"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."
"How?"
"Research and development. Nick has the most incredible R&D department in the world." She giggled. "Literally, in the world. You'll have to meet Rudolph."
"There's really a Rudolph!"
"Oh, yes."
"Does he have a red nose?"
The lowered lashes rose, allowing Pasha to see the deliciously evil glint in her cobalt-blue eyes, and the flirtatiousness in them. "Yes, but Nick is trying to fix that. It was a mistake in the breeding."
"Mistake? But everybody loves Rudolph's red nose!"
"They wouldn't," she purred, "if they knew it came from heavy drinking."
It took a moment, but then Pasha burst out laughing, followed a moment later by frozen Serge, who quickly closed his mouth again for fear his tonsils would freeze.
Blood, she meant.
Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer had a very shiny red nose because he drank blood.
"Are you saying that Rudolph is a vampire reindeer?"
"A prototype," she whispered. "Priceless. Nick's never been able to repeat that one success. Don't mention it to him. It makes him cranky to be reminded of it." She smiled, showing neat pointed incisors. "And we don't want to make Santa Claus cranky, do we, boys?"
"Noooo," agreed Pasha, fervently.
Serge shivered at the thought.
"Come on," Victoria urged them. "I'll show you our private quarters."
"I have just the job for you two," were the first words they heard when they entered the plush red chambers. Nicholas stood in the center of the room, dominating all he surveyed. "How would you like to accompany me on my Christmas Eve travels, as bodyguards?"
"Great!" Pasha forced his gaze toward the husband.
Serge felt such a rush of relief that for a moment he almost thought he was warm. He'd been convinced they were going to die, joining all the other adult vampires who were not there.
"You do know what tonight is?" Nick inquired of them.
Both of the visitors looked confused. There was something about the atmosphere that made people who were not accustomed to it lose all track of space and time.
"It's Christmas Eve," Nick told them, gently. "We leave in an hour."
ZIMBABWE, AFRICA
"Go," Ingrid instructed Damian.
"I can't just leave you out here by yourself!"
He sat behind the wheel of the Land Rover, staring out in disbelief at where she stood alone in the moonlight. There was nothing around them. Nothing visible, that is. He knew - as she must - that the deceptively empty landscape teemed with animals, most of which could kill a human who made such an inviting target.
Ingrid raised her cell phone in one hand and her rifle in the other. "I'm not alone."
"A lot of good those are going to do you against the whole pack of those damned dogs. Not to mention lions, or hyena."
"Go," she repeated, calmly. "Drive to the park station. See if anybody's left us any tips about the poachers. I'll be fine."
"You'll be meat," he said, bitterly.
As Damian peeled furiously away from his lunatic boss, he thought, And I'll be blamed.
Ingrid waited in the tall grass, watching the headlights vanish.
That will keep him busy.
Quickly, because the dogs had never before faced a predator as wicked and vindictive as the one they would face tonight, she shed her clothes, including her socks and shoes. Without even pausing to fold them neatly as she usually did, she stuffed them into the knapsack she always kept with her. Tossed in her cell phone. Zipped the bag. Slung it onto her back. Dug a long hole in the dirt with her bare hands and buried the gun there. Sniffed the air, listened to it, tasted it, and then started running. By the time she had gone ten steps, she was racing on all fours, her feet and hands protected by the thick pads that had grown there, her br**sts drawn back into her chest, her long red hair turned to thick white fur that streamed behind her as she sped through the night. She had been born a werewolf. Her parents had put her out in the mountains to die. Instead, while she was still fur-covered and smelling of canine, a family of wild dogs had sniffed around her, nudged her up, taken her along with them, nursed her, raised her, even through the transformations, which came unpredictably and frighteningly until she learned conscious control of them.
When she was a child, she had longed to be only wolf.
Now that she was an adult, she still wished her life could be that simple.
Every few kilometers, Ingrid howled, sounding frantic to her own acute hearing, praying there would be no answer.
Finally, off in the distance, a chorus howled back at her.
Oh, my God! I was right! Dammit, dammit!
The dogs were returning to where they had so successfully killed the strange beasts the previous year. They were so smart! Their group brain knew it would be tonight. Knew where to go back to. They must be excited, anticipating another glorious kill unlike any kills they had ever made before, except for last Christmas Eve.
A second kill would never be allowed.
She had to arrive before they did. Their lives depended on it.
I'm coming, I'm coming, my dear ones!
"We thought you meant bodyguard you!" Pasha protested.
They had glided to an astonishingly silent and smooth stop on the empty, dusty street of an African village. Once out of the sleigh and on the ground, Nicholas turned with a merry wink and said, "If you let anything happen to any of these reindeer, I will dress you in suits of silver crosses, set you on fire, and dump your ashes in a holy water pool."
"You want us to guard the reindeer?" Serge said, dumbfounded.
He was also nauseous, having discovered that moving at supersonic speeds didn't sit well with a stomach full of "Blood, Yugoslavia, Christmas, 1242." Either it hadn't been properly stored, or else it hadn't been a very good year.