Sugar Squad

Chapter 2 - Trick or Treat, Kiss Our Feet

Santa Claus was supposed to be a myth—a fat man in a red suit who scared kids into behaving.

Yet no matter how many times Bel pinched his arm, the frosty air and Cinnamon’s firm grip persisted. They’d been walking for ten minutes, leaving the apartment and navigating the immediate town: a tightly packed area.

“Stay close.” Cinnamon’s grip tightened around his wrist. “Getting lost here is the last thing you want.”

“What even is here?” His teeth chattered. “The North Pole’s supposed to be nothing but ice. There’s no life here.”

“Explaining everything to you would make your primitive little brain melt.” She stopped in place and turned to him. “Hold onto me.”

“What?”

Before he could protest, her arms were wide open. He paused for a moment. But after all the times she had squeezed his wrist to keep him moving, nearly leaving a bruise, he knew better than to resist. So he put his hands on her shoulders.

His stomach dropped as they launched.

The ground disappeared. Wind screamed past his ears, and he screamed with it as the town became toy-sized below them.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck—” A knuckle jabbed into his ribs, cutting off his expletives.

“Open your eyes!” Cinnamon yelled over the gale. “This is the real North Pole!”

He opened one eye.

They were suspended hundreds of meters in the air. His breath came in shallow gasps, each exhale a thick puff of frost. Below, the world spread out in detail.

The endless tundra he’d expected was there. But dotting the landscape were towns—dozens of them. Some were tiny clusters of warm light, others sprawling cities that rivalled New York in size. The buildings resembled those pulled straight from a holiday postcard: quaint cottages with smoking chimneys, town squares adorned with towering trees and clock towers that chimed at every hour.

Even from this height, he could see the tiny figures moving through the streets or across frozen ponds. A group of elf children were playing in a courtyard, throwing snowballs that exploded in showers of coloured sparks when they hit.

“And that right there is Mistletown.” Cinnamon pointed to a medium-sized town directly below. “Hold on tight!”

“Wait, what?”

Another scream left his throat as gravity seized them. The town grew larger until they impacted.

The hit drove the air from his lungs. He tumbled and rolled down a drift until he came to a stop in the snow. He coughed and spat it out.

Hands adjusted the hat on his head.

“Do all you freaks just fly?” He pushed her away, still shaking.

“Flying takes skill.” Cinnamon vaulted onto a nearby cottage roof in a single leap. “Most elf kids would drop like rocks.”

Bel scanned the surroundings. Each door was carved with faces; some grinned, some screamed, but all glowed from within. Overhead, strands of orange and purple lights crisscrossed. In the centre of the town square, a massive tree stood decorated with tiny bats that fluttered between the branches.

And there were kids everywhere. One wore a ghost costume that made them look almost transparent; Bel could see right through them. A little elf dressed as a pumpkin waddled past.

“What are you doing?” Bel observed as Cinnamon landed on the roof. “We’re not seriously just sitting here, are we?”

“Relax.” She pointed to the sky which was beginning to turn orange. “Trick-or-treating doesn’t start until sunset. Until then, we wait.”

“Wait? Are you serious?”

“An hour of reflection won’t kill you.”

“An hour? I’m gonna get hypothermia!” He rubbed his arms. “New York never gets this cold!”

“Your uniform’s enchanted to keep you warm. You’re fine.” She tuned him out. Her expression didn’t change as he threw his tantrum: five minutes of screaming about his bad treatment, about the kidnapping, about how she was a “psycho bitch” and he’d see her arrested.

By ten minutes, his shouts turned to muttered swears. His teeth started chattering.

By twenty, he’d gone quiet. He just sat on a wooden block, watching the elves pass by. Even here he was invisible, for not one of them looked at him twice.

I could run, he thought. She’s probably sleeping.

He glanced up. Cinnamon’s tail barely swayed; her eyes were closed.

He then stood and took a step towards the street.

“Don’t even think about it,” she said, freezing him in place. “You try to run away, and you’re gonna be in my boot for the rest of patrol. And I don’t wear socks, mister.”

He immediately sat down. By the time the Sun began to dip, he was trembling too hard to speak. His fingers were numb.

If I sit here any longer, my ass is gonna be numb.

“Alright, Belial.” Cinnamon stood, stretching. “Showtime.”

She dropped something. He caught it instinctively. It was a pumpkin-shaped bucket, heavy with glowing candy.

“Patrol is from six to ten. Four hours.” She smiled down at him. “Kids come to you, you give them candy. Simple.”

He stared at the bucket. “So I don’t get to go trick-or-treating?”

“Bad boys don’t get treats, Belial. They give treats.” Her smile widened. “Oh, and our traditions are a little more authentic than yours.”

“What does that—?” A sound cut him off. Footsteps.

A group of five skeleton-dressed children rounded the corner. Their skin retained that translucent quality that revealed the outline of actual bones shifting beneath. The skull paint on their faces dripped. They stood perfectly still before Bel.

“Trick or treat, kiss our feet,” they sang in unison.

“Ew. What?” He grabbed a handful of candy and dumped it into their bags. “There. Happy Halloween.”

They didn’t move. They just stared at him.

“Uh… You can go now. Shoo.”

“They’re serious about the rhyme,” Cinnamon chuckled.

His eyes widened. “You mean… No! No way!”

Five bare feet extended towards him together.

They were completely caked in grime. Black and brown sludge clung to their heels and was packed under their long toenails. One foot appeared to have dried mud between the toes. Another had a dark, sticky substance on the ball of the foot.

“I’m gonna be sick!”

“If I have to come down there…” Cinnamon’s leg swung over the edge of the roof. “It won’t be pretty.”

He looked at the feet and back to her. Then back to the feet.

“Last warning, Belial.”

“Stop calling me that!” But he was moving forward. He squeezed his eyes shut and leaned down.

The first foot touched his lips. The texture was like sandpaper mixed with ice. His lips registered every crack in the dry skin. He pulled back, gagging.

“Four more,” one of the children said in a hollow voice.

His hands shook as he kissed the second foot. This one sported damp grime that smeared across his lips. He proceeded with the third and the fourth foot, each one hurting more than the last. By the fifth foot, he was crying. Tears froze on his cheeks as he pressed his mouth to the dirty skin. He pulled away, begging for death.

“Thank you,” the children said. They skipped away.

Bel fell to his knees and vomited into the snow.

That was just three minutes of this. I have four hours!

He wiped his mouth with his sleeve. From the roof, Cinnamon couldn’t help but snicker.

“Having fun down there?”

“Go fuck yourself,” he whispered. He forced himself to stand and grab the candy bucket with his cold fingers.

“Trick or treat, kiss my feet.”

The voice came directly in front of him. He looked up.

A girl was floating. Her body was completely translucent to where he could see the street through her torso. Her face was peaceful.

Then she raised one foot, and Bel let out a startled scream.

If the other kids’ feet had been bad, these were vile. The soles were black with filth. The ball of her foot was covered in a thick layer of a dark, crusty substance that cracked when she flexed her toes. A thick, black cheese had formed between every toe.

The worst part was the smell.

Sour and rancid, it was as if her foot had been unwashed for a month. The cold air did nothing to kill the stench.

“You heard her,” Cinnamon said. “Get with the programme.”

“Why can’t you do it?” His voice cracked.

“Remember what I said about coming down there?” Cinnamon’s tail lazily dangled over the roof’s edge. “Want me to? I will.”

Bel whimpered. The smell intensified as he got closer to the ghost girl’s foot. It was so strong he could taste it. His stomach heaved.

Something sticky transferred to his lips immediately. He shivered.

“Thank you,” the ghost girl whispered, floating away.

Bel collapsed onto his hands and knees. He tried to vomit again, but there was nothing left. Just dry heaves that racked his body while tears continued to freeze on his face.

“Only three hours and fifty-five minutes to go,” Cinnamon giggled.

How the hell am I gonna survive this?

---

Westward, in another district of the sprawling city, Ginger fidgeted.

While Cinnamon could sit for hours, Ginger developed an itch under her skin with each idle minute. She was standing at attention one moment, balancing on a rooftop railing the next and attempting a handstand for three seconds before boredom struck again.

The official Workshop Patrol uniform didn’t help. She loathed it. The stiff collar chafed. The boots were the worst, squeezing her toes into a stuffy prison when they were born for the freedom of sandals. An itch crept down her arch. She had to grab the roof’s edge to keep herself from ripping the boot off right there.

“Come on, feet,” she muttered through gritted teeth. “Hot bath and a lotion scrub at the end of this.”

As the clock chimed seven, she forced herself upright. So far, so boring. Sure, it was an exciting Halloween for the kids, but without conflict? She might as well have been watching paint dry. Her thoughts drifted to Bel, probably losing his mind under Cinnamon’s supervision.

She wiggled her cramped toes inside the boot. “Still can’t figure out what his deal with feet is. Since when are they scary?” She smirked. “Cinnamon’s probably having the time of her life with him right now.”

Her gaze returned to the street and froze.

A small elf in a wolf costume skipped towards a cottage. But behind the child, something flickered between two buildings. A twist of lavender light coalesced into a monstrous eyeball ringed with needle-like teeth. The pupil dilated and locked onto the little wolf.

Ginger’s boredom evaporated. “That’s… That’s a sharpgazer!”

She launched herself off the roof without thinking, crashing into the child and shoving her into a snowbank. The eye lunged at the empty air. Ginger’s hands ignited, and she unleashed a wave of fire that engulfed the creature. It let out a metallic shriek before dissolving into black smoke.

“Run, kid!” Ginger barely had time to breathe before wings filled the space. Four more sharpgazers materialised, circling her.

Her jaw clenched. “Alright, Seph. Enough with the dramatic entrance.” She cracked her knuckles. “Show yourself so I can kick your ass already.”

“Always so rude and impatient, Ginger.”

The voice was silky smooth. The air shimmered, turning into a purple light show before morphing into cool mist. From it descended a petite woman, landing with grace. Her smile was all teeth.

“Missed me, dear?”

Ginger’s eyes narrowed. “You know how this ends. Why bother showing up?”

“Because grudges are such persistent little things.” Seph examined her long nails. “Besides, the third year of my banishment has been most illuminating. The arcane arts I’ve mastered since our last meeting would shatter the wits of your paltry crew.”

“So you cut your hair and recycled the same monsters.” Ginger rolled her eyes. “Riveting.”

“Boring night for you, I imagine. Fortunately I might possess a remedy.” Seph spun on her heel. She tilted her head, as if listening to something distant. “Because I did sense a rather fascinating new energy upon my return. Over in Mistletown, of all places.” She smacked her lips. “I sense Cinnamon, naturally. But what’s this?” She let out a delighted giggle. “Does human energy grace this place?”

Ginger’s blood chilled. “Stay the hell away from there, Seph.”

“Oh my!” Seph pressed a hand to her chest in mock surprise. “A genuine human boy? Here? What an exquisite new toy you’ve brought me.”

“I said—”

Seph’s kick came faster than Ginger could process. It slammed into her ribs and sent her sprawling. Before she could recover, Seph flicked her wrist. The sharpgazers dove as one.

“Wait!”

But Seph was already vaulting onto a floating broomstick, rising into the air with a childlike laugh. “Oh, I would hate to be a member of the Sugar Squad when the great Santa Claus discovers that a human has become my new familiar!”

“You bitch!” Ginger roared, unleashing a stream of flames at the diving creatures. One swooped from her blind spot, sinking its teeth into her forearm. She screamed and blasted it point-blank with fire from her mouth. The others scattered from the heat. Gritting through the pain, she spun into a flaming roundhouse kick that incinerated them in one sweep.

She didn’t pause to inspect the wound on her arm. Bel was the priority. Her hand slapped at her pocket. She felt nothing. She tried again. Still nothing.

“No. No, no, no, no, no…” Her heart sank. “The beeper! I left the beeper back home!”

---

“Where do you think you’re going?” Cinnamon descended from the roof, landing silently in front of Bel as he tried to flee from another child. “We’ve got three hours left on this patrol, little boy.”

“If I have to kiss one more grimy foot, I’m gonna die!” he whined, trying to push past her.

She blocked him with her tail. “Keep this up, and you’re gonna be at my feet all night long, is that understood?”

“I’d rather chew off my own tongue than put my mouth anywhere near your sweaty, cheese-stinking hooves, you ugly fuck!”

A flash of hurt crossed Cinnamon’s face. Then fury swiftly replaced it.

“That’s it,” she hissed. “You have ten seconds to get back to your post. Ten, nine…”

Bel didn’t wait to hear the rest. He sprinted as fast as his legs could carry him. No way she’s getting me, he thought, ducking down a narrow alleyway between two cottages. He pressed himself against the wall, praying she hadn’t seen him turn.

Then his world flipped upside down.

He was yanked into the air by his ankle. Panic surged as he wriggled uselessly, the ground metres below.

From the street, Cinnamon looked up in disbelief. “What in the…?”

“Yoo-hoo!” a theatrical voice called out. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it, dear Cinnamon?”

Seph sat casually on her broomstick, holding a terrified Bel by the ankle like a caught fish. “Such a pretty little human you’ve caught here. Tell me: how did you smuggle him through the Voie?”

Elves screamed and candy bags hit the ground. Parents scooped up their children and fled as sharpgazers descended from the rooftops.

Cinnamon’s mind raced. The town, the elves—they’re my responsibility. But this boy is more important right now! She pressed the alert button on her beeper.

“Still so stubborn,” Seph sighed. “No matter. He’ll be coming with me.”

“Oh, thank God!” Bel gasped, his face flushed. “Please just take me home! Away from these psychos!”

Seph’s eyes lit up. “Ooh, you hear that, Cinnamon? He wants to come with me.”

“Over my dead body!” Cinnamon launched herself into the sky, fist cocked back.

“If you insist.” Seph dropped Bel.

He screamed as he plummeted, then he stopped mid-air, encased in a glittering purple bubble. It floated gently to the side while Cinnamon’s punch hit empty air.

Seph dodged and drove her knee into Cinnamon’s stomach. She doubled over, gasping. Before she could recover, Seph grabbed her by the ponytail and hurled her downward. Cinnamon crashed through a cottage roof, sending shingles everywhere.

“Someone has been slacking,” Seph murmured. She glanced at Bel’s bubble with a smile. “Don’t worry, little one. This shall all be over soon.”

“You’re really gonna take me home, right?”

She studied him for a moment. “I’m the sweetest little elf around, dear human. Of course I’ll take care of you.”

“Thank… Thank you.”

Her face softened. But just as she went to speak, a blazing figure shot past her, so close that the heat singed her hair.

Ginger landed hard on a nearby rooftop, her boots skidding on the tiles. Blood dripped from her forearm, but her hands remained ablaze. “Get away from him!”

“Welcome back!” Seph chortled. “I suppose you didn’t wish to die alone, did you?”

Rather than bother with a reply, Ginger launched forward. Seph avoided the first punch. The second punch connected with her shoulder, and Seph hissed. But she recovered quickly. She caught Ginger’s next strike, twisting the fiery elf’s wrist until something cracked.

Ginger yelped. Seph then drove her palm into Ginger’s chest, and shadowy energy erupted on impact. Ginger was sent flying, crashing through a lamppost.

From the rubble of the cottage, Cinnamon emerged. Her tail whipped forward, wrapping around Seph’s leg and yanking her off the broomstick. Seph hit the cobblestones hard but rolled with the impact, coming up elegantly.

“Didn’t I warn you?” Her smile never faltered.

She thrust both hands forward. A wave of dark energy surged outward, tearing up cobblestones and shattering windows. Cinnamon braced herself, but the blast still sent her skidding back. Ginger tried to counter with a wall of flame, but her injured wrist buckled.

Seph had already closed the distance to Ginger, delivering an icy kick that sent her tumbling. Before Cinnamon could intervene, Seph summoned three more sharpgazers. They swarmed Cinnamon, their teeth snapping mere centimetres from her face.

Inside his bubble, Bel watched in silence. She’s destroying them. A small part of him felt relieved. Perhaps Seph really would take him home.

Then a shadow dropped from above.

Pepper landed before Seph and Ginger, her iron staff slamming into the ground with enough force to crack it. The shockwave sent Seph stumbling back.

“Your probability of victory has decreased significantly,” Pepper stated, spinning her staff.

Seph’s smile finally disappeared. “Lovely. The emotionless one.”

Pepper didn’t respond. She lunged, her staff a whirlwind of precise strikes. Seph dodged the first two, but the third caught her ribs. The fourth slammed into her shin. For the first time, Seph’s expression turned to pain.

Growling, she teleported behind Pepper, her palms crackling with shadow energy. But as she floated back, she collided with something soft yet firm.

“You’ve caused enough trouble.” Marshmallow caught Seph’s arms mid-attack. Seph tried to pull free, but Marshmallow’s grip was tight.

“Let go!” she grunted.

“You like to play tough when it’s one or two,” Cinnamon panted, rising to her feet. Blood trickled from a cut above her eye. “Yet whenever it’s the four of us, suddenly you’re useless.”

Ginger limped forward. “Should’ve run when you had the chance.”

Pepper twirled her staff, the tip aimed at Seph’s throat. “Do not resist.”

Seph’s eyes widened. With a yell and a burst of energy, she wrenched herself free from Marshmallow. Her broomstick materialised beneath her as she rocketed into the sky.

“Clearly I underestimated just how idiotically powerful you are together, even with my training,” she spat, her voice losing its theatrical edge. She was breathing hard. “But don’t think this is over! You’ll all regret—”

“Get lost,” Pepper stated flatly. She didn’t even look up as she swung her staff, batting a chunk of brick through the air. It smacked Seph in the chest, and she shot backwards, disappearing into the night with a shriek of fury.

The bubble around Bel popped. He dropped into Marshmallow’s waiting arms.

“You okay?” she asked gently.

He didn’t answer. He was staring at the destruction: the shattered windows, a toppled lamppost, the cottage with a gaping hole in its roof… The well near the square had partially melted, its stone walls sagging.

“Patrol with a human,” Ginger muttered, trying to straighten her torn sleeve. “And that lunatic shows up.”

“Is your arm okay, Ginger?” Marshmallow asked.

“I’m not that weak. Wrist’s worse.”

“What a mess,” Cinnamon lamented, gesturing at the well. “Just look at the town. Here comes another less-than-stellar report.”

Then their beepers went off, but it wasn’t with the usual alarm. This chirp was higher pitched, the light flashing frantic red and white. All four of their faces went pale.

“Uh-oh.” Bel’s first genuine smile of the night spread across his face. “Sounds like someone’s in trouble.”

Four glares snapped towards him so fiercely that his smile died instantly.

“You,” Cinnamon said slowly, her tail twitching, “are so lucky we can’t leave you here.”