Dean sat at the kitchen table, staring muzzily out over the town below. The sky was still overcast, but sunlight managed to filter through gaps here and there in the clouds, and reflected off the thick overnight snowfall. Steam curled lightly from the mug in his hand. A cold slice of toast sat untouched on the counter. Absently, he pulled his thick bathrobe closer around his body, shivering slightly in the cold. His ears were still ringing.

   There was a knock at the front door. Blinking and shaking his head to wake himself up, Dean set down his mug and shuffled along the hallway to the door. Jack Frost was standing on the terrace.

   “Oh, good morning lord Winter.”

    Frost nodded at Dean. “Good morning Dean. Is your father here by any chance?”

   Dean stood aside and beckoned Frost inside. “Yeah, he’s probably getting dressed, he won’t be long.” He pulled the door shut as Frost stepped past him. “Come into the kitchen.”

   Dean shuffled back into the kitchen. “Dad! Lord Winter is here!” He called up the stairs as he passed.

   “I didn’t wake you, did I?” Frost asked as he sat down opposite Dean at the kitchen table. “You look rather tired.”

   Dean stifled a yawn. “No, no, we don’t sleep in much in this family. I’m heading down to the factories soon. Turns out I’ve got to look at some of the machines before the engineers get there in the afternoon. It’s complicated.” He looked at his mug. “Oh, do you want a drink? The kettle just boiled.”

   “Thank you, but no,” Frost replied tactfully.

   Dean glanced down at the tiny ice crystals forming on the table around Frost’s fingers, and went red. “Oh, ah, sorry,” he said. “I just forgot, you…”

   “Do not worry.”

   The pair sat in silence for a while. Then Frost said, “You are entering your last year at school now? How does that feel?”

   “Ugh, don’t remind me.” He rolled his eyes. “I’m trying not to think about it.”

   Frost laughed. “At least it will be over soon. How is Sally?”

   “She’s doing good. Doesn’t really know what to do with herself in South Castle though; it’s a bit big for just her. How’s lady Summer?”

   “She is well. We are busy at present; the elementals are not faring well, and that of course creates any number of problems for her and me.”

   “Bloody humans,” Dean muttered, wrapping his hands around the warm mug. Frost nodded slowly.

   Santa walked into the kitchen, grey suit jacket slung over one shoulder. “No need to talk like that, Dean!” He said cheerfully, throwing his jacket over the back of a chair and heading for the kettle. “Morning Jack! Good thing you caught me, I was just heading out. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

   Frost glanced briefly at Dean, who was watching Santa. “Ah, I thought we could visit the ghost today. It would be an ideal time to talk.”

   It seemed to Dean that his father suddenly became a lot more serious very quickly. “I see,” he said, glancing at Dean. “What a coincidence. I was going to see him today as well.”

Dean rolled his eyes, picked up his mug and stood. “Okay, okay, I can see this is secret stuff. I’ll go get dressed and head on to factory two.”

   “Nonsense,” said Santa, waving his hand dismissively. “It’s nothing important. The ghost is just going through a rough time, so we’re going to make sure he’s all right. We’ll be going now.”

   “Oh, all right then. Will you be home before me?”

   Santa looked at the mug he was about to fill. “Hmm, no point in this, is there?” He opened a cupboard and put the mug back. “I sure hope so!” he added to Dean, as he grabbed his jacket. “I’ll have dinner ready around seven for when you get back; the reins are by the door. Let’s go, Jack. Let’s walk.”

   “Bye Dad, bye lord Winter,” Dean called after them.

   Dean turned back to the window after the door clicked shut. So the two of them just happened to both want to see the ghost the morning after they had just seen him in a meeting? He wondered what was really going on. Something important, probably.

   He groaned, and stretched his arms. Time to sort out those bloody machines, he thought. And face up to Eva.

-----

   “You know,” Jack said, as they entered the town, “you really are too proficient at lying to your own son.”

   “Dean doesn’t need to know about this kind of thing,” Santa said darkly. “He’s got his own life to live without worrying about mine.”

   Well, thought Jack, that is a subject not to continue. “He seems quite committed to keeping the factories in order.”

   Santa chuckled. “That’s an understatement. He’s got the brains for all that fiddly machinery, and he doesn’t like doing half a job or letting something go that doesn’t fit. I’m really glad he’s taken such an interest in the industry, he wasn’t always this committed.”

   “Maturity does not come all at once, I suppose.”

   “No. Still, I’m proud of him. And somehow, he’s taken Sally’s and my separation completely in his stride. Still manages to find time for both of us, even with his school work and me living at the other end of the world.” He stopped short, and patted his pockets urgently. “Damn,” he said, pulling out a thick set of keys. “Dean won’t be able to get into the factory.” He looked up at the house on the hill with irritation. “That’s what I get for rushing off like this.”

   “Not to worry,” Jack said, and waved a hand in the air, leaving a trail of blue lights. Snow billowed up from the ground beneath the light in a thick column, which twisted and contracted into the shape of a person. Blue light shone through cracks in its snowy skin, and in the hollows of its eyes.

   “Show-off,” said Santa, and passed the keys to Jack, who turned to the snow golem.

   “Take these to Dean Claus,” he said, and pointed at the house. “He may still be there, or may be at Santa Claus’ factories.”

   The snow golem bowed low, and vanished in a cloud of snow and blue sparks, the keys at its centre, which sped away up the hill.

   “Very nice,” said Santa with a grin.

   “Shall we go?”

   The pair crossed the street, and headed into the park. Skeletal trees, covered with snow, glittered and dripped in the morning light. Even this early, the paths had been trampled into grey slush, and people were coming from the town, heading for the pillars. Within an hour, Santa knew, the place would be packed with people coming in and out on their way to work, or school, or somewhere else.

   “Lucky we beat the rush, eh?” Santa said, as they strolled through the park.  He stepped up to a pillar marked with a skull, and stroked a finger down the side. “After you.”

   Santa followed Jack through the portal. Heat assaulted him from all sides like stepping into a furnace. “My goodness!” he exclaimed, fanning his face in the sudden temperature. “Winter to summer in one easy step!”

   He looked at Jack, who was leaning against a pillar and pinching the bridge of his nose. Behind him, the portal flickered and vanished. “Are you okay?”

   Jack nodded, and composed himself. “I am fine. It takes a moment to adjust, that is all.” He steadied himself, and looked around. “It’s busy today,” he noted.

   Santa turned, and took in the scene. Nightmarch Street was positively bustling; people of every shape and size passing around them to and from the lines of pillars. A bogeyman jostled him as it opened the portal back to the North Pole. Santa ignored it. The dark, towering buildings of the city seemed to crowd in around him, and the press of people was already grating against his nerves.

   “Never did like cities,” he muttered. “Let’s go.”

   “Well, Clauses have not had to deal with cities for very long, objectively speaking,” said Jack, as they set off, sleighs and carriages rumbling along the road beside them as they walked. “Some of that feeling must rub off, I imagine.”

   “Let’s just get this business finished, okay?”