[The Pittar's House on Christmas Day]

Jacob pulled himself out of bed, his feet recoiling from the cold floor
several times before they found the soft material of his slippers. He
rubbed his eyes, staring at the foot of his bed. A HUGE stocking dangled
from the bedstead, bulges and shapes distorting the shape. He ran over to
it, grabbing the toe and upending it over the bed. Tiny packages and shapes
bounced across the blanket, and he grinned wildly as he recognised one in
particular and grabbed for it.

It was a tiny tin, with bright pictures around the outside. Jacob lifted it
to his nose and sniffed deeply.

Peppermint!

It was his absolute favorite, and he popped the lid off, cramming first one,
then two, three - and then a fourth in his mouth. He emptied the rest into
his pocket, and ran downstairs, his cheeks bulging as he sucked the sweets.

"MAMA! PAPA! he shouted, as he burst into the parlour, doing his best to
keep the mints inside his mouth. "SANTA'S BEEN!"

A HUGE pile of presents lay stacked up around the tree, all shapes and
sizes. Jacob skidded to a halt on his knees, looking at them with his mouth
open in amazement. There had NEVER been this many before, he was sure.
Then his eyes lit up as he saw one in particular. It couldn't be... had he?

Jacob carefully lifted the package out from the others. It gave under his
grasp, but it seemed solid at the base, with the right sort of shape above
that might be...

Sails?

He ripped the paper off, laughing with delight as he uncovered canvas cloth,
and a wooden mast...

"Wooah..."

The ship was beautiful - an exact replica of a pirate galleon. Jacob turned
it around carefully in his hands, looking at the detail on the decks, the tiny
figures climbing in the rigging. Then he saw the name of the ship - and his
eyes widened even further.

"The Pauper's Spite."

He wasn't quite sure what it meant, but then he forgot all about it as his
finger found a tiny catch on the base of the ship. Jacob's forehead
frowned in puzzlement, not understanding what it could be for. He pressed
it, then laughed in glee as the tiny sailors jumped into movement on the
deck. They climbed up and down the rigging, hauled the sails up the masts,
and the helmsman swung the wheel back and forth, the rudder following the
movement precisely.

Small hatches opened along the length of the hull, each one revealing a tiny
gleaming canon. Perfect in every detail, the boat seethed with movement as
the crew moved back and forth, preparing their craft for war. Jacob saw
movement behind one of the canons, and looked closer, fascinated.

A tiny figure was lit by a sudden spark. It was the last thing that Jacob
saw. A loud crack sounded, and he screamed as a tiny lead canonball pierced
his retina, drove through the skull, and buried itself deep in his brain. A
second later, the scream cut off abruptly. Jacob fell backwards, the ship
tumbling from his limp hands as his head hit the floor with a sickening
thump. A small whisp of smoke rose lazily from the now motionless ship, the
scent of gunpowder hanging in the still air.

"Jacob? JACOB?" his father called, concern in his voice as he burst into
the room. "JACOB!" he shouted, rushing over to cradle his son in his arms.
"Oh Jacob, what happened..."

He wiped the trickle of blood from Jacob's cheek, only then seeing the
terrible mess that had been his eye.

"Jacob? Wake up Jacob, please wake up..."

He rocked his son back and forth, not registering that the boy's chest no
longer moved. His gaze glanced away for a brief moment, alighting on the
wooden ship that he had bought Jacob. He stared at it, uncomprehending.
The toyshop had explicit instructions to paint Jacob's name on the prow.
Instead, the words he saw chilled him to the bone. His mind leapt back to
that chance encounter in the street with the dirty urchin girl.

"NOooooooo" he wailed, despair cracking his voice. "He didn't deserve
this... WE didn't deserve this... BRING HIM BACK!"

He didn't hear the rapid footsteps approaching, nor feel the arms that
slipped around his as Meg held him close, tears running silently down her
own cheeks; all he felt was the pain tearing at his own heart as he realised
somewhere deep down, that his lack of kindness earlier had been repayed a
thousandfold.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


[Montfort]

A tiny speck in the sky rapidly grew larger, dark against the clear blue as
it descended abruptly toward the town below. The first few people were up
and about in the town, no doubt off to visit family. They drew a couple of
startled looks as the reindeer skidded to a halt in the town square, almost
plunging Spangle off into the frozen fountain.

"Listen everyone! Don't open the presents - none of them!"

One man smiled at them, shaking his head as he walked away.

"You've got to listen - please! Don't open them!" Spangle pleaded, looking
from face to face and seeing only vague amusement. What was wrong - didn't
these people realise what danger they were in?

"Oh Prince, what am I going to do!"

The elf paced from side to side, then started to run down the street toward
the first house. If the parents wouldn't listen, and if he had to rip the
presents out of the hands of the children to save them, then so be it. He
couldn't stand by and watch as Christmas in Montfort plunged the town into
some hellish nightmare.

Snow flew from around Spangle's feet as he ran up the steps to the first
door. He hammered on it, pulling the bell cord and crashing the knocker.

Silence.

He jumped up at the window, peering over the sill. A christmas tree stood
proud and tall, the baubles on it sparkling prettily. Beneath it, he saw
present after present stacked up. Spangle groaned, and did something he
never thought he was capable of. His fist pulled back, then smashed into
the glass, shattering the small pane. He reached around, opening the catch,
and swinging the window open.

Spangle climbed through into the small room, a flurry of snow following him
in. He kicked the presents away from the tree, then carefully picked each
one up and carried them over to the fire. Carefully banked up, the embers
glowed dully, but as Spangle threw the presents on, the wrapping paper
caught and flared into bright flames. Greens, blues and purples threaded
through the more normal orange and yellow flames as the paper curled off the
toys beneath. A squealing hiss sounded as paint bubbled, and moisture
forced its way out of the wood. Throwing the last one on the fire, Spangle
left the same way he had entered, satisfied no-one would be opening those
presents today.

He felt a moments regret, for breaking and entering wasn't something he
enjoyed. He knew the family would be devastated that their presents - for
which they had no doubt, worked long and hard to buy - would be no more than
smouldering ashes in the fireplace. But the alternative was too terrible to
think about. He shuddered, and ran down the street toward the next house...


---


[The Orphanage]

"Merry Christmas," Horace grunted to his wife as he shuffled into the
kitchen. "What's ta eat."

"We got leftovers from the restaurant... I snuck some out in me bodice."

"Great. There's lots o people out there with new stuff. Think we should
send the kids out ta steal some more?"

Reetha shrugged, not caring one way or another.

"Maybe later," said Horace. "I'm gonna have 'em clean up this house first.
Make it shine from top ta bottom. Then they can go out and steal."

"Yeah," Reetha mumbled. She had a turkey-leg in her mouth and was in no
mood to discuss anything else.

Horace pounded on the basement door.

"WAKE UP, YA BASTARDS!!! GET UP! YA GOT WORK TA DO!"

He heard movement downstairs, but not the usual yawning, crying and
complaining he was accustomed to. It was more of a scratching sound

"HEY!" pounded once more. "PAULY! BELTHIER! THE REST OF YA... I can't
remember all yer damned names... GET THE HELL UP!

More scratching, and then it stopped suddenly.

"Maybe their sleepy," said Reetha. "They were out late last night...
brought in a good haul, too."

"Ah, eat yer damned turkey woman. And hand me that lamp."

Reetha lit an oil lamp and handed it to Horace. He unlocked the door to
the basement and pulled it open.

Darkness split before Horace's lamp as he descended. He could see the
boys huddled in their beds, all covered up and facing the wall. Their lamp
had burnt out, but beside it was a large empty box and what looked like
scraps of wrapping paper.

"Hey!" said Horace. "You bastards holdin' out on me!"

Pauly rustled in his bed, but didn't say anything.

"What was in this box?"

One of the other boys shifted around. The top of his head poked out of the
rags. Funny... it looked green and scaley in the lamplight.

Horace picked up the box and looked inside. There were a few piece of
candy in the bottom.

"Oh HO! Found yerselves some candy and made yerselves sick, eh? GOOD!
Serves ya right for holdin out on me! Now GET YER ASSES up, ya got work
ta do!"

"...mr horace... im hungry..."

"Who said that?"

The voice came from the pile of rags where Jocob usually slept, but it
didn't sound like Jocab. Acutally, it didn't sound like ANY of the boys.

"...me to... im hungry too..."

"...yeah mr horace..."

"...yeah..."

"...hungry..."

"....sooooo hungry..."

"Shut yer yaps and GET UP! Maybe I'll feed ya once ya get some WORK done
around here!"

"...mr hooooraaaaace..."

One of the boys rolled away from the wall, and turned his face toward
Horace.

"WAAAAA!" Horace stepped back and reached for his knife. The face wasn't
Jacob, Belthier, or any of the others. It wasn't even human. It was all
green with splotches of red and brown... with an impossibly wide mouth full
of teeth. Little Sharp Teeth... like a mouth full of miniature daggers.
"What the hell! TAKE that mask off, boy!"

"....weeere hunnngry mr hoooraaace..." The thing stuck out its tongue. It
was a wicked thing, black and forked like a snake. It hissed, and another
boy turned rose from his rags. He was just like the other... green and
hideous. Slowly, one by one, they all started to rise.

"STAY BACK!" Horace yelled. He didn't know what was going on, but the
wasn't going to let these children scare him. "I said STAY THE HELL BACK!"

"...but weeere hunnnngryyyy...."

They all started hissing and moving towads him. They spread out and made a
wide circle. Their mouths opened and closed... the teeth were so tiny...
so sharp...

"All right!" said Horace. "First one of ya that gets close ta me gets a
knife wound! I MEAN IT! TAKE THOSE MASKS OFF!"

"...not massskss mr horaaace..."

"...soooo... hungry...."

"Belthier? Pauly! Jacob!"

One of the beasts reached for him... with a clawed, three-fingered hand.
Horace turned and made for the stairs, but two more of the children ran to
cut him off. He was surrounded!

"Okay... f-fun's over, boys. Boys?"

"...were hunngry mr horaace..."

"...feeeed usss."

They started to close in. Horace tried to keep his cool. They're just
kids, right? Kids wearing masks... and gloves... with sharp teeth, talons,
and forked tongues?

"F-food? Y-ya want food?"

Horace spun around, waving his knife as the creatures drew ever closer.

"We- we got s-some leftovers... Y-ya let me out and I'll... I'll throw some
down..."

"..noooooo, mr horace...."

"...weere hunnngry..."

"...we waaant youuuuuuu..."

One of the things leapt for him. Horace slashed at it with his knife, but
the thing was too fast. Its toothy mouth clamped down on his wrist...

...and Horace's hand came free with a crunch and a snap.

"AAAAAGHGHA!! REEETHA HELLLPPP!"

Something landed on Horace's back... it was joined by several more
somethings. Horace spun, spraying blood from his severed stump. He felt
something bite down on his leg and pull away a chunk of flesh.

"AAAOOOO GODS!"

Horace fell, and the boys all lunged for him at one. His legs and arms
went first, since that's where all the meat was. They stripped him clean,
ripping off hunks of flesh and sometimes crunching through the bone as
well. They ate so fast that he was still alive when they turned him over
and went for the rest of him.

---

"Horace?" Reetha rose from the kitchen table and waddled over to the
basement door. She'd thougth she heard screaming, but wasn't too sure
since she was concentrating on eating at the time.

"Horace?"

She tapped lightly on the door, then listened. It sounded like someone was
eating something down there.

"Horace, did those brats sneak some food down there?"

No reply, other than the unmistakable smaking and slurping of someone
enjoying a good meal. She wondered what it was. Something better than
leftover turkey, perhaps?

"Hmph."

Reetha pulled the door open, and all the noise instantly stopped.

"I know yer eatin' down there. I wanna know what it is."

There was no answer. Reetha couldn't see anything either... Horace's
lamp must have gone out. Was that somebody coming up the stairs? Yes...
yes it was...

"Horace?"

Too small to be Horace...

"Boys?

"RAAAAAAAA!"

A bloody green thing leapt from the darkness and sank its teeth into Reeth's
meaty shoulder. She fell; her enormous bulk shook the house when she hit.

"AAAA!"

She felt several sets of claws dig into her ankles, and then she slid across
the floor as they pulled her into the basement. Then a single green hand
grabbed the door and slammed it closed.

There was silence for an instant, and then...

"Boys NOOOOOOOAAAIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEE-"

Crunch

Slurp.

Smack.

Burp.


---


[Montfort]

Bang Bang Bang!

"OPEN UP! LET ME IN - FOR YOUR CHILDRENS SAKE!"

The high pitched voice rose over the laughter, and Terence looked up from
his cup of steaming mead. He glanced over at his wife, then sighed as the
banging commenced again.

"I'll go and see who it is, my dear," he said scowling. Some idiot, he
supposed, with too much Inebridee Gold sploshing about inside him.

Terence's feet scuffed along the carpet runner toward the door, the slippers

on his feet doing little to keep the chill from rising into his toes.

"LET ME IN!!!"

"All right, I'm coming!" Terence said in exasperation.

His fingers unlatched the door partway, allowing it to open a couple of
inches. What he saw astonished him. He was peering down at a short boy,
with - pointy ears? The youngster was hopping up and down, frantically
shouting at him.

"Presents! DON'T open the presents - you haven't, have you? Well have
you?!?"

"Slow down, and speak sense."

The elf was hopping up and down, trying to push in, but the gap was too
small. Terence noted he looked not dissimilar to the little men that helped
Santa Claus out, but everyone knew they weren't real... were they?

"You have to stop the presents being opened. They are boobytrapped.
Viciously. Lethally."

Boobytrapped? What on earth was this lunatic talking about. Why, just in
the other room his two children, Sandra and Samantha were opening their
gifts.

"EEEeeeeeeeeeeeeee!"

A sudden shriek stopped the elf at the door from his tirade, and Terence's
face turned ashen pale. He ran from the door, back down the hall to the
room where his wife and children were. He pushed open the door...

"Look Papa, look at what Santa left me!"

Samantha ran up to him, hugging his legs. She was holding a doll, almost as
large as herself. It wasn't something he remembered buying either of them,
and he was sure his wife would have said if she had bought it.

"Give that to me NOW!" he said, yanking the doll away from his daughters
grasp.

"Daddy, it's mine," she said, her mouth trembling and her eyes filling with
tears. "Santa left it for me, and he left one for S'dra too.."

"Sandra, give me that toy now. It's dangerous."

"Terence, what on earth are you talking about," his wife interjected as
Samantha started to cry. "Now now dear, I'm sure your father has a VERY
good reason for this, HAVEN'T you..."

"Well, my dear, there is this chap at the door, and he said that the
children mustn't have the presents, that they are..." his mouth formed the
word D E A D L Y to his wife silently, so that the children wouldn't hear
it.

"And just WHO is this person, and how does he know?" she asked.

Terence decided that she would never believe him if he told her who he
thought it was at the door.

"A town official," he said, twisting the truth more than a little.

"He says that the toys are faulty, and some of them are dangerous. So, I'm
very sorry, Sam and Sandra, but you see, both of you will have to wait just
another day or two to play with these until we get this cleared up. Just as
soon as the shops are open, I'll go back and buy you an even bigger doll
each, and much better toys."

"But... But we want them NOW!" exclaimed Sandra, stamping her tiny foot.
The ribbons in her fair hair trembled as she stamped her foot again. "I
don't CARE! I want my dolly - I want her I want her I want her!"

Samantha ran to the far corner of the room, and huddled next to the chair,
crying quietly. Her fist was balled into her mouth, and tears trickled down
to patter wetly on the carpet.

"Samantha, Sandra, this is for your own safety," Terence pleaded with them,
hoping he could calm the situation just a little bit. He put both dolls on
top of the dresser, well out of reach of the children.

"Do you think that's really necessary dear?" his wife said, trying her best
to comfort both girls. "They are only dolls, after all - how dangerous
could they be."

As if in answer, one of the dolls hands flopped over the cabinet, making all
of them jump as the porcelain chinked against glass.

"Well, I'm not going to take ANY chances where my precious girls are
concerned," Terence replied, smiling at the two distraught children clasped
in his wife's arms.

"Now, lets go and see what we can find to cheer ourselves up with in the
kitchen, shall we? I do believe I saw some tartlets in there earlier,
cherry ones too, if I wasn't mistaken..."

Terence led his family out to the kitchen, meaning to tuck the other as yet
unopened presents away safely until he could investigate them. The door was
shut again, and he wondered even more about the peculiar person that had
warned him earlier - he had fully expected to see the door still ajar, or
even wide open. The tartlets were piled high atop a plate on the kitchen
table, and he handed one to each of his daughters.

"Here we go, Sam - a lovely mince pie for you, and one for Sandra too..."

Back in the living room, the eyes of one of the dolls flickered open, the
long dark lashes revealing bright blue eyes beneath. Fantastically
lifelike, they gazed around the room, seeming to take in every detail of the
surroundings. One hand flexed slightly, the fingers tapping quietly against
the cabinet before it levered itself up on one elbow. The lacey dress
rumpled up as the doll swung its legs over the edge, looking down at the
floor far below. A smile lifted the corners of the handpainted face,
revealing a wickedly pointed set of teeth, then it toppled forward, tumbling
over and over to land sprawled in a heap on the carpet.