As expected, the Clauses were less than thrilled when I told them of my suspicion.

“Are you certain?” Mrs. Claus asked.

“As certain as I can be without asking the trickster directly,” I explained. “It is the most likely target given the information we have gathered so far. I have been speaking with the elves and it appears that many smaller magical items have gone missing over the past few days. Things get misplaced all of the time during the twelve days, so they didn’t think it was related until I mentioned the possibility. Then they agreed with me that it could very well be related.”

“What nefarious thing do you think this trickster will do to land itself on the naughty list?” Santa asked.

While Mrs. Claus looks more like a modern stay-at-home mom who just so happens to love Christmas, Santa looks exactly like you would expect him to look. A jolly old man with a bushy white beard and a smile that made his eyes twinkle. I knew that beneath all of the story magic that wrapped around him like countless layers of bubble wrap, slept a particularly dangerous creature of chaos and greed. I had read pieces of his file before my first visit, but I never looked far enough to find what he really looked like beneath the magic. I didn't need to know. I didn't want to know.

“I think they are going to use the things they have stolen to bolster their own power, and that they are going to make a play for the vault. They are also going to set up some sort of distraction, something big and flashy to draw attention away from their real target.”

“They haven't made a play for the vault yet because they don’t want us to know that’s their target,” Maguire added. “That might also be why they haven’t gone for any of the other artifacts.”

“This trickster is smart. They want to keep our attention away from their real target,” I said. I hadn’t realized Maguire also connected those dots, though we had talked around it before I found the page about the cowl.

“I assume you have a plan.” Mrs. Claus looked at me expectantly.

“I do. Chances are that the trickster has no idea we know what they’re after. When they make their move, we play along. Respond to the distraction and let them think they have fooled us. If you will grant me temporary access to the vault, I have some tricks that will not only protect the cowl but also make it even more difficult for them to break into the vault in the future. At the very least, you will have plenty of heads up if they try something again, though they will probably give up and find some other way to cause chaos.”

“What do you need?”

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“I need time in the vault and as much privacy as you can give me. Maguire can be my eyes and ears on the outside, watching for any further actions or incursions by this trickster, just in case we miscalculated, or they have some unexpected tricks up their sleeve. Tell no one outside of this room what our plan is unless absolutely necessary.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me with you?” Maguire asked, sounding a little hurt. I turned to face him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“You have been with me every step of the way. You know my methods. You know what we are dealing with. I can’t be everywhere at once but what I can do is ask someone I trust to be on the lookout for any unforeseen problems. You know the case as well as I do, and you know the Pole better than I do.”

“I won't let you down.”

“I know you won’t.”

“You do hold a very special name on the list, and you have proven only to be trustworthy,” Santa said, sending Mrs. Claus a meaningful look.

“You will have access to the vault and whatever support you require,” she said.

“Thank you, both, for trusting me. I know it's a big ask.”

“It is a trust you have earned. Now go, do what you need to do. We will play our parts.”

“I will see you all at dinner,” I said. Then we all went about our business, and I made my way to the vault.

Few were allowed to know its location, and I only learned it when I was given permission to. It had old magic protecting it, older than the story surrounding Santa and drawing from sources far outside of the story. Even with the blessing of the keepers, I felt the power of the protection pressing down on me. It reminded me of the feeling in my chest when I stood near a speaker and the bass was turned up. That pulsing pressure settled firmly against my sternum.

I almost let out a sigh when I made it through the doorway unharmed. I took my time getting a lay of the land, carefully surveying the items stored within. Some were literally breathtaking with their intensity, and this was only the first level of the vault. The feeling in the base of my throat told me more power could be found below. I tried not to think about that. I had a job to do.

Of all the places in the North Pole, the vault was the least affected by the story magic and its hospitality. The walls and floors were smooth, bare stone, and the artifacts rested on unadorned stone plinths and pillars, evenly spaced around the edge of the room. A second circle had been started just inside of the first, hinting that they filled the rooms from the outside inward. If I had to guess, each time a floor was filled, they pushed it down and began again, meaning that beneath my feet rested endless history that I didn’t really want to think about.

Finding the cowl was simple enough. It radiated magic of a slightly shifting hue that tickled the back of my neck when I looked at it for too long. I started there, setting up wards and failsafes that would send the trickster far away if it got too close. Then I set up additional protections around the other artifacts. I paid special attention to the Book, which contained the names of all who were naughty and all who were nice.

I could only imagine how many people would pay a pretty penny for a peek inside. I was tempted myself. Tempted to find the page with my name to see what I could learn. I didn’t, though. I made more of a production of those protections, using its power as a red herring. Make the trickster think they were more steps ahead of me.

Then I settled in to wait.