“Mele Kalikimaka is the thing to say on a bright, Hawaiian Christmas Day…”

Laylah stared out the window of her Uber as the song played on the radio. The snow was still falling fast, and her driver’s Kia was beginning to struggle in the conditions. Pausing at a red light, the car fishtailed as they turned right and the driver shot her a half-smile of apology. “Sorry, we’re almost there,” he promised.

Five minutes later, he pulled to the curb and unlocked the doors. “You sure this is where you want to go, ma’am?”

She pulled out the phone and, rather than struggle to read the message the brownie had sent her, just showed it to the driver. He scratched his head and checked Google Maps. “Yeah, this is the right address. Do you want me to wait for you?”

“No need,” Laylah responded, shaking her head. The man looked uncertain as she got out, but after a moment’s hesitation, he put the car in drive. His tires spun uselessly in the snow, gaining no traction at all, and he hopped back out a moment later, looking sheepish. “Hey, uh, can you maybe give me a push?”

She shrugged and, when he got back in, gave the back of the car a shove with one hand. It shot a good fifteen through the snow before the tires gained traction and the car slowly spluttered down the street. Laylah turned, not noticing the man’s incredulous stare, and surveyed her destination.

The street had once been filled with row houses, grand three-story stone edifices that in their heyday spoke to wealth and luxury, but that time had long since passed. Empty lots now littered the street, while here and there the shell of one of the old buildings still stood. Just three remained on her side of the street and only the one she was standing in front of displayed any signs of life, where a dim glow in the front room spilled out from between gathered curtains.

Laylah slipped the indigo backpack Jaz had given her off her shoulders and set it down in the snow. She rooted around in it for a moment and pulled out her gear. She tied the twin daggers around her waist, frowning a bit as the belt strained to buckle, and then added the short sword. The jerkin followed, not made of leather as she was used to, but some sort of strange synthetic fabric that Jaz had assured her was ten times better. She was about to affix her greaves when the door to the building flew open.

“Get out! And don’t come back till you have my money!” A voice roared. A moment later, a young man was sent flying through the door.

He landed on his back in the snow a few feet away from her and his eyes widened as he caught sight of her. “Who the hell are you? Some sort of cosplayer?”

Ignoring him, Laylah marched toward the still-open door and the source of the yelling appeared.

A tall man with gangly arms and an almost comically large potbelly stepped out of the building. Despite the cold weather, he wore nothing but a pair of ratty jeans and a white wife-beater that revealed arms covered in hair nearly thick enough to braid. “Who the hell am I? Who do you think you’re talking to…”

The man trailed off as he caught sight of Laylah. “Oh, so you weren’t talking to me. Run along,” he waved the man off and turned his attention to her. “Are you one of my subjects?”

He stared at her for a second, his eyes squinting into nearly vertical slits, then he shook his head. “That’s a damn good glamour,” the man grunted, “but don’t think that means you won’t have to pay. Rules are rules.”

Laylah approached the man slowly, keeping her hands within easy reach of her daggers. “Are you the red hat who is demanding payment of the browns?”

“I’m a redcap, damn it, not a red hat. What sort of moron doesn’t know the difference?” The man snapped.

“You should stop. Gareth’s red lord may not protect him, but I will not let you rob him.”

“Rob him? The only one robbing anyone is him. I’m owed my due and if he thinks he can just weasel out of it, he’s got another think coming,” he snarled. “What are you anyway? Some sort of do-gooder human who got dragged into this by a dumbass brownie. Leave now, little lady, while you can.”

Laylah shifted her position, readying her stance, and the daggers leaped into her hand. “Last chance,” she warned.

With a snort, the man waved his hand. The illusion around him shattered as he cast the spell, revealing a creature with a bulging pot-belly, gangly arms, teeth as sharp as knives, and two eyes that glowed red with murderous rage. He wore a knitted redcap on his head, and a long pike was affixed to his back. But Laylah had no time to stare as a giant block of stone was ripped right out of the house and sent flying toward her head.

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She dove forward, somersaulting head over heel. The block flew harmlessly over her head, smashing into the middle of the street in a shower of snow, as she rolled to her feet. With her dagger, she lashed out straight toward the redcap’s jugular, but her foot slipped in the snow. She fell, and the dagger careened down the side of the man’s leg, drawing an ugly, but unfortunately shallow, wound.

“Morrigan take you,” the redcap hissed angrily, leaping aside. His hands twitched again and another block of stone tore free from the wall. It whistled toward her and Laylah knew she couldn’t move in time. Blind Strength, she muttered. Temporarily dumping her points in vision into strength, she intercepted the block with her hand. A crack split the night and a cloud of dust followed.

The redcap only gaped. “Okay, you ain’t no human,” he admitted, “but I still won’t be denied my dues.” Unclipping the pike from his pike he leapt toward her, with the great spear aimed for her chest.

Laylah rolled to the side, and grabbing hold of the pike’s shaft, yanked it toward herself with all the might of her still-enhanced strength. The man was launched forward, straight into her waiting fist. With an angry yell, she drove him into the ground.

“Oomph.” The redcap sank into the snow with a pained grunt, and she raised her fist again, ready to strike. “Stop, stop,” he begged, rolling on the ground as he struggled to get up. “You win.”

She hesitated, her fist still held at the ready, as he scrambled out from beneath her. “I win?”

“Yes, yes, you won.” The redcap clutched his ribs and chuckled literally. “You won the award for being a dumbass,” he laughed. His hands splayed wide and five blocks of stone rushed past him.

Laylah screamed in pain as two smashed into her. She could feel her leg bend unnaturally upon itself, could feel her arm wobble uselessly as she was hurled back into the snow. Snatching up his pike, the redcap laughed maniacally as it ran toward her.

She struggled to breathe, the snow sending icy fingers curling down her back, but with her one good hand, she managed to unclip the second dagger dangling at her waist and, with a hope and prayer sent to Nahrēmah, sent it whistling through the air.

Perhaps the goddess heard her prayer, for it was the throw of a lifetime. The redcap swung his pike to intercept the oncoming missile, but it slipped past his guard and buried itself in his left eye. He staggered, the pike falling from his hands, and fell on his knees in the snow a few feet away from her.

The two injured combatants stared each other down, and the redcap raised his hand. His fingers begin to move, and Laylah, knew she had to act.

Agony lanced up her shoulder as she used her broken arm to thrust herself forward while she unbuckled the short sword. The sheath refused to slide off, and she was forced to swing it, leather and all, at the man’s hands like a club. The first blow wasn’t enough, but at the second, the crack of bone followed and his concentration dropped.

Cradling his hand, the redcap stared at her balefully as she finally managed to fling the sheath free. “You should have just surrendered,” she said, and the sword thrust forward.

With a groan of pain, she collapsed into the snow beside him, staring up at the heavens. Great, big snowflakes landed on her face, melting nearly as soon as they arrived, and her breath went up in clouds of steam. She lay there, panting for breath, as the snow piled up around until she finally managed to muster enough strength to root through her bag.

It was hard to find what she was looking for, a small package with an even smaller white, ring-shaped object that Jaz had called a livesafer. Eventually, her fingers closed around it, and tearing the plastic packaging off, she popped it into her mouth. The taste was a bit more pleasant than the healing potions in Corsythia, but it certainly did the trick just as well. With a pop, her bones snapped back into place and Laylah gingerly rose to her feet.

The dead redcap was sprawled next to her, with the pure white snow around him changed to a bright red. After a moment’s hesitation, she dragged him deeper into the snow, and buried him in the drifts. It took a little effort, but she shoveled more snow unto the blood until it stopped seeping through and then, recovering her weapons, she called an uber.

A different driver answered her summons, this time in a vehicle more suited to the weather. The man cast an odd look at her white jerkin and the daggers dangling at her waist. “There a big convention somewhere?”

She smiled politely, unsure what a convention was, and handed him her phone with the address. A half-hour later, she dragged herself back into her apartment.

“I saw mommy kissing Santa Claus…”. A high-pitched child sang cheerily about his mother’s adultery as she sank into the welcome warmth of her armchair. She promised herself that in a few minutes, she would get up and get herself some supper. Instead, beneath the warm embrace of her electric blanket and bespelled by the dancing lights of the tree, she drifted off into sleep.

When she awoke the next morning, her stomach rumbled angrily with hunger. Rubbing her eyes drowsily, she stumbled into the kitchen. There was still no sign of Jaz, but she decided she couldn’t wait to eat any longer. Setting a skillet over the strange, hot counter, she cracked a few eggs and tossed a few strips of bacon on. As they began to sizzle merrily, the smell began to assault her nostrils. She choked with a sudden sense of revulsion and then, clutching her stomach, raced to the bathroom.

She was still on her hands and knees when the door swung open. “Hello,” a merry voice called out. “Just thought I’d bring some food by and we could keep working on your English.”

Footsteps echoed behind her, but Laylah kept her head hovering over the toilet as Jaz entered the room.

“Oh? Did morning sickness finally hit? I was beginning to think you weren’t going to suffer that.”

Morning sickness. It took a moment for Laylah to process what Jaz had said. Morning sickness. But I’m infertile…aren’t I? She paused, remembering what she’d begged Jasper to do for her, and hope flared in her heart. Did Nahrēmah really answer my prayer?

Another wave of nausea hit her, and she hurled again into the porcelain throne. When she finally lifted her head up, Jaz met her with a cheery smile. “Merry Christmas, dear. Looks like your present came early.”