Chapter 1
“Breaking news: Santa is killing people.”
Talia
“Sorry to interrupt your daily weather report, but we have breaking news. Hillsbury has been struck with its very own serial killer.”
What in holidays name…
“A muscular man dressed in a Santa Claus suit has been spotted leaving multiple crime scenes covered in blood.”
I spit my coffee out like a TV show spit take. No fucking way. My head whips toward the TV to see them pull up grainy cell phone footage like this is a 2005 Bigfoot sighting.
A tall, muscular man, dressed as Santa with the shirt open to show his abs — which are drool-fucking-worthy — is seen leaping off a roof with a full present bag that appears to be holding a body.
Well fuck me with a candy cane.
Our sleepy little town finally has some real news, and of course, it’s a super hot shirtless serial killer. Because, ya know, why not.
The man in the video nearly makes it around the victims house until he turns and looks right at the camera as if he knows he is being filmed. And then he smirks.
Oh, my. He’s so good looking it hurts.
The footage cuts out right as I’m questioning my sanity sitting here wondering why the murderer is that attractive or why his bright blue eyes look like they are glowing like an animal.
The channel cuts back to the news woman sitting there in her long sleeve black cardigan, clutching her pearls with terror in her wide brown eyes.
“Officials say he is choosing victims at random and that he seems to be unearthly strong, leading us to believe he is on some new super drug. Stay inside as much as you can, lock your doors and windows, and do not open the door for anyone you don’t know.”
The man beside her slides her a note. She looks down at it, and her eyes widen impossibly more making her resemble a cartoon character. “I just got an update. The latest victim was found an hour ago. He was choked to death by having mistletoe shoved down his throat. The killer uses anything as a weapon. Stay vigilant, everyone. More information to come soon.”
He killed a man with mistletoe. My sick mind finds that funny, but I know this is going to ruin my week. I have so much shit to do, presents to buy, cocoa to sip, and now the police are pretty much putting us on lockdown.
Why does this shit always happen to me?
A knock on my door startles me and I jump in place right as the news anchor clears her throat.
“Once again, do not open your doors for anyone you don’t know. Stay safe, everyone.”
Another knock.
The comedic timing is iconic. Of course, someone would knock on my door right this minute.
“Coming!” I call, shoving the blanket off my lap. Standing, I start to walk to the door when the knocking gets louder.
Stronger.
Harder.
The door shakes.
I pause.
“Who’s there?”
Oh, well aren’t I just so that girl in every horror movie ever.
Aggressive knocking.
“I said, who is it?”
The doorknob jiggles, and my stomach hits my feet.
Why does this person need to be such a creep right after that news story!?
“Who is it, dickwad!” I shout angrily. “If this is a joke, it isn’t funny!” If this is my sister, I’m going to sock her in the nose.
The jiggling stops.
“Open the door, Talia.” A deep mans voice. My gut clenches at the same time the hormonal part of my brain flips because of how sexy his voice is.
The rational part of my brain, however, knows I do not recognize the voice and that I am in danger.
Logic is proved right when the door starts to shake again.
