“You wanted to meet me?” asked the man in the black suit, sitting across from the man in the white shirt, red hoodie, and dark crimson jeans.

“I wanted to check on you, see how you’re doing,” said the man in red. “I know it must be hard.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” said the man in black.

“Come on, Krampus,” said the man in red. “I know it must be hard to spend this season alone.”

“Again, don’t know what you’re talking about, Santana,” said Krampus.

“For the last eight years, you’ve helped the bad boys of Clan Marron find their fated mates,” said Santana. “You’ve had someone to mentor, someone to guide, someone to change. This is the first year in nearly a decade where you’re not down in Washington, wrangling a werebear to bring him back up to The Wreath.”

“I only ever did all that as a favor to you. You want me to waste my time and not train a bad boy this year, that’s on you. Your sleigh, your life, your prerogative. You’re ‘Santa Claus’’ – I’m not. Only thing I miss is the pumpkin pie that Jasper’s wife always makes,” said Krampus gruffly. “I learned all I wanted to learn from those shifters – about how to be a bear. Not much different than being a goat, but now, I’ve got another shift under my belt. One perk of being a demonic shapeshifter – I can turn into whatever the hell I like.”

“I know all that’s a lie, and so do you,” said Santana. “This year, I want you to do something special for me.”

“Fine, what?” asked Krampus.

“I want you to find your own fated mate,” said Santana.

“You’re fuckin’ nuts,” said Krampus. “Fuckin’ candy and nuts.”

“I’m fuckin’ serious is what I am,” said Santana. “I know you. You need someone to take care of. You’ve spent the last eight years taking care of others, and this year, you need to take care of yourself, and that means finding a mate to care for.”

“You’re really wearing the word ‘care’ out, aren’t you?” asked Krampus.

“Look. I might not be a demon, Krampus, but I’m Santana Claus,” said Santana. “You know that I know things.”

“Then tell me how this conversation ends,” said Krampus.

“I know that you’re tired of being on The Naughty List,” said Santana. “Doesn’t take a genius to figure out that’s why you’re obsessed with getting bad boy shifters off that list. You can erase their names from that list, but yours is still there – written in bright green ink, just like the matching word on your chest. I also know what you want and what you need, even if you don’t.”

“And what exactly would that be?” asked Krampus.

Santana placed the palm of his hand down on the cafe table and lifted it up slowly. Underneath, a present emerged.

“Not this shit,” said Krampus.

“Open it,” said Santana. “What are you afraid of?”

“If I open this, and there aren’t keys to a new sports car, I’m gonna be pissed,” said Krampus.

Krampus carefully undid the bow on the top of the present before tearing open the wrapping paper.

“You always open them the same way,” said Santana.

“Because I can use the ribbon, not the paper,” said Krampus. “I’m making a big ol’ ribbon ball.”

Inside the red paper was a green box the same shade as Krampus’s eyes, with little cartoon devils embossed on it.

“Real funny,” said Krampus.

Krampus opened the box and pulled out what was inside. There was a fortune cookie. Krampus cracked it open and pulled the fortune out.

“Find your fated mate, and you will find true happiness,” said Krampus. “Great.”

Krampus crumpled the fortune up.

“Every year, it’s the same thing, Santana,” said Krampus. “Only thing that’s different is the lucky numbers on the back — and those have never won me jack shit.”

“Santana,” said a voice. “Krampus.”

Krampus looked up. It was her, the one woman he had barely gotten along with in all his years at The Wreath, the only being in the building with a power like his and Santana’s.

Krampus was never bothered by the icy Christmas blizzards, yet she was the one woman whose voice sent a chill down his spine. He’d always thought he was the dictionary definition of a ‘charming devil,’ but she was the one person who had always made him say the wrong thing or managed to twist his words.

Long ago, he’d decided that she would only ever be a coworker to him, that they’d just exchange civilities. Her domain was the cafe, and his, the camp. The fact she served the best coffee and pastries in town was the only reason he entered the Christmas elf’s domain as often as he did.

“Thank you, Avery,” said Santana as the woman put two paper coffee cups onto the table, along with two paper bags. “What’s this?”

“Thought you boys would need to take your coffee to go, what, with it being the busy season and all, “ said Avery with a wink. “Those are our pumpkin cheesecake Danishes. Thought you two might need the energy. I sent out an email blast about the new pastry. I swear the real meaning of Christmas might just be that you should check your mail!”

Krampus didn’t look up from the box on the table as Avery made chit-chat with Santana. He counted down the seconds until she left. Finally, he heard her feet leave their table and head back to the manager’s office.

“What was that?” asked Santana.

“That woman gives me the willies,” said Krampus.

“Takes a lot to scare a devil, doesn’t it?” asked Santana.

“She’s got a wilder tongue than anyone in The Seven Circles,” said Krampus.

“She’s always sweet as candy canes to me,” said Santana. “Must be a you problem.”

“You’re her boss,” said Krampus.

“Excuses, excuses,” said Santana. “Look, Krampus. We can do this every year. One year, it’ll stick.”

“What about you?” asked Krampus.

“What about me?” asked Santana.

“Why don’t you find a fated mate?” asked Krampus.

“No need for one,” said Santana. “I already have an adopted daughter who I love as if she were my own because she is my own. Don’t need a mate for that.”

“You’re a shifter, Santana, just like me,” said Krampus. “Old magic may run through your veins, but so do old desires. You know you need to find a fated mate, and soon.”

“Our kind doesn’t get mate madness,” said Santana. “In fact, I’ve never known one of our kind, not you nor me nor even that bastard Winter, to have been the mating kind.”

“I know your powers are waning,” said Krampus. “How long do you and Winter think you can play this game? I’ve turned a blind eye, but, what’s my purpose, as the Christmas demon, if Father Christmas himself loses his magic?”

“Fine, demon, let’s make a deal,” said Santana. “If you find a mate, I’ll find a mate. You go first. Prove that our kind, shifters of extraordinary power, can find fated mates. You do that, and I’ll find my mate next year.”

Wheels turned in Krampus’ head. As soon as Santana revealed that he didn’t have true faith that magical beings could have fated mates, well, he knew Santana was bluffing. After all, Santana had a past, and that past had involved a woman, and that woman had been more than a girlfriend, but never a wife.

If Santana didn’t believe in fated mates, then Krampus had nothing to worry about.

If fated mates did exist…well, then Krampus was fated to have one, wasn’t he?

The demonic wheels of logic had only started to turn in Krampus’ head.

The wheels of Fate had been spinning for quite some time, leading up to that very moment, and to moments yet to come.

“You’ve got a deal,” said Krampus, shaking Santana’s hand. “By now, I thought you would’ve learned not to make deals with this devil.”

Krampus stood up and left the table. Santana palmed the material in his hand — a few pieces of straw. He and Krampus both knew the truth. The only question was, would Krampus’ stubbornness lead to everything going up in flames?