bedeviled & beyond 06.5 - bedeviled & bah humbug (15 page)

She’d elf-napped Bob.

Angry Darma was loose on the world. Bewitched and dangerous. And all I had at my disposal to stop her was a bunch of drug-laced sugar cookies.

Talk about under armed.

CHAPTER 5

Ralphy popped up to the roof a moment later, followed by several more pops as the other elves all joined us. To an elf, they clutched their heads and stomachs, groaning. Ralphy’s face was greener than his stupid pants.

“Hung over?” I asked him.

He wiped sweat off his upper lip and shoved his pointed red hat back on his head. “I’d forgotten about the residual effects of pixie dust.”

As the fat elf turned and horked in the snow-free spot where the sleigh had been, I lifted an eyebrow at the Ralphster. “Especially when you over-indulge.”

“Shut up, Phelps. Don’t kick an elf when he’s down.”

Shaking my head, I shifted my mental drawers.
Tadpole, I need you.

There was a brief hesitation during which I worried my dragon wouldn’t respond. Finally, she came online, the sound of Christmas music blaring in the background.
What’s up, Mother halfling?

I frowned.
How did a laser rock band get into our communication path?

What? I can’t hear you over the music.

Turn it down!

What?

Switch channels, tadpole!

There was a grunt and then the music dropped away.
Sorry. It’s Snoopy’s fault. He’s been playing this new rock laser band all week and the music is seriously stuck in my head. What’s wrong?

Shoving aside the disappointing realization that she assumed I was only contacting her because something was wrong...mostly because...well...something
was
wrong...I quickly filled her in on my dilemma.

Yikes! The thought of Darma under a rage-enhancing drug is terrifying.

Yeah. Tell me about it. Do you know where Santa is?

Not right at this minute, no. But the good news is that Darma won’t know where he is either. He could be anywhere.

I frowned.
Right
. Turning to Ralphy, I asked. “How do the elves locate Santa when you need him?

Ralphy shrugged. “NPPS.”

“In English please.”

“North Pole Positioning Satellite. All the sleighs are equipped with the technology.”

“So Darma will be able to find Santa?”

Ralphy’s green face paled. “Yeah, I guess so.” His eyes widened. “But she won’t know how to use it. NPPS is a complex process using several moons, the stars and a couple of planets to narrow in on Santa’s location. She’ll never figure it out.”

“Does Bob know how to use it?”

Ralphy’s eyes widened and he glanced around the roof, apparently realizing for the first time that his friend was gone. “Frunk me.”

“Yeah.” I reengaged my communication with Glynus.
We have a problem.

The music blared briefly through our pathway and then stopped.
What is it?
my dragon asked.

The sleigh Darma’s driving has NPPS. She’ll be able to locate Santa. You need to get down to the workshop and send security elves after Santa. Tell them, if they encounter Darma only to subdue, not vanquish.

I’ll try, but if the elves think Santa’s in trouble there’s no telling what they’ll do to Darma.

That’s why you and Snoopy need to go too, Glynus. I need you to keep Darma safe until I can get there.

What are you going to do, Mother halfling?

I sighed.
I’m going to warn Dialle and the others that the bad guy we’re looking for is my sister. Then I’m going to steal a sleigh and come after you.

Take care, Mother halfling.

You too, tadpole. See you soon.

Shuffling my mental drawers I contacted Dialle.
Hey, bud! I’ve got some news on the current situation.

Astra, my love. Have you exterminated all the bugs at the mall?

I grinned. I considered them rodents but bugs would do too.
Sort of. Turns out the masks lose their whammy when you subject them to a little pixie dust.
I cast my gaze toward the green faced group of elves a few feet away.
Or a lot of pixie dust.

That’s what I hear. Sleighs full of elves have been turning up all over the world where the hostages have been taken. They’ve been defusing and dragging the ninja elves back to the North Pole. It looks like we might get a little Christmas Eve back after all.

I frowned, hating to burst his bubble.
Not so fast, bud. I’m afraid we have a problem. Darma’s been infected with a mask.

Stunned silence pulsed across the channel. After a moment I gave him a nudge to make sure he hadn’t dropped dead.
Dialle?

We’ll have to kill her, Astra.

I swallowed hard.
Don’t be so melodramatic, Dialle.

Astra, these masks bring out the meanest mean a person carries around with them. Your sister specialized in mean before mean was cool. She created the term. Her picture is next to the word in the dictionary. Snakes learned their mean from Darma. Demons have no mean on her...

Okay, okay. I got it. This is bad. I know that.

Bad? We left bad behind a few sentences ago. This is apocalyptic.

I frowned.
That’s so not helping
.

I could almost hear him shrug.
Well, if you won’t let me kill her, how are we going to stop the mean tsunami that is Darma Phelps?

We’re going to locate her and sprinkle her with pixie dust, drama king.

Oh. Okay. That will work too.

Shaking my head, I disconnected from Dialle after asking him to hotwire a sleigh, kidnap an elf, and meet me at Santa as soon as possible.

I looked at Ralphy. He was sprawled on the roof, all four limbs stretched out, looking like he’d been flattened by a sleigh. “You gonna make it?”

He gurgled wetly and I took a step backward so he wouldn’t hork on my kickin’ new boots. Compassion thy name is Astra.

“Where would I find a sleigh, Ralphy?”

He fixed a bleary gaze on me. “Why?”

“Isn’t that obvious?”

Groaning loudly, he shoved upright. “You want to go after your sister.”

“And save Santa. Yes.”

He tugged his stupid pointed hat off his head, revealing damp, curly dark hair that was mashed against his scalp in a perfect inverted bowl shape. He used the hat to wipe sweat off his brow and lip. “I’m going with you.”

“Do you really think you’re up to it?”

He shoved a sweaty hand in my direction. “You think you can figure out the NPPS?”

I grabbed his hand and yanked him to his feet and then some. His stupid curled shoes left the surface of the roof and he gave a little yelp before settling back down. “Do I have a choice?”

“Yes,” he said, tiring of the question game. “You have the choice of bringing me along.” Ralphy gave a long, melodic whistle and I looked around.

Nothing.

He whistled again and the sky remained empty. Even the travel-ways above our heads were empty, everyone apparently having settled down for a long Winter’s nap. “Maybe your whistle’s broken,” I offered helpfully.

“Shut up, Phelps.” He turned his head and promptly horked up sugar cookies five inches from my feet.

I yelped, jumping back. “Right on my boots, you little rodent.”

“Shut up.”

I glared at him, dragging the toes of my boots through the snow to clean them. “You tell me to shut up one more time I’m going to punch you on your little button nose.”

“No, I mean, shut up!” He lifted a finger and took a listening posture.

The sound of bells sang clear and soft through the night sky.

Ralphy gave me a smug smile. “Broken whistle my small, white ass.”

I growled a little, realizing the next few hours in the sleigh with my least favorite elf were going to be pain personified. “You ever puke on my boots again I’m going to make new ones out of your hide, elf.”

“Whooo, I’m so scared, Phelps.”

I ground my teeth. What I wouldn’t give in that moment for the collective coal from my last five Christmases. So I could chuck it at his pointy elf head.

~SC~

Hours later Ralphy had found the sleigh Darma was in and triangulated it with Santa’s sleigh, which happened to be over Guam at the moment we located it. He was frowning at the strange looking screen that just looked like a bunch of squiggly lines and snowflakes to me.

“Can we beat her there?”

Ralphy’s frown deepened, folding his little elf face into creases. “Not unless Rudolf has engaged EFS.”

“What in Hades is EFS?”

He looked at me like I came from one of the slower elf families. “It’s Emergency Flight Strategies, Phelps. Did you not read the manual I threw at you?”

I’d read the title and the Table of Contents. But then I’d gotten bored and was currently using it as a foot rest on the floor. “Every word. I didn’t see anything about an EFS. Where was it? Buried in the footnotes?”

My bluff failed pitifully.

Ralphy eyed the three inch thick manual beneath my boots. “Page two, Chapter One. EFS Planning and Use.”

I shrugged, glancing past his shoulder. “Is that reindeer asleep?”

Ralphy’s head whipped around and he snapped the reigns angrily. “Look alive Ashley!”

The reindeer in question jerked awake, rolling an irritated brown eye in my direction. I tried to look innocent but Ashley the drowsy reindeer didn’t seem to buy it. Go figure. “How long until we intercept Darma?”

“At the current rate of speed, with a strong headwind and increased gravitational pull because our anti-grav systems are on the fritz...about an hour after she reaches Santa.”

I frowned. “That won’t work. We need to equalize somehow. She’s got lots of presents in the sleigh, right? Maybe that will slow her down.”

“It will. A little. But not enough to help us.”

“Okay, Prince of Doom and Gloom, what
will
help us?”

Ralphy stared at the NPPS for a minute, frowning thoughtfully. “If she encounters a head wind...”

“Is that likely?”

He sighed. “Unfortunately not in that part of the world. They’ll be over Hawaii soon and the sleigh will slide into the Kalua Huey air stream. It’s like an escalator for sleighs. There’ll be no stopping them then.”

“What about Bob?”

“What
about
Bob?”

“Can’t he do something to slow them down?”

“Normally I’d say yes. But his brain’s probably still scrambled from the mask magics.” Ralphy shook his head. “Besides, Bob’s my friend and all, but even without magical scrambling he’s not the sharpest elf on the Pole.”

I sat back, my mind racing. I needed to come up with a way to slow them down. Then it hit me. “Dragons!”

Ralphy just stared at me. “What about them? You contacted Glynus and Spence, right?”

Ignoring him, I shuffled my mental drawers.
Tadpole, where are you?

We just flew over the Philippines. I think Darma’s just ahead of us. What do you want us to do when we catch up to her?

Don’t get too close, she’s not in her right mind and might fire on you. But you need to slow her down as much as you can. Ralphy and I are hurrying to you, but we’re about an hour behind.

A human hour or a Santa hour?

I blinked.
Holy Bent Gargoyle toes. I have no idea. Let me ask.

“Ralphy...

“We have visitors, Phelps. It’s not good. They’re flying the Grinchie Flag.”

I expelled a breath. “Just frunkin’ great.”
Tadpole. I’ll have to get back to you in a few minutes. We’re about to get Grinched.

The boat shaped green airship approached at a nerve-jangling speed, its curled bow piercing clouds in a direct path to the startled halfling and annoying elf in a sleigh. “Uh, Ralphy, are they going to crash into us?”

“It sure looks that way.” His stumpy fingers were moving quickly over the dials and buttons on the dash of the sleigh. A moment later the sleigh rolled into a turn that, I hoped, would take us out of the pathway of the Grinch’s airship. The reindeers’ long, bony legs stirred the air, the whites of their eyes showing as they ogled the approaching airship.

“Do you have supersonic speed on this thing?”

“We were already moving faster than sound, Phelps. I’m not sure I can pull much more out of this sleigh. It’s last year’s model.”

“Halt, please!”

Ralphy and I stilled as a familiar voice rang through the sky. The reindeer immediately dug in their heels and wrenched us to a stop.

“What the...?” I looked at Ralphy. “What would Mx. Claus be doing on the Grinch’s airship?”

Ralphy shrugged. “We’re about to find out.”

The ship stopped overhead, its wide, green belly opening to puke out a ladder, which dropped toward us at an alarming rate. I grabbed the last rung as it dropped toward my face, looking up into the rectangular door in the airship’s belly. “Who’s up there? Show yourself.”

A wide, rosy-cheeked face appeared in the opening. “Hello, Mx. Phelps.” Mx. Santa waved gaily, grinning as if we were meeting for tea and cookies in her North Pole apartments. “Come on up. We don’t have much time.”

Glancing at Ralphy, I lifted a brow.

He handed me a small vial and a cookie. “Go ahead, Phelps. I’ll be right behind you.”

Shoving the things he’d given me into my pocket, I reached for a rung and started to climb. The ladder swayed as I ascended, taking my queasy stomach on a ride with every swirl and dip. Above me, the strange looking airship belched bursts of air thick with silvery sparkles from the vents in its belly. I couldn’t shake the feeling that they’d hit the gas on the Grinch-blimp the moment I climbed through the hole above.

I wasn’t far wrong. A pudgy, soft fingered hand shot through and grabbed my arm as I neared the hole, yanking me inside. “Hit it,” Mx. Claus instructed whomever was driving. The ship shot forward, throwing me backward and to the ground, where I proceeded to bounce across the slick green floor on my bootocks.