Read Online Christmas in Transylvania by Sandra Hill - Free Book Online

be heard yelling, “Gunnar! Gunnora! Where are you? I’m going to paddle your little arses if you don’t come out. Right now!”
    â€œUh-­oh!” Gunnar and Gunnora said as one. Looking at each other with some silent message, they jumped off the chair and scooted behind it.
    Soon Vikar loomed in the doorway. He was wearing slim black pants and hiking-­style boots, no shirt. Perspiration beaded his chest and forehead, as if he’d been engaged in some strenuous activity. In one of his hands, he carried a huge sword.
    â€œYou wouldn’t? Surely, you wouldn’t strike a child with that?” Faith said indignantly.
    â€œHuh?” Vikar said. Then he realized what Faith meant and grinned. “No, I wouldn’t use my sword on a child. Or my hand.” His quick glance around the room took in the cartoons on the television, the lollipop sticking to the arm of the chair, and the Winnie the Pooh Band-­Aids on the dresser. With a slow drawl, he added, “But I might have to cancel Christmas if two naughty children continue to misbehave.”
    â€œPoppa! You can’t!” Nora exclaimed, darting around the chair.
    â€œSanta has to come. He has to,” Gunnar added. “I already sent my list.”
    â€œYou mean that three-­page greedy treatise?” Vikar inquired, leaning on his sword, the tip of which was buried in the hooked rug.
    His sarcasm passed over the boy, who corrected, “It was four pages.”
    Vikar rolled his eyes and pointed to the open doorway. “Out! Your mother will be back any minute, and she will blame me if you are not in your bedroom practicing your numbers.”
    The two munchkins ran out the door and could be heard clomping down the steps, laughing and shouting the whole way.
    â€œI hope Momma remembered the candy canes. I’m gonna eat ten of them,” Nora said.
    â€œI’m gonna eat so many, I’m gonna puke,” Gunnar countered, as if that were something to be desired.
    When they were alone, Vikar said, “Sorry I am that my children bothered you.”
    â€œDon’t apologize. They were no bother at all. And, please, don’t punish them for coming up here. They were a welcome distraction.”
    Just then, from a distance, they heard the blare of a car horn, or maybe a truck horn, and a commotion of shouts and running feet down below.
    â€œThat would be my wife returning from her shopping spree. I must go help unload her purchases,” he said. “Why don’t you take a nap? Or something?”
    When he was gone, Faith thought. A nap? Again? I don’t think so! She made her way carefully across the room and through the door, down the corridor toward the front of the castle, where she could hear the sounds of many voices on the lower level. Her ribs hurt more than anything, but she hated taking so many of the pain pills because, frankly, they made her sleep even more.
    Most of the bedrooms and the hallway on this third floor were furnished in the same no-­frills way as Karl’s, but when she got to the second floor, she saw evidence of restoration in progress. Ornate mirrors over heavy, antique-­looking tables. Gilt-­framed paintings. No portraits, she noticed, but lots of landscapes or pictures loaded with Cupids. In some of the bedrooms, she could see heavily carved, high-­posted bed frames with matching furniture from about a hundred years or so ago, which was the age of the castle, according to Karl.
    When she got to the top of what became a wide staircase leading down to the first floor . . . so wide it would fit in some grand hotel . . . she stopped and leaned on the banister. From this second-­floor landing, she could see a lot, and, besides, she was winded already.
    Â­People were laughing and chattering as they came in carrying boxes and shopping bags with logos from Macy’s, Home Depot, Walmart, Best Buy, Target, and Interior Décor. One of