A CHRISTMAS CLARA I FLYNN CARSEN

The Witching Hour

The Witching Hour

"Hello, troops," Eve said, striding into the office, Jacob, Cassandra and Santa piling in after her, "pilot in the plane?"

"Not exactly," Clara said stiffly.

"He's spending this most glorious holiday with his fiancé," Ezekiel boomed, startling everyone but Clara, "Merry Christmas, one and all!"

Eve just stared at him like he'd defecated in her presence.

Santa smiled, a nasty little knowing smile that made Clara see red. She'd just endured Cher's entire back catalogue being sung to the tune of "Jingle Bells' by Ezekiel and she couldn't take anymore. "Hey, you," she snapped, Santa glancing up at her, making him point to himself. "Yes, you," she said, advancing on him, "this is all your doing. So bloody undo it, savvy?"

"Santa is not savvy," he said, frowning.

"Ezekiel's losing his bacon," Clara said from between gritted teeth, "all thanks to your stupid hat!"

Santa sighed heavily before whipping the hat off Ezekiel's head, and placing it atop his own again.

"We have a plane, but not a pilot," Eve said slowly, returning to the matter at hand.

"You said hold the plane, so we are, sort of," Ezekiel argued, "Happy Holidays!"

"Ignore Ezekiel Jones," Santa said loftily, "Santa can fly large objects through the air."

"Be my guest," Eve said, holding the door open for him.

~*~

"Oh, my God," Clara said as something flashed past the window, "was that Flynn?"

"You should know," Ezekiel said grumpily, "he's your boyfriend."

"I think I just seen Flynn fly past on a broomstick," Clara breathed, pressing her face against the glass.

Jacob just shrugged his shoulders, not interested in Flynn's theatrics, the others similarly uninterested.

"Well, we're in the cargo bay of a cargo plane on Christmas Eve," Cassandra said gloomily. "Can life sink any lower?"

"We're flying, Cassie," Jacob reminded her, "not sailing on a ship."

"Well, it's not exactly festive," Cassandra pouted.

"Don't say that word," Ezekiel grimaced.

All of a sudden, alarms started ringing, red lights flashing, making them all clutch each other. To Clara's horror, the rear door started opening, the wind roaring through the bay, snow whirling in its wake, Ezekiel screaming like a complete girl. Then Santa's lost sleigh descended from the sky outside, Dulaque and Lamia at the helm, faces mockingly triumphant. As the rear door clanged shut again, Cassandra got up, fists clenching at her sides.

"What kind of person steals Santa's sleigh?" she challenged childishly.

"And what kind of person backstabs their friends quite literally?" Dulaque smiled, his gaze flickering to Clara, making her take a step back.

Cassandra paled, falling silent.

"We saw your fancy man," Lamia fired at Clara, "but we sent him on his way."

"Enough of that oaf," Dulaque snapped, rounding on Lamia.

"What do you want?" Clara said, trying to stop her voice from shaking.

"Santa, obviously," Dulaque said, clasping his hands together. "If you don't, you all die. If you do, you still all die. Excepting yourself of course," he said, inclining his head in Clara's direction.