Page 6 of Run, Run Rudolph (Fairy Godmothers and Other Fiascos #2)

~ Tamara ~

O ver the sound of the elf’s tantrum in my trunk, I put down my car’s soft roof, and helped an injured Rudolph into the back seat.

My Sebring was a two-door, making it extra awkward, and I was pretty sure that in the light of day I’d find hoof scrapes down the side panels of the car from where Rudolph tried to climb in over the door.

If Haden could see me now, helping a (technically) wild animal into my car so I could take it home to help heal it, his eyes would roll so far back in his head, he’d sprain an eyeball.

But what else was I supposed to do? Leave Rudolph on the road and let Christmas, the most magical time of the year, come to ruin, decimating the hearts of billions of children just because I’d been distracted by a Travis Tritt song?

I didn’t think so.

And anyway, all of Rudolph’s pals seemed to feel this was a good idea.

When I’d asked them if they had any magic to heal him, they’d just stared at me.

But when I’d suggested I take him to my barn so he could rest somewhere safe, they’d begun directing me, pushing me around with their noses.

It was terrifying, and also the coolest thing ever.

Way better than Char’s fairy godmother, not to mention the cranky witch who worked as her receptionist.

Although, the non-talking magical creature bit was making communication tricky.

Rudolph’s ankle and foot, which had gone through my bumper, were scraped but not bleeding too terribly, and it was difficult to decipher how severe his injuries might be.

He was definitely dazed and stumbling. He also smelled oddly of tequila.

In fact, all the reindeer seemed to have distinctive boozy, fermented scents, which could be a side effect from bad feed.

Yet, I doubted very much that Santa would take shortcuts with his animals and their food.

The elf in my trunk had mentioned a party. But a reindeer party with alcohol? That felt too weird to be true—even for the magical world. Although, maybe the North Pole had Christmas parties just like a regular office did.

But this close to Christmas Eve seemed excessively risky. And shouldn’t they be too busy to celebrate?

Either way, with Christmas less than twenty-four hours away, Rudolph’s condition was not good.

Earlier, after setting up the back seat for Rudolph and retrieving my phone from where I’d thrown it after being surprised by the elf, I’d counted off the reindeer names in my head.

So far, I had only spotted eight of the nine animals from the songs and stories.

They were all wearing red collars with a silver medallion with their names engraved on them, and it appeared as though Vixen was absent.

I hoped the reindeer hadn’t met a fate worse than Rudolph’s.

Once Rudolph was settled in the back of my car, the elf still banging and yelling at us from the trunk, I asked the other reindeer, again, for confirmation about what I should do.

“You want me to take Rudolph to my barn so he’s safe? And then maybe call a veterinarian?” No nose nudges to help me out. What did I expect? One of them to break out a to-do list for me or start writing in the snow?

The elf had seemed surprised that I could see the reindeer, and I wondered if it was possible because I believed in magical beings.

Only three of us in the GAL PAL group could see Estelle, Char’s fairy godmother, and her offices.

It had all been invisible to Samantha and Gabby, our nonbeliever friends.

Would Haden, a serious, grown man, even be able to see Rudolph?

Haden. I really didn’t want to call him for help. Yes, he was a skilled veterinarian. He was kind, calm, super knowledgeable, and animals trusted him. But what would I do if he answered my call, came, and then was unable to see Rudolph?

The reindeer looked at each other, then back at me.

They seemed to understand me, but so far had been only using their noses to nudge or prod me in the direction they wanted me to go.

Maybe the magical veil between our worlds didn’t allow them to interact like Estelle or the elf could?

Or maybe, because they were deer, they simply couldn’t talk.

“So? To the barn? Yes?” I repeated, feeling nervous.

I wished someone would take charge, and make me feel less like I was about to kidnap Santa’s most-famous reindeer.

I hunched further into my parka, stamping my cold feet.

The snow was already piling up in my convertible’s interior, and the drive home was going to be awful with the roof down. The sooner we got going, the better.

Comet—the reindeer with the most white in his muzzle—stepped closer.

I figured he must be second in command, and now in charge, since Rudolph was basically down for the count.

I braced myself for another fuzzy nose nudge.

At first I’d been delighted to be nuzzled by the beasts, but then one of them—Dasher—had nudged me a bit too hard, and I’d gone flying onto the snowy road, landing on my knees.

“Okay, I’m taking that as a yes,” I told Comet, noting that he had some sort of small red sack attached to his collar. None of the others had a sack, and I wondered what was in it.

“The barn will be fine while we decide what to do,” he replied in a deep, sage voice, and I jolted.

“Comet!” another scolded, his voice soft. I craned my neck, reading his medallion. Prancer.

I crossed my arms over my bulky winter coat, tucking my mittened hands in my armpits while I hunched down inside my parka and struggled not to react. The reindeer could speak—and in English. I didn’t know whether to faint or let out a sigh of relief.

“Talking is more efficient,” Comet replied to Prancer.

“No talking to humans,” Prancer said. It sounded as though he was quoting a list of rules.

“Hugo did,” someone said.

“He’s a traitor. A hypocritical, two-faced narc,” the one named Donner snapped. He had something green in his antlers, and I realized it was a lot of holly and mistletoe.

“Wait,” I interrupted, scanning the name medallions. “Which one of you is Hugo?”

“I am!” came a muffled voice from my trunk.

“Oh. Nice to, uh…” I was going to say ‘nice to meet you’ to the elf, but I didn’t make a habit out of lying. I pulled my toque a bit further down on my head as a blast of icy snow hit me. We really needed to get off the road.

“How does she see us?” one whispered to another, dark eyes watching me. “She saw his nose, but didn’t have to touch him first.”

“The wall between worlds…?” Prancer said pointedly. There was a warning in his tone, and it sparked a collective inhale, followed by a rise in overlapping chatter I couldn’t follow.

“Look,” Donner said loudly, and the side-chatter died immediately. He smelled like beer and corn chips. “She locked Hugo in the trunk.”

I shifted nervously, and considered popping the trunk, aware these guys could easily paw and stamp me to death with their big furry hooves.

“So, she can’t be all that bad,” he continued.

Wait. Had I scored a few points by immobilizing the rude elf, even though I’d basically run down their leader?

The group of dark reindeer eyes with their beautiful long lashes studied me.

“So, to the barn, and then call a vet? Because I know a guy. He’s really good.

” I felt like a stuck record. But the more I thought about our predicament, the more I wanted someone like Haden checking Rudolph over.

I might not adore the man any longer, my childhood crush and infatuation long ago squelched, but I still admired his skill set and calming strength in emergencies.

A riot of reindeer arguments for and against calling in a vet swirled around me like a sudden windstorm. My phone rang, and I stepped out of the circle of antlers to answer it.

“Hello?”

Char launched into conversation, sounding a bit breathless. “Estelle says Santa’s reindeer are real.”

I rolled my eyes. “I figured that out, thanks. They also talk.”

“Of course they do. Why wouldn’t they?”

“I don’t know. They’re reindeer?”

“Anyway, she’s going to call Santa. I hope it’s okay I gave her your number to pass along.”

“Yeah, no. Of course.” I wiped my forehead with a mittened hand, relieved to know that this mess would soon be in someone else’s capable hands. “What do I do until he calls?”

“I don’t know.”

“You didn’t ask?”

“No.”

“So what do I do?”

“I don’t know. Make sure Rudolph doesn’t die, so you don’t ruin Christmas?”

“Thanks,” I said dryly.

“You could make a wish, and have Estelle fix it.”

“Never.” I nearly ended the call on that note.

There were some things I never wanted to experience.

And being in debt to the magical world and having a drooling ogre eye me up like I was his next lunch…

I shuddered just thinking about it. Even though Estelle said her ogre buddy was vegan, I wasn’t sure I believed it.

Real-life vegans were known to make exceptions.

What if eating a human was an ogre’s version of a cheat day?

“I might still have some credit on my account at Your Fairy Godmother,” Char said, her voice rising like this was tantalizing information.

“Nope. Not risking it.”

“Why not?”

Why not? Was she kidding me? She’d wished like a crazy person and ended up owing Estelle more than she earned in a year. And to top it all off, she’d only had ninety days to pay it all off. Had she somehow forgotten about that mess, and how we’d all come together to help bail her out?

“Are you forgetting how awful it was? It was freaky and stressful.”

“You can use as many of my credits as you want. And, anyway, it all turned out okay.”

True. But I feared that if I decided to dabble in wishes, I might accidentally do it wrong and completely ruin Christmas.

Having Estelle contact Santa on my behalf felt safest. What was the point of having a fairy godmother if she couldn’t help you out in a pinch?

Char and I finished our call and, with a sigh, I turned back to the car. All eight reindeer were watching me, their giant antlers intimidating weapons in the illumination put off by my car’s flashing orange lights.

“Um. All decided?” I asked tentatively.

Comet said definitively, “Take Rudolph to your barn.”

“You’re coming, too, right?”

“Yes.”

“We trust you, but not that much,” one said. I think it was Dancer.

One of the more muscular reindeer stepped from the herd. His fur was glossy, and there were faded words painted on his rump that said Hitch me up . “Beat you there!”

“You don’t know where we’re going,” I grumbled, climbing into my car. Or maybe he did. Who knew how Santa’s visits really worked. Maybe his reindeer had internal GPSs as well as a mapped-out list of every human’s home address.

“Yeah, Dasher,” one of them chided, clearly delighted by the way I’d inadvertently put Dasher in his place.

“Are you flying behind me? How fast should I drive? Can you see without Rudolph guiding you?” I asked, aiming the car’s heater vents at my face, and feeling certain I was going to freeze to death driving between here and home with my convertible’s top down.

The reindeer began talking at once, with everyone having an answer, but Dasher’s was the loudest. They postured and pushed each other aside with their shoulders or antlers, trying to be heard, and to be the one in charge.

Men. It didn’t matter the species. They were all the same.

I put the car in gear and drove off without them.