Project Skeptic | Chapter 1
Read from the Start | Read on AO3
Summer 2019
The first thing that she realized was the taste of blood. It was subtle at first, a light dance across her tongue with a metallic edge. But then it was dry, dry enough to make her want to dart her tongue out against her lips and dull the throbbing edge. She had a headache, that was observation number two. Number three came in the form of the thick restraint against her wrists, burning and unrelenting.
You don’t ever trust a stranger, Emily. Her mothers’ words would echo through her mind like a steel drum against an empty corridor. When she was younger it never made any sense. The mailman was just as strange to her as someone in a dark hoodie with unkempt hair. If they didn’t offer up a handshake was she supposed to remain on high alert? Katherine Junk would be spiteful right about now. Spiteful or worried.
Emily pulled her head back, drawing in a sharp breath as an undeniable ache pulsed against her spine. She was in a chair, one that creaked and groaned under her weight. Her consciousness was barely there but started to spark; there was a fire nearby, she could smell it and feel its heat on the side of her face. The room had a sweet and floral scent to it.
“Good morning, Sunshine.”
Loud. God that voice was loud and oh so familiar. Emily wasn’t fully there, her heartbeat deafening in her ears as she made a jumble of noise past her lips. Her whole body was stiff, and she blinked a few times to get used to the coloring of her surroundings, dark and rustic, and she could swear up and down that there was a Christmas tree situated in the corner. It had multi-colored lights and way too much tinsel. It had been meticulously applied branch by branch.
“I hit you pretty hard there, huh?” The voice was calling attention and Emily blinked three more times before focusing. The figure was, in fact, shaded in a deep orange that flickered against the floor sporadically. She was dressed casually, normally. Not like someone who would kidnap a person; a dark green sweater and jeans that contrasted from her deep ginger hair. Her eyes, even in the light from the fire, were sparkling like broken waves. “You’re okay though, you’re strong.”
Emily drew in an easier breath and clenched her jaw, which was sore too. Claire, Callie maybe even Chelsea Emily’s mind was searching for a name to the face. It was her next-door neighbor; she can remember the conversations they’ve had at the mailboxes and the golden lettering on their forest green door. She recalls that this woman has a wife, a music producer that’s too grumpy for her own good, but her name. God, what was her name?
“What’s going on?” Emily asked, swallowing the bloodied taste in her mouth. Her voice was dry enough to be unrecognizable. “Where am I?”
“That’s classified, I’m afraid. But we’ll get to that depending on how well you take this.”
“Take what? Being kidnapped?” She let out a small groan and rolled her neck again. “Who are you?”
She couldn’t remember much; the walk home from work, the elevator ride up with her neighbor nodding and asking her about her plans for the rest of summer. Emily explained she would work like she always did and struggled to find her keys in her bag. She remembers an earth-shattering pain in her temple and a warm sensation before everything went dark.
The woman let out a deep sigh as if Emily was inconveniencing her. Maybe she was at this point. She sat down on the edge of a leather reading chair that was positioned right across from the wooden seat that Emily was fastened to. It had a large studded back and reminded Emily of something that would accompany a glass of scotch and imported cigar wrapped in gold.
“I’m Chloe, I didn’t’ technically kidnap you, and this is a secret organization dedicated to keeping the holiday season sacred.” She had rushed out her words like a band-aid and Emily wasn’t sure if this woman was completely nuts or if she wasn’t exactly hearing her right over the pounding in her ears.
None of this registered, however, so Emily simply said, “But it’s only June.”
“Oh, I know,” Chloe slumped back in her seat completely, letting her hands hang over the sides of the chair. “We’re so behind schedule. Recruitment was supposed to be in May but being so close to you proved very difficult. There’s a lot we have to catch you up on, Emily.”
“Can you-?” Emily tugged at her restraints, trying not to flinch too hard at the stinging pain that moved through her skin as she shifted. The woman lifted her eyebrows and moved forward, almost as if she had forgotten entirely.
“Yeah, sorry about this. We’re not usually so violent but it’s not every day that you refuse orders from the big guy. You know, don’t you? You work for some big television company.”
Chloe talked too fast, Emily decided. She had an innocent edge about her, and at this point, she didn’t’ care if she had to keep the conversation up. She reached to the side table and pulled a golden crafted letter opener, gently trying to saw through the rope. It came undone easily and Emily let out a relieved breath she didn’t’ know she was harboring. She rubbed the raw skin, eyes searching the room.
It looked like the inside of a cabin that her family used to rent by the lake, from the stone figures all the way to the throw that was draped over the edge of the chair Chloe sat in. It was too eerie, too familiar. There wasn’t a door, that same flutter bubbling in Emily’s chest.
“You’re taking this remarkably well.”
“You hit me in the head. I’m afraid I don’t’ believe you.”
She was scared to move her fingers up to her temple. She was sure it was sticky. She could practically feel the blood that has soaked into the collar of her shirt. Instead, she resided into staring into blue eyes that looked silver.
“Do you believe in Santa, Emily?”
Did she? It was a loaded question. The fiction of it all was ripped away violently when she woke up to her mother’s hand wedged under her pillow when she lost her first tooth. She was a light sleeper. Emily remembered crying as she asked her mom about a bunny who hid eggs and a man who delivered toys in exchanged for burnt cookies and room temperature milk.
“You stopped believing when you were six years old. After that Christmas didn’t’ feel the same anymore, and your mom would let you pick out what you wanted at the store, didn’t’ she?” Chloe asked, “You knew what was under the tree every single year until the tree vanished completely and was replaced by a card with a fifty-dollar bill in it.”
Emily slumped back in her seat, because yes, that was exactly what happened. It didn’t’ feel so sad when her mother told her she was going on a cruise instead of sticking around and dealing with the stress of the holiday season. The way Chloe told the story deflated her. A story that she hadn’t talked about, not even to Aubrey.
“Say you are telling the truth,” Emily started “Say you’re apart of a secret organization that rotates around Christmas… what do I have to do with it?”
The younger woman wasn’t sure why she was entertaining the idea. It might be the pounding in the side of her head or the fact that her bubbly little neighbor had a complete backstory on how her Christmases had played out, but she simply dug her fingers into her sore shoulder and looked at Chloe was expectancy.
“The world is changing, Emily. It’s growing bigger, some would even argue better, by each day. For the past five years it’s been too much for one man with a couple of reindeer to handle, you know? The old guys retired.”
“Is he now?”
There was sarcasm leaking past her voice. It wasn’t intended, but it spilled out like a pool of steam over fresh hot chocolate. This room smelled too much like cinnamon, Emily decided.
“He is. And when he’s away he trusts in this organization, Project Skeptic, to deliver presents, grant wishes, and keep the Christmas spirit alive.” Emily swallowed roughly. Her mouth still tasted metallic and Chloe’s words hadn’t yet settled with her. “We’ve kept an eye on you, Emily. We know that all you want is to get that feeling back.”
December 2019
Emily pressed her stomach to the cold of the wooden floor, it’s edge soaking through her jumpsuit in a simple motion. It was the type of cold that she remembered as a child when her bed was given to her older cousin from Kansas and she drooled all over her pillow. She hadn’t even bothered to wash it before throwing it into the trash. Emily had slept on the hardwood flooring for two weeks.
Now she was struggling to hold her breath, letting it catch in her throat as she stared up at the windowpane above her. The sheer white curtains caught the light of a passing car, one that stalled- she could hear the crunch of tires against gravel and practically smell the gasoline that rested in the tank. She pressed her cheek close to the laminate and listened. It eventually pulled away, breath short as she was bathed in darkness once more.
Emily brought her frame back up to a standing position, careful not to let her form show in the large bay window; the house was normal, a large pre-lit Christmas tree that was filled with family ornaments made from Styrofoam cups, the angel on top that seemed to stare her down, and the plate of cookies that were stacked high enough to not only feed one reindeer but twelve.
She didn’t dwell too much on her surroundings. Sometimes it was different. The house wasn’t as decorated, or the tree was a live one. Very seldom was it just a barren wasteland with nothing more than cold granite countertops and a fire that was unlit.
Emily reached against her belt, pulling a simple laser pointer from its leather confines. She felt blindly for the little switch, the thing smooth under her fingertips. She pointed it at the ground, drawing a neat little line with its electric blue light. She could almost taste the charge in the air as she squatted down, reaching her grasp into the clutches of the glow.
This type of technology had scared Emily at first; a simple laser pointer that created a hole in the void to grasp Christmas presents that had already been pre-made. Now it was like second nature, a warmth engulfing her skin as she unshelled packages wrapped in paper with little candy canes and bushels of holly.
Emily learned not to question the size or weight, or the elegantly written Santa on the paper. Instead, she questioned other things: How many parents were in the house? Did the kids have a habit of staying awake? How full was the moon and how visible would it make her?
There was a subtle growl that cut through her little atmosphere like a butter knife through a grilled steak. It leaked grease and edged a deep feeling in the pit of Emily’s stomach. Were there any dogs?
She moved her hand over the line of electricity and plunged herself into innate darkness once more, slowly standing as her palms faced the floor. She could hear the rumble in the German shepherd’s chest, practically feel it close to the wooden floor. Its jowls dripped, hot saliva fell in thick strands.
Emily kept her eyes on the animal as it took a step forward. It was blacker than brown, and its eyes caught the green lights of the tree behind her. If it wasn't cheap plastic, the scent would be seeping into her clothing. The dog licked his gums, stepping closer.
Before she could protect her throat, the lights flashed on. They were almost worse than being mauled by a house pet. Her fingers moved against her stare to block out the stage glow, to blink away the afterlight that dominated her vision. There was an alarm too, a loud one that should signal fire but instead brought defeat.
“Emily!”
She let out a deep groan before anything else, slumping her shoulders and shaking her head. Even through the light, she could see everyone rushing around, could hear the door that stood next to the windowpane open and close- a simple little house rigged to produce nightmares.
“We have talked about this,” Chloe let the door fall behind her, “You need to check your compact before you get into the house that way you’ll know if-“
“There are any animals on the perimeter, I know.”
“If you know, then why didn’t’ you?”
Chloe didn’t’ wait for her to answer, instead, she clicked her tongue and had her follow from the faux room and into a standard hallway. Standard in the way that Emily could walk into any building on Wall Street and come in contact with the same generic paintings of beach scenes to make it feel a little less frigid in the winter. The red fire alarms stood out against tan colored walls. Chloe Beale looked ragged and tired.
“As much as I love you, Emily, you’re not going in on your own.” She finally said, breaking the silence. “Do you even have your compact?”
Did she? Emily felt against her waist and she did. It was easy to run her fingers along the extensive little device. It held everything she needed; the ages of the children in the house, what they wanted, if there was any unexpected company like a guard dog- even if it was simulated.
“Of course, I do, Chlo” Emily stopped in the middle of the empty corridor, pressing her fingers against the woman’s elbow. The Kevlar on her black jumpsuit was cool under her touch. “You know how I operate. We’ve been through this training a million times. I’m just… nervous, I guess. A lot is riding on this. Making and breaking Christmas.”
Chloe’s cerulean eyes softened at this. She looked tired. Her skin was pale under the neon lights and her jaw was clenched- nothing like it had been before, the stress of the holidays edging against her frame and making it stiff. “You’re telling me. This is my block- hell, it’s my city. But it’s no excuse to forget what you’ve learned.” She tapped the compact with her fingers. “What we’ve taught you. Right?”
Emily allowed herself to smile softly at Chloe. “Right,”
“Go get changed. We’re meeting 007 tonight for dinner.”
“Oh, Chloe I am not third-wheeling with you and your wife again.” Emily all but whined “She hogs all the noodles. Besides, don’t you two ever get tired of me tagging along?”
Chloe rolled her eyes in a dramatic fashion, crossing her arms over her chest. She looked intimidating in the small hallway. “First of all, Beca is the youngest of three, she’d bite your hand off for those noodles. And second of all, no we don’t get sick of you hanging around because you’re family now.”
“You don’t have to take pity on me,” Emily scoffed playfully “Just because my girlfriend is halfway across the country on business 90% of the time does not mean you have to suffer through me at the end of the couch during movie night.”
“We invited you, end of story. Go, get cleaned up.”
Emily saw no benefit in arguing with Chloe Beale. She was already high strung enough as it was, her back straight and eyes always trained on the little clipboard of hers. It sent a quick twinge of guilt through Emily, forgetting her compact like that didn’t help anyone- especially not the crew that set the whole elaborate thing up in the first place. Fake snow and a rabid hologram of German Shepards.
Everything that Emily would have chalked up to insanity seven months ago. Seven long months of working her day job, only to slip into a dingy warehouse on the east side of town. Scanning a badge, she hid among old candy wrappers and half-used Chapstick. No one would go searching in there.
The training had been embedded in her head, by Chloe herself, mostly. She sat in a classroom with unlimited servings of hot chocolate stirred with candy canes. Something she quickly grew tired of- cringing away from the sugary drink now. She had taken the defense courses and the Child Protocol lectures. But her anxiety continued to spike in rebellion, Christmas approaching fast.
Her phone buzzed in her back pocket, Chloe narrowing her eyes “You can carry your phone, but not your compact?”
Emily ignored the comment and stared at the screen. “Oh, Shit.”
“There a problem?” Chloe asked.
“Nothing major, my mother just informed me that we’re having Christmas at my house this year.”
Her voice was calm, but a flutter of anxiety licked at the back of her mind. That was one of the first things that they had taught her- no connections, plenty of excuses. Most of the people here didn’t’ have anyone depending on them for the holiday season. No obliged trips to church or brunches consisting of runny eggs.
For the past two years Aubrey had to work through Christmas and Emily would travel a few miles out of the city to be with her family for a few hours before she facetimed her girlfriend and they shared a long call littered with apologies, and Emily explaining that it was just a day.
“Oh,” Chloe sounded out evenly “You know what, no big deal. I’ve hidden this from Beca our whole marriage. Some would say it’s concerning how oblivious she is.”
Emily hummed in agreeance. Chloe was shockingly calm about the situation- about having to sneak out right after dinner on Christmas eve. About breaking into houses until the sun rose behind morning clouds.
Chloe must have sensed her worry, giving her shoulder a squeeze. “It’ll be fine Em. Now, go get changed. She’s probably taken out half the restaurant at this point.”