Mr. Claus was not amused. He had been grabbed by two people after leaving a stadium and shoved into a black Mercedes van. He doesn’t remember much and figures they probably drugged him. On top of a massive hangover- again probably from the drugs- they have put him into some kind of track suit and it doesn’t appear as if they are figuring on letting him go any time soon. He is in what looks like a smallish hotel room but without a window and with a cast iron door without a knob or handle of any kind.
The door opened and a waif-like woman dressed in a flowing gown entered. She looked spooky with a blue tint to her skin and piercing gray eyes. Behind her there were two women in rough brown suede dresses and huge heads of brown hair. They weren’t twins but both had cold yellow eyes along with a fashion sense from a 60’s science fiction movie.
“Cailleach,” said Mr. Claus recognizing her instantly.
“Yes, Queen of the Storm Hags and Keeper of Winter,” said Cailleach in heavy Scottish English.
“And who are these two beauties with you?” asked Mr. Claus.
“That would be the lovely Skye and Ailsa,” answered Cailleach.
“Wulvers?” asked Mr. Claus.
Skye and Ailsa nodded their heads in affirmation.
“So what would a fine group from the pantheon of Scottish mythology want with me? I’m just a detective with a December side hustle,” said Mr. Claus.
Cailleach laughed and answered, “We want you to be comfortable here. December is going to be a long month for you and yours.”
