Ghosts of the Past

The yawning void of the furnace melted away into a puddle of bright lights. Mike covered his eyes and groaned, the sudden intensity blinding him. His arm was sore where the ghost of Christmas Past had grabbed him, and he rubbed at it absentmindedly.

He was standing in an apartment, but didn’t recognize it. All around, he could see Christmas decorations, old school metallic tinsel and a tree decorated with bubbling lights. Based on the wood paneling and the record player churning out Bing Crosby, his best guess was that he was in the eighties.

“I’ve seen stranger things,” he muttered. Movement behind the tree caught his eye when a little boy of about three emerged from beneath the pine branches. He was pushing a toy car on the floor, making vroom sounds with his mouth.

The boy looked up and through Mike. It was amazing how much he looked like Callisto. So it wasn’t the eighties, but the mid-nineties. The decor hadn’t been updated was all.

“Ooh, spooky. My childhood.” Mike dragged out the words and waggled his fingers. Turning around, he was pleased to find the spirit behind him. Christmas Past sat on a nearby side table like a demented Elf on a Shelf. “Okay, I’ve seen the Christmas specials. You show me my past and remind me of the true meaning of Christmas. But since this place is decorated, I’m afraid you won’t have many other good moments from my childhood to share. Mom barely registered that Christmas existed. Also, what gives? Why am I even here? I’m not some fudging miser who…” Mike paused. “Fudging. Fuddddge. Sprinkles. Oh Kringle, I sound like Holly now.”

Christmas Past twisted their lips up in a sadistic grin. “These are the shadows of things that have been. They have…”

“Yeah, yeah, they can’t see us.” Mike picked up a coaster and threw it toward his younger self. It vanished in a puff of static and reappeared on the nearby table. “But still. I’m not some crumbling cookie that…really? Crumbling cookie?” He hated that his lips twisted into the family safe vocabulary. Shaking his head, he looked at the spirit. “I don’t hate Christmas. I don’t hate people. I actually quite enjoy Christmas and giving to others. So what’s the purpose of me being here?”

The spirit responded by opening its mouth wider than its head, letting out a soul-piercing shriek. Mike plugged his ears as the spirit’s body shifted around the room, transforming several times. This certainly hadn’t been covered in any of the movies he had watched. If he didn’t know better, he would say that the spirit wasn’t sure why he was here either.

Christmas Past slammed back onto the side table, sending a visible ripple through the room. Toddler Mike slid back under the tree on his belly as time reversed itself, then came crawling back out once it stabilized.

“These are the shadows of things that have been. They have no consciousness of us.” The ghost repeated itself as if reading from a script. “Do you recognize this place?”

“Nope. I haven’t even seen it in pictures.” He wandered the room, then contemplated the child under the tree. It was strange seeing his younger self. “You’ve got a long fudging road ahead of you,” he told the toddler. “You can thank your mother for that.”

As if on cue, someone in the kitchen started singing the chorus to Jingle Bells. He was surprised when his mother emerged from the kitchen holding a plate with a small stack of bell-shaped cookies. She was in a sweater dress with leggings, and her cheeks had a healthy glow. There were actual curves to her face and body, which was something Mike had never seen. In her final years, she had lost enough weight that she had taken on a thin, hawkish appearance that made her look downright predatory.

“Mikey, would you like a cookie?” She sat down on the couch and placed the plate next to her. Mikey bolted from beneath the tree, but his mother used her foot to hold him back. “Hang on, mister, you haven’t paid the cookie toll!”

Mikey blew several kisses at his mother, and she moved her leg so he could sit next to her. Pulling a book from behind the side table, she opened it. “Can I read you a story?”

“This isn’t real,” Mike muttered. There was no fudging way.

“But it is.” The spirit drifted around behind the couch. “This one was buried deep inside you, but it is here for you to behold.”

The front door slammed and heavy footsteps came through the house. A man in a stocking cap walked into the living room carrying a pair of grocery bags. He smiled and held them up in victory. “I’ve got eggnog!” he declared.

Mikey squirmed out of his mother’s grip and ran to his father.

“Dad.” Mike barely managed to say the word as he sat on the edge of the recliner. This was a man relegated only to rare photographs, and was otherwise a complete mystery. His nose was a bit longer than Mike’s, and there were smile lines all around his eyes. He wore a brown leather jacket that was dusted lightly with snow, and when he walked past Mike, the scent of the wet leather triggered memories of being scooped up and held tightly. Mike wiped tears from his eyes, not sure whether to be grateful or angry.

“Were you good?” Mike’s father pulled a small candy cane from his pocket and unwrapped it.

“Yep!” Mikey held his hand up and took the candy.

“Honey.” Mike’s mother frowned. “He won’t eat dinner if you give him sweets.”

“Don’t think I don’t see that plate of cookies.” He winked at his wife and sat next to her on the couch. “Now give me some sugar.”

Smirking, she handed him a cookie. He laughed, then stole a quick kiss from her before taking it.

“Give me sugar, too!” Mikey’s face was now covered with red streaks from the candy cane. His father scooped him up and kissed his cheek, then blew a raspberry that had Mikey chortling in glee.

There were so many questions that Mike had for the man. If his timeline was correct, this was the last Christmas he spent with his father. He would fall ill in the spring, and die before the summer. It was hard to believe that this was his family. He didn’t know how to reconcile his mother’s later behavior with the woman before him now. She had baked him cookies and read him stories. What had turned her into the emotional wrecking ball she had become?

“Why?” he asked her, knowing full well she couldn’t hear him. “What fudged you up so bad that you turned into a raging grinch?”

His mother stared ahead as if lost in thought. Mike recognized the look, it was the same one he made when he was thinking. Kisa had even snapped a picture to tease him with. When he was caught up in his own head, she liked to text it to him sometimes. With his mother, though, it was different. A switch had been flipped, and she had become disconnected from the world around her.

Noticing her sudden silence, his father wandered over and nudged her leg.

“Hey. Did you remember your medicine?” The playful tone was gone, replaced with worry. The mood was suddenly serious, and Mike was unsure why.

“Hmm?” She shook her head. “Oh, no, I didn’t. Sorry, I’m so scatterbrained, thanks for reminding me.”

“That’s what I’m here for.” His father smiled at Mikey. “And this one, too, when he’s older.”

“What medicine?” Mike asked, then followed his mother out of curiosity. As far as he knew, other than the occasional street drugs, she had never been on anything. Maybe it was a seasonal cold or something, Santa knew he got them most years until he inherited the house.

Going to the master bathroom, she opened the medicine cabinet to reveal a couple different prescription bottles full of pills. She swallowed a pill from each with water, then stared at herself in the mirror as if lost. After a few deep breaths, she put on a fake smile and walked back to the living room.

“Not all struggles are apparent to a child.” The spirit appeared next to Mike, now just a floating head surrounded by a halo of hair. It had taken on his father’s features. “Those pills were meant to help her. But after your father died…”

“She would forget and stop taking them. But that shouldn’t matter, should it?” Mike opened up the medicine cabinet and pulled one of the bottles out. “Risperidone? What is that for?” He turned the bottle around, but it only had dosing information on the handwritten label. Frowning, he contemplated the pills. Was it an antipsychotic? Had his entire fudged up childhood been the result of a forgotten prescription?

“Don’t you see? You’ve hated her for so long, but now you know the truth.” A triumphant grin was plastered on Christmas Past’s face. “Your father’s death broke her, and her condition got worse as a result. You’ve spent your whole life hating someone because of events outside of their control. Doesn’t that make you feel bad?”

It felt like he was spinning. The deep-seated hatred he had for his mother suddenly felt so shallow. He had always assumed that his father’s death had broken her and she had just been too weak to put herself back together, but now there was an additional layer. Who else knew? Had her friends? His father’s friends? When he looked at Christmas Past, they had an expectant grin that reminded him of the Cheshire cat.

“No, it doesn’t. I still hate her for the things that she did. Even if her actions weren’t entirely her fault, she still tormented me as a child and screwed me up as an adult. It’s okay to understand why somebody does the things they do and still hate them for it. If anything, I feel sorry for her, but that’s it. What’s done is done.”

Christmas Past looked like they had been slapped in the face.

“You aren’t very good at this,” Mike told them. “I’m really not sure what you’re trying to accomplish here, but a raccoon weilding a kitchen knife would threaten me more than you do.”

The spirit flickered, parts of their face expanding like a balloon and then deflating. Their cheeks were now red, and their eyes had gone crooked.

“Oh, dear,” Mike muttered. “Did I hurt your feelings? Eat my candy cane, you sad excuse for a spirit.”

Footsteps at the door made him turn around. Mikey stood there, holding what was left of his candy cane in one hand and his toy car in the other. He stared right at Mike, curiosity in his eyes.

“I thought they couldn’t see us?” He looked over at the spirit, but Christmas Past had folded in on themself like a sheet of origami for the darned.

“I’m not some fudging miser!” They shouted in Mike’s voice over and over again. Mikey put his hands over his ears and ran away as Mike contemplated the spirit. He wasn’t sure what had happened, but it was clear he had broken the darned thing.

“Do you come with an off switch?” he yelled.

“Miser! Miser!” Christmas Past screeched. Its body popped out of existence, leaving the ghost as nothing more than a floating head. The spirit seemed disoriented as it spun aimlessly, growling with menace. It drifted into the bedroom until it was facing the open door of the hallway. Just outside the room, Mike heard the patter of Mikey’s feet on the hardwood and the spirit’s pupils dilated as it sniffed the air.

Howling, it darted forward into Mike. Anticipating this, Mike snatched it by the hair and spun it into the mirror. Upon making contact with the spirit, he felt a cold chill shoot up his arm, his fingers tingling. The glass shattered, then time reversed until the mirror was whole again.

“What on Earth was that?” It was his mother’s voice. Whatever was happening, whether dream, memory, or reality, Mike couldn't chance accidentally changing his own past. This was supposed to be a construct, but he couldn’t know for sure. He pushed the bedroom door shut and pressed the button to lock it.

The two of them struggled, but the spirit had very little mass and was now moaning. Mike opened the nearby window to shove it outside, but the cold, white sky was gone. Instead, a dark void had replaced it with tiny lights in the distance.

“Mikey, did you lock this door?” His mother was rattling the doorknob now. “Honey, get the screwdriver.”

“Good a place as any,” Mike declared, then dove outside with the spirit wrapped in his arms. As they fell, he saw his memories spread out like holograms, all of them frozen with lines of static like an old VCR screen. Grabbing onto the spirit, he tilted his body toward one of the memories and crashed into it.

He slid across the polished floor of a hotel lobby, clutching Christmas Past’s head to his body. Through the windows, a ferocious blizzard churned, and Mike saw a younger version of himself sitting in a lounge chair and staring out into the snow.

“Ah, nice. The year my girlfriend Rebecca and I got stranded while traveling.” They had gone to visit her family for Christmas. However, a storm had diverted their plane, forcing them to stay in a place by the airport. If he remembered correctly, she was upstairs in their room wearing red and white lingerie while crying hysterically. He stood, using just his legs to keep the spirit from escaping. “If you were trying to fudge with my head, this would have been a better place to start. Remind me of the people I hurt instead of expecting water works for my parents. Now I know you’re just being a jerk. You stink at this.”

“This was the year that—”  Christmas Past’s next words were choked off when Mike squeezed.

He knew what year it was. Rebecca had been nice enough, easily one of the best women he had ever dated. The fight had started because of his impotence. She was crying because he had turned her down mid-blowjob. Rejection was a door that swung both ways, and he regretted how hard it had hit her on the way out.

“It gets better, buddy.” Mike patted his past self on the shoulder, then shoved the door of the hotel open. Once outside, he turned his attention to the head in his arms. “And yes, Rebecca would end up marrying a fine man and having kids with him. So I don’t need to hear your narrative doody regarding what-ifs.”

Christmas Past struggled in his arms, but couldn’t escape. Mike noticed that its face now looked like Rebecca’s, the hair streaked with auburn curls. Curious.

“So tell me why you’re so weak right now. You were able to handle me and Yuki at the same time in the real world, but now you’re like a kitten. Why is that? This is your domain, you should be in charge here.” He headed for the corner of the street. It was freezing outside, but he no longer cared.

The spirit bit him hard enough to draw blood, but he ignored the pain. If the last memory had boundaries, this one would, too.

It took him another minute, but he found it. A car on the street simply terminated a couple feet early, like the trunk had been sheared away. Though the street continued, Mike kept walking and found himself tumbling once more through the darkness. Christmas Past almost got away from him, but he wrapped its hair around his hand and reeled it back in.

This time, he tried to dodge his memories. Christmas Past fought him anew, pulling him into a couple of different Christmas days. They battled through the Christmas Mike had spent doing raids in World of Warcraft all day, then the time he went to a Christmas party and got drunk before puking in the fountain. The spirit’s strength waxed and waned, and he had a theory why.

Mike wasn’t Scrooge. The whole point of subjecting Ebenezer to the three spirits had been to reform him, to make him into a better person. He didn’t know why the spirit had come for him. When questioned, they had freaked the fudge out.

No, this had to be a fool’s errand, which meant there was more behind the sudden shifting of the tide. If the spirit’s sole purpose was reformation, then pushback from the victim would be expected. Making them mad shouldn’t cause control to shift so drastically, something deeper was happening.

He theorized that Christmas Past must be losing strength because this wasn’t what they had been designed for. It was no different than when he had used his magic to shock Yuki. Back then, he had drained himself to nearly nothing in moments. Christmas Past was running out of steam trying to make Mike miserable rather than reform him.

But that wasn’t all. He wasn’t the only one in here, which meant that the ghost was split between dealing with him and the kitsune. They had already lost the narrative for Mike and were unable to contain him. Trying to torture him with a past he had come to terms with was like peeing in the ocean to make it taste salty.

Yuki, however, was just coming around to the idea of spending time with others at the house. He guessed that there was plenty of past misery to be found in her head.

This theory was confirmed when he and the spirit entered a new memory, one that he didn’t recognize. He was standing on the side of a mountain, and up ahead, a stony tower jutted from the rock as if built there by mistake. It was where Yuki had been imprisoned for so many years in her own personal hell.

Gazing out at the horizon, it was clear that this memory was far larger than his had been. Was Christmas Past more powerful here? He stumbled and slid down the rocky slope in an attempt to get to the road that led to the tower. As he had hoped, they had fallen far enough that Christmas Past had run out places to trap him, but Yuki was hundreds of years old and her memories would run deep.

The ghost exploded in his arms, transforming into tiny stars that shot through the air toward the tower. Mike got up and ran after them, doing his best to keep pace. He assumed the spirit was pulling itself together, and he needed to get to Yuki before…

Well, he wasn’t sure. But whatever it was, it couldn’t be good.

When he arrived, the bridge was pulled up. It was the primary defense from the centaurs in the valley below, and there was a long drop straight onto jagged rocks below it. He wouldn’t be able to get in the front, not without climbing the sheer rocks nearby. There was a way he could climb down from above, but he would have to take the long way to get there.

“Mother fudging Kris Kringle,” he swore as he made a run for the back entrance.

---

“Absolutely not.” Lily stomped her foot on the ground in indignation and turned her back on Death. All around them, shapes shifted in the mist and the air was filled with the growls of angry demons. “There is no fucking way I’m putting those on.”

“But Lily, it says right here in the book that you have to wear these if you want to be Santa’s Official Helper.” Death waved the manual overhead to emphasize his point. He was now wearing a hat that matched Santa’s coat, as well as a large, faux beard that had been tucked away in the bottom of the storage compartment. Clutched tightly in his other hand were a pair of green shoes with comically curled tips.

“I’m not wearing those clown shoes,” she declared. “I have the ability to wear whatever the fuck I want, and I can’t think of anything that would make those shoes look remotely palatable.”

“Cerberus didn’t complain about what they had to wear.”

Lily looked over at Cerberus. Now in human form, each head wore a headband with reindeer antlers, the center head also wearing a bright red nose. Somewhere in Santa’s bag, Death had found a package labeled Cerberus with an extremely gaudy Christmas sweater inside that fit over their top heavy frame.

“Yeah, well they have to wear that, don’t they? Otherwise,” she put her fingers in the air and made quotes. “They can’t pull the sled.”

“Sleigh,” Death corrected.

“Whatever. I don’t need to wear those fucking shoes just for a ride-along. Since you insist on playing dress up, there has to be something else I can wear instead.”

“Hmm.” Death contemplated the manual once more, then rummaged around in the storage compartment. “You apparently also get a candy cane and a special sticker.”

“Special sticker?” Lily spun about and snatched the manual from Death’s hand using her tail, fingers sprouting from the tip of it to hold the book open in front of her eyes. “Death! It says right here that Santa’s Official Helper is a ceremonial position for any children who might get to ride along for a bit! It doesn’t do anything!”

“Oh.” Death frowned, then whipped around and sliced through a small demon that had made an attempt for the bag. The thing looked like a cross between an aardvark and a bobcat, and it wailed in agony before something shot out of the mist to carry away its upper half. “Oh, darn. I got demon’s blood on the sleigh.” He leaned over the side and used his thumb to smear it off.

“Okay, here it is. I just need to wear one of the spare hats, there’s a safety feature which keeps me from falling out. Not that it matters, because I have wings, but the last thing I need is to get dumped over the Atlantic.” She got into the sleigh and moved around Death to access the storage compartment. There were a couple of spare Santa jackets, plenty of blankets, and a few hats tucked inside. It was easy to see that, just like the bag, the sleigh was bigger on the inside.

“There.” She pulled out a Santa hat that had a red rim around the edges and black velvet up top. “I like this one.”

“Oh, it made your ears pointy!” Death flicked Lily’s ear with a bony digit, making her jump. A quick touch confirmed that he was right, and no amount of concentrating seemed to undo the transformation.

“Oh, fudge it. Fudge? NO!” She started to pull the hat off, but the ground trembled beneath them, knocking her off balance. Death frowned, his attention on the demons now sprinting around them, creating a stampede. Horrors from the depths of the pit scrambled by, crushing each other against its red velvet exterior.

If the stampede was a storm, then an eye had formed around Cerberus. The three-headed woman bared their fangs and transformed back into the hellhound, complete with a massive set of reindeer antlers on each head. The sweater transformed into a harness in a burst of golden light, with a lead rope bedazzled in silver and gold bells that connected Cerberus to the sleigh.

The eye of the storm was tightening as the frightened demons broke formation and tried to run over the sleigh. The hellhound blasted the coming horde with flames from their mouths, scorching the dry earth and turning demons to ash. The Rudolph nose fell off the center head and was incinerated in the flames. The demons split even farther now, and collisions with the sleigh came to a halt.

“I have a bad feeling, deep in my bones.” Death stared intensely at the mist as a giant creature blotted out the ghostlight that lit the Underworld. Seven massive necks stretched into the sky above a body the size of a large building, and a bass note that rattled Lily’s rib cage sent a ripple through the fog.

“Holy heck!” Lily slapped Death on the shoulder. “We need to go. Now!” This wasn’t some random monster roaming the Underworld, but a biblical evil that would have zero qualms about swallowing them whole.

A cacophony of roars filled the Underworld as the creature turned all seven heads in their direction. It marched toward them, the Underworld now silent save for its heavy steps.

Cerberus bolted, pulling the sleigh behind them. Golden sparks formed around the runners of the sleigh as the hellhound raced toward the iron gate. Silver light surrounded them as the sleigh expanded the world to allow them to slip between the bars.

The Yule Cat was waiting, but its eyes widened as Cerberus blasted it with fire, knocking it off the roof of the garage. The air reeked of burnt hair, and the cat howled as it rolled around on the snow, crushing one of the trolls. Spectral chains formed around the hellhound’s necks, tethering them to the Underworld gate. The lumpy potato trolls raced forward, each of them trying to board the sleigh as Cerberus ran in a circle in the backyard. Crimson flames danced along the surface of the snow, holding back the attackers as Lily stabbed one right between the eyes with her stinger, knocking it free.

Cerberus, confined by the chains, couldn’t get past the fountain. The Yule Cat was waiting for them when they circled back to the gate, its fangs bared and smoke rising from its scorched fur. An eerie mist surrounded it, sinking into the Yule Cat and repairing the damage that had been done.

“I thought you said the chains wouldn’t be a problem!” Lily kept her head low as the Yule Cat leapt over Cerberus and raked claws across their flank. Cerberus growled, then snapped at the giant cat. It was surprisingly nimble for a creature so large, and was able to duck away. The chains tethered Cerberus to the Underworld, and when Lily had brought them up, Death had brushed off the question. He had been right about every other crazy thing that had happened, that she had just figured it was yet another Christmas miracle.

“And they won’t be!” Death stood on top of the sleigh, held in place by the magic of the hat he wore. He lifted his scythe up high, the blade reflecting the light of the moon. The fires in his sockets burned bright as he brought the scythe down on the chain. “For they are spiritual shackles and my blade is sharp!”

There was a loud explosion as a wave of emerald light billowed outward, knocking the trolls and the Yule Cat away. A wave of energy passed harmlessly through the house and surrounding area as Cerberus, now unchained, surged forward. The bells on the harness jingled sharply as the lead was pulled taut, and the sleigh shot across the snow.

“Yes! Yes!” Death tucked his scythe under one arm as the sleigh tilted upward and Cerberus sprinted into the sky. Lily looked back to see the Yule Cat and the trolls transform into a sickly green mist that followed them. “We are flying, Lily, flying!”

“This is ridiculous,” Lily muttered, then looked forward. Cerberus had no trouble running through the sky, leaving golden paw prints that floated in the air behind them as they went. The snowflakes suspended in the air bounced away from them as they passed, though more than a few accumulated in Death’s beard.

Looking back again, the mist was close behind them, but was definitely slower. Lily wondered if the trolls and the Yule Cat were related, as their mode of transportation was identical.

“I have never felt more alive,” Death declared. “I can see so far from up here!”

“Yeah, flying is pretty cool, no big deal.” She flopped back in her seat and put her legs up. “So we just have to stay ahead of those idiots until Romeo finishes whatever he’s doing at the pole. Easy.”

Death said nothing, his focus on the reins. Every so often, Lily would look back to see if they had lost the Yule Cat and friends yet. The mist fell further back over time, and it wasn’t until they were in the middle of the Atlantic that they finally lost them.

“It’s about fudging time,” she declared, then frowned. She hated this hat. “But we’re safe for now.”

“Indeed.” Death was sitting now, his eyes on the horizon. “And now the real work begins.”

“What real work? We protect the bag, that’s it.” She saw the wicked grin on Death’s face and sat upright on her seat. “Hey, no, we’re not doing anything extra! Let’s keep things simple, there’s no reason to deviate from avoiding that stupid cat. In fact, if we just stay over the ocean, it can’t even bother us. We can be sky pirates if you want!”

Death turned his head. “Ah, but this sleigh has a purpose. There are millions of sleeping children out there who are expecting presents in the morning!”

“No! Absolutely not! All of this is crazy enough, but I fudging refuse. Fudge! Darn it!” She grabbed her hat and tried to rip it off, but panicked when it wouldn’t budge. “What the heck? Why won’t it come off?”

Death chuckled. “Oh, I think you know why. Santa’s helpers wear these hats, dear Lily, and if we aren’t delivering presents, why, we’re no help to him at all.”

“No.” She shook her head. “There’s no way we can do this, and we shouldn’t even try. What, are we just going to sneak into people’s homes and bring them gifts?”

Death reached into his coat and pulled out a scroll. He wrapped the reins around a hook, then opened the paper. “Amelia Anderson. Very good. Has three presents. Her brother Manny, good, has two small presents. Their next door neighbor is Ronald Walton, he is getting a bike this year.”

“Where did you get that?” LIly felt the blood drain from her face.

“It was with the manual. And look, there’s even a map!” He tilted the paper toward her to reveal a small map with a dot in the middle. “I know right where this is, I’ve memorized every map I’ve seen. And look!” He pulled the compass out of his pocket. “This is for if we get lost. Useful presents are the best kind, you know.”

“Oh, fudge. Oh, fudge.” She sat back and put her face in her hands. They were just supposed to get away from that fudging cat, how did things spiral so far out of control?

Death pulled a pair of mugs from his coat and set them down on a small flip tray in the center of the front wall of the sleigh. A moment later, he held a large thermos.

“I found this as well,” he told her, then undid the top. The smell of hot cocoa filled the air as he poured out two cups. From another pocket came a baggie full of baby marshmallows, and he dropped a few in each cup.

“You’re…you…” In disbelief, she watched as he picked up one of the cups and sipped from it. One of the marshmallows was already melted, and had gotten stuck between his teeth. “What about Cerberus? Surely they don’t want to spend Santa knows how many days delivering presents.”

“Ah, but you’re wrong. You see, they get to leave the Underworld and explore the mortal realm! It’s very exciting for them.” He looked at the hellhound. “Isn’t that so?”

All three heads howled at once as the sleigh picked up speed. Lily scowled and snatched the bag of marshmallows from Death, then dumped a bunch in her mug.

“That’s the spirit!” Death said. “Would you like to sing some carols as we head for the South Pacific? The list is in some sort of geographical order, I recommend we heed its advice. That way, we don’t have to backtrack.”

“I should have stayed in New York,” she muttered, then took a sip from her cup. Surprisingly, the beverage warmed her up and made her feel slightly better. Sighing, she took a huge swallow and leaned back in her seat. “At least the cocoa is good.”

“It is, indeed, my demonic friend. It is, indeed.”

Grinning, Death snapped the reins and launched into a loud rendition of Santa Claus is Coming to Town as he banked the sleigh into a massive u-turn. Lily stared at the distant horizon, noticing that the northern lights shifted about in the distance. A smile broke through her grumpy facade, but she forced it back. It was going to be a long night, and her only hope was that Mike could find Santa and get him to quit being a lazy bum and take over gift distribution.

“This is the Christmas special from heck,” she muttered, then tried once more, unsuccessfully, to pull her hat off.

---

Groaning, Yuki stumbled to her feet. She felt dizzy, and couldn’t remember anything after being grabbed by the ghost of Christmas Past. The ground was covered in snow, and she recognized the park just down the road from the house. A group of children were in the middle of building a snowman on the soccer field, and a couple of them had resorted to throwing snowballs at each other.

Had she been knocked out of the time lock?  She turned around and was surprised to see herself sitting on a bench.

“This was how you spent last Christmas.” The ghost of Christmas Past stood next to her, dressed much like the children behind them.

She whirled around and commanded the snow around them to tear through the spirit in a storm of icy spears. Her magic slid along the ground around her, but the icicles shattered as they formed, falling back into place as snowflakes.

“These are the shadows of things that have been,” the spirit informed her with a smug look. “This snow fell a year ago, and has long melted into water and returned to the Earth. It shall not do your bidding.”

A tarot card appeared in her hand, but the moment she summoned its magic, the card puffed out of existence. Frustrated, she tried to tackle the spirit, but passed harmlessly through it.

“You cannot harm a spirit, silly.” Christmas Past hovered above the ground, then danced away from her. “Magic though you may be, you are still of the mortal realm. We are here regarding your welfare.”

“I don’t want to talk about my welfare.” She scooped up a handful of snow and threw it, but the ball crumbled the moment it left her hand and returned to where it had come from.

“That is no longer your decision.” The spirit turned to look at the Yuki on the bench. “Last Christmas, you came to this place instead of spending time with your family.”

Disgruntled, Yuki ran toward the edge of the park. There was a thick layer of trees around the border of the park. After dodging the prickly branches, she emerged on the other side.

“Oh, c’mon!” She had somehow reappeared exactly where she had left. The spirit hovered over her former self, then landed to stand on the bench.

“Why would you seek the cold solace of the park when you could have enjoyed the warmth of a house reborn?” it asked her.

“Because that wasn’t my home,” she declared in anger. “It’s the same building, and the same people, but it wasn’t the same anymore. And if you’re able to see all these things in my head, then you darned well know why!” She paused then licked her lips. “Darned. Why can’t I say…oh. That’s annoying.”

Her former self sighed and stood. The kids had gotten closer, and families were now arriving at the park. New sleds were broken in as they used a small hill nearby, while parents laughed with their children. Former Yuki wandered into the trees, looked around to see if anyone was watching, then transformed into a fox before diving into the underbrush.

“There were too many people,” Yuki said before the spirit could ask.

“You shed your humanity in order to hide from community.”

“I am just as much a fox as a human. I don’t have to choose, you floating bag of farts. Now where is Mike?” She got in the spirit’s face and snarled. “What have you done with him?”

“His past is not your own, and…” the spirit’s eyes widened dramatically. “Miser!” it shouted, its skull distorting.

Yuki stepped away from it and held up her hands. The outburst had startled her, and she wasn’t sure how she had triggered it. “So, what? We’re going to spend all day here watching while I nap in the bushes?”

The spirit shuddered, then appeared at her side. It took her hand and pulled her forward. The world rippled, and now they stood inside the house.

“Ah, okay, you’re going to show me how much fun everyone else is…having…” She had expected to see Mike opening presents with the others, but the decorations were different. Instead of strings of light, there were thick garlands wrapped around the tree. Mike preferred the twinkling of lights, but she knew someone who loved the garlands just as much.

“Please,” she begged, but Emily walked into the room in a pair of flannel pajamas. She carried a small stack of packages which she arranged beneath the tree, making sure to adjust the bows on each one. “Don’t make me watch this.”

She hadn’t seen Emily since the night her spirit had moved on. Even though she knew that the specter before her was just a glimpse of the past, it was impossible not to feel dread, longing, and heartache all at once. This was Emily before she had turned, the woman who had traveled the world by Yuki’s side.

Yuki’s former self wandered in, a mischievous grin on her face. She was in a pair of flannel pajamas and had adorned her fox ears with ribbons. A pair of tails stuck out of the custom hole that had been stitched into the seat of her bottoms. Moving quietly, she snuck up behind Emily and held mistletoe over her head. When Emily turned away from the tree, she was startled, then laughed when she saw what Yuki was doing.

“There you are,” Emily said, then wrapped her arms around past Yuki’s waist. “Oh? And is that mistletoe?”

“I’ve heard a rumor that you’re superstitious,” former Yuki said with a grin.

“Very much so.” Emily pulled the kitsune in for a passionate kiss, her skin sparkling as her magic washed across both of them.

“This is one of your happiest Christmas memories,” the spirit said, but Yuki turned away from it.

“And what’s the point of making me see it?” she demanded. “To remind me that I used to enjoy Christmas? I don’t hate Christmas, I’m mourning what I lost. There’s a huge difference.”

“So you’re saying you’ll kiss anything beneath the mistletoe?” former Yuki asked.

“Without hesitation,” Emily replied with a smirk. There was the rustling of clothes and Yuki knew that her past self had just stretched her pants away from her belly to reveal that she had shaved and colored her pubes into the shape of a mistletoe.

“Stop it,” she cried, then tried to leave the room. It was the same as in the park, only now she found herself back in the living room where Emily was eagerly pulling Yuki’s pants off. “You won’t let me swear, but you’ll make me watch this?”

Christmas Past remained silent, a twisted smile on their lips. Black lines flowed over their face, as if someone had dripped ink on its head.

Yuki covered her ears and looked out the window, only to see that it was an identical room that mirrored what was happening. When she closed her eyes, her lids became clear like glass. Groaning in agony she tried to find some corner of the room to hide herself away from the sight. She and Emily would often have sex for hours, this Christmas would be no exception.

The spirit hovered overhead, watching the scene unfold with a beatific smile on its face. Yuki tried to hurl fox fire at it, but the magic wouldn’t come.

“You two were very much in love.” Christmas Past had to raise its voice to be heard over the moaning. “It is very easy to see.”

Yuki ignored the spirit, turning her attention inward. At one point, Tink peered around the corner, her yellow eyes wide as she watched them. The goblin had been caught several times peeping on the two of them, but Yuki definitely didn’t remember busting her for this one.

“Perhaps we have seen enough.” Christmas Past licked its lips, taking Yuki by the hand and dragging her out into the hall. They were transported across time and space into a small fishing village in Japan. It was winter, and the few people milling about did so quickly to avoid the chill.

Yuki looked around with a frown. She recognized the village, but couldn’t remember its name. One of the natural limitations of living for hundreds of years was that old information slipped easily through the cracks of time. Still, the smell of saltwater and fish tickled the back of her memory, and she realized exactly where she was.

“It isn’t Christmas here,” she proclaimed while looking for the spirit. Christmas Past sat on a nearby rack for drying fish. Its features were blurry at first, and then they morphed into Emily’s likeness.

“It is Christmas day,” the spirit corrected her. “I do not require celebration to reach through the past, only that the requirements be met. Today is the 25th day of December, it counts.”

She was about to argue, but a small figure slipped past her, clutching a bundle against their chest. Thick blankets parted to reveal a fox tail streaked with dirt and snow.

“Stop her!” An older man in a thick coat charged around the corner with a knife in his hand. He was panting hard with exertion, each breath billowing out from him in giant plumes of fog. Down the road, a figure in thick furs stepped around the corner and kicked the fleeing fox demon.

She grunted when she hit the ground, her hood popping off her head to reveal pointed ears. It was a much younger Yuki, her features lean and her eyes desperate. When she scrambled to her feet, another villager stepped out of their home and smacked her in the head with an oar.

With a grunt, she hit the ground and dropped her bundle. Dried fish and a loaf of bread fell onto the cold, hard ground.

“Thief!” The man with the knife caught up, then froze when he saw younger Yuki’s ears.

“This was when I was young.” Yuki’s eyes were wide with awe as she contemplated the scene. This wasn’t something she had thought about in centuries, and only through seeing it once more could she recall the details. “I was hungry and had been stealing food from these people for days.”

The men of the village circled the young kitsune and held her down. More villagers emerged from their homes, curious about the noise. A small council rapidly formed to discuss what to do with the kitsune now that her identity was known.

“And despite your transgressions, they welcomed you in.” Christmas Past was smug as the villagers helped former Yuki to her feet and offered her the food she had taken. “Over the next couple of months, they would clothe and feed you under the assumption that you would provide divine protection.”

Yuki’s cheeks grew hot and she whirled around to face the spirit. “That’s not fair!” she exclaimed. “You can see the memory just as well as I can, if not better! They just handed things over, and I was starving! What, you think I should have turned them away and wandered into the woods to freeze?”

“Their food was limited already.” Christmas Past looked over their shoulder as a massive blizzard moved in and the villagers dispersed, taking the younger Yuki with them. “While their own people died, they would continue feeding you in the hopes that an early spring would come. Instead, they slowly starved, one by one.”

Yuki growled. “I remember. They came for me, and started making demands. Slow the storms, bring food. Don’t think I forgot about the cage they built for me. They locked me in and refused to give me food or water until I granted their wishes.”

The storm raged, but went suddenly silent.

“And what happened then?” Christmas Past lifted their chin, revealing a face lit from below by an unearthly light.

“I burned the village down,” Yuki whispered. “The flames from my foxfire spread to the other buildings, and I ran into the forest.”

“This was their last Christmas.” The spirit shook their head. “It seems like this would become a trend.”

“Eat candy, mother hugger.” She found a decent rock by her feet and picked it up to throw. The stone passed harmlessly through Christmas Past, then fizzled out and reappeared where she had found it.

The ghost chuckled.

“Come. There is more to see.” When it reached for her, their arm extended several feet so that it could grab her by the shoulder. She tried to plant her feet and resist, but was yanked through the air and into a dark place where she was surrounded by distant lights. There was nothing beneath her now as she dangled by one arm while the spirit pulled her along.

“That was only the start,” the spirit said. “Of a lifetime of taking.”

“What? No!” Yuki tried to claw the spirit’s wrist, but her free hand passed harmlessly through their arm. Clearly it could only be touched if it wanted to be. “How could you even say such a thing?”

Christmas Past hurled her into a nearby ball of light. The world expanded around her until she saw that she was in a different village. A group of men surrounding a hut were bowing profusely while setting bags of rice and fresh produce on the ground. One man wandered up with a deer, which he set by the doorway.

“That will do.” The Yuki that emerged from the hut smirked at the men below her. “Know that you have pleased your god.”

The group chattered at each other in Chinese, then wandered away from the hut. A couple stayed behind to help Yuki move the food into a side building where smoked meats had been stacked in the corner.

“You can’t judge me for this,” Yuki hissed while rising. “When I arrived here from Japan, it was to escape people who wanted to use me to gain power over others. I was all alone and had nobody. Well, guess what? People here thought I could grant wishes. People are the same everywhere. Was I just supposed to starve? And yes, I lied to them, but I used my magic to help where I could.”

“If so, then why does it seem that these people are doing all the work for you?” Christmas Past walked over to the dead deer on the ground. “What did you do with all this extra food?”

Yuki scowled, her fists balling up. “For your information, I made sure that there was plenty of food stored for the lean times. On the surface, it looks like I’m hoarding it for myself, but I knew that a brutal winter was coming. The signs were there.”

The spirit nodded. “You could have accomplished these things without posing as a deity of the woods.”

She opened her mouth to argue, but the sounds of pounding hooves had reached her ears. When she turned around, she saw that her younger self was already watching a group of men on horseback approach. Armed with swords and daggers, they dismounted and surrounded the small hut.

A few villagers approached the riders with weapons of their own, but were quickly dispatched by arrow or blade. Younger Yuki stood tall and proud, but Yuki knew the grim truth. She had been absolutely terrified of these men and what they represented. Constantly on the run, Japan had begun to feel terribly small. Everywhere she went, she drew either those who feared her or desired her power. China was so much bigger than Japan, but it only meant she would have to run that much farther.

“Give us the witch,” they demanded. “Or we kill everyone.”

The scene paused while Christmas Past moved among the frozen people as if inspecting them for flaws. It arched one eyebrow, and then faced Yuki. “Do you remember what happened on this day?”

Yuki swallowed the lump in her throat. “Please don’t make me watch,” she begged.

Christmas Past smiled, and snapped their fingers. The past played out, and younger Yuki fled into her hut. When the newcomers moved toward the hut, the villagers came to Yuki’s defense, only to die quickly, calling for aid as they were killed. By the time the riders reached the hut, Yuki had long fled through a secret tunnel beneath the building.

“You turned into a fox and left them to their fate.” Christmas Past shook their head. “Because you take. You’re a taker.”

“No, that’s not true, I…” She was pulled away from the scene by rough hands, the wailing of dying villagers stuck in her head as Christmas Past carried her off like a bird of prey. They moved through her memories as the spirit recounted every terrible thing she had done within a couple days of Christmas. Her arguments never held any water, and she knew it was because the moments had been cherry picked.

Still, it wore at her. Even the lightest rain will level a mountain given enough time, and time was in abundance here. She lost track of the days, trapped in a temporal hell where she was always the villain. Her only respite was knowing that the spirit would inevitably run out of days it could subject her to.

However, then what? Had the spirit simply been sent here to trap her? Or was there a more nefarious endgame? It definitely seemed like they were trying to run down the clock, but for who?

And where was Mike in all this? Was he hurt? Had the spirit already gotten rid of him? Yuki chewed at her nails, then winced when she bit one too deep.

“You’re distracted.” Christmas Past scowled at her, the spirit currently sitting on a stump. They were somewhere in China in the early 1900s, but Yuki didn’t know the year. Her past self had two tails now, and was sleeping beneath a carriage outside of a large manor. “We’re here regarding your welfare, and you’ve stopped paying attention.”

“I get it. I’m a terrible person.” Yuki gestured toward the carriage. “But you’re grasping at straws, now. What am I doing here that was so wrong? Are you going to chastise me for not thanking the owner of the carriage? Tell me I’m a piece of poop for not doing some kindness here?”

“I…” Christmas Past shuddered, their features distorting. Though rare, there had been some memories with no wrong-doing where the spirit had tried to justify it by recounting her past deeds, or stretching truths to fit the narrative. Arguing those points sometimes caused the ghost to panic and freak out, and this was no exception.

The ghost snatched her up by the ankles and soared into the sky. Yuki didn’t even bother fighting, she couldn’t touch the spirit if they didn’t want her to.

“Let’s go somewhere more comfortable,” they declared as the clouds in the sky warped into a circular opening. When they soared through the aperture, Yuki’s blood chilled as she saw a familiar tower down below.

“No, no, no, anywhere but there!” She tried to fight, but was tossed unceremoniously into the courtyard. Though she had fallen from a great height, the landing only knocked the wind from her lungs. Wheezing, she got to her feet and tried to walk toward the gate.

“How can you be expected to improve without understanding your past?” Christmas Past grabbed her by the foot and dragged her toward the tower. “You spent so many years in this place, surely there is much to learn.”

“Why are you doing this?” She grabbed at the edge of a planter and was able to hold on for a few seconds before being pulled free. “I wasn’t here because I was bad, but because I was trapped!”

The spirit said nothing as it dragged her into the tower proper. The bottom floor was trashed with broken furniture everywhere. Stairs had been laid into the exterior wall, and Yuki was dragged up all of them until they reached her old bedroom. On the bed, a past version of herself lay, sobbing hysterically.

“This was your first Christmas here,” the spirit noted. “You didn’t use to care about the holiday, but Emily had taught you to love it. It was a special day to her, and therefore, to you. You even decorated the tree in the hopes that she would return and save you, but that didn’t happen, did it? There was this fantasy that she would be waiting, sitting beneath its branches with sad eyes and an apology, but it wasn’t meant to be.”

The tree in question was lying in the corner, its branches broken. Small, handcrafted ornaments lay shattered all over the floor, surrounded by pine needles. A sheet of paper with a hand-drawn calendar lay nearby, the days crossed off with Xs that got progressively larger until they reached the 25th of December.

“I really thought she was coming for me,” Yuki whispered. Back then, when Emily had disappeared, she hadn’t known what to think. For the next several Christmases, this process would repeat, growing grander in scale until the entire tower was decorated. When the morning came, and Emily was still absent, Yuki would trash the tower and fall in a heap on her bed for days.

The spirit hovered above, their lips curled into a bloodless smile. Their features shifted and melted until they wore Emily’s face. “You were being punished.”

“No.” Yuki glared at Christmas Past. “I was being protected. I know the truth now. Emily was possessed and did what she could to hide me from the evil that possessed her. Nothing you tell me will change the truth.”

“Perhaps. But think on all the things I have already shown you. How many people did you hurt over the centuries? The villagers you stole from, the ones you fooled? Some gave their lives to protect you, others died in pursuit of you. You were a menace, and you deserved this.” Christmas Past was smug as dark lines crept along their face like worms. “This is karma.”

“Fudge you,” she whispered.

“And now, we watch.” The spirit focused their attention on the figure in the bed. “Grief and despair shall metamorphosize into loneliness and rage.”

Yuki stared with wide eyes as the past unfolded. Hours went by, and the huddled mass of her former self barely moved. When she finally did stir, it was to cry out in agony. Her past self let out a scream, and then threw a handful of foxfire at the tree. It ignited, sending black tendrils of smoke up the wall.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked.

“Because I’m here to teach you the true meaning of Christmas!” The spirit seized her by the throat and lifted her above the scene. Gone was any child-like innocence in the ghost’s face as they choked her. “That cruelty must be punished!”

“Cruelty…isn’t…Christmas!” she gasped. “It’s about…giving, and…”

“Wrong.” The spirit’s eyes flashed, and the room below filled with multiple versions of Yuki, each one from a different year. They passed through each other as they each tore the bedroom apart and howled in grief. “It isn’t about goodwill and gifts. The world is a broken place, and somebody must hold it accountable. Giving children gifts for good behavior hasn’t taught them to be kind as adults, and parents can’t be trusted to punish their children appropriately for their misdeeds.”

A cold wind blasted through the bedroom window, and the whole tower shook. Christmas Past’s voice grew louder and filled with static as their body twisted and distorted violently, then snapped back into place. For just a moment, it looked like they had two heads.

“It’s time for accountability,” they shrieked, their light-filled eyes opened wide. “To bring back the true meaning of Christmas! As light needs darkness to exist, so too must there be a balance!” They slammed Yuki into the wall, causing the wall to crack. She felt the bones in her back pop as Christmas Past smashed her into the hard surface again and again.

“Stop it, stop it!” She summoned a handful of fire, but it passed right through the spirit and vanished in mid-air.

“You can’t hurt me,” the spirit snarled, then threw her to the ground. “I am a manifestation of days that have passed, and you cannot change them! I am immutable, unbending, unshakeable. Your mistakes, your victories, they all belong to me, and I see all, I know all, and you deserve to be punished!”

“You don’t get to judge me.” Yuki winced, then stood. “You’re just a broken spirit, I see that now. You can see the past, but it doesn’t mean you know what it’s like to go hungry, or to be afraid, or to have your heart so utterly broken that you wish the universe would burn itself down around you.”

The spirit descended, the light in their eyes flickering out to reveal a pair of gaping holes. Their distended limbs made them stand a foot taller than she did, and they curled a pale finger around her chin.

“Fine then,” they whispered. “If I can’t judge you, then maybe she can.”

A cold blast of ice sent Yuki across the room where she crashed into a bookshelf and collapsed on the floor. Groaning, she twisted around to see that the damage to the tower was gone. The room had been redecorated, and a dark figure stood silhouetted in the balcony, her tails swishing behind her.

“Did Emily send you?” When this version of Yuki stepped forward, the sun’s light glistened off of the snow white fur of her tails. She wore a leather eye patch and held several tarot cards fanned out in her left hand. “Are you here to finish what she started?”

“No, I—” Yuki summoned a wall of ice to deflect the icy barrage that barreled toward her. She peered around the corner and then ducked back when a sword blew past her head and clanged off the floor. The shuffling of cards could be heard.

“She will not take anything more from me,” the past declared as it summoned a storm of ice indoors. Yuki’s head pounded, her mind filling with memories of the time an intruder, another kitsune, had come to her tower. The details poured into her head in real time, splitting her consciousness in two as she experienced the fight from two points of view.

How could this be? Was she actually in the past? Gasping in pain, she clutched at her head and dove out of the way as a massive icicle shattered the table and exploded against the far wall. Somehow, the spirit had linked the past and present together, and Yuki wasn’t sure that she would survive it.

Now sitting on the bed, Christmas Past cackled with glee, dark lines squirming all along their porcelain features.. “These are the shadows of things that have been,” they explained. “There can only be one outcome, for to harm your past is to destroy the present. And we both know that your precious Caretaker would not have survived without you. This is your last and final test, Yuki Otome. Will you pass it?”

“I…”

She threw herself sideways as ice erupted at her feet and spiraled into the sky. Summoning a shield of her own, she narrowly avoided a barrage of blades that pierced the ice and exploded outward in a cloud of frost and metal. The benefit of having her mind split was that she remembered what her past self was going to do the moment before she did it. It was the thinnest of edges, but it would have to be enough. The temperature in the room was dropping fast and the floors were becoming slippery with frost.

How could she hope to beat her past self without dooming her own future? She managed to dodge a pair of swords, then got knocked over when a ball of fire slammed into her from above. The pressure in her head was building, and it felt like she was going to black out. She stumbled and fell, rolling over in time to see past Yuki approaching. One finger was tucked beneath the eye patch, so Yuki closed her eyes to keep from getting turned to stone.

“Please, don’t,” she cried, holding her hands up. “You have to let me explain!”

“I don’t have to—”

The world went silent, save for the sound of electrical streamers. Yuki turned toward the noise and opened her eyes to see Mike standing behind Christmas Past. He had grabbed the spirit’s head from behind, and purple sparks crawled all along his arm and into Christmas Past’s forehead. The spirit was frozen in place, its eyes wide as the darkness receded.

“Sorry I’m late,” he panted, sweat glistening off his forehead. Yuki looked around the room to see that the past had frozen in place. Whatever he was doing, it had stopped the past in its tracks. “Had to take the long way in.”

“You okay?” she asked, her voice too loud in her own head. At least her memories weren’t filling in any more.

“Mostly. But, uh, things might get real weird for a minute.” He looked at Christmas Past, whose features now rippled like turning pages. “Like, weirder than normal. I just pumped Casper here with a bunch of magic, and, well, you know…”

Nodding, Yuki laid down on the floor and clutched her head while trying not to puke. She didn’t care what he did, as long as he could make the pain stop.

---

Mike used his free hand to pull Christmas Past toward him by their hair, his magic swarming over the spirit’s body. After a brutal free-hand climb across a sheer rock face, he had dropped onto a section of the exterior wall that had required him to run all the way down to the courtyard before entering the tower proper. He was grateful that no version of the Jabberwock was hanging around in this timeline, but had been disturbed to see the sun shift places dramatically above him. It wasn’t just disorienting, but he worried that Yuki might be moved to a different memory outside of the tower. If she and the spirit left without him, would he become stuck, or just fall into the void?

He didn’t like either possibility.

Once inside the tower, he had heard the fight up above and had been cautious in his approach. Seeing Yuki in a fight with her past self, he had managed to sneak up on Christmas Past. The spirit hadn’t noticed, its gleeful features turned toward the fight. When he realized that Yuki was interacting with her own past, he knew he had to act before things went from bad to worse.

Short on ideas, he had summoned his magic. Concentrating it into his hand was easy, but then what? Seeing that the fight was rapidly approaching a bloody end, he thought back to how time had been reversed in his own memories. The spirit had the means to manipulate the past, so it was up to him to manipulate the spirit.

His magic was never intended to be offensive. It was a wild, chaotic amalgamation of nymph magic and the fae. So when he decided to pour it into Christmas Past, he wasn’t certain how it would react. The spirit barely had their own identity, and was constantly changing shape.

Luckily, he had plenty of experience with shape shifters, and sudden changes wouldn’t surprise him. The spirit had been so engrossed in watching Yuki battle herself that they didn’t even notice him crawling across the bed. It wasn’t until he grabbed them from behind that they reacted, struggling to escape his grasp.

Down on the floor, Yuki dry heaved, clutching her head in both hands. Her past self was flickering as if stuck in a loop, slowly lifting her eye patch and then replacing it before the gorgon’s eye could be revealed..

“What-what-what are you-what are you doing-doing?” Christmas Past shuddered, their whole body flickering in and out of existence. Their head always remained, now surrounded in a ghostly aura of purple light. Mike had wound the spirit’s hair through his hand so many times that there was no way they could break free. With his free hand, he wrapped his fingers around the spirit’s forehead, causing the magic to spin wildly around him.

“Fix this,” he commanded. “You rewind this nonsense right now, or else.”

“You cannot-cannot you-you cannot…” Christmas Past growled. “You cannot hurt me!”

“You know what? I’ve been wondering about that.” Mike pulled the spirit with him as shifted off the bed, then walked over to where Yuki cowered on the floor. “You see, you’re always called the ghost of Christmas Past. And I can tell you’re a spirit of some sort. Were you once alive? Or were you created?”

Christmas Past pulled free of his grip, but he still had their hair tangled in his hand. The spirit hit him in the stomach with an elongated arm, but he twisted to the side and was grazed instead. Yanking hard on the spirit’s hair, he pulled them off their feet, causing them to hover.

“Because if you are a lost soul, I’ve got a fix for that.” Mike opened his mouth, the mournful dirge of the banshee filling the air. An intense feeling of sadness flooded him as he sang aloud the same haunting aria that had carried Velvet’s soul to her resting place. It was something he had discussed at length with Cecilia, mostly out of a fear that he had somehow screwed up Velvet’s passing.

Like all things magic, intent was the most important thing. She had taught him the melody, and assured him that his intention mattered far more than the song itself. Tiny motes of light formed inside of Christmas Past’s body, each one becoming a tiny star that shot out of its body and ricocheted off the nearby walls.

“Stop-stop-stop it!” Christmas Past’s face flickered as the light emanating from their body curved away and toward a glittering portal that split apart above them.

Mike closed his mouth. “Last chance,” he warned. “Fix the timeline right now, or see what the Underworld has in store for you.” To emphasize his point, he hummed the melody.

“The timeline is fine!” Christmas Past cried out. “The past is immutable, these are just shadows!”

“Doesn’t feel that way,” Yuki groaned from the floor. “My head is full of new memories.”

“Shadows!” Christmas Past screamed, and Yuki’s shadow stretched out behind her, its fingers buried in her skull. It withdrew its dark digits and then stepped away from her and disappeared. “They have no consciousness of us, for they are simulacrum and have no thoughts or desires of their own!”

The Yuki from the past flickered, then turned into a shadow that melted into the floor and vanished. The room around them fragmented, large sections of wall vanishing to reveal a horizon devoid of light. It was as though the simulation had fallen apart, the code finally broken.

“Yuki?” Mike looked at the kitsune.

“I might barf,” she said. “But the pain is gone, I’m just exhausted now. I should have known, the spirit is a psychic.”

Christmas Past groaned, its features flickering as Mike’s magic seeped into its eyes. Where the tiny lights had ripped free, his magical sparks sank in to replace them. The spirit’s eyes fluttered, its features morphing rapidly.

“Uh oh,” Mike said. The tower cracked, and the spirit’s body was now ablaze with magic, most of it his. He knelt to grab Yuki’s waist as the floor split beneath them and they all fell together.

The memories around them fragmented, bursting into supernovae of light and color. Occasional words or sounds carried to him across the darkness, and he looked down to see that a bright spot had formed beneath their feet. Convinced that they would crash, he braced himself for impact.

Surprisingly, the landing was gentle. Moments before impact, they drifted the last few feet, allowing Mike to lay Yuki down on the floor again.

“Where are we?” she asked. “Hurts to open my eyes, the light is too bright.”

“Uh…” He looked around, but didn’t recognize the place. The room looked like it had been pieced together out of a dozen different locations. It was a large room with windows that overlooked vastly different scenes, regardless of orientation. A blizzard out one window sat next to a rainstorm out the other. At least seven doors could be seen from where they had landed.

“Where are we now?” he demanded, but the spirit only shook in response. He wasn’t entirely certain what was happening, but the light streaming off of Christmas Past was so intense now that it hurt to look at it.

Christmas Past’s limbs reappeared and they let out a howl, then exploded. Their remains splattered the room with inky black pools that immediately flowed toward one another.

“Christmas Past has gone T-1000 on us,” he informed Yuki.

“What?” She looked up and groaned. “Maybe I can…” she raised her arm and summoned a pitiful spurt of frost, then slumped on the floor.

“It’s okay.” He patted her on the head and rose. “I’ve got this one.” Cracking his knuckles, he summoned the magic into his palms. Whatever Christmas Past was planning, he wasn’t going to make it easy.

Hushed whispers filled the room as the black pools formed into silhouettes that shifted along the walls. There were three of them, and one of them stepped out of the wall, its body filling with definition and color.

“Oh, fudge. Rebecca?” He dropped his hands as the shadow of his ex-girlfriend appeared. She wore red and white Christmas lingerie with her brown hair done in braids.

“Does Santa want to slide down my chimney tonight?” she asked with a crooked finger. A few feet over, another shadow stepped free of the wall, transforming into a latino woman with her hair done up in buns. She wore white ski pants and a sweater, and was carrying a bundle of wood.

“It’s cold out there,” she said, then set the bundle down. This was Abigail, and the memory was from the Christmas ski vacation they took. It had been a fond trip, but Abigail’s sex drive had led her to stray only a month later.

Mike shook his head in disbelief as the third shadow formed into Hallee Waters, his college girlfriend. She was in Christmas pajamas that hugged her athletic figure, her hair pulled back into a ponytail. He had gone home with her for Christmas and her parents made Mike sleep on the couch. She had snuck down for some midnight action, but he pretended to stay asleep.

“If we’re quiet, they won’t wake up,” she whispered.

“So what game is this?” Mike asked. “You’ve sent my exes to come torment me? To make me feel bad about how I treated them?”

“We’re not here to make you feel bad,” Rebecca told him.

“We’re here because we’re broken,” Abigail added.

“Just shadows,” Hallee said. Lightning danced around her smiling eyes, and he recognized it as his own magic.

“I see.” He had zapped Christmas Past pretty hard, uncertain what would happen. Pouring sex magic into a spirit capable of simulating the past had its potential problems. All three women leered at him. Hallee had her hand down the front of her pants, her fingers shifting beneath her snowflake jammie bottoms.

“You can’t handle us all,” Rebecca said, pressing her breasts together. “After all, your inability to satisfy us left you alone.”

“And even when you could get it up, it was never for very long.” Abigail said with a pout.

“Are you—” He laughed. “Are you still trying to torment me with the sins of my past? Trying to make me miserable over how my relationships with these women ended? Do you think I’m threatened by their sensuality, that I will shrink away from them and run?”

The women were close now, their hands reaching for him. He could sense no danger, and he put his hands on his pants.

“Ladies. It’s time to dance.” He pulled his pants down, his cock springing to attention. All three of them stopped, awe on their faces. “Yeah, that’s right. I’m large and in charge. What do you think, Abigail?”

“Uh, I—” her eyes glazed over, and he laughed. If these were mere shadows, they were constructed from his memories. All three of these women had desired him, but his issues had prevented true intimacy with any of them. With those issues gone, they would have no choice but to act on what he remembered about them.

Hallee planted herself against his side, her hand going immediately to his cock. “They’re both heavy sleepers,” she told him while pulling his coat off.

“They won’t hear us, I’m sure.” He ran his hand along the back of her head, tickling her scalp with his magic. If this was the kind of fight Christmas Past wanted, then the spirit had majorly spilt the eggnog. “Rebecca, you look amazing in that lingerie.”

“Thanks,” she said with a smile. “I picked it out for you.”

From the corner of his eye, he saw a pool of ink moving toward him, but pretended to be enthralled with the attention he was receiving. The women weren’t a threat, but he could sense the malevolent energy radiating from that last patch of darkness. He moved to place himself between it and Yuki, allowing the women to run their hands over his body. So the women were just a distraction. Compared to the women that he lived with, it was easy to ignore them.

“I’ve never seen it so big before,” Abigail whispered in a rush as she took off her shirt and knelt in front of him. “I don’t even know that I can fit it in my mouth.”

“We’ll help,” offered Hallee, who slid into place by Abigail and started stroking Mike. “I bet you’ve never been with three women before.”

Suddenly, so many things made sense to him. The spirit had tormented him with his mother, and then his exes, not knowing about the events of the last year. But why not? Was it because of the geas? He thought back to the events of last Christmas. There had been plenty of intimacy between him and the others.

It was a puzzle that bore thinking on, but he would have time for it later. Abigail and Hallee were busy licking and sucking his cock while Rebecca pressed herself against him, blocking his view of the pool.

“Yeah, that’s right,” he told them, allowing his magic to trickle out in small bursts. “This is the best day ever, I can’t wait to be balls deep in each of you.”

“Ooh, me first!” Rebecca exclaimed, then bent over and pulled her panties to the side. She waved her ass back and forth, then slapped it. “C’mon, I want you to fill my stocking with good cheer!”

“Oh, gross,” Yuki muttered from the floor.

Mike moved toward Rebecca, his senses on high alert. Abigail and Hallee moved to his sides and wrapped their arms around his waist, effectively pinning him in place. Though they were shadows, they seemed to share very human qualities with their real world counterparts.

He sensed the movement behind him and unleashed his magic on the women. Sizzling sparks lashed out into all three of them, and they all cried out in sweet agony as powerful orgasms ripped through their bodies. As all three of them fell away, Mike spun in place and planted his fist straight into the face of Christmas Past.

With the roaring sound of rushing water, the world around them crumbled as Christmas Past crashed into the ground with a thud. Dazzling lights flickered across their body as Mike knelt down and grabbed a handful of hair to pull them to their feet. They were in a metallic hallway with tiny vents along the bottom.

“Had enough?” he asked, then frowned. One of the spirit’s eyes had turned black, while the other was white. Those same dark pools flowed beneath their skin, sloshing back and forth.

“I’m-sorry-I’m-sorry-I’m-sorry-sorry-sorry,” they muttered, then let out a cry like a child. Mike let go of the spirit, and it hovered in place, the darkness receding from it.

“You have to run,” they whispered, their features now angelic. “Before the darkness returns.”

“What darkness?” he asked, pulling up his pants. “Who sent you?”

“It’s been set free, Mike Radley.” The spirit shook their head, their features cracking. “And all it wants is revenge. I was sent to keep you from interfering, by any means necessary.”

“Hey, calm down.” He put his hand on the spirit’s forehead. Genuine fear was reflected in its eyes as it looked up at him, which gave way to relief when he didn’t hurt it.

“You can touch me?” They closed their eyes and pressed into his hand. “Have you become a spirit, too?”

“My spiritual genealogy has gone through some edits,” he confessed. Was it his connection to Cecilia that allowed him to do this?

“Mike?” Yuki was on her hands and knees, her features twisted in pain. “It’s changing.”

He stepped back from Christmas Past and saw that a shadow had formed beneath it. Tendrils of black clung to the spirit’s legs and crawled up, gobbling up the light from its body.

“Oh, you’d better watch out. And don’t you dare cry.” Christmas Past jerked their head up, revealing that the darkness had returned to their eyes. They lifted into the air and hovered before them, then smiled. Their mouth may as well have been full of daggers. “When the Krampus finds you, you’re all going to die!”

Mike unleashed the banshee’s scream, channeling his anger into it. The spirit flinched, then shattered like glass into little clouds of smoke. Each one drifted a separate direction, most of them traveling out the nearby vents, until they were alone again.

“Yuki, are you okay?” He ran to her side and helped her up.

“Couldn’t even keep your pants on while fighting a Christmas spirit. It really is the holiday season.” She grinned weakly at her joke. “I’m so thirsty.”

“Me, too. We’ve got to find a way out of here, I’m fucking starving.” Once Yuki was on her feet, she leaned against him. “Sorry it took me so long.”

“It’s okay.” She patted his bicep. “I should have known better. That thing literally got in my head.”

“Yeah. Really obnoxious.” Figuring any direction was as good as the other, he started walking. “I have a random question for you,” he said.

“Can’t be any more random than what just happened,” she replied.

“Right. Well, here goes.” He cleared his throat, it was so damn dry in the vents. When this was all over, he would talk to someone about putting in a humidifier. “What the fuck is a Krampus?”