Excerpt

“I want my job back, damn it.” Noel Holiday didn’t try to hide the desperation in his voice. He was bored and antsy. Every time he heard a siren wail, which in New York was about once a minute, he jumped. Police work was his life, his reason for getting up in the morning and the reason he couldn’t sleep at night. He’d never felt as if he belonged anywhere until he started with the force almost ten years ago. The precinct was like his second home. Now that was being held out of his reach like a carrot on a stick.

Dr. Snow, the NYPD staff psychologist, shook his head. His blue eyes were frosty and his expression grim. “I understand. Truly, I do. But I cannot clear you for duty. It is not normal to see Pilgrims and Indians sitting down for dinner in Central Park.”

“Well, I figure it would be normal on Thanksgiving day,” Noel protested with a wave of his hand. “Only it was a few days before. I figure that’s because we don’t celebrate Thanksgiving on the exact date.” Noel tried to inject a little humor into the situation but realized he was wasting his time when he noticed the stony expression on Dr. Snow’s face.

He’d been seeing Dr. Snow for several weeks now and had never seen the man so much as crack a smile. He’d almost begun to wonder if Dr. Snow were even human. There were no family pictures on the desk, no knick-knacks on the bookshelf, and all the books on the shelves were arranged by size and color. The medical diplomas marched in a straight line across one wall, each exactly four or five inches apart. Noel suspected the good doctor was a little, okay maybe a lot, obsessive-compulsive. Not for the first time, he questioned why he’d been sent to see a man who so clearly had issues of his own.

Yep, he decided, the man was a robot. Every week it was the same. In fact, Noel could have repeated his closing speech verbatim. He resisted the urge to mouth the words along with Dr. Snow. That would probably get him kicked off the force permanently.

“Head injuries are tricky things, Mr. Holiday. You’ve recovered your physical strength in remarkable time, but…” Dr. Snow paused to jot notes in Noel’s chart. The awkward way the doctor held his pen revealed scarring on the underside of his arm, and Noel questioned whether it was from a botched suicide attempt. “It’s my recommendation for you continue to rest and recover until you no longer have these fascinating hallucinations. It’s obvious you are unable to separate your fantasy life from real life. Combine visions with police work, and the results could be deadly. You are still taking your medication?”

“Yes.” Noel met the doctor’s gaze steadily as he lied.

“So, let’s make an appointment for…” Dr. Snow stood up and fussed with the files on his desk. He flipped open his appointment book and scanned the pages with his brow furrowed in concentration. “January seventh at one.”

Noel stood up and took the appointment card the doctor proffered.

“Merry Christmas, Mr. Holiday.”

Merry Christmas, indeed. Noel fumed all the way out of the building. He pushed open the heavy glass doors of the building, and the blast of arctic air cooled his face if not his temper. Damn it. He wanted, no, he needed to get back to work.

Clandestinely, he’d put ads in the paper offering to provide bodyguard protection during holiday events. Disability be damned. He’d known other officers who successfully moonlighted as bodyguards. But damn it all, he’d had no takers. Only a few prank phone calls, including one last night. Someone needing a bodyguard for Santa! He snorted with disgust and pulled his coat tighter. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw an ornate, carved wooden sleigh pulled by two prancing reindeer and driven by a pretty redhead wearing a long red fur cape over candy-striped coveralls. Even more ludicrous, she wore a perky red and green elf hat. No one else paid any attention as the sleigh pulled up along the curb in front of him.

Shit, it was happening again. Noel closed his eyes then opened them again slowly. The sleigh and its beautiful occupant were still there. Guess he should have expected it, being as it was the day before Christmas Eve. Perhaps tomorrow he’d see the big guy himself.

Why in the hell had he been the one to answer the call on Halloween night that had landed him in this ludicrous position? He’d responded to a simple breaking and entering. When he pulled up in front of the shop, he’d been surprised to see a witch on the sidewalk, complete with a steaming cauldron. Two skeletons and a black cat were dancing in a circle around the witch. When he got out of the car and asked them what they thought they were doing, one of the skeletons threw a jack-o-lantern at him while the witch chanted an incantation.

He woke up two days later in intensive care. His arms and legs were weak, and they told him he had a month or so of physical therapy ahead of him. The worst part occurred two days later during the full moon when the entire hospital had been overrun by werewolves. Unfortunately, only he could see them. That episode won him a week’s stay in the psychiatric ward.

A couple of weeks of physical therapy, counseling, and eleven bottles of prescription medications later, the hospital finally released him. On one condition. He couldn’t go back to work until he’d been cleared by a psychologist. So he sat at home feeling pitiful and spiteful. He would have ventured out of the apartment more, except he didn’t want to take the chance of seeing odd things. Like the pilgrims in Central Park.

No, what he needed now was a drink. He had to find a bar, and fast. Especially now, since his latest vision was chasing him down the street calling his name.

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