“What in the world is a ‘Naughty List’?” demanded Torrey.
“Papa keeps watch over all the children in the world, and makes records of whether they’ve been naughty or nice,” said Jack serenely. “Nice kids get a genuine collectable North Pole toy on the winter holiday most closely aligned with their personal belief systems. A lot of them wind up getting sold on eBay. There was a Jacqueline Frost doll one year. She goes for about six hundred dollars mint in box.” All four of her companions were staring at her by the time she finished speaking. She blinked. “What?”
“I do not even know where to begin,” said Torrey slowly. “Shall we begin with a Snowfather who would spy upon the world’s children, watching them at their most vulnerable? Or with the concept of tracking one’s own collectable action figures via Internet auction sites? Truly, I’m not sure which is the more disturbing.”
“How have you been living in this world for three years without at least getting the basics behind Christmas?” Vel sat up in the snowbank. Snow clung to the rabbit ears attached to her headband, giving her a comically jaunty air. “Honestly, Lena, I thought you’d have her singing carols by now.”
“We’ve been busy.” Yelena offered her hands to Vel and Aaron. “Besides, Santa is the secular side of the holiday, and I really didn’t feel like enduring another of her rants on the evils of monotheism just so she’d understand why Jack traveled by snow globe. This is Winter, Santa fills the same role as the Snowfather, and that was good enough.”
“I’m finally back at the North Pole,” said Aaron, smiling beatifically as he allowed Yelena to pull him out of the snow bank. “I’m finally back on the Nice List.”
“Yeah, well, that makes one of us,” said Vel, getting her own feet back under herself before she let go of Yelena. She dusted the snow off of her skirt. “The rest of you might want to stay here. I’m about to get myself permanently filed under ‘Naughty.’” With that, she went stalking off across the frozen field, heading for the distant lights of Santa’s Village.
The others watched her go in silence for a long moment before Yelena sighed, said, “She’s going to get her ass kicked,” and launched herself into the air. She soared after the angry animus, leaving a trail of rainbows behind her.
“On it,” said Aaron, and took off, flying after Yelena.
Jack and Torrey exchanged a look.
“Some people need more gravity,” said Jack. Torrey laughed, and the pair followed their friends, on foot, through the snow.
*
Velveteen waved her hands as she walked, almost without thinking about it. Snow animals formed out of the drifts around her, shaking themselves to life and running after her. By the time she reached the edge of the village, she was accompanied by a menagerie of frozen beasts. They ranged out behind her in ascending order of size: bunnies and squirrels at the front, wolves and bobcats in the next rank, and at the back, snow lions and snow yeti and great bears with icicles for teeth. The elves and penguins saw her coming and scattered, running for their cheerful little houses and slamming the doors behind them.
Silence fell. In Santa’s Village, normally the cheeriest place in the Seasonal Lands, nothing moved. No carols played. Everything was still except for the chest of one velvet-clad anima, which rose and fell with the force of her labored breathing.
“Come out and face me, old man!” she yelled. The anguish in her voice was enough to crack glass, here where the happiest part of the holiday was meant to reside. “You owe me that much! You owe me…you owe me that.”
The door of Santa’s cottage opened. A vast form, clad in red and white fur, belted with a broad black band, stepped onto the porch. Santa’s cheeks were red, as always, but his eyes had lost some of their glisten; instead of merriment, they were filled with sorrow.
“Yes,” he said. “I suppose I do. Hello, Velveteen. It’s been a long time.”
“Not for me,” she snarled. “I lost all track of time while I was busy being turned to snow, severed from my own life force, and shoved into a rag doll. So it was a little surprising for me to get home and find out that three years had passed. Three years. You didn’t tell me. You didn’t warn me. You didn’t say anything about what was going to happen.”
“We told you that you would be stepping outside of normal time, out of the reach of the Calendar Country,” said Santa softly. “That should have been warning enough.”
“I trusted you,” she said, and her voice was a moan, her voice was a wail, her voice was an open wound in the world. Overhead, the Northern Lights pulsed in unconscious sympathy. She might have moved past Winter, but she was still an anima in a place that was defined by belief, and she was more powerful than she knew.
“I know,” said Santa, and his voice was nothing more nor less than a broken heart.
Polychrome and Action Dude landed on the snow to either side of Velveteen—farther from her than they would have liked, but there were snow rabbits in the way, and while that was a new and slightly unnerving development, they didn’t want to see what Vel would do if they squashed them.
“Vel?” said Action Dude, uncertainly. “Is everything okay?” He glanced toward the cottage with the open door, cheeks reddening slightly in embarrassment and awe. “Um. Hi, Santa.”
“Hello, Aaron,” said Santa, with a small smile. “I’ve missed you. I’m glad to see that you’ve been able to find your way back.”
“Eyes front, old man,” said Velveteen tightly. “We’re not done yet.”
“No,” he said, turning his attention back to her. “Do you really want to do this here? In the open, in front of your friends? I’m assuming you want something from me. You wouldn’t be so angry otherwise. Most people sit on my lap, or write me letters. They don’t call me out in the village square.”
“Most people trust you more than I do.”
“I suppose that’s fair.” Santa’s eyes went to a point beyond Velveteen, his face softening for a moment before he looked back to her and said, “And I suppose she’s one of the reasons you’ve lost faith in me.”
“Really. You suppose. Like you’re just guessing. Like you thought I was going to be all right with this. She’s not your daughter.”
“She is,” said Santa. His voice was gentle. “I took her in when she was a baby. I gave her my name, and I gave her my heart. I held her until her skin warmed under my hands, and when she fell asleep in my arms, I made the only selfish decision I have allowed myself in centuries. I didn’t give her back.”
The snow wolves began to growl, drawing their lips away from their frozen teeth. “That’s not what happened and you know it,” said Velveteen.
“But it did happen,” said Santa. “Maybe not always. Maybe there was a time when the Snow Queen came to me terrified of motherhood, and I gave her council, I gave her hope, and I gave her the chance to raise her own daughter, always knowing that Mrs. Claus and I would be there if she needed us. Maybe there was a time when my little girl grew up with cold hands and a cold, but earnest heart. Sadly, that time is not this one.”
Velveteen opened her mouth to object. Then she stopped herself, turning to watch Torrey and Jack trudging toward them through the snow. Jack was wading in it, the drifts extending almost to her knees. Jackie would have been walking on top of it, light and effortlessly part of her environment. Even the strongest spell, the strangest form of brainwashing, couldn’t have chased the ice from the marrow of her bones that completely. This girl, whoever she was, had never been Jackie Frost, daughter of the Snow Queen, heir to the heart of Winter. It just wasn’t possible.
Santa saw Velveteen’s shoulders sag, and he mourned for her, even as he knew there was nothing he could do.
Velveteen took a deep breath, visibly pulling herself back together, and squared her shoulders as she turned to face him. “All right,” she said. “We can go inside. Aaron? Lena? Wait for me out here.”
“You mean with the army of angry snow-monsters that you didn’t even have to sculpt?” asked Yelen
a. She looked at the snow bunnies standing rigidly next to her with obvious wariness. “Are they going to eat us?”
“They’re mine,” said Vel. “They would never hurt you. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” She walked over to join Santa. He offered her his hand. She didn’t take it, and after a moment, it was withdrawn. Together, side by side, they walked to his house, and they shut the door behind them.
“Hey, Yelena?”
“Yeah?”
“When did Vel get fucking terrifying?”
Yelena smiled, the expression laced with worry. “She always has been. You were always too focused on her boobs to notice.”
“Oh,” said Aaron. “Right.”
*
Inside Santa’s house, the air was warm and chocolate-scented, much like the scent that accompanied Jacqueline’s snow globe transportation. Velveteen noted the similarity and filed it away for later consideration as she turned on Santa and hissed, “You should have told me.”
“I wasn’t allowed to,” he replied calmly. “Aurora still thought there was a chance you might choose to stay with us, and telling you that one of your first and truest friends was gone forever wasn’t going to endear you to our season. I hold sway over Christmas, Vel, but Winter is hers, and when she speaks, the rest of us obey.”
“Did she tell you to…kill isn’t the right word. Did she tell you to delete Jackie?”
“No,” he said. The last of the joyful twinkle faded from his eyes. “She told the Snow Queen to do it. The mirrors are hers; she always knew this was a possibility. It took less to change the world than anyone would have expected.”
“The mirrors,” said Vel, standing a little straighter. “There were other Jackie Frosts. Jackie still exists.”
“Versions of her do, yes. But not yours. Not mine. That girl is gone, and angry as you are with me right now—and with good cause, Vel, please believe me; I understand your anger better than you could possibly know—she isn’t the reason you came here. Please. Even if you’ll never leave out milk and cookies for me again, let me do this much. Let me help you.”
Velveteen was silent for a moment, looking around Santa’s living room, where she had been so happy once, before he’d broken her heart and ruined it for her forever. Finally, she turned back to him and said, “Everything is wrong now. The Super Patriots, Inc. were defeated, but then I walked away. I didn’t stay to make sure everything got put back together again. Bad people took over and twisted everything, and now half my friends are villains just because of who they are.”
“There are a lot of new names on the Naughty List,” Santa agreed gravely. “What do you think I can do about it? Coal in their stockings isn’t going to change their minds. Most of them don’t even bother with stockings anymore.”
“They’re smart enough not to invite you in,” said Vel. She looked him in the eye and said, “I want you to tell me how to fix it, Santa. That’s what I want for Christmas. That’s all I want for Christmas. I want you to tell me what I have to do to fix the mess I allowed them to make. I can’t…I can’t leave things like this. It’s all my fault, and I can’t. Please.” She was mortified to feel herself starting to cry. She pressed on anyway. “I’ve been a very good girl this year.”
“You know, my dear, most people who said that right after calling me out in the village square would be lying through their teeth. But you, ah. You are still the sweet girl you were when my Jack brought you home to us. If I have any regrets, it’s that I was not allowed to decide how you would be wooed to join us. You would have been an incredible toymaker.”
“Can you help me?” Vel looked at him, now crying openly. “Can you fix this?”
Santa sighed. “No.”
Vel made a strangled choking sound.
“But you can, if you’re willing to take the risk.”
It had been so long since she’d been truly hopeful that for a moment, she didn’t know what to do. Tense and wary, she looked at Santa Claus and asked, “What do you mean?”
“I am a Spirit of the Season. Whatever else I may have been, once, this is where I belong now. I’m a part of Winter, and like Jack—like poor, lost Jackie—I cannot act against my nature. My nature says that I should try to give good children what they ask for, and you have fought so long to be among the best of us, Velveteen, Velma, whatever name you want to wear; you’ve done everything you could. So of course I will do my best to give you what you want. But I can’t leave my season.” Santa smiled sadly. “My absences from the North Pole must fit a very narrow set of circumstances. I can show you where to go. I can’t go with you.”
“What aren’t you telling me?” asked Velveteen.
Santa sighed. “You’re never going to trust me again, are you?”
“Not planning on it.”
“I might have felt the same, in your position,” he admitted. “The road you’ll need to walk…it’s been walked before, and it comes with consequences. If you succeed in turning back the hands of time, it will cost you. You’d best be sure that you’re prepared to pay.”
“It can’t be worse than this,” said Velveteen firmly.
Santa Claus, who had lived through more than his share of young idealists who wanted to right great wrongs, to change the world in ways that should have been impossible—would have been impossible, were it not for the urge that builds in any fair universe, the urge that says “give them a way to fix their mistakes,” said nothing for a long moment. He just looked at her, this woman who had been a child in his kitchen, once, her hair in curls and her eyes full of unshed tears. Some of those tears were with her even now. Some of those tears would always be there.
Finally, he said, “Go get your friends. Go to the Hall of Mirrors. The Snow Queen and I will meet you there shortly, and we’ll show you how to find the answers that you’re looking for.”
Velveteen, who had long since learned that sometimes it was better not to ask, nodded once before she turned and walked to the door, letting herself out. Santa watched her go.
When he turned, Mrs. Claus was standing in the kitchen doorway, a dishcloth in her hands. “So you’re going to help her do it,” she said.
“I have to,” he replied. “It’s what she wants for Christmas. You know I can’t refuse someone from the Nice List when they stand in front of me and tell me what they want for Christmas.”
“You can, and you have. When they ask for something that might well break the universe, you are absolutely allowed to tell them ‘no, I’m sorry, have a lollipop instead.’” She glowered at him. “You’re being a sentimental old fool, Nicholas, and for what? Because she’s had a hard life? Lots of them have had hard lives. You haven’t sent them all on this path.”
“I’ve set a few on the right road. It’s not my fault if they don’t all make it there.”
“And if she does? Are you prepared for another century in the shadows, letting other people decide what we’re going to be, before we can be part of our own stories again?”
“Oh, my sweet girl. Admit what you’re really worried about. You’re afraid she’ll find a way to take Jacqueline away from us.”
Mrs. Claus sighed deeply. “I always wanted children. I’ve always been so jealous of the versions of us who got to have her. Jealousy isn’t good for me. I’m not meant to be the jealous type. It hurts.”
“I know, love.” Santa crossed the room to press a kiss to her temple. “It will all work out. I promise you that. However it goes will be how it was meant to happen. Trust them. They’re the ones who have to live in the world they’re making.”
“Do they know that?”
Santa looked toward the door. “I certainly hope so,” he said.
*
The others were waiting on the porch when Velveteen emerged. Aaron was the first to react. “Well?” he asked.
“Santa’s going to help us,” she said. “Jack, he wants you to take us to the Hall of Mirrors.”
“Papa told you to go to the Hall of Mirrors?” Jack frowned. “Tha
t’s odd. He normally wants me to stay as far away from there as possible.”
“That’s what he said,” said Vel. “Do you know the way?” Jackie would have. Jackie had been training to become her mother’s heir for years, had walked through every mirror in that frozen Hall. Velveteen looked at the pale and anxious girl in front of her, and thought that if she shook Winter all the way down to its foundations, she wouldn’t have made them suffer enough.
But it wasn’t Jack’s fault. If anyone was blameless here, it was her. Velveteen tried to remember that, and to swallow her anger.
“I do,” said Jack. She looked uncomfortable. “What are we going to do once we get there?”
“Does it matter?” asked Torrey. The others turned to look at her. She shrugged. “When our dear Lady of the Toybox decides to do something, she rarely consults with the rest of us. She spent too much time a soloist, and no longer remembers how to play nicely with the symphony. What’s to come will come, and the rest of us will go along with it, because we are, for whatever misguided reasons, greatly inclined to follow her.”
Yelena frowned and put her arm around Torrey’s shoulders, gathering the smaller woman close. “You’re really uncomfortable here, aren’t you?”
“Ah, Pol.” Torrey smiled up at her, weary and wry. “Everything in this place is based upon the iconography of a world that is not my own. I love your world, I do, but a girl likes to pretend she’s culturally literate, and every part of my surroundings reminds me that I am not.”
“We’re going to fix things,” said Velveteen. The others turned back to her. She was focused on Jack. “That’s what you want to know, right? What we’re going to do? We’re going to fix things. I don’t know how, and I don’t know what the world is going to look like afterward, but we’re going to fix things.”
“Everything?” asked Jack.
Velveteen hesitated before saying, “If there’s any way to make this all have just…not happened, that’s what I’m going to do. That would mean Jackie would never have needed to save me, and if she didn’t need to save me, she didn’t get erased. Will you still help us?”