"Santa is dead.

I know about the magic. Hand control over to me by 01:00 GMT, 25/12/2019. If you do not comply, the world at large will be informed of the magic you hold, and its potential. I expect they will be less forgiving than I am.

You will know where to find me.

Robyn."

The workshop remained in hushed silence as Merry finished reading. Ivy could hear her own heart beating. Merry glanced around the room, then seemed to realise no one else was going to speak.

"Martha must be informed immediately. As deputy, it's up to her to choose our next course of action. Ivy, could you go and ask her to come to the Workshop? I think she's in the kitchen. In the meanwhile, we mustn't panic! I doubt that this - Robyn - if she knows our secrets as she claims to, I doubt she would actually harm Santa. It's probably - I expect the letter is empty bluff."

If Merry was afraid, he hid it well. Ivy turned to leave the workshop and fetch Mrs Claus. Before she reached the doors, they slammed open.

An elf burst into the Workshop. Ivy recognized him as one of the elves who had replaced her in Mission Control. He paused for a moment, bending over to catch his breath, before raising his head to look Merry in the eyes.

"You need to see this."

Ivy stood on tiptoes to see the screen among the crowd of elves who had flocked into Mission Control. The high-tech, circular room was large enough to accommodate them all, but, according to the Universal Law of Large Gatherings, she was situated behind someone taller. The pointy hats didn't help matters.

The main screen was displaying Noel and the captain, Berry, in live-feed from Durban. As far as she could tell, they were hovering in the night sky above the city. Their companion was missing, presumably steering the sleigh.

"We've located where Santa went missing, sir!" 

Berry was loud even when he wasn't shouting. His voice almost drowned out Noel behind him, muttering "Well, we've narrowed it down. We think this one is right, though, because -"

"Where is it? I suppose you haven't found Santa himself?" said Merry.

"We tracked his GPS signal to 13 Shell Avenue in Morningside, sir."

"But then the-" put in Noel.

"13 Shell Avenue. Holly, could you go and look that up on our database? Find any information you can, will you?" said Merry. "Have you searched the place?"

"We - The building has sustained some damage, sir." said the captain.

"We would've," said Noel, "except it blew up."

Anxious muttering flew among the crowd. Some elves gasped. Kevin leaned forward, eyes wide, suddenly riveted.

"I - let's get this straight." Merry tugged anxiously at his beard. "You mean it exploded?"

"Just as we were heading over to search it, too!" Noel tutted, shaking his head. "Mighty inconsiderate."

"It collapsed, sir!" said the captain. "Seemed like a controlled demolition to me, sir, except there was no demolition crew around at this time of night. The collapse was set off by explosives."

"Whoa," said Kevin. "Epic!"

"Do you have the collapse on video?" asked Merry.

"Affirmative."

"Could you play it for us?" 

"They sent it through to us already." said the elf who was controlling the screen. "I'll play it - hang on -" He pressed a few buttons and the screen flickered, changing to show a video clip - an aerial view of the city, moderate quality, clearly shot from the sleigh's dash-cam.

The elves watched, transfixed. Bangs sounded. The thumping vibrations were repetitive, like the beat of a song. The video zoomed in, focusing on a dilapidated house. As the explosions ended, the walls folded in on themselves. It collapsed inwards from left to right, falling deceptively slowly with a noise like constant thunder. The house imploded, and a cloud of dust rose to replace it.

The elf paused the video.

Kevin applauded. His clapping gradually trailed away when no-one joined in.

"See?" Berry's voice came over the speakers from the live feed. "Collapsed, with Santa's GPS signals still coming from inside! Play the rest, there's something else as well!"

Looking slightly bewildered, the control elf did so. At first nothing was visible through the dust; then Ivy noticed a slight glow. Something was catching fire again, something outside the remains of the house, in what used to be the back garden.

The dust slowly thinned. The crowd gasped as they saw the lines of flame that were revealed. Brilliantly visible in the aerial shot, getting clearer as more of it caught fire, there was a burning design on the ground. The outline of a bird.

A robin.

The general consensus seemed to be that, since Ivy was the one who had been there when all this chaos started, she should be the one to break the news to Mrs Claus. She paused for a moment outside the door to the Claus's private apartment, glancing over her hurried situation report and shuffling her feet, trying to decide how one should tell someone that their husband was probably kidnapped or dead. What to start with? Santa going missing? The letter? The building exploding?

She opened the door and entered the kitchen.

Mrs Claus was in the process of stuffing the Christmas turkey. Her hair was pinned up neatly into a white bun; her sleeves were rolled up to her elbows and she wore an apron decorated with holly leaf designs. She turned as Ivy entered.

"Oh! Hello, dear. Is everything all right?"

"Er... not quite, ma'am. Not at all, in fact."

The anxiety in Mrs Claus's demeanor came to the front, tightening her face and manner into crisp efficiency. She straightened up, holding the turkey on a large platter. "What happened?"

Ivy folded and unfolded the report. Her hands were slightly sweaty. "Well, you see, it's the mission... it's Santa, in fact, ma'am..."

"What happened to my husband?"

"Um, he's - he's sort of in trouble..."

Mrs Claus's voice was as calm as the ice over a churning river, as controlled as a knife edge. "Tell me what happened, right now, with no beating around the bush, or I shall flip you the bird."

Ivy hesitated for a moment too long. She looked up from her clipboard just in time for a five-kilo turkey to hit her in the face.

"I warned you," said Mrs Claus, holding the now-empty platter like a shield. "Now. What is going on?"

Pinned to the tiles as she was by a half-stuffed turkey, Ivy's only response was a feeble attempt to push the turkey away. Mrs Claus stalked over to her and lifted the unfortunate bird off her. Ivy rubbed the stuffing from her face and the stars from her vision to see Mrs Claus reading the note, her mouth tightening as she did so.

"Right," she said, and if her previous words had been knives, this was a guillotine. She strode out of the kitchen, still holding the platter. 

"Saddle the reindeer."

Ivy hurried after her. "Are we going to pay up? With the magic, I mean, ma'am?"

"Like hell we are." Mrs Claus's footsteps echoed on the tiles. "We're going to make them pay."

A/N: Morningside is a real place, but Shell Avenue was made up for the purpose of this story.