Prompt - A limo driver and five bossy boys kidnap a bike messenger.
 By Yanarra

“I told you he would be hard to catch.”  
The voice whined from the leather-coated, plush recesses of the limo’s seating. It was a plaintive, commonly heard voice, often pitched in a higher than normal tone and usually complaining.
 
“Will you shut up about that already?”
Another voice snapped back, a slithering whisper of a contralto was hinted in his speech.
 
“Who’d have thought He’d have taken to living like this so fast and easily...”  
The soft mutter came almost as an afterthought. The deep base of this speakers' voice carried an authoritative note that  made you think they were used to being listened to, and their muttered musings were nothing new.
 
“It doesn’t matter what you think. Mother said to fetch him, so that’s what we do.”
This voice was smooth, almost pleasant to listen to, and had an imperative snap to it. Like one who was so used to being overlooked would develop.
Sometimes it was even accompanied by a backbone.
 
The fifth body in the limo merely ignored the squabbling of the others. Instead their attention was on the passing masses of humanity outside the limo’s tinted windows, those giving the viewer a feeling of detachment.
As if one of the Dark Court ever worried about being ‘part of humanity’.
 
Slowly, the separating partition between the limo’s cushy back and the front where the driver sat rolled down.
“Sirs? The bike courier you have instructed me to follow has taken another turn down a bike path. Would you rather I circled back again, or find the exit to the next street it comes out on?”
 
Curses, both English and not, met his words.
 
Again the shrill, whining voice piped, “What is his fascination with being among the humans in the first place!? Dredging about like a common troll no less. I tell you it’s humiliating to be chasing him like this! What, by the Dark Shadow, is Mother’s obsession with making him come home? And why now of all time?  He made his intent perfectly clear two centuries ago when he left. Why does she want him home now? And before this asinine human holiday... what’s that one...? With the fat creature that crawls down the fire place and punishes their offspring?”
 
“Fendon... be quite with your incessant whining already will you.”  The low, muttering baritone never rose in pitch, but the command was there.  It was not a request.
Fendon slumped further down into the limo’s seat and glared out the window with a final parting mutter.  “Whatever, Grelfay.”
 
The owner of the baritone voice sighed, and chose to ignore his younger brother. Closing his grey eyes he pinched the bridge of his long, aquiline nose. “Alan,” he called out to the driver, “will you please head towards where the bike path exits onto a street? We’ll see if we can pick up his path there.”
 
“Yes sir, Mr. Kashass.”
 
The window slowly rolled back up. It was a few moments before speech resumed.
 
“Christmas.” The smooth contralto voice filled the silence in the limo.
 
Fendon looked away from the window and at his brother. “What was that Welnos?”
 
Welnos gave a slight grin and shrugged with one shoulder. “The holiday season you were asking about. It is Christmas. The fat creature is called “Santa Claus”.  And he gives gifts. He does not punish their offspring.  It’s really quite an endearing story.”
 
Rolling his eyes, Fendon turned and looked out the limo window, his gaze jumping to face to face of every bike courier they passed. “I care not for the particulars. I don’t have this fascination with the humans that you and HE have.”  The last part came out as a bitter spit, and Grelfay looked in his brother’s direction, all but daring him to meet his gaze.
An old hand at ignoring his domineering brother, Fendon kept his face resolutely turned away from the others.
 
The owner of the smooth voice cleared his throat and looked at Grelfay. “Perhaps we are going about this wrong? Has anyone actually called his cell phone and invited him back home on Mother’s behalf?”
 
Grelfay stared at him, his eyes narrowed as he turned that thought over.
 
Fendon spoke up, “You seriously think that would work Arathan? I don’t. Little snot would hear nothing beyond this being yet another Call Home, he would then hang up and we would STILL be on the streets of the city, chasing him through this blighted human crowd.”
 
Reaching forward, Arathan smoothly and calmly smacked his brother upside the head, earning a high-pitched whine from Fendon.
 
“Enough.” Silent up until this point, Belorak could only tolerate so much of his older brother’s squabbling. One would never guess that he was the second youngest of six males in his family, starting with Grelfay and ending with their reticent brother; Veldon.
 
Sending a thankful glance his way, Grelfay opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by Arathan yelling out. 
“There he is! I just saw Veldon come out behind that Fed-Ex van!”
 
Sure as he said, Veldon scooted from behind the van, seemingly completely unaware he was being hunted by the eldest of his family.
Pulling up on to the sidewalk, he leaned his bike up against a fire hydrant, and looking around him, he quickly placed his hand on the bike seat and his lips moved quickly. Sensitive to magic, his brothers’ saw him cast a deterrent spell on his bike, before he started walking briskly toward the office building behind him, wrestling with a package inside his backpack in practiced moves.
 
Grelfay knocked on the glass partition, and Alan pulled the limo to the side of the street, expertly manoeuvring around the downtown traffic with ease.

“The little beggar shames us all by using High Magic for such mundane things!” Fendon cried out, and then ducked before someone could smack him on his head.
 
Shaking his head, Belorak quickly slid on a pair of black calfskin gloves with small silver embroidered runes that glinted as he moved, then looked at the others.
“Alright then. Who’s casting the Glamour, who’s casting the Sleep, and who’s going to help me grab him?”
 
Welnos grinned, and with too much joviality in his voice, was quick to claim his part. “I’ve got the Glamour spell!”
 
Arathan shrugged and grabbed a pair of gloves twin to his brothers.  “I’ll help Belorak grab him.”
 
Settling himself firmly in his seat, Fendon made his place in the scheme known by his inaction. His brothers were too used to him to be phased by his childish behavior at this point.  “I don’t see why we should waste our energy on a Sleep spell. One good clout to the head and he’s out...”
 
“Shut up Fendon.”  Grelfay said automatically.  “Guess this means I have the Sleep spell.”
 
Nodding at his brother, Belorak looked at the others. “Alright then, let’s get this done and get back to the mound before Mother calls the limo phone again. I am getting tired of telling her he’s not found yet.  Hopefully once he’s home, she’ll explain the fuss and hurry to get him back by Christmas Eve.”
 
The others nodded their agreement.