Disclaimer: I and my writing accociates own the characters, but not the world. That belongs to the owners of Angel and Highlander.
Christmas on Market Street
"What the hell is that?"
Andrew Picardt turned around, as a heavy, scratching sound came from the back door. The door opened, and Andrew looked into the branches of a giant pine tree.
"It's me!" Murph McCormick's voice came from the other side of the branches. A few grunts followed, as Murph pushed the tree past the doorframe, and into the kitchen.
"There. Isn't it pretty?" he asked, brushing pine needles off his hands.
"It is. It also seems familiar. Isn't it the tree that stands on the corner, by the bus stop?"
"Well…no. Of course it isn't."
"Right. Maybe you should put a foot on it, before the others see it. If Father Christopher shows up, it wouldn't do to have a stolen tree in the house, you know. I seem to remember something in one of those 10 rules of his about not steeling."
"I'll put one on it right now. I'll carry it upstairs."
Murph lifted the tree up and began dragging it down the corridor, accompanied by the sounds of pictures falling and the occasional curse.
Andrew shook his head in mild amusement, and went back to the plate of cookies he had been preparing. Mercedes had made the plan for the Christmas party, and given them all jobs to do. He had gotten the task of baking the cookies, which was fine with him. A quick call to his mom in Calgary had given him the recipe for her sugar cookies, which had always kept the family begging for more.
He put the plate into the oven, and sighed. He had not thought much of his family since he had left for Washington a couple of years ago. They still called each other once in a while, but he had seen so much and had so strange experiences that they seemed alien to him now. How exactly could he explain to his mother that he lived in a house with a man who had helped defend the temple of Jerusalem in the 14th century…or a guy who could sling lightning bolts? It just wasn't possible.
He set the oven, nodded approvingly and was about to head into his office when the back door opened again, and Herbert Schmidt came in, holding a stack of Christmas presents balanced on his arm.
"Give me a hand, would you?" he asked, while closing the door with his foot. Andrew grabbed the upper three boxes and put them down. Herbert unbuttoned his coat and shook his hands. California never got exactly cold – but the last two days, a cold spell had hit San Francisco, and the unusual feeling of freezing had crept in on them.
"Did you get the iPod for Mercedes?" Andrew asked.
"I got the last one they had. Your share is 30 bucks."
"You'll get them later. What did you get Jim? I'm curious."
"The man is impossible to buy a present for! But I got him a copy of the new Brittney Spears album. I have no idea if he already got it, but…."
"I can't tell them apart. But he's got a ton of them in the car."
"And – I got this!" Herbert said, and pulled out a CD from his pocket. He inserted it into the radio on the table, and a chorus began singing "oh Tannembaum".
"What is that?"
"A collection of German Christmas songs. It reminds me of home!"
Andrew looked on the CD's cover.
"Oh du fröliche, stille nacht, das kleine junge im der aufnahmevorrichtung…seriously, this is too much! Please don't play it."
"Don't you have your own favorite Christmas songs?"
"I have a certain liking for the 12 days of Christmas, but I'm not going to play it on CD."
"Fine. I'll go up and get ready."
"OK, see you later."
And humming, Herbert took his CD and walked upstairs. Andrew heard the music begin again.
Jim Corrigan hated shopping. He had not done Christmas shopping for more years than he cared to remember, but this day, he found himself in a mall on the 24 th of December, carrying plastic bags around filled with presents and generally joining the large crowd of stressed-out people.
He made his way through the last of the stores, a bookstore where he had acquired a book about templar lore for Murph, who always loved to see himself in print. In this case, Jim had actually found an edition with a woodcut that could have been Murph…if you had a good imagination.
He felt utterly exhausted. Christmas was not something he had cared to celebrate – he had always been alone on Christmas, like on most other nights, and his most extravagant habit had been to go to the Christmas party at Convergence Club, where Bob always tried to keep people's spirit up. He himself was a great fan of Christmas, calling it "the biggest capitalist celebration of the year". But this year, since the team had nowhere else to go – Andrew's parents lived in Canada, Mercedes' entire family had been killed in the Moonlight Cove affair and both Jim and Murph had no surviving family – they had all agreed that they should have Christmas together. Jim had gotten stuck with the chore of buying the drinks for the party, and he now had assorted wine bottles, hard liquor and sodas filling up the trunk of his car.
As Jim stowed the last of his shopping in his car, he saw Father Christopher Vaughn on the other side of the parking lot, getting out of his rental car. Jim closed the trunk and waved his arms.
"Vaughn!"
Christopher saw him, and walked between the parked cars towards him.
"Hello, Jim. Merry Christmas. Or do you prefer "happy holidays"?"
"Only if you work in Macy's. Merry Christmas to you too. How are things? I take it you are not going back to England for Christmas?"
"No, I am staying right here. I thought I would do some work at a shelter for the homeless tonight, and then catch up on some reading."
Jim looked astounded. "You're kidding, right? Christmas eve?"
"It is a good thing on Christmas to help the less fortunate, Jim."
"That's not what I mean…reading on Christmas eve? As in sitting in your apartment, alone?"
"Yes, I suppose."
"You really shouldn't. Come to the house! We're having a big Christmas dinner. We'd like to have you!"
"Are you serious, Jim? A priest in your house on Christmas? Are you losing that sarcasm towards faith I've come to know you for?" Christopher smiled.
"It's got nothing to do with that…I like you, you know that. You're a friend. And friends have Christmas dinner together. Besides, everybody would LOVE for you to come. What do you say?"
"I accept your invitation, Jim. I have a few errands to run, but I will be there in…3 hours?"
"Sounds good. See you then."
As darkness fell on the Tempus house, the lights that Mercedes had put up around the windows and on the porch lit up, and glimmered in the night. Red, yellow and green stars curved around the windows and the chimney, and on the roof, a plastic Santa-sleigh rested, complete with plastic reindeer.
Inside, Herbert and Mercedes had finished decorating the Christmas tree in the living room on the first floor. Next to it was the big table, which Andrew and Jim had set out with porcelain Jim had gotten a long time ago. It looked very old, and very delicate. The smell of the ham from the kitchen mixed pleasantly with the smell of pine, cloves and oranges and the sweet scent of freshly baked cookies.
Herbert finished his tree decorating by lifting the star to the top of the tree by use of a small levitation spell. Then, he brushed his hands, and looked at Mercedes. Her eyes seemed full of the light from the candle flames, and it gave her a childish, cute look. He smiled at her, and she smiled back.
From the kitchen, Andrew came carrying the ham, and put it on the table. He was just about to call out to the whole house that the dinner was served, when he heard the doorbell ring, and father Christopher's voice from the front lobby. He then rushed down to greet his friend, who was in the process of taking off his coat. Andrew shook his hand.
"Father Christopher…glad you could come."
"Glad to be here, Andrew. Is that cookies I smell."
The sound of a phone came from Mercedes' desk, and she rushed down to get it.
"Tempus investigation, merry Christmas, how can we help…oh Kat! Hi! So good to hear from you. Where are you? Madrid ? How is the weather there? Oh really? Oh, I'm so jealous! Here it is freezing, dios mio! I am not used to cold, you know…what…oh I know…yes, I'll tell them all you said hi. Merry Christmas to you too. Bye!"
Mercedes hung up the phone and went back upstairs. She passed under the mistletoe, and paused for a moment, waiting to see if someone would emerge from the living room and notice. But when that someone turned out to be Murph, she quickly went back to the dining table.
Jim clinked his glass, and they all put down their forks and knives, looking at him as he got up.
"My friends", he began, "I'd like to tell you something. And Christmas is the best time for things like this, so…here goes. It's been…a long time since I had people I really called friends. And I know that a man without friends is not complete. I want to tell you all…Andrew, Mercedes, Herbert, Murph…Christopher…you guys complete me. And there is no one in this world that I would rather be with right now, on this night – than you. Merry Christmas."
He raised his glass, and they all raised theirs.
"Well said, Jim" Christopher said. "And in the words of Charles Dickens : God bless us - everyone."
They all clinked their glasses and drank. And outside, as Christmas eve went by, the house on Market Street was filled with a sense of love and Christmas spirit that kept all evil at bay.