Santana looked in the mirror, twisting as if he were going to take a pic of his round butt, but no, he didn’t have a phone out. He frowned at the mirror and looked at his lower back.

The damn ass antlers had grown. The sides of the Krampus Trampus Stampus were starting to snake around to the front of his abs. They hadn’t quite reached the front of his torso, but, the mark had grown from a medium-sized mark to a large tattoo that covered Santana’s broad backside.

Of course, it hadn’t just grown larger.

It had ‘grown’ frikkin’ butterflies, pink and white butterflies that were perched on the letters reading, ‘Naughty.’

“Frikkin’ Krampus,” cursed Santana, pulling his boxers up before sliding on the suit pants. He got changed and thought about the mess he was in.

He didn’t have a way to deliver presents on Christmas Eve. After all, he was still on The Naughty List, as evidenced by the mark on his ass.

Those two thoughts didn’t pass through Santana’s head.

Instead, he was reminded of why he had that mark — because he hadn’t ‘claimed’ his fated mate.

It was asinine. Of course, he’d claimed a mate — before, in the past — but Fate had made a mistake.

He’d have to be a real fool to try and claim a mate again. He’d be doubly a fool if he tried to reclaim the woman that had already spurned him before.

She’d left without saying goodbye.

It would take more than a few hellos to get her back.

And after the way she’d left, and why…well, he wasn’t sure he wanted her back.

Santana’s polar roared and called him triply a fool for trying to deny that he still had feelings for Befana.

“Shut up,” growled Santana. “If I didn’t have that mark, none of this would’ve happened in the first place.

The Naughty Mark? asked the bear.

“You know what mark,” said Santana, thinking of the mark on his chest. “If Fate hadn’t insisted that she was my true love, my fated frikkin’ mate, well…none of this would’ve happened. Mate marks. What a joke. Fate’s supposed to send shifters on a path to find their fated mates, with these marks as their compasses, just as I follow the North Star and the other constellations during The Ride…but, they’re not compasses. They’re curses. What happened with Befana…that was Fate playing a joke on an old fool.”

The polar bear growled back at Santana and told him that it wasn’t too late to walk down the path set by fate.

“Well, she flew off that path,” answered Santana aloud.

And you let her, insisted the polar.

“Yeah, see, this sort of commentary, this is why I’ve always hated being a shifter,” said Santana.

The bear had been challenged. With that, the polar started to force Santana to change. Santana looked down. White fur was bursting out of his skin.

“Oh, no you don’t,” said Santana, resisting the shift. “You think you can force yourself out? Mate madness, ha. I’m too strong. Don’t even try.”

And in the park? asked the polar.

“That was my choice,” insisted Santana. “I needed to get some air. You’re lucky I let you out at all.”

That’s what they all say, warned the polar. And then…well, you know what happens, when the madness takes over…

“You know, I like you a lot more when you hibernate,” said Santana, adjusting his tie.

Suddenly, his hand turned into a paw.

“Fine — tell you what,” said Santana. “Next time I’m stuck with her, I’ll let you handle things, okay?”

The bear roared in agreement, and Santana’s paw turned back into a hand.

Sucker, thought Santana. Not like I’ll ever see that witch again.

Santana put the finishing touches on his costume. Avery had always come up with the best themes for his annual Christmas party. How Krampus had landed a Christmas elf like Avery, well, that was beyond his reckoning. Apparently, the demon had done something right, if the Naughty man could get a woman so Nice.

Well, this year was the first year that Santana had doubts about whether or not the party would be any fun.

A Halloween masquerade? For Christmas? He had no idea what kind of candy canes Avery was smokin’, but apparently, she was phoning this idea in.

“Here,” said Krampus. “Can’t forget this.”

“This old thing?” asked Santana, taking the coiled leather whip from Krampus. “You know, this is why people started calling me ‘Leather Daddy Santa.’”

“So it’s classic — a tradition,” said Krampus. “You know, you make a very good Père Fouettard. People might start confusing you with him after they see you in this geddup.”

“I look like some BDSM billionaire,” said Santana, turning. He was wearing a tailored tuxedo. It had to be specially tailored, by the Christmas elves, to fit his broad shoulders and thick thighs. He was wearing a black velvet vest, with a jacquard pattern, and a matching tie — made of black leather. He had on a black leather belt with a gunmetal buckle and was wearing smart dress shoes. Across his torso, there was a black leather sash, sealed with fasteners, and on his back, a cat o’ nine tails, made of black leather, with tiny metal studs at the tip of each ‘tail.’

“Père Fouettard may not be celebrated as much as you are, but, you have to admit, you look just like him,” said Krampus. “Who says women are the only ones that can wear sexy costumes on Halloween?”

“But it’s not Halloween, it’s Christmas,” said Santana lamely, following Krampus out of his office to the elevator that would take Santana and Krampus to the first floor of The Workshop, with no stops in between.

Santana and Krampus got out of the elevator. All around them, there were Christmas elves — but they weren’t in striped red and green clothing, with bells on the ends of their shoes. They were wearing various costumes, dressed as monsters and ghosts and ghoulies, dressed as random sexy things, like glasses of milk, and dressed as not-so-randomly-sexy things, like nurses, policemen, and firefighters. They were all headed to the most massive event space in The Workshop.

Santana and Krampus moved into the crowd. It was odd — for the first time in a long time, Santana felt invisible. He was sure that some of his employees probably recognized him, but he blended into the crowd in costume with far more ease than he expected. Usually, he’d stick out like a sour thumb. Elves would come up to him with all sorts of complaints and suggestion. He was grateful that his employees came to him for advice and were passionate about their jobs, but he was also thankful that, at least for that night, he’d have a break.

Maybe Avery’s Halloween-for-Christmas party wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

Santana and Krampus entered the large event space. Masks were handed out at the front door. Santana picked a black domino mask, while Krampus, who was dressed as a sexy ghost, picked a white mask with a pointed nose.

The room had been transformed into a giant pumpkin patch, with sizeable carved jack-o’-lanterns everywhere, flowing shades of purple and green and orange. The lights were set low, flickering like candlelight, so it was hard to tell people apart. There was a buffet with hot chocolate, cider, and various libations with ‘fog’ spilling out of them, produced by dry ice. Santana and Krampus hit the bar, grabbing some absinthe cocktails which were bright green but tasted like licorice, and did the rounds.

Santana spotted Avery. She was dressed in standard Christmas elf party attire, with a green and red dress and matching green and red striped mask that covered her full face.

“Hey!” called Santana, waving to Avery. Avery waved back and walked over.

“Krampus, is there anyone I need to talk to tonight?” asked Santana. “Anyone special on the list?”

“I mean, other than Perchta and Befana…” started Krampus.

“What?” growled Santana, facing Krampus. “I don’t recall saying ‘trick or treat,’ so why the ‘trick,’ demon?”

“Befana?” asked Avery, her voice muffled by the mask.

“Come,” said Santana, walking over to a nook. “I’m surprised Krampus hasn’t told you about Befana.”

“Huh?” asked Krampus, confused.

Santana took a seat in an armchair. Avery and Krampus sat together on a loveseat.

“As you know from Krampus’ little show during Thanksgiving, I…have claim my fated mate this year,” said Santana. “Until I claim her, I won’t be able to fly my sleigh. I’ll be on…The Naughty List. Well, Krampus tried to help — by setting me up on a date with my ex-girlfriend, Befana.”

“She was a lot more than your girlfriend,” chastised Krampus.

“Fate made a mistake,” said Santana. “I was never meant to claim her. She wasn’t the one. No way.”

“Why not?” asked Avery, voice muffled. “Who is she?”

“Befana’s the Christmas witch,” explained Krampus. “She doesn’t deliver presents on Christmas, but on Epiphany Eve — the night of January fifth. She fills stockings, delivers presents, candies, you know the drill. She gets wine and pasta and figs instead of milk and cookies, and she doesn’t exactly ‘work Christmas,’ but she’s a Christmas witch nonetheless. Same season, same type of magic. Don’t see why that doesn’t make Santana here a Christmas warlock, but…well, we’re getting off track here. Santana, you know this story better than anyone.”

“You’re right — it’s just a story. I was a fool to ever think that what I had with her was some fairy tale romance. It was twenty-seven years ago,” said Santana. “The winter of 1989. Befana and I…well, I thought we were two of a pair. I’m Santa Claus, she’s a Christmas witch — associated with The Epiphany, but that’s part of the Christmas season, ain’t it? Well…trust me when I say she didn’t have to brew a love potion to get me to fall for her, and hard. I’d never felt that way toward a woman, felt those feelings, and…with Befana, things just seemed to make sense. I could be myself around her, around one of the few people in the world that knew what things were like, ‘working the holidays’ as it were. I was going to propose to Befana on Christmas Day…but I didn’t. I never had the chance to show her the ring, but she saw my other surprise for her.”

“What surprise?” asked Avery.

“A girl — a baby girl, a girl I’d found while on The Ride. She’d been discarded like trash, but, she was a great treasure to me, from the moment my eyes met hers,” said Santana. “I thought Befana had a lot of love to give, that she’d want to help raise a child with me…but, on Christmas Day, she was gone. She never wrote or called or tried to explain herself.”

“So the fact you saved that baby…that’s why Befana left you?” asked Avery gently.

“Yes — but I would never blame that baby,” said Santana. “I wanted to raise her — regardless of whether she’d have a mother or not. Befana made her choice — an unforgivable choice — and she, well…she decided that a future with me, and with Pandora, was a future she didn’t want any part in.”

“I see,” said Avery. “Well, thanks for finally telling me the truth, Dad.”

“Dad?” asked Santana.

The woman dressed as a Christmas elf lifted her mask. She wasn’t Avery after all. She was Pandora. Santana felt like such a fool. Of course, it wasn’t Avery! Avery had met Befana before, and she knew the story of why Santana and Befana had broken up. Plus, Pandora was taller than Avery. Santana had been so busy stewing in his own misery that he hadn’t realized that the woman dressed as an elf was Pandora, not Avery!

“Pandora, I —” started Santana.

“Dad, I think you’ve told me more than you wanted to,” said Pandora. “How about I get us some punch, and you, uh, finish group therapy with Krampus?”

“Hon, you don’t have to —” started Santana, but Pandora was already walking away. Santana stood, but Krampus pushed him back down.

“Let her go,” said Krampus. “She’s a grown ass woman, and she probably wants some space.”

“Glowsticks?” asked a voice. Krampus and Santana looked up. Avery was there, holding a tray of glowsticks, glow bracelets, glow necklaces, and other glowing items. Avery was dressed like a sexy pumpkin, wearing a green mask.

“Oh, fuck yeah,” said Krampus, digging through the tray and making something for himself.

“You couldn’t’ve shown up earlier?” asked Santana, raising an eyebrow.

“Huh?” asked Avery.

“He’s just mad because he confused you with Pandora, and told Pandora all about —” started Krampus. “Never mind. I’ll tell you later.”

“Oh, yeah — I guess Pandora didn’t get the memo that this was a Halloween party,” said Avery with a shrug.

“Hey, what do you think?” asked Krampus, who was now wearing a set of glow bracelets and necklaces interlocked into a chain. “Does this complete my costume?

“I don’t get it,” said Santana.

“I wear the chain I forged in life,’” replied Krampus, gesturing in the air. “‘I made it link by link and yard by yard; I girded it on of my own free will, and of my own free will I wore it. Is its pattern strange to you?’ You know that, right? You have to recognize those lines!”

“I’m drawing a blank,” admitted Santana.

“Come on, dude,” said Krampus, punching Santana in the shoulder. “I’m Jacob Marley! Like in the story? A Christmas Carol? What, am I the only one that loves those inspirationally dark Dickensian stories? Well, whatever. If I’m Jacob Marley, guess that means you’ve still got to meet the Ghost of Christmas Past, the Ghost of Christmas Present, and…the Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come. Ooh!”

“Don’t you mean ‘boo?’” asked Santana.

“No, I mean ‘ooh, there’s pumpkin pie over there, and I want it in my ghost belly,’” said Krampus, standing up and walking over the pastry buffet with Avery. “By the way…I invited some other folks to the party — eight special guests, but, only one could make it.”

“What are you talking about?” asked Santana.

“You’ll see,” said Krampus slyly, before going off to the treats table. Santana watched as Krampus got pie and talked to someone else dressed up as a ghost, a figure in a white sheet with holes cut out for eyes, wearing glowing green necklaces underneath the robes that gave them an ectoplasmic aura.

The ghost started walking over to Santana, who groaned to himself. Of course, Krampus hadn’t been joking about sending Santana some ‘ghosts.’ Of frikkin’ course not.

“Ooh,” moaned the ghost, holding its hands out. “Santa Claus, it is I…the Ghost of Christmas Past!”

“Uh-huh,” said Santana, his face in his hand, his elbow on the side of his chair. “And you are?”

“I just told you…I’m the Ghost of Christmas Past! Uwu!” said the ghost. “Now…have I been Nice this year, or have I been Naughty?”

“I have no clue — because I have no clue who you are,” said Santana. “Are you a Christmas elf?”

“No,” said the ghost.

“Are you…an ice elemental?” asked Santana.

“No-oh!” replied the ghost.

“Okay, I give up,” said Santana, throwing his hands in the air.

“I’m…a hooligan!” said the ghost, throwing the costume off, revealing that, underneath the costume, there was a man in a flannel shirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbows, wearing jeans and nice sneakers. The man had messy brown hair, brown eyes, and a mischievous look on his face.

“My, my,” said Santana, shaking his head. “Cupid – I mean, Rowan Hooligan? Seattle’s bad boy matchmaker?”

“In the flesh — or, the ghost costume, or, whatever,” said Rowan. “Avery and Krampus invited all the bad boy bears to this Christmas party. I was the only one that could make it — Holly’s having Christmas dinner with some friends — but I can only stay a while. I didn’t get the memo that it was…well, more a Halloween party than a Christmas party. Good thing Krampus had this extra costume for me. “

“Uh-huh,” said Santana. “And let me guess, Krampus also —”

“— told me that you might need some help from the best matchmaker he knows,” said Rowan. “Now, now, I’m not one to pry, but — Hell, of course, I’m one to pry. What’s going on, Santana?”

“I need to find a mate,” said Santana. “Thought I found her before. But, it wasn’t meant to be. Fate…well, Fate made a mistake. Krampus tried to help me find someone, but, he set me up with her — my ex.”

“So somebody is already playing matchmaker for you,” said Rowan, arms crossed. “Don’t think you need my help then.”

“Apparently, I do, because Krampus, y’know, picked my frikkin’ ex out for me,” said Santana.

“You said Fate made a mistake,” said Rowan. “What did you mean by that?”

“Well, as couples do…we, y’know…and my mark, well…you know,” said Santana.

“If there’s one thing I know as a matchmaker, it’s this,” said Rowan. “There are times we think Fate’s wrong — and those are the times where Fate’s doing something right. Trust Fate.”

“But how can I trust Fate, when she’s trying to guide me to someone that did something unforgivable?” asked Santana.

“There are two stripes to every candy cane,” said Rowan. “Talk to her. See if you can find some common ground. See if what you think is unforgivable is really unforgivable…or whether you got some forgiving to do, starting with yourself.”

“To be honest, I think I’m more confused now than when you came over,” admitted Santana.

“Move!” growled a male voice, dressed up in a green sheet with eyes cut out of the holes. An eerie blue glow came out of the eye holes.

“Excuse me?” asked Rowan with a frown.

“If you know what’s good for you, boy, you’ll make room — for the Ghost of Christmas Present!” growled the voice. “Now get!”

“Merry Christmas, boss man,” said Rowan, winking at Santana, before getting up to make room for the next ghost.

The ghost in the green sheet ripped the sheet off, revealing himself as none other…than Boreas ‘Old Man’ Winter.

“Boreas?” asked Santana. “What’re you doing here?”

“Got bribed to come down, by Krampus — demon knows how to get some good ice wine and fermented shark,” said Boreas. “Should be at home, making preparations for the coming storm instead.”

“Or, you could just not brew up a storm,” said Santana, arms crossed. “I guess you just love making my job harder.”

“How narcissistic — to think all the winter weather’s about Christmas,” said Boreas. “Bah humbug! Well, I ain’t here to talk about the weather. I’m here to talk about mates. There’s another kinda storm brewing — the kind in your soul.”

“The what now?” asked Santana.

“You’ve always been a passionate man — unlike me,” said Boreas. “I’m cool, calculating — would never fall for lusty passions as you have. It’s one of the reasons I’m surprised that you fell for her in the first place.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” lied Santana.

“Befana,” said Boreas. “You know — the curvy witch you could never keep your eyes off of? And then, for no reason, you two broke up. She left. Well, I guess now you see how it should be. Magical beings, beings like you and me — we’re not meant to find love. We’re meant to be alone, you know.”

“Speak for yourself,” growled Santana. “You may be cold, unfeeling, but…”

“But if you’re different, then where’s your mate now?” asked Boreas, standing from the chair. “And why don’t you go to her? I’ve done my part. I’m not the Ghost of Christmas Present, Claus — you are.”

Boreas got up and left. Santana sat, alone, in the lounge area, watching the party rage on. Many people were in groups, but there were some pairs, dancing together, staring into each other’s eyes, through the tiny holes of their masks. Santana wondered if he’d ever have that again — and whether maybe it was time to have that conversation with Befana, to see if there was some excuse for her inexcusable actions.

“This seat taken?” asked a voice.

Santana had not seen the third ghost coming, as it was enshrouded in black.

“Let me guess — Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come?” asked Santana.

“That’s what Krampus told me I am,” said a voice. “Not quite sure what that means, but…” The figure took off the black sheet, revealing that they were dressed up as a frikkin’ vampire — an interesting look, for an ice elemental.

“Jack?” asked Santana. “Jack Frost?” He recognized Jack, even though he was wearing a blood red domino mask.

“Tonight, I’m Frost Bite,” said Jack. “Get it?” Jack showed his vampire teeth off to Santana.

“I get it,” said Santana. “What are you doing, engaging in Krampus’ shenanigans?”

“To tell you the truth…he said he’d help me find Pandora if I just did this one little thing for him,” said Jack.

“Did what?” asked Santana.

“Came over, as some sort of uh, hopeful omen or some weird demon shit, I don’t know,” said Jack. “I forgot the script. He’s really…theatrical.”

“You can say that again,” said Santana. “So. You. My daughter.”

“Uh…” started Jack.

“I’m glad she has a friend her age,” said Santana. “Your father and I might not get along…but you’ve always been a good guy, Jack — even if you pretend to be a bad boy. What is all that about anyway?”

“I don’t think Pandora likes good guys,” said Jack. “I don’t think she’s into the ones that express their feelings.”

“I don’t think she likes good guys either,” said Santana. “I also don’t think she likes bad boys. I think she likes you — her friend — no matter what wrapping paper the gift’s wrapped in, even if the wrapping paper is a vampire costume.”

“Really?” asked Jack.

Santana took a minute to compose his thoughts.

Krampus had sent over three ghosts.

Rowan Hooligan — the Ghost of Christmas Past, proof that a magical being could find true love, that Fate was right, that sometimes, we needed to follow our hearts, especially when our minds thought they were smarter than they were.

Boreas Winter — the Ghost of Christmas Present, a mirror of Santana, his rival, his peer, his equal in many ways, but proof of what life would look like for Santana if he didn’t find a mate…or trust in Fate.

Jack Frost — the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come, there was no doubt in Santana’s mind that he’d end up with someone special, the most special person in Santana’s life, his own daughter Pandora.

Would Santana follow in the footsteps of Rowan Hooligan, a simple shifter with a blind belief in Fate, who let Fate see for him what his mind could not see? Or, would he follow the path of Boreas Winter and remain alone, a way many thought was the only path for extraordinarily magical beings — at least until Krampus claimed Avery?

For Jack, for Pandora, Santana knew he at least had to try and find a mate, because if he could do it…well, there was hope for his daughter to one day find love too, even if that just meant opening her eyes to the young man, dressed as a goofy vampire, that she was meant to be with.

“Look at Krampus and Avery,” said Santana. “Those two are dressed up as a ghost and a pumpkin, but they look at each other like they’re the only people in the world. Ain’t that much different from putting on a leather coat to play bad boy, now, is it?”

“Guess not, Mr. Claus,” said Jack. “You think Krampus’ll tell me how to find Pandora, given I kinda fucked this task up?”

“Don’t sweat it,” said Santana. “Pandora’s easy to spot. She’s wearing a green and red dress, a matching mask, and…”

Santana had spotted his daughter from across the room.

That wasn’t what made him stop talking midsentence.

What made him stop talking was seeing who his daughter was talking to — a curvy woman dressed up as a witch, complete with a toy toad sitting on the brim of her black hat. The woman was wearing a purple lace mask that couldn’t hide her gorgeous eyes from the man who missed holding her gaze.

We made a deal, said the polar bear inside Santana.

“We did, didn’t we?” muttered Santana. “I made a deal with a demon, knowing that was foolish, and then, I made a deal with my shift. I’m a fucking fool.”

The polar roared its order at Santana, compelling him to approach Befana and —

“No,” said Santana. “There’s no way I’m —”

The polar bear forced Santana’s ears to turn white and furry — furry enough to scare away even the most experienced waxer.

“Fine,” said Santana. “Let’s go.”

His ears turned back into normal human ears.

“Who were you talking to?” asked Jack.

“You’re still frikkin’ here?” asked Santana. “Christmas business, boy, none of your concern! Now…I think we have some ladies to talk to.”