Racing behind the creature, I climbed up a ladder then crawled up onto the rooftops behind him. The beast leapt from rooftop to rooftop, the moonlight illuminating his massive silhouette. I raced after him, pausing only to take another shot.
The creature ducked behind a chimney just in time. I saw a spray of brick dust.
Dammit.
The demon emerged once more, casting a glance back at me, his yellow eyes shining. He grinned, then jumped across the roof, and then slipped into a garret window at eleven Downing Street.
From inside the house, I heard a scream.
Racing behind the creature, I scrambled over the narrow pitch to the garret. The window was open. Taking a calculated jump, I slipped inside, my pistol ready. But there was no one in the room.
Once more, I heard someone yell. The sound came from the floor below. I raced down the dimly lit hallway and ran down the stairs. At the end of the stairwell, a man in his nightgown wearing a stocking cap appeared from inside one of the rooms. He was holding a lamp and staring at me like he’d seen the ghost from Mister Dickens’ story.
Down the hallway in the opposite direction, a child screamed. I raced down the hall, the man hurrying behind me.
I pushed open the door in time to see Krampus holding a young boy, his clawed hand covering the child’s mouth. The boy’s eyes were wide with fear.
No. No, no, no.
Krampus glared at me. Then he turned his attention to the small fireplace.
“Stop. Stop now, or I’ll shoot,” I said, taking aim.
With a wave of his hand, the beast called up a blaze of green fire in the fireplace.
“And kill the child? He deserves to die, rotten little boy,” Krampus said.
“Arthur!” the man behind me called out in fear.
Without another thought, the beast jumped into the fireplace, dragging the boy along with him.
“No,” I shouted. I leapt after them. I grabbed the child by the foot and pulled hard, trying to yank the boy out of the monster’s grasp.
But then something came loose. The little boy slipped from my grip, and I stumbled. I landed on the floor in front of the hearth. The green fire dissipated. The portal sealed. I looked from the fireplace to the striped sock in my hand.
He had gotten away.
And I had lost the boy.
Sitting by the hearth in front of me was a wooden box. The lid was open. Inside were eleven tiny wooden ballerinas.
Eleven ladies dancing.
One to go.
And if we failed now, given who we figured the next target to be, it would cost Agent Hunter and me our heads.
Chapter 15: In a Heartbeat
My heart beating hard, I called for the local constables to take a full report, sent a runner to wake up Agent Fox to help, then raced back to the Duck House. I had a terrible vision that the sacramental oil had caught the entire house on fire, Edwin unconscious and surrounded by the flames. But when I got there, the fire was out and Edwin was sitting on the step outside, the leafy sprig that had once been a stake in his hand.
“Clemeny,” he called, standing when he saw me. “What happened?”
I inhaled deeply. I had failed. Arthur Pembroke, the nephew of the Chancellor of the Exchequer, who had come to London to watch The Nutcracker and to enjoy some holiday revelry before returning to the countryside, was gone.
I shook my head. “I was too late.”
“Another child?”
I nodded then explained what had happened.
Edwin sat back down. I slid onto the step beside him.
He handed me the branch. It looked like it had been freshly plucked from a spring forest. Even the leaves held the heavenly smell of spring.
“It’s oak,” Edwin said.
Frowning, I looked at the branch as I thought over what had happened.
“That creature…he is no demon,” Edwin said. “If he was, we would have ended this tonight. No demon can escape a ring of sacramental oil. Not even the worst of them,” he said then winced.
I dug a handkerchief from my pocket then turned to him. “You’re bleeding,” I told him. Holding his chin gently, I blotted the blood away. “Might need stitches.” I tried to hold my hand steady, tried not to tremble. But being this close to him, this intimate, made the ember inside me spark into a full-fledged flame. I bit the inside of my cheek and willed myself not to say something completely ridiculous.
“No time. We need to…” he said, but then his voice trailed off.
I paused and looked at him, lowering the handkerchief.
He was staring at me, a soft expression on his face.
Is this really happening?
I loosened my grip on his chin then gently, moving carefully, I touched his cheek.
“I see the way you look at me,” he whispered. “The way your mouth twitches with a smile at your thoughts.” Reaching out, his finger trailed across my lips. “I wonder what you’re thinking in those moments.”
“Maybe it’s better if you don’t know.”
“No. I want to know. I want to know if you’re thinking the same thing I think when I look at you.”
“Edwin,” I whispered.
He leaned in toward me.
The baying of hounds sounded close by. A group of guards holding torches approached.
“Who’s there?” a gruff voice called to us.
Edwin paused then exhaled regretfully. “Agents Hunter and Louvel.”
My knees weak, somehow, I rose, as did Edwin. Standing side by side, we faced the palace guards, Agent Hunter’s hand resting gently on the small of my back.
“Agents,” the guard said. “What’s the matter here?”
“Sir, will you please send one of your men? I need to speak to Her Majesty. Immediately.”
Chapter 16: What Sir Gawain Knew
As Edwin and I walked to Buckingham, I tried to focus on the beast. If Krampus was not a demon, what was he? We needed to dive into the lore quickly. But the more I tried to think about Krampus, the more my thoughts returned again and again to the near-kiss. An almost kiss. A so-damned-close kiss. Hell’s bells. He actually felt the same way about me? About me? That was impossible.
“The beast,” Edwin said, also trying to divert attention away from the terrible tension that lay between us. “When it grabbed you, it yelped. Why?”
“He set his hand on my vambrace.”
“Is it made of silver?”
“My vambraces are made of steel but coated in silver. The silver burns the wolves, but the steel helps to deflect bites.”
“Good god,” Edwin said with a laugh. “You really did deserve more than a goose for a bonus.”
I grinned but thought over his point. “So was it the silver or the steel that affected him? And then there was the stake. It grew in the beast’s grasp.”
Agent Hunter stopped. “Faeries.”
“Sorry?”
“Faeries. Well, more specifically, Unseelie. Dark fey. Steel burns faeries.”
“That would also explain the branch.”
“Krampus is not a demon at all. He is a dark fey creature.”
“Now, how in the hell do we fight something like that?”
Edwin smiled. “I have an idea,” he said and then headed into the palace where we were met by a footman who’d been expecting us.
“The library, please,” Edwin told him.
“Of course, sir,” the man replied then led us down a series of hallways.
I had been in the palace a few times in the past. It was as opulent as I expected. With tapestries, oil paintings, fine rugs, and polished floors, it was the picture of everything a palace should be. I tried not to let it over-impress me, but it was hard. The Queen and her family lived in wealth unlike anything I would ever know. What was remarkable about the palace, however, was how festively everything was trimmed. There must not be a sprig of evergreen in the forests nearby. Red bows, pine boughs, gold and silver ornaments, candles, and all manner of holiday finery
adorned the rooms and halls. The footman led us to the library, closing a set of double doors behind us. Edwin went quickly to the stacks, his fingers drumming along the spines as he looked.
“Let me see. It should be right…here,” he said, pulling a volume from the shelf.
“How did you know the book you wanted was there?” I asked.
“I…well…it’s not important. Come. Take a look,” he said, flipping open the book.
Coming to stand beside him, I looked down to see he was looking at a copy of the Arthurian tale of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight.
“Sir Gawain?”
Edwin nodded. “The beast put me in mind of something. It wasn’t until we made the fey connection that I remembered. Have you ever read this poem?”
“Years ago.”
“Sir Gawain is tested by a magical creature, a fey creature all in green, during the Christmas season. The creature comes to the court to play a Christmas game. The monster, the Green Knight, called into question the true virtue of Arthur’s court. They fail miserably. Sir Gawain beheads the Green Knight, at Arthur’s suggestion. But the monster—magical as he is—puts his head back on and rides off, challenging Gawain to meet him a year later. Only then does Gawain defeat the knight…through his virtue.”
“You think it is the same creature?”
“Yes. It is a faerie. Steel burned it. And the stake confirms it. Now we must consider how to vanquish it.”
“But Gawain won by virtue alone. Our problem is the children. The lot of them lack virtuous qualities. How can we fix that?”
“Well, in the least, we know the monster’s next—and last—target. He has been working toward the biggest offender all this time.”
“Princess Helena.”
Edwin nodded. “I think I know how to capture the monster. In the poem, Gawain wears a pentacle. It is described as having all the virtues of Christ, but it is also a symbol of the Druids. The pentacle is an ancient symbol and highly magical. I believe if we can get the beast into a pentacle, it will stop him.”
“And then?”
“We must convince the beast to leave the portal to the Otherworld open to retrieve the missing children.”
“How will we do that?”
“Bind him.”
“Easier said than done. Bind him with what?”
“Mistletoe,” a voice answered from the door.
We both turned to find Queen Victoria standing there.
“Your Majesty,” Edwin said with a deep bow.
“Your Majesty,” I echoed, curtseying deeply.
The queen turned to the footman following her. “I need a sack of mistletoe. Immediately. Have someone search the grounds. It must be trimmed with a silver blade. And only silver. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” the servant said then hurried off.
The queen closed the door behind her.
“Well, Edwin, I assume you failed to catch the beast tonight.”
“We tried, Your Majesty. I falsely believed it was a demon I was hunting. It’s not. It is an Unseelie.”
Queen Victoria sighed heavily then crossed the room to join us, picking up the tome of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight that we were reading. “So you believe he is coming for Helena?”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Edwin said.
The queen looked over the book then set it down. She looked from Edwin to me. “Nice to see you again, Agent Louvel,” she said, studying my face. She looked back at Edwin. “Do you remember Master Griffiths? From Cottingley? He had a mooneye too.”
I wanted to sink into the floor.
Edwin shifted uncomfortably then said, “I do. He could see fairies. Do you remember?”
Queen Victoria nodded. “I was always jealous. I begged to go to Master Griffiths’s house, to his garden, so I could see them too. And you, Agent Louvel, since the incident, do you ever see fairies?”
“No, Your Majesty.”
“Too busy hunting werewolves, I suppose. Do you and Sir Richard still have that situation in hand?”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” I replied.
“Very good. Well now, you were talking about virtue. If I overhead you correctly, you believe a virtuous act may redeem my daughter and save the missing children. Is that right?”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Edwin said.
The queen sighed. “You know Helena is the most foul-tempered child in the land? Devoid of virtue and entirely selfish?”
“That is the reason, we believe, the beast was summoned here. All the children taken thus far are ill-mannered,” I said. “But an act of virtue on the part of your daughter may undo the damage.”
The queen crossed the room and slid the book back onto the shelf. “Very well. Let’s give it a try. And if we cannot convince her, perhaps the beast will.”
Chapter 17: Princess Helena
To say that Princess Helena, all of five years old, was spoiled, would be an understatement. First, the child would hear nothing from any of us on the matter of the missing children. Nor would she hear anything on the subject that a foul beast was going to come and haul her away.
“Fairy tales,” the princess said dismissively. “No one will be coming through my chimney except Santa Claus to bring me exactly what I asked for. And not an item less,” the princess informed the three of us.
“Helena,” Her Majesty implored. “You are in grave danger. The agents are here to protect you, but you must do as they tell you.”
“If I am in so much danger, then why don’t we remove to Hampton?” she replied tartly.
“It doesn’t matter where you go, Princess. The beast will find you,” I warned the child who turned and glared at me, her face crinkling as she looked me over.
“What happened to your face?” she asked.
“Helena,” Queen Victoria scolded. “Do not be rude.”
“It’s all right,” I said. “I was attacked by a werewolf. He scratched my face, and I nearly lost my eye.”
Princess Helena snorted. “Werewolf? Another fairy tale? Pity. I bet you used to be pretty.”
“That’s quite enough,” Queen Victoria said sternly. “Time for you to go to bed.”
I bit the inside of my cheek and said nothing. The princess was right. Before the scratch, I had been pretty. Before the scratch, I’d at least had a chance to find a suitor. But now… I couldn’t bear to look at Edwin. How could he ever really be interested in a woman like me? It was clear that Edwin knew the queen personally. They’d shared a tutor. That meant he’d lived, at least at some point, in the palace. Was he a Lord’s son? I hardly knew. But what I did know was that a well-born man could hardly be seen on the arm of a disfigured Red Cape Society agent, particularly one below him in rank. Whatever that kiss might have been, I was suddenly glad it was a near miss. The princess simply said what everyone else was thinking. Rude as it was, it was true. Hell, even Lionheart preferred Bryony Paxton over me. What made me think I had a chance with someone like Edwin Hunter?
Agent Hunter motioned to me, and we stepped outside while the queen fought her reluctant child into bed. I heard the princess pitch a tantrum as we waited.
“Clemeny, please don’t think anything of—”
“It would be best if we stay close by tonight. We can get to work first thing in the morning. Do you think Her Majesty would oblige us?” I said, trying desperately to change the subject.
“Of…of course. I’ll ask her.”
“Very good. I’ll head to the servant’s area to see about the mistletoe. Queen Victoria is right. If there is anything that can ward faeries, Seelie, Unseelie, or even a tiny fey, it’s mistletoe,” I said then turned and walked away before Edwin could say anything else.
It was good we hadn’t kissed. Seems even cruelty could sometimes be kind. The princess’s sharp words were just the reminder I needed.
Chapter 18: Agent Louvel in the Library with the Lamp
Her Majesty was kind enough to let Edwin and me stay in the palace that night. She was
doubly kind to ensure a maid brought me a proper dressing gown to wear that evening. I tossed and turned most of the night, trying to think of anything but the missed kiss. It had nearly happened in the heat of the moment. Between the moonlight and the soft snow, the magical time had called for a kiss. But the moment had also been fleeting. Surely, Edwin hadn’t really meant anything by the look, the words, the touch.
Right?
Right?
Oh, hell’s bells.
It must have been some time after midnight when I finally got tired of not sleeping. Pulling on the red velvet robe and slipping on a pair of soft slippers, my long black hair—save the white streaks—hanging loose, I headed back to the library. About six different servants intercepted me, but I managed to convince them to let me continue on my way. I needed to be ready for tomorrow, and I wasn’t going to get that done in bed mooning over a missed kiss.
To my surprise, however, Edwin was already in the library. The poem was open in front of him, and he was sketching and taking notes in his journal. A number of other books lay on the table before him.
“Oh,” I stammered, standing in the doorway, my smoldering lamp held out in front of me.
Edwin rose. “Clemeny,” he said softly, crossing the room toward me. “I couldn’t sleep either. Your lamp is smoking,” he said, taking it from my hand and turning down the flame. “Come on. Let me show you something. Prince Albert was by earlier. We had a brandy, and he told me about the legends of Krampus in his home country. The beast is well known there, and the children always behave well enough to prevent evoking his ire. See here,” Edwin said, sliding a couple of books across a table toward me as he took a seat.
I slid into the chair beside him. The books were in German, which I could not read, but I could clearly make out the engravings therein. Images of Krampus spanking naughty children or putting them in his basket filled the pages.
“How do they ward him off in Germany?”
Frostbitten Fairy Tales Page 8
