Chapter Five:

"Hello, Bernard." stated Cassandra. The elf smiled politely in greeting, and she adjusted her waist-length wool cape and smirked. She wore a pair of black, leather pants, a charcoal-gray sweater, and a messenger bag at her hip. She caught him looking at the way the leather hugged her hips and smirked, before she gestured for him to follow her. Parked in front of the Miller house was a black motorcycle. It had been a feel better present Cassandra gave to herself, in honor of her despicable breakup.

"What’s this?" he asked, inclining his head to inspect the vehicle. He knew what it was, of course, but that did not mean that he wanted to ride it.

"Its my baby." she stated, running her fingers over the handlebars. Quickly, she opened what was a compact trunk of some sort, and tossed him a sleek, black helmet.

"Nice." he said, smiling in approval.

She pushed her cape to one side, pulled a an equally slick helmet over her head, and straddled the motorcycle. She looked at him from under her eyelashes and beckoned him onto the bike with her head. He sighed and pulled the helmet on over his thick curls. It was a bit tight with the bulk of his hat underneath it, but he would have to endure the slight discomfort. Wouldn’t want Cassandra seeing his ears, after all.

"Okay, ready?" she asked.

"Do you know how to drive one of these things?" was his response.

"To a certain extent." She answered, smirking. Bernard felt his stomach lurch, then all at once she revved the engine loudly and sped away. They were flying at top speed down the street, making plenty of noise all the way. He tightened his grip upon her waist to keep from falling. Her hair whipped him in the face, smelling faintly of coconut.

"Where are we going?!" he called over the engine.

"To see Santa!" she shouted back.

~ * ~

Bernard felt ridiculous. He was the Head Elf of the North Pole, on a first name basis with Santa "Scott Calvin" Clause, and he was waiting in line for…

"This is stupid." He said. Cassandra ignored him and turned up her tape player so that the music in the headphones was that much louder. Sitting in a false-gold throne surrounded by plastic trees and foam snow was a fat man dressed in a cherry-red Santa suit. His beard was strapped on with an elastic cord and his spectacles were cracked. It look like Santa had was going through a tough financial time to Bernard.

"Sandra!" someone shouted, forcing their way through the crowd of children waiting in line. It was a tall, good-looking boy dressed in all black. He looked perhaps a bit too happy to see the eldest Monroe girl, and judging by the disdain in her gaze, she did not wish to speak to him.

"What is it, Travis?" she asked, though how she heard anything over the blaring rock music coming from her headphones was beyond her elf companion.

"I just heard about you and Ryan." He said, ignoring her tone. She pulled the earphones from their permanent fixture just above her earrings and glared at him.

"Yes, and?" she said, raising her eyebrows.

"I just wanted to offer my condolences." said Travis.

"Great. You’ve offered and condoled, now go away." snapped Cassandra, turning her back to him.

"Wait, I wanted to ask you something."

"Yes, no and no; in that order!"

Looking defeated, the boy stalked off, leaving Cassandra Monroe and Bernard "Elfman" alone in the crowded line.

"What was that?" he asked.

"He was going to ask: ‘Is that your bike out there?’ ‘Can I ride it?’ and ‘Wanna go out this weekend?’ – in that order." she said, rolling her eyes.

"I take it you’ve known Travis for a long time?"

"Prat’s been after me for ages. Am so bored with the lads right now." she said, reverting to her British alter-ego. Bernard was tempted to point out that he was a ‘lad’ but did not. Instead, he allowed her to return to her waiting and music-listening. She obviously didn’t want to talk about whatever was bothering her, and he would not force her to.

He – instead – focused on the voices all around him. Children, most of whom were nice as they could be, were silently listing what they were going to tell "Santa." Teenage girls of every shape and size were wandering aimlessly around the mall, shopping for clothes, jewelry, and boys, and though they all wished for something more, none of them had the desire to become the Light Giver. They didn’t even know who she was. Great.

"Cassy, we’re next." He said, nudging her. She looked dazed and somewhat outside her mind by the time it was their turn to sit on the false Santa’s lap. He still couldn’t believe he was doing this.

"Yay!" she exclaimed, clapping her hands together. She rushed right over to the pillow-padded man and sat on his lap gesturing for Bernard to do the same. He sighed and did as she wished, if for no other reason than to keep her from growing impatient. He stood next to ‘Santa’ and Cassandra, and smiled for the picture, then the two wandered aimlessly through the mall.

"So…why did we do that?" he asked.

"Because it was fun." she said. "Besides, its not Christmas unless I get my picture taken with Santa. You just happened to be with me when I chose to do it."

"Ah ha."

An uncomfortable silence passed between the two, then Cassandra got a brilliant idea.

"I’m bored." she said, turning to her companion. She had her hands clasped behind her back, and was swaying her shoulders as a child would. A naughty child with impishness on the brain.

"What would you like me to do about it?" he asked, uneasily. She chuckled lightly and tossed him something glittery and shiny. Instinctively he seized it and stared down at what he’d caught. It was a crystal cut in the shape of a star.

"Let’s go check out some shooting stars." she said, grinning.

They were on her motorcycle and headed north. Neither spoke for the duration of the ride, though conversation would have been difficult in any case as they did not have much in common. Bernard expected her to take him out of the city, but instead, no more than a half hour later, they parked in front of a huge building.

"A museum of natural science-slash-observatory. The closest we’re going to get to the stars in New York." she said, leaping off the bike. "Come on, Bernie."

"Bernie—?" he muttered, arching an eyebrow. She smirked and slung her helmet over her shoulder.

"Would you prefer ‘curly-locks’?" she asked.

"How about you just call me Bernard; which is my name." He said.

Cassandra walked toward the front door, swaying her hips in a most suggestive manner, and opened the doorway. A tall, thin man dressed in a pair of shabby jeans and a faded, black shirt embraced her then slung his arm around her shoulder to lead her inside. He had white-blonde hair, a young face, and violet eyes. He did not look any older than perhaps 25. Cassandra seemed to know him well.

"Bernard, this is Julian; he’s the manager of this place, and lets me hang out and look at the pretty things." said Cassandra. "Julian, this is Bernard Elfman. He’ll be following me around for a while."

"Nice to meet you." said Bernard and Julian at the same time.

The three entered the observatory where Julian disappeared into a booth at the far end of the room. The elf and girl took seats in the stadium-style theater and leaned back so that they could get a better look at the ceiling. Thousands of lights came to life over the brilliant, navy blue ceiling. Quasars, nebulas and comets came to life before their eyes, and the longer they sat there the more each tiny light resembled a star.

Julian came on the speakers, telling them that he had to do some filing, and that Cassandra knew how to turn off everything when they were finished; leaving the elf and human unsupervised…in the dark.

Bernard had never seen a brilliance like that, sparkling on command as if they were alive. One look in the Monroe girl’s direction made him smirk. She was watching the "sky" with half-opened eyes. She was trapped in her own mind, thinking of worlds beyond the imagination. He knew that because he’d read her stories. He knew her mind better than she knew herself, most likely. Cassandra Monroe, 20 year old college student, with little to no aspirations in life other than to write, was doing what she did best. She was writing. Writing inside her mind.

~ * ~

"Welcome to Monroe Manor." said Francesca. She opened the door and bowed so low that her nose touched her knees. Bernard snorted, trying desperately not to laugh at what a comical appearance the girl had, and waited for her to finish her speech. He’d been told to expect such a greeting over the phone, but he hadn’t expected it to actually happen.

"Hello, Frankie." He said, adjusting his hunter green barrette.

"Don’t interrupt." She snapped, glaring from under her mass of hair. She hadn’t yet risen from her deep bow. She had more of a recitation to recount, but Vanessa silenced her.

"Come on in, Bernard. Cassandra’s downstairs." she said, winking. Bernard did not want to even think about what was running through the hormonal teen’s thoughts. He followed the now-familiar path to Cassandra’s room and knocked on the closed door. Music was blasting, so he was not surprised when he received no answer. He was used to barging into her room now, after doing it every day for the past week.

He opened the door, which was conspicuously unlocked, and walked slowly into the bedroom. Cassandra was bent double with a blow dryer positioned at an odd angle above her scalp. There were a dozen or so candles blazing in her fireplace, offering light but not warmth. Yes, she had her own fireplace. Her entire room must have been built especially for her, for the eldest Monroe sister had her own kitchen, living room and washroom. She used the living room as a bedroom, the bedroom for a closet and the kitchen as her own, personal bakery. It was like a small apartment built into the house, really.

"What’re you doing?" he asked, bending himself so that he might be eye-length with the girl.

"Making bouncy hair." she replied. "Have a seat, I’ll be finished in a minute."

Bernard did not have to wait long. She eventually grew annoyed with her hair, tired of the endless combing and curling to keep it in order, and finally pulled it into a tail at the nap of her neck. She looked at him briefly from under what had to be the longest eyelashes he’d ever seen, then sat herself at her vanity.

"So, curly-locks, what would you like to do today?" she asked, slicking her lips with berry-tinted gloss.

"I don’t know." he replied.

"Well, you must have some idea." she pressed. He shrugged, making a devilish glint flash in her eyes. "I know." she murmured. "Lets make mischief."

Bernard, Number One Elf, eldest and most responsible of all the elves, was being asked to make mischief. How ridiculous. About the only thing that was more ridiculous was his reply, which was an emphatic yes. It wasn’t as though he had to worry about getting coal in his stocking, after all. Cassandra leaped to her feet, grabbed Bernard by the wrist, and together, the elf and the girl sprinted out of the house.

"Cassy, where’re we going?" he shouted over the motor of her ‘baby.’

"Hold on, curly-locks!" she shouted, gunning the engine.

‘Oh dear…’ he thought, before winding his arms around her waist. The two were speeding dangerously fast, headed south, with surprisingly little traffic standing between them and their destination.

"CASSANDRA!" he exclaimed, gasping. He knew where they were going, now. The neon lights and loud music was a bit of a dead giveaway. She screeched to a stop, kicking up slush in the process, and parked the vehicle next to a long line of equally – if not more – impressive motorcycles.

"Well? You agreed to make mischief." She said, steepling her fingers in a devious sort of way. "I’m getting something pierced. You’re welcome to join me, or mingle with the bikers."

"I’ll get pierced." He said, perhaps a bit too quickly. He had no wish to wander around the pool hall, and risk getting a human disease. Getting hepatitis or some such nonsense would not be a productive way to spend his time. Besides, he still had to figure out how he was going to find a new Light Bringer.

"Cool." she entered the building and began picking through the various studs for the perfect addition to her look.

~ * ~

She hadn’t ended up piercing herself. It had been too 80’s – or so she’d said. Instead, where there had been creamy flesh on the girl’s shoulder, there was now a rose. Bernard had not gotten pierced as he’d originally stated he would. He hadn’t planned on piercing or inking any part of his tender, elfin tissue, and she’d known it.

"Let’s go get coffee." she said, grinning.

‘Elves don’t drink coffee.’ he thought. Before he could state that he did not drink – nor for that matter even like – coffee he found himself being dragged into a Starbucks. It looked conspicuously like the one in which they had met.

"I’ll have a large, caramel-mocha latč, with marshmallow fluff, whipped cream and chocolate sprinkles. Bernard, what would you like? Its on me."

"Cocoa, with the same add-ons as hers." He said.

The two got a table and sipped their hot drinks in silence, each probing their minds for something to talk about. Bernard was still in shock after witnessing the ritual humans called "tattooing." He thought it was barbaric. Cassandra, on the other hand, seemed to be deep in thought. Her gaze was fixed upon her elf-companion, making him squirm, and her face was drawn and thoughtful. She sipped her caramel coffee anxiously, and looked at Bernard a moment.

"You ruined my notebook." She pointed out, after a long time. This made the elf jump almost entirely out of his chair, and choke on his cocoa.

"Uh…"

"Were you the one who brought it back…all fixed, too?" she asked. Bernard winced and rubbed his temples, cursing himself for ever leaving the North Pole. "It was you, wasn’t it?"

"…Yes…" he said, sighing.

"How’d you do it – fix it I mean?" she asked, cocking her head to one side. He slumped in his chair, and lowered his voice so that only she could hear.

"Magic." he replied, smiling. Cassandra threw her head back in laughter and flicked a sprinkle at the elf playfully.

"Is that so?" she asked. He nodded solemnly, yet at the same time he had an mirthful smile upon his lips. She rolled her eyes and took a long swig of her coffee. She folded her arms, trying to look menacing, but the whipped cream on her nose and caramel on her upper lip made her look quite comical.

Bernard laughed in spite of himself and gestured for her to clean up. Instead she simply dabbed at the corners of her mouth with a paper napkin, dipped her index finger in the gooey drink before her, and smeared the melted marshmallow sauce, whipped cream, and caramel onto the elf’s face.

"Now we’re even." She said.

~ * ~

"This is bad." stated Curtis. He and Santa peered into the Christmas Crystal, watching the interlude between the Head Elf and the Monroe girl. Coffee, cocoa and giggling. "Looks like a date." scowled Number Two.

"Leave him alone, Curtis." said Scott, smiling at the display. "He’s fine. Besides, didn’t you think it was endlessly entertaining when he went out with her the first time? And weren’t you blackmailing him with similar information?"

Curtis’ jaw dropped.

"Er…" he said, rubbing the back of his neck, uncomfortably. Santa chuckled deep in the base of his throat and bade the elf good evening. Curtis stalked out of Santa’s office and headed toward the Number One Elf’s office. He had to check the production lists before he could turn in.

He pulled out the brass keys Bernard had left him – which went to the Head Elf’s office – and raised one to the lock. Once inside, the child-like being began riffling through papers and parchment, searching for the listing of toys verses coal. He found it, with a spider perched contentedly upon the seal. Shuddering – as all elves loath anything that creeps and crawls – he brushed it aside and picked up the roll of parchment. That was when he realized that there were no bugs in the North Pole.

The door slammed shut, and the lights went out, plunging poor Curtis into darkness and fear. He heard evil-sounding laughter and the creeping and crawling of thousands of insects. A burlap bag-like being with black holes for eyes and a flap of fabric for a mouth appeared and growled deep in his fat throat.

"Sandy Claws?" he hissed, poking a snake-like tongue from his mouth.

"N-No…" said Curtis, looking petrified.

"Who?" it croaked.

"C-Curtis." he whimpered. The creature hissed at the child-like elf and smirked.

"What do you want?" asked Curtis, swallowing the lump in his throat. This seemed to amuse the creature, for he cackled darkly, and the insects that surrounded them hissed in hideous hilarity.

"Why how rude of me, you must be ready to flee." it said, turning to the bugs all around them. They crawled toward him and leaped into it’s ghastly mouth, making it’s sack-like body grow and bulge. "I’m Mr. Oogie Boogie, the new ruler of this place. I can see that you’re surprised, judging by the look on your face. That’s okay by me, as I really don’t care. I’m the new king – you see – and you aint goin’ no where."

The creature roared hysterically and suddenly hundreds of shadow-creatures scurried out of the cracks. They were not insects, but trolls. Each of them were about three feet in stature, with large, bat-like ears and huge, black eyes. They were inky in skin tone and stunk of sulfur and sweat. They were the coal miners.

‘We’re being attacked!’ thought Curtis, terrified. ‘Got to hit Elf-Con One!’ He stumbled toward Bernard’s personal computer to sound the alarm, but before he could press the ON button, he was pulled off his feet by a dozen or so trolls.

"Like I said, and I’ll say it again. You aren’t going anywhere, my short little friend." snarled Oogie.

~ * ~

Bernard and Cassandra were playing video games. A very productive way to end the day, if you asked anyone in the Monroe Household. Cassandra was whopping the elf in Super Smash Brothers, but Bernard had her beaten in The Legend of Zelda and the Ocarina of Time, as well as Final Fantasy VIII.

"I just kicked your pointy-eared ass!" announced Cassandra, who was playing the Pikachu character. Bernard played the Link character, as he’d done so well with it before. Of course, that had been a different game entirely.

"Not for much longer." said Bernard, pressing his special attack button. As the blonde, pointy-eared Link character powered up his glowing sword, Pikachu let loose with a thunder bolt, destroying the last of Bernard’s life points.

"I win." She said, grinning. Bernard smirked and shook his head.

"You’re very—" He didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence. All at once he had the worst headache of his life, and his ears were extremely itchy. He felt like someone had bashed him in the head with a blunt object. Had his ears fallen off? His eyes rolled up in his head and he fell, hard. The last thing he remembered hearing was Cassandra’s screams.

She tried to wake him, but was unsuccessful. She tried to arrange his limbs so that he wouldn’t have a stiff neck when he woke up, then grabbed her cellular phone from her purse. She had only just dialed the first 1 in 9-1-1 when Bernard’s hand rocketed up and grasped her wrist.

"I’m fine." he said, looking at her with glazed eyes.

"What happened?" she asked, looking terrified.

"Something not good…" murmured Bernard. Suddenly, he was unconcerned with Cassandra’s presence or the secrecy he was sworn to keep. He pulled a silver orb from around his neck and looked into it. It was a portable Christmas Crystal. He saw nothing.

"What is that?" demanded Cassandra. "What’s going on?"

"The worst possible thing." said Bernard, gravely. He rose quickly and grabbed his coat off the overstuffed chair where he’d thrown it. "I have to go."

"No way, curly-locks. Not without giving me some answers." She grabbed his arm, as if to stop him, but was too late. The elf vanished with a brief blast of sparks, taking her with him to God-knows-where.

End of Chapter Five.


Chapter 6
Back to the Shrine