Blame Jenn if your Christmases are forever ruined. Twas all her fault for the idea.
And the blood is all Luna.
:D
"Wakey, wakey, cream and cakey!"
Shawn groaned when the soft voice in his ear roused him from his blissful state of unconsciousness to one of a percussion section on meth in his head.
He lifted his head and forced his eyes open a crack. When that didn't yield much more pain he opened them further and blinked to clear them.
And promptly jerked back to escape the manic elf grinning at him from approximately an inch away. That overbalanced him and he tumbled backwards, landing with a crash. More pain came then since his arms were secured behind him and therefore crushed between the back of the chair and the cold cement floor.
He stared up at the unfinished-warehouse-type ceiling, panting heavily through his nose at the way the new injuries amplified the headache and sent the drummers into a frantic overdrive. Someone needed to tell them that nobody won a competition by breaking their instruments.
He didn't think anything had been broken or dislocated in his fall but he couldn't be completely positive. He could only hope for the best and some painkillers. Or more unconsciousness and an ambulance.
Death was also an option, but not his top choice just yet.
The elf returned, gripping the edges of the chair and tipping him back up onto all four feet.
He wished he could tell her exactly what he thought of this shoddy treatment, but the wide ribbon that doubled as packing tape over his mouth made that difficult so he settled for attempting to spontaneously develop real psychic powers.
He'd prefer the ability to make her head explode, but he'd settle for telepathy so he could communicate without needing his lips. The only question once he succeeded would be whether he should first yell at her or call for help.
He'd have to work on doing both at once.
She brushed at him as if to make him more presentable and he pulled sharply away from her hands with a glare.
She just flashed an even brighter-and-yet-less-mentally-stable grin and then walked away.
"Mmph!" he tried to yell at her to come back, but she just ignored him and kept walking.
He huffed and slumped in the chair—as much as his bonds would allow, glaring at her until she was out of sight.
Well this was just peachy.
He wasn't even entirely sure how he'd gotten here . . . wherever here was, he amended as he looked around to try to answer that question at least.
The utilitarian walls and rows of shelves loaded with boxes confirmed the earlier 'warehouse' assessment. The question was, what kind of warehouse? And why was he here?
And why had he been kidnapped by an elf from Santa's workshop?
Okay that last part wasn't entirely correct. Shawn seriously doubted that if Santa existed he had elves who were dressed like she had been.
Not unless Santa's secret alter ego was that of Hugh Hefner.
But no matter how physically attractive she may have been, the air of insanity that surrounded her was a serious turn off. Not to mention the psychotic percussion party that was still raging in his head.
He winced at the renewed fervor that thought spiked in the volume and intensity of the pounding.
All right. Time to get serious about changing his location to one where he could get some of the good-yet-legal drugs available to the medical profession.
What did he know?
1. He was in a warehouse.
2. He was tied to a chair and gagged. An experimental tug on his wrists told him he wasn't going to be busting out of her Hulk style—and his captor had a thing for Christmas. At least, he thought she did.
Besides the elf getup, he was pretty sure that his hands were secured with garland. Really freaking STRONG garland, but garland none the less.
3. He was in a LOT of pain.
4. He had been abducted by the Playmate for December—who would not be winning any awards for sanity this millennium.
What did he not know?
a. How in the name of Kris Kringle he'd gotten here.
b. Where exactly here was.
c. What the crazed up Froot Loop of a centerfold wanted with him.
Okay.
So where did that leave him?
Still tied up and as confused as ever.
He was contemplating the wisdom of trying to bounce and/or push his chair to a new location that might yield him some more useful information when the click of spike-heeled footsteps indicated a return of December the Half-Baked Elf.
Or not, he corrected when his visitor rounded the corner.
She was dressed like a Elf Bunny as the other had been, but her hair was blonde to the other's red.
Also, Shawn knew for a fact that she wasn't crazy.
"Mm-mm-mmph?" he questioned, eyebrows raised.
She gave a nervous glance around, but her bright and vapid smile never faltered.
"Someone's been a bad boy this year," she said coyly, though for who, Shawn didn't know. Unless they were being monitored electronically. He filed that away for later.
The slight quaver to her voice gave away her nerves, but she was doing an admirable job otherwise.
Then she sat on his lap, draping her arms over his shoulders and his eyebrows inched higher.
Okay he really wished he had telepathic powers right about now so he could ask her what the heck was going on.
She giggled inanely, then leaned down until her lips were just millimeters from his ear.
"Lassiter and Chief are tossing a coin as to who gets to shoot you first with the new tasers," she whispered as one of her hands slid down his back. She was holding something, but what exactly he wasn't sure until it was applied to the bonds on his wrists.
A quick yank and she'd sliced through the restraints. He started to bring his arms forward, but she stopped him, tucking the garland ends into his hands and folding them into fists.
"Not yet," she explained. "We've got SWAT on the way though they may not get here in time. Be ready to either run or hit the deck when the time comes. Oh and, you may not have to worry about the tasers. I'm pretty sure either Gus or your dad will kill you before that."
She pulled back a little to look him in the eyes, then kissed him full on the mouth.
"And if you think you can avoid dinner with my parents by getting killed, then you've got another think coming, Psychic. Good luck."
With that Juliet stood and sashayed out of sight once more.
Leaving a thoroughly befuddled and somewhat dazed Shawn to wonder if he'd already been given some drugs—though not of the painkiller variety obviously.
Pushing down the urge to flex his arms since obviously he was being watched—a glance up pinpointed the black blister of a security camera on the ceiling.
Yup. Dang.
But where were the bugs for sound?
He gave the area another sweep but saw nothing immediately obvious.
Oh well. He knew they were there.
Not that it mattered much since he couldn't speak. But still, it was good to know. He'd just have to wait for help to arrive.
With nothing else to do until the cavalry came charging in, he tried to recall what had brought him to this vaguely hallucinatory point.
Nothing immediately popped into his head so he backtracked to earlier that day—or what he thought was earlier that day.
He remembered going to the office to retrieve his Christmas present for Juliet . . .
The door was unlocked.
He'd thought about calling Gus and pulled out his phone . . . and then it ended abruptly at that point.
That probably explained his pounding head and the period of unconsciousness.
It didn't do much to explain the rest of it.
Especially not Juliet's undercover presence here.
He wasn't terribly surprised to find that he wasn't having the same reaction to her as December. In fact, he was rather happily distracted for a few minutes with the repeated instant replay of her visit.
Sometimes he loved having a photographic memory.
His happy ruminations were unfortunately interrupted by the arrival of more visitors. Several if the number of clicks were any indication.
Then the entourage rounded the corner and his eyebrows ran to hide under his hair.
It was a whole calendar's worth of Elf Bunnies. All of them were on the REALLY side of attractive, but only one was on the STABLE side of mentality.
He got nervous for a moment when they started to form a circle, but the kept it to a half so Juliet's preparations weren't revealed.
And then came the ring leader.
No Elf Bunny here. She was the Mrs. Claus Bunny of the lot. Complete with red velvet cape lined with fur and what might have passed for a dress on a very short and thin twelve-year-old.
"Well, well, well," she drawled as she sauntered over to him and bent down to put her eyes on his level. "Mr. Shawn Spencer, pet psychic of the Santa Barbara Boys in Blue."
She caressed one cheek with her hand, then slipped the edge of a blood red nail under the edge of the duct tape. With a vicious tug she ripped it away.
"Ow-how-how-how-howww!" He bit the inside of his cheek, resisting the urge to curse at the new pain that joined the headache and his arms in screaming at him. He leveled a glare at her but she just straightened and put a hand to her open mouth in mock dismay.
"Oh I'm sorry. Did that hurt?" She bent down and took his chin in her fingers.
"Poor baby," she crooned and pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth.
He jerked away and she laughed and straightened once more.
"I have to admit, Shawn. Can I call you Shawn?"
"No."
"Fantastic!" she said, flashing a grin.
"So, Shawn, I'm very disappointed in you."
"It's one of my strongest virtues," he replied. "Just ask anyone. I excel at disappointing people. My father can barely admit he spawned me at times because of it. And Lassiter, wow. He-"
CRACK.
The slap left Shawn's ears ringing and notched the volume on his headache up a bit more. Lovely.
He worked his jaw and rolled his shoulders.
Then he coughed deliberately. "Ow?" he said in his most smart-aleck tone.
She ignored him except to smirk at his pain.
"Do you know why I am disappointed in you, Shawn?"
"Because I'm shorter than you expected from my news clips?"
"Because you couldn't leave well enough alone."
Shawn frowned.
"Okay. I have no idea what you're talking about."
"I tried to be nice," she said, still ignoring him. "I tried to give you a chance to back off. But you just couldn't keep your nose out of my business." She glanced at one of the Elf Bunnies nearest him. "Sharla?"
Shawn's eyes flicked between the head nutcase and her loyal minion until Sharla stopped just in front of him.
"That's a really nice costume you've got there, Sharla. Is it-"
He choked on the rest of the words as his head was snapped back with a solid punch to his nose.
He didn't know if it was broken—frankly the only reason he knew she hadn't knocked it clean off was because it hurt so dang much—but he was quite sure there was blood. He could feel it dripping down to where he could taste it on his lips, and there was a hint of liquid copper in his throat as well.
He coughed again and leaned forward, remembering only at the last second that he had to pretend to still be tied up.
More blinking and muttered cursing followed as he tried to assess the damage and regain his equilibrium.
Finally he looked up to see Sharla had retaken her spot and Chief Crazy Bunny was smiling in a not-very-reassuring way.
"Now, Rudolph, have I made myself clear?" she asked. Leaning down once more, she lowered her voice.
"Stay out of my business."
He was about to say that he didn't even know what her business was when he had a sudden flash of memory.
A series of robberies from wealthy men all over the county had been stumping the SBPD's finest until Karen finally gave in to Shawn's begging and allowed him to look at the case files.
He'd come up empty too until he'd happened to stumble on a connection between the victims that hadn't been immediately obvious—until one angry ex-wife had ratted her former hubby out during Shawn's investigation.
All of the victims were patrons of the woman standing before him, one Candy Cane, Proprietress of the Santa's Little Helper Escort Service.
Her girls were the scouts, weeding out the marks from the other clients and then doing the recon necessary to enable Ms. Cane to take advantage of future appointments. While the men were being seen with a beautiful young thing on their arm at all their Christmas engagements, their houses were being looted of all the valuables they'd left behind.
What Shawn still didn't know was how Candy had found out. He hadn't even had a chance to tell Gus yet what he'd found, let alone Lassiter and Juliet.
Although, Juliet's presence here suggested that she and her partner had somehow drawn the same conclusions that he had.
He was both unhappy and alarmed with how that had led to her going undercover among them.
Apparently he'd been silent too long because his chin was grasped in her talons once more, his eyes forced up to meet hers.
"Are. We. Clear?" She squeezed and Shawn gasped, adding gouges from her claws to the list of injuries he was accruing.
He wanted to be able to give an accurate tally to the paramedics when they finally got here.
"As a bottle of Absolut. Can I go now?"
She stared at him for a minute longer and he dared to hope she might say yes.
Then she grinned and all his hopes when down the toilet with a swirl.
"You know, Shawn, you shouldn't lie to me. I'll tell Santa that you belong on the Naughty list."
Shawn snorted.
"Has anyone ever told you that you are seriously cracked? Because I've seen car windshields after a head on collision with a Mack Truck that are more intact than you."
Her smile did a sharp one-eighty into a scowl and he was left wishing he'd learned how to keep his freaking mouth shut.
She let him go and straightened, her cold eyes still locked on him as she gave him an assessing sweep.
"Girls, I don't think he understands what I mean. Explain for me, would you?"
Oh man, he thought, swallowing as he took in the dark looks on the Elf Bunny faces. This was going to hurt.
Unless . . . he could run.
Juliet said that the SWAT was coming, but that they might not make it in time.
They were all wearing stiletto heels. He had on sneakers.
They couldn't possibly catch up to him. He'd be out of here and set to meet the SWAT team halfway before they could even make it out of the warehouse he'd bet.
Then his eyes met Juliet's and his plan crumbled.
And once he was gone they'd immediately start looking for an explanation as to how he'd gotten free.
It would be quite obvious that he'd still been tied up when Red had left and had only had one visitor since then.
Crap.
Well, there was only one thing left to do.
He shot up and out of the chair, headed straight for Juliet.
Valiantly ignoring his protesting muscles he ducked slightly and went straight for the junior detective, tackling her at the waist and scooping her up onto his shoulder as he kept running.
Cries of outrage followed them as he bolted down an aisle between two shelves and kept running for the wall. He had no idea where he was going, but logic clearly stated that there had to be a door out of here somewhere in the outer wall. He'd just follow it until he found it.
Or until Santa's Rabid Elf Bunnies cornered them and ripped him to shreds.
A sudden sympathy for the knights in Monty Python and the Holy Grail surfaced in his mind.
He pushed it down and kept running.
From the gasping coming just behind his shoulder he gathered that he'd knocked the wind out of Juliet. He felt bad about that, but winded was better than dead.
"Sorry, Jules," he panted, pausing at the junction of aisle and the outer wall, glancing both ways. No doorways were immediately visible and he hesitated a moment more, trying to decided which to pick.
She coughed and he tried to shift his grip on her legs to a position that would allow her to breathe more easily. He'd love to set her down—and not just because it would help her breathing. She really needed to cut out her early morning danish routine—but she was wearing those darn heels too.
They did wonderful things for the length of her legs, horrible things for her ability to outrun killer call girls.
He still hadn't picked a direction when she coughed again. He half turned at the sound of furious clicking coming from behind them.
"Right or left? Come on, Shawn, pick one," he muttered.
Right was a shorter distance to the corner of the room.
Left was-
"Left."
Shawn paused and glanced Juliet's direction—then away when he realized that meant he was staring at her butt. Not that it wasn't a nice view, but he needed to stay focused.
On escaping.
"What?" he asked.
"Go left," she wheezed.
"But-"
"Door to outside," she coughed.
"Right," he said.
"LEFT!" she rasped, smacking him on the back.
"Ow! I'm going left!" he said and headed out. "I . . ." he panted in explanation, "was . . . agreeing . . . with you."
She didn't answer and he was grateful for that since he wasn't really up to carrying on a conversation at the moment.
He was almost to the corner when he heard her gasp again.
"Shawn!" she yelled in warning, but it wasn't quite fast enough.
Something heavy hit the back of his knees and he went down with a crash of glass, a scream from Juliet, and a cry of pain from him, a second following when he landed on his knees and felt something pop into a painfully awkward position it wasn't meant to hold.
Fortunately, rolling to the side and taking the pressure off let it return to the right position, but that didn't stop the pain. Damage had quite obviously been done.
He tried to get up but the floor bit painfully into his hands and he recoiled, rolling onto his back. What the heck?
Next to him Juliet was keeping up a steady stream of profanities as she carefully regained her feet amid the shattered remains of the snow globes that her formerly fellow Elf Bunnies had used to bring down Shawn.
A glance told her that they didn't have much time and any advantage Shawn had gained with his ability to run faster was quickly vanishing.
"Shawn! Get up!" she ordered and grabbed his hands to help him.
He hissed and yanked his hands away, but not before she saw the blood on them and realized he must have picked up shards in them.
She swore again, but had no more time to waste on worrying about it. She reached past his hands and grabbed his wrists, tugging to get him on his feet.
"Gah! Stop, Juliet! Forget about me you have to go."
"Shawn, we don't have time for nobility," she said through gritted teeth. "Get up now or I swear-"
He cried out again and yanked back.
"I can't," he said. "My knee-"
"Stop them both!" Candy yelled as the advancing horde drew ever closer, their heels on the floor sounding like a secretarial typing pool gone mad.
Juliet swore again, then grabbed Shawn's arm and gave it a squeeze. "Just don't let them kill you. I'll be back as soon as I can."
And she was gone, running down the aisle between the shelves towards the exit and freedom.
He let his head fall back as he tried not to think about how badly he was screwed.
"Sharla, Bambi, after that traitorous little tramp."
Then he was surrounded by a mass of red and green velvet and fake fur.
Candy grinned down at him from the circle of faces.
"As for you, Shawn . . . I don't know what your connection to her is, but you just appointed her fall girl for our little operation. And the lead suspect in the arson/homicide that is going to destroy this warehouse. Hope she was worth it."
Shawn grinned with a confidence he didn't feel.
"Oh she's definitely worth it," he said.
Candy's grin turned shark-like.
"Let's see if you're still saying that by the time we're done with you. Bring him," she ordered.
Two of the Elf Bunnies grabbed his arms and hauled him to his feet. Weight on his either knee was unpleasant, but he could manage better on the one that wasn't rapidly swelling to match the size of the snow globe that had taken him down.
With painful hops and pathetic skips he managed to keep up with his escorts as they led him off to what was promising to be a very painful wait for a rescue.
He just hoped Juliet had managed to get away.
o.o
Juliet crouched behind the crate filled with boxes of glass ornaments and tried to keep her breathing from giving herself away. She'd mostly gotten it under control after Shawn's dramatic if painful attempt to escape.
Not that she blamed him. She hadn't had any ideas at the time and she'd survive.
Well, she'd survive that part of tonight's activities. There was still a chance that playing these reindeer games with the other girls would kill her yet.
She was hoping not.
And speaking of the other girls . . .
The soft click of heels was very quiet since 'Tag' had segued into 'Hide and Seek' but still audible.
Obviously Bambi was more suited to the role of felonious bimbo than stealthy assassin. Juliet had ditched her heels at the first opportunity and snagged a pair of super thick slippers that looked more like cartoon character tennis shoes than footwear for actual people.
She'd have gone for barefoot since that offered the best chance of silence, but she had formed a plan during her earlier running and for it she would need something on her feet.
Now she just needed to get her pursuers to the spot she'd carefully prepared and-
A sound behind her reminded her that Sharla wasn't nearly as stupid as Bambi. Nor was she as soft and useless in the muscles department.
She turned, saw the brunette glaring at her, and then turned and bolted. She just managed to dodge around Bambi who had been about to turn the corner and kept going.
Bambi squealed in surprise, then followed when Sharla yelled at her to get her fat butt in gear.
Fueled by the insult, Bambi put on a burst of speed forcing Juliet to do the same, lest the taller blonde catch up with her by sheer stride advantage.
She led the two on a merry chase through the warehouse and into the section where the shelves gave way to the open floor where everything was unpacked, dodging and ducking around crates and pallets.
And then she saw the half empty crate of acrylic lawn ornament snowmen and grinned.
She grabbed the corner to help her make the turn, then executed a quick hop and kept going, hoping her slippers were thick enough.
The two girls followed her and—just as she'd hoped—neither was looking down.
Because of that they didn't see the garland stretched across the aisle at mid-calf height.
Or the field of shattered glass ornaments from the 'broken' bin.
Bambi's shriek was shrill and probably shattered a few more of the pieces on the floor before she hit them with her body and crushed more.
Sharla's roar was more feral, like a wildcat caught in a bear trap.
But neither was able to get up very quickly and without a lot more pain.
Juliet just grinned and kept running for the large bay door ahead of her. She'd never get it open in time, but then she didn't need to. Right next to it was the normal sized door that led out into the back parking lot.
She just really hoped that the SWAT team was waiting outside for her signal.
o.o
Shawn was thinking much the same thing.
He'd been brought back to the chair and secured once more.
Only this time, he wouldn't be breaking free—even if he had Juliet's knife with him.
They'd broken open a pallet of Christmas tree lights and mummified him.
And then—just because she was nuts, Shawn suspected—Candy had plugged him in.
It was starting to get a mite warm in his brightly flashing cocoon. Actually, more than a few spots of skin that were in constant and direct contact with a light were well beyond warm and into painfully hot. He was going to look like he'd been attacked by a swarm of mutant lightning bugs when he got out of here.
He was also officially lodging a complaint with the chief. The SWAT team obviously needed to run some speed drills.
"Well Shawn," Candy said as she brought an angel over and balanced it on his head. "I think it's time to let these girls have some more fun with you . . ."
His eyes made the rounds of the circle and he saw a lot of too bright grins that made him very glad that he wasn't a rich old man who couldn't get a date. He sincerely hoped he'd never be that desperate for female companionship.
They began to advance, each holding some formerly innocent Christmas decoration that was about to enter his catalog of Things To Never Allow In His House.
He had a feeling his celebration of the holidays in the future was going to be rather spare when it came to decorating.
The redhead from when he first woke up giggled in a way that sent chills down his spine, her long fingernails tapping lightly on the old fashioned wooden nutcracker she held. Her eyes, he noticed, were on his hands and he suddenly wished they'd wrapped his fingers in with the whole mess when they'd trussed him up.
Two of the girls held crystal icicles in their hands, another had a nutcracker like Red, one had a leather strap with large bells on it that she was slapping softly against her palm, each jingle abrading Shawn's nerves more, and the last four were behind him so he had no idea what they were planning to use on him.
He just knew it would hurt. A lot.
Squeezing his eyes shut he tried to mentally prepare himself and silently cursed the SWAT team for being so slow-
And then a scream echoed through the room, making more than a few of the girls around him flinch with its shrill pitch. It was followed almost immediately by a second scream of pain, though this one had a healthy dose of rage mixed in for good measure.
His eyes flew open in time to see Candy whirl to face the section of the warehouse behind her.
Her fists clenched at her sides and she half turned back, fury twisting her features into an ugly mask.
"Delia. Bonny. Missy. Vivian. Go!"
Four of the girls—including both of the nutcrackers and the bells Shawn saw with relief—took off towards the directions of the scream.
"The rest of you go to the truck and get the kerosene and start spreading it around. I want this place to go up like a Molotov cocktail when we leave."
Her orders were acknowledged and the Psychotic Playmates dispersed.
She stood there for a moment longer, her expression ranging between annoyance and outright fury.
Then she closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
Opening them, she turned back to him with a smile.
"I guess this is goodbye, Shawn," she said and picked up one of the abandoned nutcrackers. She circled behind him and he tried to follow her, to think of something to say, knowing that it would be a bad idea to let her do whatever it was she had planned.
"Merry Christmas to all," she whispered, "and to all a good night!"
Punctuating her final words the nutcracker came down heavily on his head and he knew no more.
o.o
Juliet burst out of the warehouse into the chilly night air and immediately wished she had something on besides an elf costume four sizes too small.
Especially when she found herself in the spotlight with a goodly number of her coworkers pointing guns at her.
The guns were lowered relatively quickly when they realized who it was, but their eyes lingered a bit longer.
She leveled a glare and hurried over to where Carlton was standing with the SWAT team leader going over plans for the building.
"O'Hara?" he said, giving her a once up and down, though it was more questioning than leering like most of the other male cops.
"What is taking you so long?" she demanded, gratefully accepting Carlton's overcoat when he offered it.
"There was a problem getting the blueprints," the team leader explained, adding dryly, "Apparently there was some major construction done year before last that the building owner wasn't aware of."
"Allow me to give you directions: Go in that door," she said, pointing to the one she used. "Go straight back until you get to the middle of the warehouse. That's where Shawn is."
"What about side entrances?" the team leader asked, his eyes still on the blueprints. Well at least they weren't on her, she grudgingly acknowledged. "And what are we looking at as far as numbers and arms?"
She bit back a snarl and forced herself to remain calm. He was just doing his job.
With a speed that made snails and turtles look like Olympic speed record setters.
"Twelve scantily clad elves with two arms apiece are what you're looking at."
"Pistols and rifles?" he asked, completely missing her sarcasm.
"Left and right," she shot back. "It's a bunch of Barbie dolls. Your biggest danger is your team being distracted by their short skirts and big chests."
Her tone finally registered and his eyes came up to meet hers.
"Well if they're that harmless then we can take our time."
Juliet took a step forward before she even thought about it, but fortunately Lassiter had seen it coming and stopped her.
"Take a deep breath, O'Hara," he admonished.
She opened her mouth to snap at him, but saw the look on his face and bit back her words. She forced herself to take his advice and then repeated it for good measure.
"There's only one really dangerous person in that warehouse. Candy Cane. Blonde, about six inches taller than me, dressed like a Mrs. Claus who's either working the streets or does all her laundry with hot water. I don't think she's armed in the conventional sense, but she's smart enough and crazy enough to improvise with whatever's around her. She'll be near Shawn more than likely."
The team leader nodded, glanced once more at the plans, then with a, "Thank you, Detective," headed off to go brief his team.
She stood there with Lassiter, feeling useless and impatient for what seemed an eternity before the black-clad SWAT moved out in groups and pairs to get into place.
He didn't bother to say anything and for once she was grateful for a partner who didn't feel the need to fill the air with chatter like she did.
Another eternity slipped by and then with a series of loud bangs and a hint of a light show the invasion was begun and the wait for action was over.
Now they could begin the wait to see if it had taken too long.
o.o
Shawn woke again when the drummers in his head were jump-started once more with a blast from outside his ears.
Between the ringing in those ears and the smoke that swept over him a moment later he was left in a state of general confusion, but he rallied what few wits he had left and deduced that SWAT had finally gotten their butts in gear and come to the rescue.
A flash of red drew his attention and then suddenly there was a muzzle from a very small handgun in his face. Still, small or not, he was pretty sure that at point blank range it would do very well in the 'splatter his brains' department.
"I'll kill him if you-" Candy started. A few deafening shots from an automatic rifle at close range interrupted her and she went down on a gurgled scream and a cough.
Shawn's eyes had stayed glued to the gun but when it hit the ground they shifted to the blood coming out of her chest and abdomen, several of the holes bubbling regularly in a way that indicated an artery had been hit.
Then there was a man dressed in black fatigues with the rifle in his hand.
"Shawn, you all right?"
He stared dumbly for a moment as time seemed to slow down to a crawl, then nodded.
He got a nod in return, then time sped up again and became a blur.
His little bubble in the smoke dimmed when the lights were unplugged, but that was it for a few minutes until the all clear was given and the paramedics and other officers were allowed in.
They were too late for Candy and so attention was soon turned to Shawn, several more hands assisting those of Juliet and Lassiter in freeing him from his Christmas light bonds.
He listed his injuries and a quick probing search of his knee had them summoning a gurney. While they waited work was begun on his cut up hands and the numerous small first- and second-degree burns from the lights.
His nose was examined and gauzed up, though it has mostly stopped bleeding by now. They'd have to x-ray to give him a better answer as to its condition.
Through it all, Juliet stayed there, a hand on his shoulder as she answered Lassiter's and the Chief's questions. Shawn was spared from that until after he'd been seen at the hospital, thankfully.
Finally his ride out of here was allowed through along with the happy surprise of Gus following behind.
"Shawn?" he said in surprise.
"Gus!" Shawn replied in his usual cheerful manner. "Dude, you missed a great party."
Gus looked around, taking in everything from the blood on the floor and the cooling body from whence it had leaked, to the mess of Christmas lights and the lingering streamers of smoke from the SWAT team's grenades to Shawn, covered in a fair amount of blood himself and being doted on by no less than three paramedics simultaneously.
"Yeah. Looks like it was a blast."
There was a beat of silence, then Shawn burst out laughing, adding tears only moments later when the pain from his nose protested the reaction.
"Oh geeze, Gus, don't make me laugh," he said, holding a hand to his nose when he felt it start to bleed again. He was handed another gauze pad just in case it leaked through which he dutifully held in place while the EMTs helped him get on the gurney.
They strapped him down and rolled him out, the two detectives, one best friend, and one chief of police following.
Gus sweet talked Karen into getting him approval to ride along, then the ambulance left. Karen watched it go, then went to go finally talk to the news hounds that had gathered earlier.
Lassiter and Juliet stood in the parking lot, him in his suit and her in his jacket, her elf costume, and her borrowed slippers.
They watched the other Elves be led to waiting black-and-whites to be transferred to the station individually for questioning, and the coroner's gurney come out with the white sheet covered body of Candy Cane heading for her ride to the morgue.
The adrenaline of the night was starting to wear off and Juliet sighed as exhaustion suddenly dropped on her head, bowing her shoulders under its weight.
"Come on, O'Hara. There's a first aid kit and a bed in the crash room back at the station with your name on it."
She thought about protesting and the decided not to.
She wasn't going to be good for much else until after at least a few hours of sleep and a hot shower. Thank goodness she kept a fully stocked overnight bag in her locker at the station.
With a silent nod she turned to follow her partner to his car, hoping she'd stay awake long enough to get to the station at least.
"Hey, Detective."
She stopped when a hand on her shoulder penetrated the thickening fog of sleep and blinked at the face that entered her line of vision.
"I'm sorry it took us so long. And I'm glad he was okay."
She blinked again, then shrugged.
"Not your fault. And me too."
He smiled and nodded, then let her go to find some peace in the oblivion of sleep.
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