Disclaimer: I do not own the Santa Clause trilogy. The only characters I own are my OCs.

A/N: Hello, everyone! Here's another chapter for you to enjoy. (= Sorry to have left you on that cliffhanger (I always have so much fun with my cliffhangers). Though, I'm sure there will be another sneaky one in here somewhere (hehe).

Enjoy!

Chapter Twenty-One : Bad Things

David...

The name echoed around Crys' head, accompanying the mental image of his face.

David was never supposed to die. It was all because Carma had abandoned her duties that he had succumbed to the horrors of cancer. Bad things always happen...because of her, she thought as anger fueled through her veins.

"You...you killed him," Crys hissed at her through gritted teeth. Carma did not deny it. A smirk was playing on her red lips. Carma had caused her so much pain that Christmas, had been the cause of so many tears shed.

"Yes, well...if it weren't for me, you wouldn't even have met Jack Frost. And he would still belong to me," she pointed out. Crys knew she was right about Jack-what would have happened if she had never lost David? This escape would have been my reality, she realized. Carma was dangling it in front of me.

"Is that the reason why you took him from me? You think he still belongs to you," Crys presented it as a fact instead of a question. Carma's smirk widened and she flicked a piece of her dark hair back.

"You're wrong, Crys. Jack Frost does belong to me. This-" She gestured around the room. "This will be our reality now. Once I've taken care of you, that is." Crys abruptly started for her, fists clenched tightly.

Carma's eyes narrowed and power crackled through the air.

Somehow, Crys' foot got caught on the edge of the bed. Her body went down towards the floor in one direction, her ankle in another. An audible snap! reached her ears seconds before the fiery pain shot up her leg. Bad things always happen...

Crys could barely move her ankle-it was badly sprained. Carma gave a low laugh as Crys tried to drag her body up from the floor.

A shelf above the vanity table creaked and splintered. In the next moment, it crashed against the vanity table. Crys did not notice it before, but Carma had a lit candle sitting there, the pale golden light creating a dancing shadow on the wall.

As the shelf came down, it hit the candle, sending it flying to the floor, right next to the bedspread that was drfiting to the ground. The bedspread instantly caught on fire, the flames spiraling up until the entire bed was covered.

Carma smiled at the fire as if it were her masterpiece of art. Unfazed, she glided over to Crys, who was sliding away from the bed.

Every time her swollen ankle even moved an inch, it screamed out in agony. She's going to leave me here, Crys understood as Carma grinned down at her.

"Oh, look at that," Carma mocked her while the flamed crackled, consuming the bed entirely. Soon the flames would lick at the wallpaper and then find their way to the curtains tauntingly hanging over the windows. "Need a hand?"

Down came Carma's high heel, directly on top of Crys' arm. Crys bit back the shriek that was rising in her throat. Carma stomped her high heel down again and this time there was a snapping noise much like the one that plagued her ankle.

Carma wasn't finished-her foot came in contact with Crys' chest, knocking the air out of her. Her voice came out in a raspy tone as she fought for air. Crys' good hand curled around Carma's ankle, but the girl easily shook her off.

"That should very well do it, don't you agree?" Carma brushed off her blood-stained dress and headed for the door. Smoke drifted through the air, choking Crys.

There was the sound of the door opening and closing and Carma was gone. Crys glanced back over her shoulder at the flames that were rising like a monster against the walls. I have to get out of here, she urged herself.

"Help...help!" She cried out, but her voice was weak and raspy. No one was coming for her and no one would even be able to hear her scream.

...

Scott broke away from the jostling crowds in the main foyer, the majority of which were still chattering about Crys' abrupt fight. It had been a risky act on her part and he should have expected that she would let her emotions get the better of her.

Find Jack. Fix this. she had said and he intended to. It was his fault that this mess had occured, anyway.

It was quieter near the Hall of Snowglobes. Scott could actually think instead of having every passing notion drowned out by the shrieks of children and the scoldings of the adults. Of course, he usually enjoyed the excitement of children, but there were much more pressing matters now. Like finding Jack Frost's snowglobe.

Jabbing the correct buttons and cranking the lever on the machine, the passageway revolved until Scott was standing inside the frosty white hall.

It never failed to amaze him-the beautifully intricate designs decorating the hall top to bottom, and the magical feel of the place that set it apart from any other space in the North Pole. Best of all were the countless snowglobes floating through the air, marking the many periods of Santas in the world.

In the center was an icy pedestal that was reserved for just one snowglobe-the snowglobe of the current Santa. Jack Frost, Scott sadly admitted as he approached the center of the room, his eyes glued to that spot. Except...

The snowglobe that belonged to Jack Frost wasn't there.

The spot was empty, with just an indent to prove there had once been a snowglobe resting there. Scott even ran his fingers over the indent, feeling nothing but cold hard surface, the pedestal completely vacant. That's not possible...where is it?

"Looking for this?"

...