Book Two, Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Eighteen

Lucas didn’t bother knocking. He rammed his shoulder into the front door, throwing it open so hard that it banged against the wall behind them.

“What in tarnation?” Charlie demanded, bursting from his bedroom with a hunting rifle in his hands. He paused, blinking sleepily when he saw it was them. “What do you folks think you’re…”

His voice trailed off when he saw Justin in Lucas’ arms, unconscious and trailing drops of blood behind him with every step. A joke crossed Lucas’ mind, something about the irony of him carrying Justin over the threshold after he had just confessed his feelings to Willow, but it was immediately forgotten as a fresh wave of terror crashed against him.

This must be how Justin felt when I got hurt last Christmas, he found himself thinking, his mind in a shocked daze. Only, Santa isn’t here to heal him like he did for me.

“We need a bed,” Vixen said quickly. Willow was the one pushing her chair, but the young doe’s attention was clearly on Justin. “And as many medical supplies as you have. Please!”

Charlie stared at them for a few seconds, his face pale, and then nodded. “Right, over here. Joyce! Wake up!”

Oh holy night, Lucas thought, his thoughts and emotions spinning around and around inside him like a tornado of despair, what does Vixen think we’re going to be able to do? None of us can use healing magic, and those cuts are so deep, and he’s already lost so much blood, and—

“Lucas!” Vixen shouted. “Snap out of it! Justin needs your help!”

Lucas blinked, then shook himself out of his stupor and followed Charlie down the hall to the first open bedroom. Justin moaned quietly in his arms, but Lucas did his best to ignore it. If he thought about what was happening too hard, he knew he would slip back into shock again. He steeled himself, focusing on what he was doing rather than who he was doing it to, and gently deposited the…person…in his arms onto the bed.

Joyce appeared at the door a moment later, wearing a faded pink set of pajamas. “What is it, Grandpa Charlie? Is everything—”

She gasped in terror when she saw what was lying on the bed.

“Bandages, Joyce!” Charlie said. “Bring us all the bandages in the house!”

Joyce didn’t move for a few seconds, her eyes wide, but then she nodded and raced off to do as she’d been told.

“You shouldn’t have brought him here,” Charlie said, finally putting his rifle down so that it leaned against the wall. “He needs to go to the hospital!”

Vixen shook her head. “We can’t go to the hospital.”

“Why n—”

“We just can’t!”

Charlie hesitated, but then accepted that he wasn’t going to get any more out of her than that.

“He…He’s going to be okay, isn’t he?” Willow asked. Tears were pouring down her cheeks.

Vixen didn’t answer.

“He can’t die!” the doe protested. “Not now that he finally…”

“Willow,” Vixen said quietly, “Lucas, go wait in the hall.”

“No!” Willow shot back. “I’m not going anywhere until I know he’s going to be okay!”

“There’s nothing you can—”

“I SAID I’M NOT LEAVING!”

Vixen hesitated, then finally nodded. “Lucas…”

Lucas looked at his friend, lying face down on the bed. The back of his coat had been completely shredded, and blood poured from the five thin red lines that ran from his right shoulder to his left hip. His badge hid his reindeer-ness from them—it was a good thing Vixen had reminded them to activate their disguises, because it wouldn’t have even crossed anyone’s minds otherwise—but even with the illusion intact there was no mistaking just how serious the wounds were.

I should have been there, he thought numbly. I should have helped.

The image of Justin and Willow flashed before his eyes. All alone out there in the darkness, tired and injured, facing Mari Lwyd without anyone there to help them. This was his fault, the guilt whispered to him. If he hadn’t run away to find Vixen—like a freaking coward—then this would never have happened. He was a terrible friend. He deserved to be the one…

“Come on,” Tanraak said gently, and Lucas realized that he was being led out of the room. His Rider had one of his hands, and Lena had the other. They went to the living room, stopping in front of one of the couches. “Why don’t you sit down?”

He shook his head, looking back toward Justin’s room. “I don’t need to—”

“Sit,” Lena said sharply, “down!”

Something in her tone of voice cut through the fog around his mind, and Lucas obeyed. As soon as he was seated, he realized how exhausted he was. There was no way he could sleep now, though. How could he? What if Justin needed help? Whether he lived or died might depend on if Lucas was ready to go at a moment’s notice!

He looked at Lena. She was holding up infinitely better than he was. There was a haunted look in her eyes, but she was keeping her emotions in control. She had always been good at that. It usually made her act all stiff and stuck up, Lucas thought, but right then he’d have given both his antlers just to be able to hold his feelings at bay just a little bit.

A few minutes later, Joyce joined them in the living room.

“Grandpa Charlie and Miss Vic are bandaging him up,” she said. Her voice was hollow, and Lucas realized she must be in just as much shock after seeing Justin as the rest of them. “He’s bleeding really badly, but Grandpa doesn’t think anything important got damaged. If they can wrap him up good and tight, he should be all right.”

She gave him a thin smile, but Lucas didn’t return it. She was trying to help, and he appreciated the gesture, but the only thing that would help right now was to see Justin back on his hooves.

“I know it’s none of my business,” Joyce said a minute later, sitting on another couch where she could face him, “but what happened?”

“A bear,” Lucas answered, barely hearing his own voice.

Joyce sat up in alarm. “You were attacked by a bear?”

Lucas blinked. “We were?”

“You…You just said…”

“I did?”

Tanraak gave a smirk that didn’t reach his eyes. “It ate Lucas’ brain first, but since that was barely a mouthful, it…”

His voice trailed off when nobody laughed, and he looked away guiltily. Letting out a long breath Lucas ran his hands down his face. How could he feel so exhausted and a thousand lightyears from sleep at the same time? He got up and started pacing back and forth across the living room, staring down at the floor but not actually seeing it. He wanted to punch something, but there was nothing within arm’s reach that wouldn’t either break his hand or just make him feel even worse after hitting it.

She’s still out there, he thought, a chill going down his spine. That…that thing nearly killed my best friend, and she’s still out there looking for more innocent people’s hearts to eat!

It should have been me.

He paused in the middle of the living room, looking at nothing, as a cold, grim certainty crept over him. It was the same certainty that he had felt almost a year ago, after he’d nearly been killed in the battle on Christmas Eve. Justin had rushed him straight to Santa right before having the fight against Krampus that had made him so famous. Lucas had only found out later that three of Santa’s Lightcasters had died. Three of Val Luminara’s most elite warriors, reindeer who had loyally fought by Santa’s side against the Krampus for decades. Maybe even centuries. Lucas wasn’t naive enough to think that Santa would have been able to save all three of them if he’d let Lucas die but that number still could have gone down to two. If it hadn’t been for stupid, pathetic Lucas. The idiot who charged into dangerous situations without thinking, and whose friends always paid the price. He ditched work in the toy factories. He stole bells from the Reindeer Games. He drank so many energy drinks that he had to stay behind while everyone else fought demonic serial killers. It should have been him lying on that bed, his back clawed open, his insides quickly becoming his outsides. He should never have survived that Christmas Eve. He should have been left to rot in some godforsaken ditch like common roadkill. Justin would be better off without him. They would all—

He felt a hand touch his shoulder, and jumped. He had fallen to his knees without realizing it. There were tears running down his face, and he was breathing like he’d just run a marathon with two concrete blocks tied to his hooves. Joyce looked down at him, a worried expression on her face.

Great, he thought in disgust, now she’s feeling sorry for me too.

“I- I’m fine,” he said, looking away while he wiped his face dry. The elves were standing on the other side of the room, watching with concerned looks on their faces.

Justin’s the one they should all be worrying about. Why can’t they see that?

Why do they all have to care about me so freaking much?

“He’s going to be okay, Lucas,” Joyce whispered.

“Of course he is,” Lucas said glibly, getting back to his feet. “He’s too big of an idiot to die. You could cut his head right off and he wouldn’t even notice the…”

He stopped when Joyce put her arms around him and pulled him close.

“You don’t have to pretend for us,” she whispered to him. “You can let it out.”

“I don’t have anything to—”

“Let it out!”

Lucas gritted his teeth…but it was too much for him to bear. He grabbed Joyce and hugged her back, a pitiful whine escaping his mouth as a fresh wave of tears spilled from his eyes.

“It should have been me,” he sobbed. “It should always have been me!”

Lena and Moryta rushed over, joining the hug even though they only came up to Lucas and Joyce’s waists. Tanraak, realizing he was the only one left, walked over and patted Lucas encouragingly on the back—until Moryta hooked her arm around his neck and pulled him into the hug too.

“You can’t say things like that about yourself,” said Moryta. “Do you really think that’s what Justin would want?”

“But he’s—”

“I know you and I don’t usually get along,” Lena cut him off, “but Justin couldn’t ask for a better friend than you. You were there for him when he first got turned into a reindeer. When everybody started calling him lightless, you were the only one who wasn’t afraid to call him your friend. You know how to make him smile in ways I never could. When you nearly died last year, he fought the Krampus so that Santa could save you! So every time you say that it should have been you, you’re saying he was wrong. Is that what you want?”

“N- No,” Lucas admitted.

“You couldn’t have done anything else tonight,” Tanraak said. “In fact, if you hadn’t run and gotten Vixen, things would probably have turned out even worse!”

“This isn’t your fault, Lucas,” said Moryta.

“St- Stop it,” Lucas said, his voice strained. “Justin is the one who got hurt. Stop making this about me!”

“We’ll stop when you stop,” Lena said. “Stop telling yourself these lies. Stop thinking that you’re worth less than the rest of us. Stop saying that it should have been you!”

Lucas didn’t respond, but the longer he stood there in his friends’ warm, comforting embrace, the quieter that voice in his mind became. It would never go away completely, he had accepted that a long time ago. It would always be there, whispering that he was nothing but a liability, a burden, a curse for everyone who was forced to be around him. But at the very least, it became easier to ignore. Finally, when he could breathe without feeling like he was hiccupping again, he released Joyce and stepped back.

Then he froze.

Joyce?

“So…” the young woman said hesitantly, tilting her head as she looked at each of them in turn. “Is someone going to explain what that was all about?”

“Nothing,” Lucas said just a tad too quickly. “Just your every day, run of the mill impromptu group therapy session after your best friend gets mauled by a bear.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Uh huh. And all that stuff about being turned into a reindeer, Santa, and Krampus?”

Everyone turned to glare at Lena, and for the first time that Lucas could remember, she actually looked chagrined.

“Nice going, blabbermouth,” he said dryly. “Remind me to never tell you what I got everyone else for Christmas.”

“Sorry,” she mumbled between clenched teeth.

Everyone exchanged wary looks, and then Lucas slowly raised his hand to press a finger against his badge. Swirling colors spun around him, and he cringed as Joyce’s eyes widened in wonder—and just a little bit of fear.

I’m totally going to get blamed for this, aren’t I? he thought.

The magic disappeared a few seconds later, leaving him standing in his true form right in front of Joyce. More flashes of brightly colored light came from the side, and he glanced over to see the elves banishing their disguises as well.

“Oh,” Joyce whispered, raising a hand to cover her mouth, “my God!”

Grinning guiltily, like a kid who had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar, Lucas spread his arms. “Um…ta-dah?”

“You…You’re…” She almost looked like she was going to faint. “All of you are…”

A door closed in the hallway, and Lucas’ ear perked up at the sound. He spun around, half dreading the inevitable punishment, but mostly desperate for any news regarding Justin. Vixen made her way into the living room, her chair being pushed by Charlie, and…

Lucas’ mouth fell open in shock.

Vixen was in her true form as well.

“Well,” she said when she saw what was waiting for her, “I suppose that will save time on explanations.”