Earths elf, p.1
Earth's Elf, page 1
Earth’s Elf
Earth’s Magic Book 3
Eve Langlais
Contents
Introduction
Prologue
Chapter 1
Anchorage, Alaska. Passing the time reading a dropped flyer.
Chapter 2
In a little town, in a cute shop, fluffing a shirt emblazoned with a mug with a smiley face: ‘I run on coffee and Christmas cheer.’
Chapter 3
Wearing his Special Package boxers a week before Christmas...
Chapter 4
Wearing a comfortable sweater with the words “Oh Holy Night” and a winking star…
Chapter 5
Wondering if he should have worn his official elf gear replete with pointy slippers...
Chapter 6
Wearing green underwear with a big red bow that said, “Unwrap Me…”
Chapter 7
On the sixth day of Christmas, Leif put his foot in his mouth…
Chapter 8
Wishing she’d changed into her best Christmas dress with lights that blinked on and off …
Chapter 9
Thinking maybe he should be wearing the shirt that said Merry Drunk, I’m Christmas…
Chapter 10
While her nightie declaring Elf Shenanigans remained in her dresser…
Chapter 11
The open fire didn’t have any chestnuts or marshmallows roasting…
Chapter 12
Wearing a sweater with two strategically placed bows…
Chapter 13
Oh, holy night, his ire was brightly shining…
Chapter 14
Glad she’d worn matching red poinsettia-printed satin undies and bra…
Chapter 15
All that could be heard was the pattering of hooves on the roof…
Chapter 16
The wee hours of Christmas Eve and about to start snow-jobbing a prisoner…
Chapter 17
Christmas Eve and more surprised than the Virgin Mary at being pregnant…
Chapter 18
Wishing she were in bed, wearing her footed pajamas with the words “I’m sexy and I gnome it”…
Chapter 19
Leif in his duster and Mrs. Claus with a clap had just delivered a truthful slap…
Chapter 20
Wishing I was home wearing my comfy Most Likely to Shake Presents sweater…
Chapter 21
Hear those sleigh bells jingling, Krampus? They’re signaling your doom.
Chapter 22
Mrs. Claus ~ Wishing she’d hidden the darned bells a little better…
Chapter 23
Oh, holy night, they could really use some luck.
Chapter 24
Really wishing she could be like a snowman and chill out.
Chapter 25
Deck the halls with mead and jolly…
Epilogue
Also by Eve Langlais
Copyright © 2022 Eve Langlais
Cover by Addictive Covers © 2022
Produced in Canada
Published by Eve Langlais
http://www.EveLanglais.com
Canadian Intellectual Property Office Registration Number : 1191821
E-ISBN: 978 177 384 333 9
Print ISBN: 978 177 384 334 6
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
This book is a work of fiction and the characters, events and dialogue found within the story are of the author's imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, either living or deceased, is completely coincidental.
No part of this book may be reproduced or shared in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including but not limited to digital copying, file sharing, audio recording, email and printing without permission in writing from the author.
Introduction
This oversized elf is on a mission to save Christmas.
The unthinkable has happened. Krampus has escaped his prison and is out for revenge. It’s up to Leif Blitzen, member of the Yule Squad, to locate the dangerous prisoner before anyone is harmed. His mission takes him from the North Pole to a small town with an interesting shop and an even more intriguing owner.
Bella might be almost forty but that hasn’t diminished her love of the holidays. Filled with unique gifts and antiques from all over the world, her Christmas store keeps her spirit bright all year round. However, it doesn’t make her a sucker for the man with pointed ears who claims he’s Santa’s elf.
Once Leif shows proof he truly does work for the man in red, Bella is ready and willing to do anything to help him against the coming evil, including offering herself as bait for a trap. What they don’t count on is Krampus coming early and taking her hostage.
Now, Leif will do anything to rescue Bella—risk his own life, forsake Santa—because there’s only one thing this elf wants for Christmas.
Love.
For more Eve Langlais books visit EveLanglais.com
Prologue
The South Pole. T-minus twelve days before Christmas.
“Did you hear something?” Paisleigh asked Maurice, the other guard working the overnight shift with her.
Maurice sucked on a candy cane, his booted feet on the desk, phone propped in his lap, watching something he must have downloaded since they didn’t get any cellular signal this deep inside the glacier. The nights were long without some form of entertainment. She preferred to read.
“Probably just the bears going at it again.” Maurice waggled his brows, and she grimaced at the reminder of the pair of males outside the icy facility that kept trying to catch the attention of the lone female in the area.
“I guess.” She chewed her lower lip and tried to sink back into her story, only to slap the book shut as the hairs on her nape lifted. A nagging unease forced her to her feet as she tried to discern the source of her discomfort.
Scritch.
Faint but unmistakable.
This time Maurice heard it, too, and frowned as he set aside his phone. “Hunh. That’s weird.”
“It almost sounds as if it came from inside the containment area.” She glanced at the heavily magicked bars over the deep shaft they guarded. An impenetrable prison for a heinous being. Not that Paisleigh had ever met or seen the prisoner. He’d been long locked away by the time she took her turn on guard rotation. Less guard and more a token presence to provide a warning system in the off chance the security holding one of the world’s most dangerous entities had a flaw.
“Maybe it’s a rat?” A less-than-certain suggestion from Maurice, who ignored the fact they’d never seen signs of any. The South Pole wasn’t known for its rodent population.
“Should we check?”
Maurice thumped his feet to the ground. “Check how?”
Rather than reply, Paisleigh stood on the edge of the ice-limned grate, peering down, seeing nothing but darkness. Was their prisoner even still alive? She assumed those in charge knew; after all, they randomly dropped sacks with food inside. But then again, they never descended to check either.
“Not sure what you think you’ll see,” Maurice declared, joining her. “It’s not like the prisoner can climb. The pit walls are smooth ice.”
“What if he’s managed to fashion himself some ice picks?”
“How? Nothing sent down can be used as a toothpick, let alone something durable enough to dig into the hard surface.”
“But what if he did find a way?”
Her insistence caused Maurice to snort. “Let’s say he did manage to make it to the top. The grate’s not going anywhere. It’s locked. The key is being kept safe in the North Pole, not to mention there are layers of magic. See?” He knelt down and brought his hand close enough to cause the protective layer to glow.
Groan.
This time the noise didn’t come from the pit but overhead. They both craned to eye the icy ceiling. The glacier encasing the prison pit went a good hundred feet over them and was three times as wide. Only a single access tunnel allowed entry, and that only after being screened by the second set of guards outside. A set of six mages also rotated, checking on the wards, bringing supplies to the prisoner.
“You can’t tell me that noise was normal,” Paisleigh exclaimed.
“It is odd. Maybe we should check in with Helga and Bjorn.” The guards at the entrance to the tunnel.
Paisleigh almost said, “Don’t leave me,” even as she couldn’t have said why the sudden intense fear.
Maurice read her expression and did his best to reassure. “Don’t look so worried. Most likely it’s just climate change causing some cracking in the ice.”
“What if it destabilizes the prison?” she squeaked.
“It can’t. Not while the magic is intact.” Those who’d created the prison had accounted for all kinds of possibilities, including the glacier fracturing. “He ain’t getting out.”
She sure hoped not, because the whole reason why he had been locked away for all time was because of the danger he posed.
Creak.
They both eyed the ceiling, which remained whole. Still…
“Go. See what’s happening.” Paisleigh waved her hand at Maurice. “I’ll be fine.”
“You don’t look fine. Tell you what. I’ll stay here, and you go talk to our pals by the entrance. Reassure yourself.”
“Are you sure?” She nibbled her lower lip.
“Totally sure. Ain’t nothing to be afraid of. You’ll see.”
Maurice would know. He’d been working as a guard here for years compared to her three months. Yet, in all that time, not once had she heard any noises. Never had the hair on her nape lifted and given her a shiver. However, she’d heard the stories shared by the other guards. Rumors of those who’d gone missing. The voices some claimed they heard when no one was around.
She eyed the grate in the floor, hugged herself as a shudder hit her hard, and said, “I’ll be quick.” She’d head outside, see there was nothing to worry about, and return.
“Bring back some hot cocoa, would you? With marshmallows,” Maurice yelled as she headed into the icy tunnel bored into the glacier.
The chill of their location hit her as she left the warmth of the chamber heated with special stones that somehow didn’t melt the ice. She scurried quickly, the only sound the huff of her breath. The scuff of her boots. The jingle of a bell—
Er, what?
She halted and listened.
Nothing. She glanced back and saw only the smooth, icy walls of the tunnel. Must have imagined it. She walked more slowly and heard it again.
Jingle.
Jangle.
Definitely a bell. Impossible. Bells weren’t allowed in the pit chamber. Or anywhere else in the South Pole for that matter. Something about upsetting the magical shields of the prison.
Hesitating, she glanced back and then forward. Which way should she go?
The waft of cold air hinting of cinnamon from the direction of the pit decided her. Terrified, she ran full out, arms pumping, aiming for the hint of daylight at the end of the corridor.
At first, she thought it was her rapid gait making her unsteady, only to realize the ground underfoot shook. She braced her hand on the wall and felt it vibrating, humming against her palm.
Oh dear.
Not good.
Not good at all.
But even more worrisome was the sudden zigzagging crack that appeared overhead. Paisleigh bolted, struggling to keep her balance as the very floor buckled and heaved as ice groaned and cracked.
Impossible. The magic was supposed to prevent this from happening.
The rumbling intensified, and she lost her balance, hitting the floor on her knees. But that wasn’t the worse of it. The sound of the ringing bell deepened.
JINGLE.
JANGLE.
“HO.
“HO.
“HO.”
As an impossible voice resonated, the tunnel came down on top of Paisleigh.
She regained consciousness when the rescue crew dug her out of the icy rubble. Disoriented, she nonetheless gasped as she saw what remained of the glacier.
Nothing but ice chunks scattered all over.
But most terrifying of all was the realization of what had happened.
“The Earth mother help us all.”
Santa had escaped.
Chapter 1
Anchorage, Alaska. Passing the time reading a dropped flyer.
Drink Up, Grinches! Half-price lap dances for every pitcher you buy.…
An expensive pitcher of lager, Leif would wager, tossing the flyer as he waited in a dirty alley outside a strip club. The neon lights at the front didn’t penetrate the shadows as he waited for his target to emerge. He’d already peeked inside to confirm the tip and vetoed acting in public. The dim lighting and drunken patrons added too many unpredictable elements.
The alley provided the perfect spot to watch. Those leaving the club via the front had to cross the mouth of it to grab a taxi, as there was no stopping in front. If his target chose the more discreet exit into the alley itself, then even better.
As the witching hour neared, the club emptied, disgorging staggering drunks loudly speaking and gesturing to their companions. Silent patrons emerged, shoulders hunched as if not wanting to be noticed. It wasn’t just men. A third of the audience now comprised women. Then there were the employees, waitresses and dancers alike, bodies and spirits tired after hours of smiling and being “on” for their audience. They moved quickly passed, covered neck to toe against the cold, hands in pockets. He’d wager more than a few clutched keys or sharp objects for the over-eager patron who needed a reminder the fantasy inside the bar didn’t extend outside.
The people leaving slowed to a trickle, and still Leif hadn’t seen his target. Had he been given the slip?
A high-pitched giggle, adorably sweet, raised the hair on his neck and indicated the end of his wait.
A long bare leg, finished in a stiletto heel, appeared first, the thighs barely covered by the sequined mini skirt, the fishnet stockings no protection against the cold. A short faux-fur jacket was the only semblance of warmth on the young woman passing by the alley. On her shoulder, an eight-inch cookie with a round head, two arms, two legs, iced with a bowtie and bright red buttons that matched its mouth.
A gingerbread man who’d come to life and, if left unchecked, a nuisance to society, pulling pranks, peeping, corrupting other food. It was Leif’s job to apprehend him.
The stripper stopped at the mouth of the alley. But on the orders of her passenger.
Round black spots for eyes focused on Leif suddenly, spotting him amidst the shadows. The mouth twisted, and the brows shot down in an angry slant. “If it isn’t one the North Pole’s annoying soldiers.”
Leif stepped into the middle of the alley, hands by his sides. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be, Ralph.” The target’s real name. Ralph The Five Thousandth, to be exact. Those that came before having had unfortunate accidents. Living cookies had a short shelf life, and the gingers tended to be especially spicey about it.
“Why do you have to be such a narc, Leif? What’s the harm in me having a little fun?” The gingerbread man eyed the stripper holding him and cooed, “Tell him, honey, you want to lick my icing.”
“Depends, are the ingredients vegan?” queried the woman.
“Vegan!” huffed Ralph. “What is wrong with people these days? Trying to ruin a recipe that’s lasted millennia.” The cookie leapt from her shoulder, springing to the ground, and landing in a flourish with arms out swept.
“I don’t put animals in my mouth.” The woman strutted off, and Ralph managed a rude gesture that took both his arms before turning his attention to Leif. “Thanks a lot for ruining my night.”
“Not my fault you’re made with butter and eggs.” Leif pulled out some ribbon. “Shall we get this over with?”
“What if I don’t want to go back to Santa’s Village? All everyone does is work, work, work.”
Ironic coming from Ralph since he’d only ever played pranks. “You know the rules. Living cookies aren’t allowed outside of the village.” Because the non-magically inclined tended to get weird about their food talking back to them.
“So unfair.” Ralph moped.
“You do realize they didn’t send me after you until we got reports of you causing trouble.”
“People these days can’t take a joke.”
“You hid inside a coffee shop and screamed, ‘You’re murdering my cousin,’ every time someone ate a donut.”
“I stand with my cake brothers.”
“You can stand with them back at the village. Let’s go.”
A single brow arched, and the mouth rounded in mirth as Ralph giggled. “Only if you catch me.” The cookie took off running.
Despite having expected this, Leif sighed. Why did the gingers always force them to chase? Probably because some of them actually did manage to escape. But Ralph had forgotten something. Leif wasn’t just any soldier. Half elf from his father’s side, half reindeer shifter from his mother. And not your run-of-the-mill forest buck. As a descendent of Santa’s original sled team, Leif could fly.
He launched himself into the air and ran, his legs moving as if he were on the ground, only he moved above it, able to see Ralph and the many turns he took. Eventually, the cookie ran out of sugar and slowed.
