It didn’t take too long for Corey to navigate back to his home, considering he had magic traveling powers of his own, much like Santa’s though not as powerful, particularly when it came to speed and the manipulation of time. Nevertheless, he found himself pulling into what was now deemed the “airport” landing strip in no time, and the elves who oversaw the transfer of the flying teams to and from the barn quickly set to work freeing the reindeer from their harnesses, inspecting their condition, and moving them back to their stalls where they would be brushed, fed, and watered.Corey did not pause to speak to either the reindeer who had gotten him to and from his destination safely and speedily or the elves that greeted him as they went about their jobs. Instead, still keeping one hand securely in the pocket of his topcoat, he made his way swiftly back to his own lodgings, mindlessly nodding in response to a few passersby who yelled out to him in greeti

When Maevis stopped by later that evening, she found Serendipity fast at work as usual. She was certainly not in a talkative mood either, not that she usually was, but on this particular night, she only made the occasional grunting noise to either agree or disagree with Maevis’s questions. This was particularly true when it came to Maevis’s inquiries about whether or not there had been any follow up to the letter she had discovered earlier. She had asked almost immediately if one of St. Nicholas’s assistants had ever come to speak with her. Serendipity had made an awful noise in the back of her throat, one Maevis took as either a stern “no” or a complete refusal to discuss the matter, so she had dropped the subject, no matter how badly the urge to press further raged within her.After a few more minor attempts at starting a conversation, Maevis finally made an ethereal noise of her own, and crossing her arms sternly said, “Fine then. I

Serendipity sat the letter down on the table and gave Gypsim her full attention. “What is it, little friend?” she asked.Gypsim scampered over to the letter and began to point at it, as if her information had something to do with the letter. Serendipity didn’t understand. “The letter?” she asked.Gypsim’s head waggled up and down furiously. Serendipity continued. “You want me to know something about the letter?”Again, the mouse agreed.“Can you read the letter?” Serendipity asked, wondering if too many late nights had caused her to become delusional.However, Gypsim signaled that this was not the case. No, a mouse could not read human handwriting. Serendipity was puzzled again. “All right. But it does have something to do with the letter?”This was confirmed, so Serendipity made another guess. “Does it have to do with Mr. Cane?”Gypsim jumped up

“Well?” Mr. Waddlebug asked, impatiently tapping his foot as he stared at the mail shoot. Corey stood beside him, quill pen still in hand, his expression much more subdued. “What is taking so long? Shouldn’t we have heard back from her by now?”“She’ll respond soon enough,” Corey assured him, finally sticking the pen back in the magic ink he had used to write the correspondence to Ms. Fizzlestitch. The mailroom was really something else. This is where all of the letters to Santa--whether through regular post-dispatch or the preferred, up the chimney, method came to be read, considered, and recommended for fulfillment or denial. It is also where Corey came to write his own letters whenever he needed to communicate with a potential recruit. There was a smorgasbord of inks to choose from in every color, as well as every thickness of writing apparatus imaginable. The paper was smooth, the envelopes regal, and Corey always felt impor

While Serendipity understood what Maevis was trying to tell her, she shook her head. Damp, white ringlets flipped water out of the tub as she did so, further wetting the wooden floor. How many times had she tried to explain herself to Maevis before? More than she could count. “I don’t have a choice, Maevis. It must be done.”“You do have a choice, love,” Maevis corrected her, placing her calloused hand on Serendipity’s arm just above her boney elbow where it rested on the side of the tub and giving it a squeeze. “You have a choice every day. Do you keep trying to do the impossible or give up and sell the lot of the parts and maybe the house, too? You could take the money and start all over again, someplace far away, if you truly wanted to.”“It’s not that simple,” Serendipity replied, resting her forehead on her arm near Maevis’s chilly hand and drawing in a deep breath. “I promised my f