Page 65 of Run, Run Rudolph
“Oh, that’s too bad.”
“Why?”
“Because that’s how Mrs. Claus makes them. She’s a witch.”
Chapter 18
~ Haden ~
Tonight was getting weirder and weirder. Mrs. Claus was a witch? That sweet old woman with the curly white hair?
“Haden,” Tamara whispered, waving me over to a quiet part of the barn. She was leading one of the reindeer by his collar, and her look meant business.
“What’s up?” I asked, instinctively running my gaze down the length of the reindeer for injuries. Crashing the sleigh had to have been hard on them, too.
To be truthful, I was hoping to find another private moment with Tamara. I’d only started to express how I felt about her before that danged elf came banging his way back into the barn.
“You okay?” I read the reindeer’s medallion. “Prancer?”
“Just fine,” he replied primly.
“Give us the straight goods,” she demanded, releasing his collar.
“What straight goods?”
“About Mrs. Claus, her witchcraftery, the oats, the fight, Hugo, the naughty list. All of it.”
“This is confidential magical world business.”
“Prancer, don’t give me that crap.”
“I’m not a narc,” he said loudly, the rest of the herd nodding in agreement.
“Come on, boys. You know Christmas is screwed.”
My jaw slackened at Tamara’s no-bull attitude. Prancer pawed the barn floor and twitched his head, sending his rack from side to side.
“This is no time for rules,” she insisted.
“You’re going to have to lock me in your trunk,” he said, lifting his head in defiance. “Rudolph will confirm that we are not to reveal these integral and vital pieces of information to a non-magical human.”
He was still nattering on, lecturing Tamara even though she was already stalking toward Rudolph’s stall.
“Santa, I need a minute with Rudolph,” she said loudly. I strode after her, wanting to be a steamroller to any obstacles in her way. That was my job, my role. Give her the space to shine, so she could be the kindness the world so desperately needed. Or in this case, so she could grill the reindeer about the inner workings of the magical world.
“Of course, Tamara Madden. Oh, hello, Haden Powell. Did you enjoy your dirt bike? Oh, but you were just a boy then. You’re a man now.”
“I am, yes.” I smiled at the warm memories the machine brought up. “I loved that bike. Thank you, Santa.”
I helped the man up off the bale we’d set in the stall earlier, and he winked at me, then smiled at Tamara as though he was keeping some juicy secret from us. I settled him outside Rudolph’s stall on the stack of bales close to Dolly, and I rejoined Tamara, curious about what she was up to.
Like a practiced interrogator, she already had Rudolph spilling magical world secrets.
“She’s a black magic witch,” he was telling her.
Prancer stood in the stall’s entrance. “Don’t tell her anything! It’s against protocol!”
“She needs to know what she’s dealing with,” Rudolph stated.
