Page 4 of The Nightmare Before Kissmas
“I do not care what you had intended, Nicholas, because the result was aneconomic collapse.”
A weight plummets down into my gut, snuffing out my anger so abruptly I wheeze at its absence. Dad is talking loudly enough thatKris can hear both sides of the conversation and he sips at his water, looking less pissed at me, more sympathetic.
“I—” I pinch the skin between my eyes, fighting to breathe. “I don’t—”
“The only way you can andwillcontribute to undoing this mess is bybeing hereto offer your support. Never, in the history of our family, has a Christmas Prince so grossly misused our magic. Never—”
“I didn’tgrosslymisuse it. I was—”
“You accessed the database of unfulfilled Christmas letters and gave every single child in the capital of New Koah all of their outstanding wishes. You may have made them happyin the moment,but you didn’t think beyond that. You never think about the long-term consequences of your actions.”
I see the glow of the computer screen I’d sat down at after a full day of being shuttled around by various department heads, trailed by Holiday journalists, every action masked and every emotion capped and it was all sofake.
So I’d gone back to Letters because that was real. That was the one connection torealkids, the outside world who believes in our magic.
I hadn’t intended to do anything. I’d just wanted…something.
I’d wanted, and I still want, and it’s an aching, empty hole in my chest.
Dear Santa,one letter had said.My mom lost her job this year…
Dear Santa. Grandma says we can’t afford new shoes, so maybe you could help…
Dear Santa. Daddy left and I don’t think he’s coming back this time…
The department head had talked to the press vis-à-vis me about how they keep the letters filed to compare how the things kids ask for evolve, and extrapolate the best single gift for them each year, and so on, I’d stopped paying attention, because really? All these heartbreaking stories, and at the end, most kids ask for things like a PlayStation or a stuffed animal, and it won’t bring back their parent, but fuck, we can give them all the material things they ask for, can’t we?
Apparently, we can’t.
Apparently, when you access the North Pole database, and pick a random small country—thank fuck I’d limited it to one city in one little place, not gone global—and channel Christmas’s magic to grant every outstanding letter from every kid in that city, it causes… issues.
“Millionsof gifts,” Dad is shouting. “Many of which justshowed uplabeled as from Santa in people’s houses inJune.And aside from the gifts themselves, thousands of people were given exorbitant amounts of money directly into their accounts. You flooded their economy and instigated hyper-inflation and—”
“Dad—”
“—riots,Nicholas. The Prince of Christmas causedriots.”
I glue my eyes to the bar top and will myself not to think about the ramifications of what I’ve done. The pain I’ve caused.Riots.
News of what I’d done just so happened to pop up right in the middle of Lily’s birthday party, so my authentic horrified reaction got immortalized by the press as I’d managed to make it clear that I’d somehow caused this. And then Lily had started screaming at me, also immortalized, along with my very public running the fuck away because Ibroke an entire country.
My focus pops back up to the TV. One of the headlines scrolling above me now isPRESUMED BANK AND SHIPPING ERRORS LEAD TO RIOTING AS CITIZENS BUY OUT STORES, ROBBERIES INCREASE.
Whatever story the Holiday press are running with, it’ll stay within our magically bubbled circles. The real world will continue to think this influx of cash and gifts was due to tech glitches from various shipping companies and banks.
Dear Santa.
Daddy left.
I don’t think he’s coming back this time.
I really want my mom to have some money for Christmas so she doesn’t have to worry about him helping us, okay?
I’d been trying to help people. I’dknownI was helping people.
But I made their lives so, so much worse.
“How—” I clear my throat, willing my vodka daze to evaporate, but it only seems to double down. “How are you fixing—”
