Chapter Thirteen
A Favor
The Snow Queen’s fortress was high atop Mt. Menzelfrap, still within the protective dome put in place centuries ago when St. Nicholas first moved his operations to this secret location, but what could be several days walk through treacherous territory in inclement weather if one chose to travel by foot. Luckily, Corey had the ability to teleport himself magically and found himself standing outside her castle door only a few moments after ending his discussion with the man in charge.
While he could have easily positioned himself within the fortress itself had he chosen to do so, he rarely made the decision to disturb others so abruptly, particularly in a situation where he was in need of some assistance, and so with the bitterly cold wind whipping around, blowing the snow into his face and wreaking havoc on his carefully knotted scarf, Corey knocked on the nine-foot high silver encased ice door and waited for someone to let him inside.
In reality only a few moments had passed, and even though Corey was used to the cold, it seemed like an eternity before he finally heard the creaking of ice against ice as the door was pushed open just a sliver and an ethereal voice called out through the song of the wind, “What is the password?”
Stammering a bit as his mouth began to lubricate, Corey finally muttered, “Borealis,” and the door swung open, revealing a long winding hallway that appeared to be made of glass, though Corey knew the surface was actually polished ice, and the welcoming gesture of the two-foot tall pixie who hovered just above the door handle, her skin blue, her wings glistening in the light pouring through the translucent door. “Thank you,” he said as he brushed the snow and tiny ice chips from his shoulders and hair.
The fairy said nothing, only began to make her way down the hall, Corey in tow, her long white dress billowing around her as she went, looking a bit like a ghost from his vantage point. “I don’t believe Ingrid is expecting you, is she?” she asked in her heavenly voice.
“No, she’s not,” he replied. He knew that though he had never seen this particular pixie before, she certainly knew who he was or else she would have asked him to identify himself before she allowed him into the castle. “However, we do have a bit of business to discuss.”
They had reached the entrance to the throne room, and the fairy turned to face him for a moment, saying, “Wait here,” before she fluttered off so rapidly his eyes could hardly focus, and she became nothing but a blur. Once again, Corey found himself standing outside a large, impressive, polished silver door made mostly of ice. Though it was still quite cold inside of the fortress, it was nothing like standing outside in the bitterly cold wind, and he was quite content to wait a few moments for Queen Ingrid to make her appearance. He was certain it wouldn’t be too long. After all, they had been friends for many years, and she was always very prompt to answer whenever he came calling.
At this juncture, however, he must have caught her at a bad time as it seemed to be taking forever, and Corey began to pace outside of the door. Occasionally, a pixie or sprite would flutter by, and he would get his hopes up that the anguish of waiting would soon be extinguished, but almost twenty minutes--an eternity--passed before he finally heard Ingrid’s familiar feminine, alto voice cry out, “Corey, do come in.”
No one opened the door for him, so he pulled it open himself, astonished at how heavy a door made of ice and decorated with silver filigree could be. She was seated on her throne--also made of ice with silver snowflakes adorning the top, hand rests, and legs, dressed in a sparkling pink dress that reflected the lights gleaming off of the ice windows at the top of the two-story room. She held her scepter in her right hand, the snowflake perched on top identifying her with little room for error, and her crown of snowflakes and ice cycles, which encircled her white hair and rested behind her pointed ears. She was lovely, as always, with cheeks kissed by the wind and eyes the color of sapphires. Her skin was flawless and smooth, like the surface of the floor he crossed as he approached, and he immediately remembered the first time he had laid eyes on her as a small boy and how enamored he had become with this goddess of snow.
“Corey, to what pleasure do I owe this visit?” she asked, her melodic voice echoing off of the walls and bouncing around the chamber.
Before he replied, he dropped to one knee before her throne and took her hand, the signet ring on her finger glistening as he kissed the snowflake made of and encircled by diamonds. “Your Majesty,” he began, “you are radiant, as always.” He pulled himself to his feet as one snow white eyebrow arched higher over her left eye, indicating she was suspicious, but then, it was Corey, and there was usually good reason to be somewhat apprehensive, especially when he arrived suddenly and unannounced.
“How can I help you?” she asked calmly as she drew her hand back to the arm rest. “I haven’t seen you in… months.”
“Well, I wanted to give you some privacy. I wouldn’t know personally, but I can only assume that newlyweds do need a bit of time to themselves, don’t they?” he asked, burying his hands deep into the pockets of his coat and leaning back on his heels as he spoke.
Ingrid nodded sharply but said nothing, the suspicion in her eyes clearly still present.
“How is Jack anyway?” Corey asked, standing firmly on the floor again. “We are just about through his busy season, aren’t we?”
Ingrid pursed her lips a bit, as if she were thinking, before she replied, “There’s always some place on Earth in need of frosting, but he is due back any day now for some well deserved rest. I do long for him to return. It does get a little lonely up here, as you can imagine.”
“Yes, I know,” Corey nodded. “I’m sure you be glad to have him back and the two of you will enjoy some time together, relaxing, frolicking in the snow…”
“Corey…”
“Doing whatever frozen people like to do.”
“Corey, why are you here?” she asked, no longer willing to make small talk with her unannounced visitor who clearly wanted something.
Corey smiled at her, well aware that the purpose for his visit was known between both of them. At long last he said, “I’m calling it in.”
Ingrid cleared her throat. “I thought as much. What do you need?”
“Nothing too difficult,” Corey replied, turning on his heels and walking away a bit. “It’s something quite simple, actually,” he continued, still not facing her, using the tip of his boot to chip away at the ice floor. “In fact, I’m not sure it’s even worth a whole favor.”
“You get one favor,” Ingrid reminded him, shifting in her chair.
He turned back to face her then, still poking at the whole he had created. “Really, a small favor in exchange for convincing the entire council to change a human into a legendary being just so that he could spend eternity with you? Does that seem fair to you?”
“Corey…”
“Because it really doesn’t seem fair to me…”
“Corey,” she repeated, more sternly this time. Standing, and placing her scepter in its stand, she crossed the few steps to where he was standing, waving her hand as she did so to repair the damage to her floor. She stood in front of him now, her face only inches from his. “What do you want?”
Clearing his voice and adjusting his tie, he looked away from her for a moment, caught her eyes, and then glanced away again. “I need a spell, a location spell.”
Ingrid’s eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean?”
Once again, he could not meet her eyes. He stepped away, cleared his voice, and with a heavy sigh explained. “I need to make sure that once my new recruit arrives in the North Pole she won’t be able to leave again.”
“Won’t want to or won’t be able to?” Ingrid clarified, crossing her arms in front of her body and grasping one hand in the other.
“Won’t be able to,” Corey replied, turning to look at her. “It would be much more difficult to make it so that she didn’t want to, correct?”
“Yes.”
“I just want you to bind her to the North Pole… so that she can’t leave.”
“And what if she wants to go, refuses to stay?”
“She won’t be able to.”
Ingrid sighed now, placing one hand on her hip and scratching her head with the other. “I’m not sure I can do that, Corey,” she finally replied just above a whisper.
He looked up at her now, his eyes almost as intense as her own. “Can’t or won’t?” he asked, narrowing his gaze.
She looked away. “Certainly, you of all people understand my willingness to manipulate, to do whatever it takes in order to achieve one’s goals. It just… it goes against everything your people are doing here, everything St. Nicholas stands for.”
“Oh, please,” Corey huffed, crossing his arms across his chest. “Not you, too.”
“Well, it’s true…”
“Is it?” he asked, stepping towards her, his arms spread wide now in disgust. “Is that what we are really about? Making everyone in the world happy? Everyone? Or just the nice children? Or maybe it’s just the nice children who believe in Santa Claus? I forget sometimes. It all gets a little muddled together, you see, because, at the end of the day, from my perspective, what we are all really about, in my opinion, is getting the job done. We can tell ourselves all day long how great it is that children are happy that they have presents, ones most of them probably don’t really deserve, or that parents can look lovingly at the smiles on their little cherubs faces as they sing Christmas carols and eat ham while Susie squeezes a new stuffed bear and Johnny spins a new top--it’s a crock, Ingrid. You know as well as I do, it’s a crock. No one appreciates what we do anymore… no one.”
Ingrid’s eyes narrowed, a mischievous challenge twinkling there, and her cheeks had paled. She stared for a moment before asking, “Then why do you do it?”
Corey looked down at the floor at his own wavy reflection. Even through the distortions of the ice, he could see that he looked tired, aged, morose, agitated. After a thoughtful pause, he shrugged his shoulders and said simply, “It’s my job.”
“How very sad for you,” Ingrid replied, as she looked somberly at the acrimonious expression on her friend’s handsome face.
With a loud guffaw and a smirk, Corey responded quickly with, “I didn’t come here for your pity, Ingrid. I came here because you owe me a favor. Now, what do you say? Will you do it?”
She turned her back to him and crossed back over to her throne. He did not follow but waited as she opened the lid to what appeared to be a small table next to where she had been sitting. As she began to pour the contents of various vials into a small flask, he took a step forward, standing just over her shoulder. She was saying something, though he could not make out the words, and as she placed a cork in the top of the tiny flask, she squeezed her eyes closed tightly, her final words causing a spark of blue light to encase the liquid inside the container for just a moment before a ripple of magic emitted from within, sending a wave of light echoing around in all directions.
She turned back towards him sharply, looking him straight in the eyes. Holding the flask in both hands, she asked, “Corey, are you sure want to do this?”
“Yes,” he replied assuredly, his hand held out, open, ready to receive the magic potion he had been waiting for.
“Very well, then,” she said, handing it over at long last. “But, if you choose to use it, please be aware that it is very strong, and there is very little I will be able to do to reverse its effects. The efforts I have put into making this potion are considerable, and I hope that you will keep that in mind the next time you ask me for a favor.”
As he took it in his hand, he responded, “Don’t worry, Ingrid. I know what I’m doing.”
“I fear that you don’t,” she cautioned. “Magic is very powerful and it almost always has ramifications, often ones we cannot foresee.”
“Believe me, Ingrid, we are doing this woman a favor. You’ll see. She’ll be happy to leave her old life behind. She just doesn’t know it yet.”
Ingrid pursed her lips again, shaking her head slowly. “My sweet Corey, what have you become?” she asked under her breath so quietly, he could barely make it out.
But he did, and squinting his eyes at the woman who used to be more than a friend, he said simply, “I could ask the same of you, Ingrid,” before disappearing in a cloud of mist and glitter.
“Oh, poor ignorant fool,” Ingrid muttered despite the fact that he could no longer hear her. “If you had any idea what you were getting yourself into…. Now, you will owe me. And, regardless of whether or not you go through with your insidious plan, I’m afraid you shall be anything but happy when it’s time to pay the piper.”
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