Page 15 of Caroled
Charles grinned at Tenrael’s transparent excuse to visit the park. “In the morning. None of the snake monsters I know of are active at night.”
That devolved into a long, pleasant conversation about all the snakelike creatures they’d encountered in their lives. Tenrael, of course, had a lot more on his list; he even described a few Charles had never heard of. Charles made a mental note to see if the Bureau knew about them. This was one of the things Charles loved about having Tenrael as a partner. They could talk about everything weird in the world, and instead of panicking like most humans would, Tenrael taught him new things.
When their discussion ran out of snakes, Tenrael pointed to some of the decorations. “Christmas is an important holiday for people.”
“Some people, sure. Some celebrate different things instead. Ferencz does, for instance.”
“You do not celebrate anything.”
Charles shrugged and poked at a bit of piecrust with his fork. “I’m not exactly religious, Ten.”
“Only very religious people celebrate?”
“No, not really,” Charles conceded.
“Why do you not?”
“I… used to. When I was a kid, I mean. My mother and I. Nothing fancy, because we never had much money, but she’d always manage something.” A special meal, peppermint candies, a brightly wrapped gift or two. She’d take him downtown to admire the stores’ window displays, and on Christmas Eve she’d make them hot cocoa and let him stay up late. It was one of the rare occasions he could recall her being relaxed and smiling.
“These are good memories for you,” Tenrael said softly.
“Yeah.”
“Then why did you stop?”
Charles pushed his plate away. “My mother died and… and there’s no point celebrating all by yourself. Besides, the whole ‘Hark! The Herald Angels’ bit? Rubbed me the wrong way.”
“There are no Christmas songs about demons.” Tenrael was smiling.
“No, I don’t suppose so.” Then a thought struck Charles. “What about you?”
“I had no mother, and demons do not celebrate Christmas.” Tenrael chuckled, seemingly amused at the idea, and Charles had to admit it was funny. He pictured a demon—one of the nasty types, not his Ten—with a Santa hat perched on its horns and tinsel strung across its wings.
“Do demons celebrate any holidays?”
“No. We…. Usually we are solitary. We do not have the types of traditions humans do.” He sighed. “Although I have watched humans enjoying their holidays, and I think that sometime I might like to….” He trailed off and looked away as if embarrassed.
Whatever follow-up Charles might have offered was interrupted by Bertha bringing him a cup of pudding with whipped cream on top.
* * *
It was a little early to call it a night, but Charles still had some residual queasiness when he remembered the Sea Dog. Anyway, it seemed unlikely that anything would invade San Francisco before morning, so they headed back to the St. Francis. The lobby was packed with guests, and with military officers, and with women hoping to attract the officers’ attention—and wallets—for a few hours. One of those women smiled at Charles as he passed her, but he shook his head. “Wrong tree, sister.”
Her grin widened. “You sure? Maybe you boys are up for something different.”
Charles had to admire her entrepreneurial spirit. “Not tonight, sweetheart. But good hunting.”
She winked and sashayed off.
Tenrael, seemingly deep in thought, remained silent as the elevator rose. Charles was going to ask what was on his mind, but when they entered the room, they found a note slipped under the door: a message from the front desk saying a Mr. Ferencz would appreciate a return call.
“What’s wrong?” Charles demanded as soon as Ferencz picked up.
Ferencz chuckled. “Nothing that I know of. We’re inviting you for dinner—night after tomorrow. As promised.”
Charles had thought their original offer was simply a courtesy. “Uh, thanks. That sounds good.”
“I know your eating habits and don’t worry. Hanukkah’s a good holiday for sweets. But what about Tenrael?”
