“Who’s she?”
“Her.”
John couldn’t stop laughing. “Is she going to be as funny as Vanessa?”
“You watch for people. I’m going to help her out.”
“You got it.”
Trent bent down and peeked into the hearth. “Arielle, how far are you from the ground?”
“About three feet, I think.”
“Did you climb in from the chimney?”
“What? No. Please just help me out of here. I’m getting claustrophobic.”
“I need to know where you’re getting stuck. Do I need to get some grease or to call the fire department or something?”
“I’m going to kill myself if you call 911, I swear! I can’t take any more humiliation today.”
“You’ll do no such thing. I’m going to help you out, I promise. Is it your body that got stuck or your shoulders or your legs; explain it to me.”
“My costume. It got stuck in the damper.”
“Costume?”
“It’s pretty big in here; I think you’d fit. Just help me cut the freaking costume.”
Trent poked his head inside the hearth. It was an old fashion commercial fireplace that came with the original building. The firebox was huge, so it could easily accommodate two people standing side by side. It also seemed that the fireplace hadn’t been used for a long time. There was no grate and the wood logs were fake.
Trent crawled inside. It was so dark that a normal person wouldn’t be able to see anything. But as a weretiger, his eyes were almost as good as having night vision. He spotted the problem immediately. Whatever she was wearing had caught on the protruding part of the smoke shelf. The costume was pulled up to her arms, making it difficult to free herself.
Trent slowly crawled up. It was a tight fit, but he managed, his body pressed against hers. With one arm, he reached the damper. He willed himself into a partial transformation and cut the material with his claws. As soon as he did that, Arielle dropped down onto her feet. She wriggled so much trying to get out, he got an instant boner from the friction of her body against his own.
“Arielle, chill. Let me get out first, okay? I’m the closest. It’s easier that way.”
“Sorry.”
“Stay still.” Trent climbed down. He turned around and fixed his pants, and then he then helped her out. What he did, he attracted some attention, but John slickly fended off any inquiries.
Trent couldn’t stop grinning. Arielle was dressed in a Santa suit, complete with a white beard and fur-trimmed hat, but the beard and hat were covered with soot. He couldn’t fathom what she was doing.
Arielle was visibly shaken and despite his amusement, his protective instincts overcame him.
“Can you walk?” he asked.
She only nodded, wordlessly.
Someone from the hotel came over to ask John what exactly was going on, as there was no hiding the scene they had caused. John requested some privacy, since Arielle was clearly in distress. The hotel employee directed them to the manager’s office, since it was currently empty. John asked the man to bring them some water.
Arielle looked like as if she were ready to cry, so Trent handed her some tissues.
“My name is Trent. Trent Alexander. And this is my brother John. Now, will you please tell me what were you doing in the chimney? If you’re actually Santa, you’re a little
early this year.”
Her eyes were red and so was her nose. Up close like this, her complexion was very pale. Her eyes were a striking blue and her hair was a darker black than he’d realized in the sunlight. She had the allure of a vintage pinup.