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Wolfsbane and Mistletoe (Charlaine Harris) (Kitty Norville 2.50)

Page 104

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"Of being dead. "

"H-hate c-cold," Serge admitted.

"Then why are you here, of all places?"

Nick's tone was gracious, or at least he thought it was, his manner was open, and the goblets of crimson that he had offered them were warm enough to remove the chill from a vampire's heart.

The other one, the one called Pasha, spoke for both of them.

"Wanna hep. "

His lips were blue and still frosty from being outside. Even after a few sips from the goblet, the blond vampire could barely get his mouth to move enough for him to speak.

"Really," said Nick. "How kind. You want to help how, exactly?"

"Big wor," Pasha mumbled.

"Ah, you're saying it's a great big world, and I must have my hands full trying to get around to every home on just one night. "

"Thas w'sayin. "

"Yes, well, since you have only my best interests in mind, you'll be glad to hear that I don't actually visit every home on Christmas Eve. I learned long ago that all I have to do is a few of them on any given holiday. The legend spreads from there. Word of mouth, don't you know. Still the best advertising. "

He smiled widely, showing incisors so old they were hideously long and yellow.

He suspected these young vampires had never before seen fangs that looked like his, because they had never before met a vampire as old as he. Young vampires thought him doddering in his silly red fat suit - until they saw his yellow fangs.

The chattering one's frosty blue eyes widened.

The other one, who had cast Victoria a smoldering glance when she left the chamber, stepped back.

Apparently they weren't entirely stupid, Nick thought, laying a finger against the side of his nose.

Perhaps he could make use of them.

"So there's no job opportunity for you in that regard," he said with gentle regret on their behalf. "Neither paid, nor volunteer. " He paused. Picked at something caught between a fang and a bicuspid, drew it out, and stared at it before flicking it - a bit of flesh? - away. Then he smiled his frighteningly gracious smile at them again. "What can you do for me?"

"Pasha," Serge whispered. Sufficient grog had warmed them up enough so that their limbs and lips worked again. "Except for Santa and his wife, there aren't any other grown-up vampires here. It's just those creepy kids. Why are we the only other grown-ups?"

Victoria had shown them the workshops and the dorms, and now she was taking them to the stables. Ahead of them, her red velvet butt swayed enticingly. Pasha was far too distracted to care about Serge's worries. "Because we're the only ones who've ever been smart enough to figure it out," he whispered back.

Victoria turned long enough to flash a toothy smile at him.

All other thoughts melted from Pasha's mind as they followed her into the warmest area in the castle. Serge nearly wept with relief when he felt the heat. But Victoria didn't stop there, to his dismay. She led them through the stable with its huge, empty, immaculate stalls, and back outside again, onto an enormous ice field.

"There they are," she said, and pointed toward the distance.

Her guests huddled together against the frigid wind, and squinted into it.

"Reindeer," Pasha muttered, sounding bored.

Serge said nothing. Opening his mouth to speak made his teeth hurt.

Pasha's boredom didn't last long. Even from so far away, the vampires could detect that there was something about the reindeer that was not like any other animal, not deer, nor elk, nor even moose. And then they found out what it was. At one moment Pasha and Serge were squinting at a herd far out in a frozen pasture, and in the next moment, all of the animals were standing in front of them, terrifyingly large, shaking their antlers, snorting and pawing the ground as if eager to get going.

"My god. Do they really fly?" Pasha asked Victoria.

"They do. "



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