Free The Dragon at the North Pole by Kate Klimo Page A

even deep under his spell, there was a part of you that resisted Beowulf’s power,” said Daisy.
    “A really strong part of yourself,” Jesse added. “Emmy, we’re proud of you.”
    “That’s why he wants to be my Keeper,” said Emmy sorrowfully. “If he is my Keeper, I can deny him nothing, including the Thunder Eggs. He can also get me to work the machine and bring in
more
Thunder Eggs whenever he wants.”
    “Don’t worry,” said Daisy. “We won’t let him be your Keeper, will we, Jess?”
    “
We’re
your Keepers, Em. And always will be,” said Jesse. “There’s just one thing I don’t understand. I can understand how easily Daisy and I fell under Beowulf’s masking spell, but how did he get to you?”
    Emmy thought for a moment. “I think,” she said, “that Beowulf might have been the Fang Fairy.”
    “What?”
Jesse and Daisy chimed.
    “Remember the fang I lost? I’m betting Beowulf stole it and used it to work a powerful spell on me. Of course, it helped that I wanted to believe in Santa with all my heart.”
    “I guess it figures,” Daisy said. “Fake Santa. Fake Fang Fairy.”
    “The next thing you know,” Jesse said, “he’ll beputting on a pair of long fuzzy ears and pretending to be the Easter Bunny.”
    “I think he’d rather be my Keeper,” said Emmy.
    “So where did you hide the eggs?” Daisy asked.
    Emmy held her paws palms up. “In the snow!”
    Jesse rolled his eyes. “This is the North Pole, Emmy. There’s nothing
but
snow.”
    “In a mound, in the snow, I don’t know, I can’t remember where! I was under a spell and my brain was all furry.”
    “Fuzzy,” Jesse said.
    “Oh, I am a very bad dragon,” she howled. “I
deserve
to have Beowulf as my Keeper.”
    “Don’t say that, Emmy!” said Daisy. “You need to have a positive attitude, and we need to have a plan.”
    But before they had concocted so much as a glimmer of a plan, there came a deafening pounding on the door.
    “It’s him!” Emmy whispered frantically. “Quick! Hide!”
    Emmy picked them up and put them on her ice bed, covered them with a fur quilt, then tossed the tinderbox and the backpack in after them. With one finger, Jesse held up a corner of the quilt so they could see out. Just before the door opened, the room lit up with a sudden green flare of light.
    The man who stormed into Emmy’s room no longer bore the slightest resemblance to Santa Claus. He didn’t even look much like the man in the photographs in the man cave. Or rather, he was a supercharged version of that man. Instead of a suit, he was wearing a stiff leather skirt and a leather vest. His arms and thighs were bare, scarred, and bulging with muscle. He wore scuffed leather gauntlets on his hands and high leather boots on his feet. Beneath an ox-horned helmet, his beard was white and his hair was plaited into two thick braids.
    While he might have been wearing a woman’s hairstyle, there was nothing womanish about him. The strong bones of his face looked chiseled from stone. From beneath bushy white eyebrows, his pale blue eyes burned with a fierce, predatory light. This, as anyone with sense could see, was a warrior. And the heavy broadsword hanging from his studded belt confirmed it.
    “Where is my Christmas present?” he said to Emmy. “I have waited long enough.”
    “You’re not Santa Claus,” Emmy said, leaning against the sagging mantelpiece. “What’s more, you’ve been a bad, bad boy, and you don’t deserve a present from me or anyone else.”
    Beowulf regarded Emmy through narrowedeyes. “I see my spell needs some touching up.”
    “You can’t help it if your powers are puny,” Emmy said, smiling and showing all her fangs.
    Daisy fumbled for Jesse’s hand and squeezed it hard. Jesse’s heart was hammering so loudly he was afraid the big man would hear it.
    Beowulf walked over to what was left of the fireplace and poked the ashes with the toe of his boot.
    “They were here,” he grunted.