean Connery during his spy heyday.

"Santa Claus is real!?" Cassandra squeaked, trundling after Jenkins like she was on castors.

"Santa is real?" Jacob echoed, bewildered.

"Santa is not real," Eve said witheringly.

"Santa is real," Jenkins admonished, rounding on her.

"Santa's... real," Cassandra breathed, looking like she was going to faint.

"Not exactly in the sense that you understand," Jenkins said, handing Clara a piece of parchment depicting a caricature of Father Christmas, making him look very hale and hearty. "The being often called Santa," he continued, handing Ezekiel a moustache cup, "is an immortal avatar of goodwill. All year long, he travels around the world, witnessing and participating in acts of kindness, humanity absorbing all that good spirit, and then on Christmas Eve, he rises into the atmosphere" -

- "Is this the part where he turns into a talking snowflake?" Clara suggested, setting the piece of parchment down on an obliging table.

"Where he rises into the atmosphere," Jenkins repeated, glaring at her, "releasing all that goodwill back into the human race, recharging... our carbon battery as it were."

Ezekiel just stared at him, slightly shellshocked, still clutching his moustache cup.

"Without Santa, the human race will run out of goodwill," Jenkins said, wringing his hands, "every city on the planet will be burning by Groundhog Day."

"So that's why everybody's cranky around the holidays, because we're running low on goodwill?" Ezekiel said, trying to make sense of the world.

"Precisely," Jenkins said smartly. "Now Mrs. Claus called" -

- "Mrs. Claus is REAL!?" Cassandra shrieked, nearly startling Jenkins out of his skin.

"Yes, Mrs. Claus is real," Eve said, "and I can't believe I just said that," she said in an aside, looking as shellshocked as Ezekiel.

"She's really real?" Cassandra said, clasping her hands together, pupils dilating into delirium.

"Oh, shiny balls, yes," Jenkins said sarcastically, recovering himself.

"Enough with the shiny balls," Jacob said impatiently, "what's the deal with our disappearing immortal avatar of goodwill?"

"Well, Gretchen said the last time he checked in, he was at a soup kitchen in London," Jenkins said, flipping through an old diary, before glancing up at Clara. "Everybody to the back door," he said suddenly, "Clara's taking you home for Christmas."

~*~

"Have you seen Santa?' Clara said slowly.

"What do you mean I've seen me?" the fake Father Christmas said in a strong Cockney accent. "I'm right 'ere!"

"Not you," Clara said, rolling her eyes, "Santa Claus as in the real Santa Claus."

"But I am Santa Claus," the fake Father Christmas argued.

"You are not Santa Claus," Clara said, advancing on him, "nor are you St. Nicholas or Kriss Kringle" -

- "She's out of her bacon!" the fake Father Christmas exclaimed, backing away from her.

"I am not out of my mind!" Clara snapped.

"Cool it, Clara," Jacob said, grabbing her arm. "What she's trying to say is have you seen a gentleman of a certain age around here?" he said carefully, watching the fake Father Christmas's reaction. "Sort of eccentric acting, maybe?"

The fake Father Christmas thought for a moment, his brow furrowing above his fake beard, making Clara roll her eyes again. Whilst Eve investigated the rest of the soup kitchen, Clara had been saddled with interrogating the locals, because being a native of London herself, she could interpret for the others. Except Cassandra and Ezekiel had done a disappearing act, leaving Jacob to act as Clara's audience. "Some old guy was grabbed earlier," the fake Father Christmas finally said, frowning even further.

"What do you mean he was 'grabbed'?" Clara asked, exchanging a glance with Jacob. The fake Father Christmas launched into a stream of rapid Cockney, Clara just making out titfer, tattoos and Mae West. But she got the gist of it, until he mentioned red rubies, illustrating his point rather graphically, the phrase making Clara turn her nose up in the air. "That's enough of that, thank you very much," she said primly.

"I firmly agree," Jacob said to the fake Father Christmas.

"Is there any languages you don't speak?" Clara snapped, rounding on him.

"I wondered when the penny would drop," Jacob grinned, tucking his hands under his armpits.

"You can take on translating duties," Clara said, turning to leave, "I am so done here."

"What, because me and the guvnor here are sharing our appreciation for Lamia's womanly charms?" Jacob said, hauling her back.

"No, because you're acting like a pair of sexist pigs," Clara retorted, swatting his hand aside. "Now, if you don't mind, I have to tell Eve the Serpent Brotherhood have Santa Claus in their possession."

Eyes of hell
Slithering skin
Demons at my doorstep
Won't you let them in...

~*~

"Are you sure?" Jenkins asked Clara, the others hanging back, kicking their heels.

"He said they had snake tattoos," Clara said, glancing at Eve, "plus he remembered Lamia down to the last detail." Jacob cleared his throat at this, making Clara glare at him.

Jenkins nodded, before turning to the others. "What did you discover?" he fired at Ezekiel.

"That I love Marmite," Ezekiel said fervently, proffering a jar he had stolen from the soup kitchen.

Jenkins just shook his head. "What about you, Cassandra?" he said, turning to her this time.

"That a hexagon is more beautiful than a sunset," she replied, a tremulous smile trembling on her lips.

"It was a set-up," Eve said abruptly, "guy came in with a shotgun, pretended to rob the place, driving Santa out into the open. Then, bam, he was gone, taken."

"Liam Neeson, where are you when we need you most?" Ezekiel said, stowing his jar of Marmite in his back pocket.

"Why do they need to lure him out into the open?" Clara asked, confused.

"Santa prefers to be incognito," Jenkins explained, picking up a crystal ball, "watching the world in disguise, and so forth."

"So do we storm the Serpent Brotherhood's headquarters or what?" Jacob said, rolling up his sleeves.

"Only if we knew where they were," Jenkins said, wagging his finger at him.

Everybody turned to Cassandra, faces expectant.

"What?" she said incredulously. "Has my hair turned green?"

"Or pink," Clara muttered, remembering last time round.

"Did the Serpent Brotherhood take you to their headquarters?" Eve asked Cassandra quickly, referring to the time Cassandra turned traitor.

Cassandra paled slightly, but she nodded. "I met their boss," she said, "Dulaque or something."

Jenkins dropped the crystal ball, its smash startling everyone.

"What?" Clara snapped at him. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

Jenkins shook his head, recovering himself. "We need to take a little trip down memory lane," he said, turning to Cassandra, "or Santa's dead by midnight."