“See fairies? No.” Well, except for Lily Stargazer's clockwork fairy, but that was different. “But I sometimes see…something.”
“Something?”
“Enough of something that it helps me with the job,” I said with a smile.
Agent Hunter grinned at me then turned back to the book. “I wish we could all see something. As for our demon problem, I was mentioning that a demon will often return once their goal is met. What kind of demon they are will often help us determine their goal. See if you recognize any of these,” he said, flipping to a chapter in his book that contained drawings of genuinely hideous beasts. While the monster I’d tracked was fearsome, I was happy I didn’t recognize any of those in the tome.
“A goal,” I mused as Agent Hunter turned the pages. “I think I have a lead there. Strange as it may sound, I believe the demon is leaving a calling card. At the home of the first child who was abducted, a pear was left behind. Miss Anderson’s father found a colly bird in her room. And the guttersnipes found some golden rings. In fact, our initial intel was completely wrong. Nine children have been abducted so far, not four.”
“Nine!”
I nodded. “The little street rats who work the Strand were overlooked.”
Agent Hunter frowned. “And likely they didn’t make a report.” He closed the book and set it aside. “From what you’re saying, it’s none of these then. Let me see,” he said then rose and went to his bookshelf once more.
As he searched, I eyed over the table. A stack of his mail was lying there, including a Christmas postcard from someone with lovely feminine penmanship. I slid the note toward me to get a better look:
Dearest Edwin, we sincerely hope you can join us at Rushwood Hall for Christmas dinner. Most Sincerely, Eloise May and the Walcroft Family
Hell’s bells. I knew it.
“Ah, perhaps this one,” Agent Hunter said, pulling a book from the shelf.
Feeling guilty for snooping, I flipped the card over, pretending I hadn’t read every word and wasn’t currently stewing in a fit of jealousy.
When I did, however, I was shocked. There, on the face of the Christmas postcard, was the image of the demon I’d seen the night before.
Gasping, I stood. I lifted the postcard and stared at it.
“What is it?” Agent Hunter’s eyes went to my hands. “Oh. Yes. The Walcrofts. I still haven’t found an excuse to get out of that invitation.”
“No, it’s not that. Sorry about the unfortunate invite. Why don’t you come to dinner with me and my grand-mère on Christmas instead? This. It’s this. It’s him,” I said, pointing to the image on the card.
The image of a giant, shaggy demon with horns, yellow eyes, cloven feet, and a forked tongue had been printed on the card. On his back, he carried a basket, a screaming child inside. Around his feet were Christmas packages, dolls, and toys. The card read: “Be Good! Krampus is Coming.”
“I’d love to join you and your grand-mère. Thank you very much. Is that Krampus? You saw Krampus?” Agent Hunter said, taking the card from my hand. “You’re sure? Absolutely sure?”
“Positive. He wears jingle bells on his green cloak and smells of peppermint. He looks exactly the same, down to the basket.”
“Krampus has never manifested in London before. You said nine children have been taken so far?”
I nodded.
“It’s almost Christmas. If we don’t find these children before then—” Agent Hunter began.
“Then Krampus will take them back to the Otherworld with him. The children—Tobias, Lucas, Tom, and the little street rats—were all very naughty children. And little Elizabeth is more spoiled than Princess Helena. He’s collecting some of the naughtiest children in London.”
The color drained from Agent Hunter’s face.
Grabbing me by my hand, he led me to the wall where a map of London was displayed. “Tell me again. Show me where were the children taken,” he said.
“The Strand. Starting around Saint Clement Danes. Here,” I said, pointing to the Browns’ address. “Then at the orphanage, Waterloo—or thereabouts—near the Lyceum, the Alperstein’, who I have not yet met, then last night here,” I said, pointing.
Agent Hunter grabbed a pen from the table and marked on the map. We both stood and stared. Krampus was working the Strand, but his path was leading him directly to Buckingham.
“You tracked him to Saint James Park,” Agent Hunter said stiffly as a terrible realization washed over both of us.
“Yes. Lost him near the lake.”
“I need to send a messenger to Her Majesty. The Princess…”
Agent Hunter was right. If Krampus was hunting naughty children, then Princess Helena had to be his ultimate prize. The Queen’s ill-tempered daughter’s behavior was renowned. Newspapers and cartoon pamphlets joked about the princess. There wasn’t a person in London who didn’t know about her rotten behavior.
I nodded.
“We need to find his lair. We need to work the Park. He must be vanquished, sent back to Hell before nightfall tonight. But we need to find the other children first. Let me send some messages then get into uniform.”
“Of course.”
There was a knock on the door. “Breakfast, sir?” the butler called, pushing a cart loaded with food and a pot of hot tea.
“Clem—Agent Louvel, please, enjoy your breakfast. I’ll get the messages out and join you in a bit. In the meantime, this will prove useful,” he said, pulling yet another book from the shelf and handing it to me. He then hurried out of the room.
Clearing a spot at the end of the table, the butler set out my breakfast then left.
I sat down at the table, poured honey and slipped a bit of lemon into my tea, then took a sip. Perfection. I stared at the beautiful meal before me. My mouth watered at the heaps of eggs, ham, potatoes, scones, clotted cream, and jam. At the sight of all the food, I could barely focus on thoughts of Krampus, demons, and the poorly behaved Princess Helena.
But then another realization slowly washed over me.
I had invited Agent Hunter to Christmas dinner.
And he had said yes.
Chapter 10: Edwin & Clemeny
My belly full of ham, tea, and scones slathered in strawberry jam and clotted cream, I found my way back to Agent Hunter’s chair by the fireplace. With his book in hand, I settled in. I flipped open the book to the title page: A Guide to Wood Sprites, Elves, and Holiday Hobgoblins by S. Rossetti. Inside the book, I found a bookplate indicating that the tome had at one time belonged to Horace Walpole and the library at Strawberry Hill House. It wasn’t the first time I had heard that name and place associated with the preternatural. Mister Walpole was said to be very interested in the occult, and the current resident of the home, the Countess Waldegrave, was no different. I flipped to the table of contents then turned the yellowing pages to the section titled Holiday Hobgoblins. Therein, the author covered all manner of supernatural creatures associated with holidays. There was a hefty chapter on old Celtic Yule lore, the magical uses of mistletoe, the birth of Santa Claus—and the difference between him and Father Christmas—and Krampus.
I skimmed the pages, but suddenly my eyes felt very heavy. I slipped off my boots, curling my feet underneath me, and read.
Krampus, it seemed, was a well-known demon from the Alps, but he had been spotted in many regions throughout the world during the holidays. Early observers had incorrectly connected him to the Celtic god Cernunnos. Instead, he was an Otherworld creature who walked the mortal realm during the days leading up to Christmas. But conditions had to be right for him to enter the mortal realm. Wickedness, particularly in children, created dark energy which allowed him to enter the…the…
“Agent Louvel,” a soft voice called. Someone gently shook my shoulder. “Clemeny.”
I inhaled deeply. Cinnamon.
Wait, did he just call me Clemeny?
My eyes fluttered open. I was still sitting in the chair by the fireplace, but I was
covered by a heavy quilt. The sunlight streaming in through the window told me it was after dawn.
Agent Hunter, dressed in his formal uniform, stepped back. He smiled at me.
“I’m sorry to wake you. I don’t think you’ve slept in more than a day, and probably little before that, but we need to get on the case.”
Trying to wake up, I looked from him then around the room. Another chair had been pulled near the fire. A book sat on the seat, an empty cup of tea on the table beside it. Had he been sitting here with me?
“Sorry, sir. I—”
“Edwin,” he said.
“Sorry?”
“Please, call me Edwin. At least, when the other agents are not around.”
“Oh. Thank you…Edwin.” Oh my god, what is happening?
He nodded. “I’ve sent messages to the palace, ordered increased patrols. I also sent word to Agent Fox, asking him to interview the Alpersteins and send in a report. You and I will head to Saint James Park. If my hunch is right, we will find the demon’s portal there.”
Still trying to master the fluttering in my heart, I refocused. “Yeah. Okay. All right. So, if silver doesn’t harm the creature, what do you use?”
Agent Hunter—Edwin—motioned for me to follow him to the table where a wooden case was sitting.
“Before I was promoted, I worked in the field. I assume you already heard.”
“Just rumors. But that’s how I knew to come to you.” There had been a lot of rumors about Agent Hunter’s work before he became lead agent at Shadow Watch, but one tale persisted. Edwin Hunter was the best demon hunter in the realm.
He released the latches on his wooden case. Inside were vials of holy water, silver crucifixes, bags of dried herbs, a few clockwork devices I did not recognize, a bible, two unmarked journals that looked incredibly old, a dagger with a wooden blade, and a stake. “I think we’ll find the right tool for the job.”
“I really need one of those.”
“Well, Christmas is coming.”
I chuckled.
“First, we need to find the demon’s lair. Shall we go hunting?”
Smirking, I nodded.
Agent Hunter closed up his demon hunting case, and we headed outside.
Chapter 11: Saddle Up
I half-expected Agent Hunter would have a fancy new auto, one of those disdainful coal or steam-powered contraptions that seemed to be taking London by storm. Instead, I found his horse saddled outside. The beast I had borrowed from the palace guard perked up when he saw me.
“Yes, I am here to take you home,” I told the beast, patting him on the neck. I slipped into the saddle.
Agent Hunter mounted, securing his box behind him, and we headed off in the direction of the park.
It was still very early in the morning. There was a chill in the air, and a light dusting of snowflakes covered the ground. The delicious scents of gingerbread and sugar cookies perfumed the air outside a bakery. The shop fronts were decorated for the holidays. Green and red silk gowns, bonnets trimmed with holly, and other elegant frocks were on display in the windows. One shop used a zeotrope to show moving images of Santa in his sleigh flying around the holiday window scene. Other stores offered colorfully decorated Christmas crackers or ornaments for the newly popular Christmas tree. It seemed that whatever Her Majesty deemed festive and fashionable was suddenly becoming a tradition.
We rode across the city to the palace stables not far from Trafalgar Square and just outside Saint James Park.
As we approached, we earned the attention of two soldiers who gave us a hard look and then came our way.
“You there. Why do you have a guardsman’s horse?” one man called.
Agent Hunter pulled his badge from inside his jacket and flashed it at the men. “There’s no need for tone, gentlemen.”
Both men paused, the more outspoken one eyeing me over.
“You’re Agent Louvel?” he asked.
“Yes,” I replied. “And this is Agent Hunter.”
“Agents,” the outspoken man said as he eyed us warily.
I slid off the horse and, taking it by the reins, led it to the man. “With my thanks and apologies,” I said, handing over the lead.
“No need, Agent.”
“We’ll be investigating nearby today. I need to lodge my horse,” Agent Hunter said.
“The stable master is in the office,” one of the guards said, pointing.
With a curt nod, Agent Hunter led his horse in that direction. I followed along. When we arrived at the office, however, we could see through the window that the stable master was already engaged. A distraught stable hand was explaining something in an animated way. The stable master, who’d barely put down a paper he was reading, was trying to dismiss the worried man.
Agent Hunter tied his horse to a post. Without waiting for an invitation, he opened the stable master’s door and entered. I waited just outside.
“It’s just not like Nawali. He would never run off like this.”
“Enough,” the man said, his voice thick with irritation. “Don’t make excuses for him. We both know that boy is always up to pranks. He’ll turn up later today.”
Agent Hunter cleared his throat. Both men turned to look.
“You’re dismissed, Josiah,” the stable master said.
The stable hand exited, his face showing a fit of fear and frustration. He headed back toward the stables. Agent Hunter started grilling the stable master, who was now standing, his attention restored. I went after the stable hand.
“Sir,” I called.
The man did not stop.
“You there. Stable hand.”
The man paused. He looked back. Seeing me, he lowered his eyes. “Sorry, my lady. I didn’t realize you were calling me.”
Because I’d called him sir. “No need to apologize. Agent Louvel. What’s your name, sir?”
“Josiah.”
“You were trying to tell the stable master someone is missing, am I right? Who has gone missing?”
“A stable boy. Nawali. He headed out this morning before dawn to feed and water the horses, and I can’t find the boy anywhere. His grain buckets were sitting in the middle of the stable like the boy just vanished into thin air.”
“This morning?”
“Yes. Before dawn.”
My heart skipped a beat. “Show me where you found the grain pails.”
“Yes, Agent,” he said then motioned for me to follow.
Long rows of stalls housed regal looking beasts. Everything was neatly kept. Guards were milling around, getting their mounts ready for the day.
“How many people are on guard here early in the morning? When Nawali was out?” I asked.
“None, really. There are guards in the yard, but no one would be foolish enough to try to steal from the stables. They’d be shot on sight.”
If anyone actually saw them. “When did you realize the boy was missing?”
“He always gets up before me, so I didn’t think anything of it. But I heard the horses. They were riled up about something, snorting and whinnying, kicking their pen doors and walls. I came out to see what was the matter. I found the pails but no boy.”
“I heard the stable master say the boy is a prankster.”
“He is. But he has a good heart. At times, he takes his jests too far, that’s all. Another hand was hurt recently as a result of Nawali’s pranks. The stable master is not happy with him right now.”
I frowned then followed Josiah to the far end of the stable, which just so happened to be situated across the street from Saint James Park.
“Here,” the man said.
I scanned all around. The horses were standing at the back of their stalls, their eyes wide as they breathed in deeply. I looked all around for some sign of the beast. A soft breeze blew through the barn, stirring up the scents of hay, manure, and…peppermint?
“Do you smell that?” I asked the man.
“Sorry, Agent. The barn always—”
“Peppermint.”
Hell’s bells. I had chased the beast away from one victim only for him to find an alternative closer to the park. I hadn’t saved anyone, only changed the target.
Josiah bent and picked up a wooden box next to a stack of bales of hay. He opened the lid and looked inside, a perplexed expression on his face.
“What is it?” I asked.
Opening the box wide, he turned it so I could see. Inside were what looked like small flutes. They were very short with only one opening at the top.
“Pipes…kazoo, actually,” the man said. “Like we play back home.” He picked one up and blew through it. It made a rattling buzzing sound. “Nawali must have bought them. There’s enough here for all the boys.”
I counted the pipes in the box. There were ten. “May I keep those for the time being?” I asked.
Josiah nodded then handed the box to me.
“Agent Louvel?” Agent Hunter—Edwin—called.
“Sir,” I said, turning to him. My eyes lingered on his for a long moment, my lips twitching to a smile which Agent Hunter echoed. Realizing that Josiah was looking at me, I reined in my grin then relayed everything Josiah had told me and what he had found.
Agent Hunter listened, his manner stiff and formal, a countenance I’d grown accustomed to in meetings. But I’d seen a brief glimmer of the real man behind that formal posture, and he was everything I had ever dreamed he would be.
“Thank you, Josiah. We shall see to the matter,” Agent Hunter said.
“Thank you, sir. I had heard some children had gone missing, that’s why I was so worried. I tried to tell the stable master. I never thought anyone would care about a stable boy. Why steal him?”
“We’ll sort it out and bring him home,” I reassured Josiah.
“Thank you, Agent. He’s a foolish little boy, but he is dear to me.”
I set a reassuring hand on the man’s shoulder. “We’ll do our very best. And we will also note in our report that your superior dismissed his disappearance,” I said with a wink.
Frostbitten Fairy Tales Page 6
