Page 2 of Saved By Her Guardian (Yuletide Shifters #4)

The wind howled across Northernmost like it had a mind of its own, sharp and biting. Saint Nicholas—Santa to the world—stood near the Well of Magic, snow sticking to his thick, wool coat. He was aware of the cold but not bothered by it and had come outside for fresh air so he could think.

And mourn.

December was a particularly hard month, and not just because his brother had painted a perpetual target on his back and tried to kill him constantly.

In his hand he held an ornament the size of a plum.

A sugarplum , in fact.

It was a beautifully carved wooden sugarplum hanging from a red silk cord that his late wife, Maryann, had made for him.

She’d never gotten a chance to give it to him.

He’d found it under the tree after she was killed by his brother Angel—known the world over as Jack Frost—in retaliation for the death of his own wife.

A death Saint had been blamed for, but hadn’t caused.

The sugarplum was sanded smooth and enchanted with Maryann’s own witch magic so that it warmed whenever he held it. The note she’d placed in the box had said she’d wanted him to feel her warmth and love wherever he was.

Now he was just hollow and aching.

And constantly fighting for his life.

He whispered her name, and it vanished in the howling wind.

He squeezed the plum a little tighter, his hand warming, and lifted his gaze to the Well that was pulsing with golden light as it responded to the arrival of a trio of fairies.

Their delicate wings flickered with iridescent colors as they greeted their Guardian escorts—two of the nine shifters who worked for Saint at the top of the world in Northernmost.

The fairies came to the Well to replenish their magic, the golden glow of the Well mimicked by the Northern Lights overhead.

As the fairies finished, they walked with the Guardians to the Portal to return home, and he let his gaze move around the perimeter of the town, which was protected by his own magic and prevented anyone evil, like his brother or his followers, from getting inside.

The Well of Magic was the source of good magic in the world. If Angel took control and turned it dark, the world would be lost. Fairies, witches, warlocks—they would all turn to dark magic or lose their magic entirely.

But that wasn’t the worst part.

Christmas? Hope itself?

Would be snuffed out like a cigarette.

And that was something he would never allow to happen. He would fight to the death to ensure the Well remained good and his brother never gained control of it.

His phone buzzed, drawing his thoughts from his brother and the grief that was a constant prickle in his heart.

He put the ornament into his breast pocket and pulled out his phone.

With a hum of surprise at the name on the screen, he answered, “Hello, Mother Nature.”

“Hello, Santa.”

There was a brief pause at the formality in both their tones, and then they both chuckled. “How are you, Sylvaine?”

She sounded weary. “I’m well enough, Saint. How goes the good fight?”

I’m missing Maryann terribly. “I was just pondering how my brother might try to kill me this month.”

“He does like to put your feet to the fire in December.”

That was an understatement.

Sylvaine Calanthe, a.k.a. Mother Nature, was Santa’s magical counterpart, the most powerful witch in the world, and head of the most powerful coven, as well as the leader of all witches.

“What can I do for you?” he asked.

“I just got in the preliminary fourth quarter coven numbers, and I’ve noticed a disturbing trend. I believe your brother is involved.”

Saint listened intently as she shared her fears and asked for his help. When the call was over, he stared at the black screen for a beat, the echo of Sylvaine’s words rattling like sleigh bells in his mind.

The call was a warning.

Trouble was coming. Fast.

* * *

Santa paced near the picture window in the conference room that overlooked the Well. His whole body vibrated with tension, and he couldn’t stop moving, not with the news he’d gotten.

Nine Guardians filed in, their ranks made up of wolves, polar bears, and snow leopards. Alongside them came the elves who’d pledged to protect Northernmost.

Saint turned to face them as they took their seats around the large, oval table, resting his hands on the back of the chair at the head of the table, his knuckles turning white.

Without taking a seat, he said, “Thank you for coming. I got a call a little while ago from Mother Nature. As you may know, each quarter she receives an accounting of the membership numbers for every coven in the world. While the numbers for the covens outside of North America are steady, the numbers in North America have fallen sharply.”

He looked around the room.

“Isn’t there a normal ebb and flow to coven memberships though?” Ventura, one of the elves, asked. “Retirements, relocations, deaths?”

Saint shook his head. “This is different. It’s numerous witches disappearing without a trace.

No warning, no goodbye.” He let the truth settle over the males for a moment, and then he continued.

“There is no doubt they’re being taken by my brother, but whether they’re being killed or simply turned, we don’t know. ”

A heavy silence followed.

It was well known what happened to those Angel abducted.

He stole their magic and then imbued them with his dark magic, turning them into his evil followers.

Their skin would turn gray, their eyes entirely black.

Their morality and goodness gone in a heartbeat.

Some he did kill, but those he let live were forever corrupted.

Saint and the security team monitored Angel’s lair, but because it was underground, they had no access to it or anyone inside, save for the guards who stood watch.

Jack had lost his number two last Christmas when the male had tried to kill Santa as he’d returned to Northernmost on Christmas Day, but the hole in his hierarchy had been quickly filled by Azure, a warlock who had willingly given himself to Jack to turn evil.

His eyes weren’t just black, they were ringed with purple, denoting his magical history.

Shaking his thoughts to the present, Santa said, “I’ve looked at the warlock coven numbers, and just like the witch covens Mother Nature brought to my attention, members are missing without any indication of where they went.

Jack could be amassing an army, and that means that we may be facing a battle the likes of which we haven’t seen before.

Over the next twenty-five days, we’ll be changing schedules and upping security. Be vigilant and be safe out there.”

He dismissed the security members and stood in silence as they walked out.

Maverick, Chase, and Asher, snow leopards, remained.

“Yes?” Saint asked.

“Our alpha and his mate had a baby and have called for all members to return for the celebration this weekend,” Maverick said. “I know he reached out to you about letting us leave, but that was before things got considerably more dangerous with the abductions.”

Santa hummed and ran his hand over his beard. “What day is it?”

“The party is Saturday night,” Maverick said.

Chase shook his head. “We don’t have to go.”

“No, I think you should,” Santa said. “We’ve got two days to implement new security protocols before you leave, and we’ll pull in more of the elves to fill in the gaps.

I don’t want any Guardian to feel trapped here.

We should be able to keep our people safe if any of our security team needs to leave.

” He’d always let the shifters go home to see their people ahead of the holidays, and he didn’t feel right taking away their time from their families because his brother was a murderous asshole.

“We’ll leave Saturday and be back Sunday,” Asher said.

Santa nodded. “Thank you all.”

They nodded and left, and he was alone in his office once more.

Outside in the cubicles, his elf staff were working on the Naughty and Nice Lists and handling the day-to-day of overseeing a town full of magical people who protected the most important magical place in the world.

If his brother would just turn away from darkness, they could be a family again; they could start over.

But Saint wasn’t sure that even his powerful magic could strip his brother of the evil that had bloomed within him.

The simple twist of fate that Saint was born first had made him more powerful, but dark magic was different, sharper, and more toxic, and there was only so much that Saint could do.

It might come down to the point where he had to take out his own brother, but not before there was someone ready to take his place. The world couldn’t be without the bringer of winter.

He touched the ornament in his breast pocket. He felt the pulse of magic, and for the briefest of moments, he could still feel Maryann with him.

He knew that Angel was coming.

Jack Frost was planning to take over the Well and kill Santa, turning the world into a dark and unrecognizable evil hellscape.

The security team and the Guardians were integral in the stand against his brother, but the truth was that it all really rested on Saint.

And if he wasn’t ready, this might be the December that hope died—and darkness won.