Yuletide Knights 3

by Johnny Miles

  “Oh. And then there was the remote.”

  “Memory loss, paranoia, cognitive behavioral problems. She had Alzheimer’s?”

  “Dementia.” Griffin squirmed. “But whatever. She’s gone.”

  GAVIN COULDN’T SHAKE the feeling that his son was hiding something he was ashamed of. If he’d had his powers, Gavin would have known what it was immediately. But even if he’d had those abilities, it would not have been wise to use them. Confessions, Gavin had learned, were strange, fragile things. Sometimes dangerous. They could only come out when the confessor was ready. Still, he was curious as to what had happened to his beloved Virginia.

  “So, if you don’t mind me asking… What did she die from?”

  “Well, she had dementia, didn’t she?” Griffin replied, a tad defensive.

  “It sounds like she did, but people don’t usually die from dementia itself. Yes, their health deteriorates. They become debilitated, but they tend to die from something else. They go out for drive when they shouldn’t be behind the wheel. Or they get on the highway in the wrong direction.”

  “Does it really matter? She’s just dead. Okay?” Griffin suddenly seemed attentive to Jackson, who stretched and yawned.

  Gavin watched Griffin and wondered what he might be hiding, just as he wondered what Griffin might have become had they known each other as father and son. A pang of guilt struck Gavin so hard it brought tears to his eyes.

  “I know I wasn’t there for you or your mother, but…if you could find it in your heart to forgive me, if you want, when we get out of here…maybe we can start anew? Get to know each other as friends. As father and son?”

  Gavin held his breath in the silence that followed. Then, just when Griffin opened his mouth to speak, Jackson sat up and the moment was lost.

  “Griffin? Where are we? What are we…ughhh!”

  “What is it? What’s wrong?” Griffin pressed.

  “I’m so ashamed. Black Pete. He—”

  “Uh, guys?” Gavin interrupted. He’d suddenly become aware of the odd bluish light coming from within his boot.

  “Gavin?” Jackson seemed bewildered. “What are you doing here?”

  But Gavin never replied. He reached into his boot and pulled out the snowflake Woden had given him. It glowed with a vibrant bluish-white light that filled the cell, casting their shadows on the walls.

  “What is that?” asked Griffin suspiciously.

  “It’s one of my father’s snowflakes!” Jackson exclaimed. “So he’s here?”

  “He was here,” Gavin explained. “He asked me to watch over you. And when it glows brightest—”

  “That’s when he’s closest,” Jackson interrupted.

  “Yes. That’s what Woden said.”

  As they watched, the snowflake grew brighter still. The air around them crackled. Outside, there was a commotion. Muffled sounds of protest. The sound of rusty gates as they swung open.

  The torches in the corridor flickered, but the light from the snowflake illuminated the cell. At the first bloodcurdling scream, Griffin stood. He walked to the mouth of the cave.

  “Griffin, don’t!” Jackson stood, wobbled, but found his footing. “It’s electrified.”

  “I know.”

  They heard a second scream, followed by an odd gurgling sound. Jackson rushed toward Griffin, naked, having dropped the sheet that had been wrapped around him.

  “Here.” Griffin unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged it off.

  Jackson took the ripped black shirt and slipped it on. He all but swam in it, the shirttails at midthigh. He then stood beside Griffin while Gavin flanked Griffin’s other side.

  None of them could have anticipated the monster that appeared unexpectedly before them dressed in a Santa suit and covered in blood, his body enlarged to nearly twice his height, his head bowed because of the low ceiling. Freed prisoners hurried past the demon as if he were nothing more than sedentary rock.

  “Kris? Kris!” Griffin called.

  The monster stopped.

  KRIS LOOKED INTO the emerald-green eyes of a red-haired creature with thick, kissable lips and a beefy, brawny body. He wanted to sink his teeth into him and rip him apart. Beside the redhead stood a smaller, thinner, and older version. On the other side, a slender, willowy, delicious thing with snow-white hair that stood on end and piercing blue eyes. The three seemed oddly familiar, but he wondered how they’d taste.

  “Kris! Let us out. Woden’s coming!” the big one cried.

  Kris? Woden? Who were they?

  “I know we haven’t seen each other in a long time, but you must remember me, Kris. It’s Gavin,” the skinny, little old redhead said. “You found me just before you stepped down from your post. Remember? And no doubt it was you who replaced me when I went missing. Please, Kris. Think of who you are. Where you came from. Think of…” The old man looked at the others.

  “Think of Bucket,” said the willowy one. “Your soul mate.”

  Kris blinked.

  Bucket?

  Then it came to him. The vision of his sweet, playful, and amorous Elf. Courtesan turned lover. It all rushed back at once as he reached into the cell and grabbed the big redhead.

  GRIFFIN’S BODY JERKED and convulsed from the electricity surging within him. The moment Kris thrust his arms through the shield and grabbed Griffin, Kris diverted the current. Already it sounded as though it would soon short out, except Griffin wasn’t certain he’d survive if Kris didn’t let go. His brain had gone fuzzy, and he smelled something burning. A plume of sparks exploded and lit the cell.

  On either side of him, Jackson and Gavin sprang to action. However, they went sprawling to either side upon contact.

  “This isn’t you. This isn’t who you are. Think of Bucket. Think of why we came here, Kris.” Griffin reached out to Kris. Before his very eyes, the demon-monster morphed back to Santa Claus as fireworks went off in Griffin’s head. Kris released his hold and fell on his ass from the current while Griffin dropped to all fours.

  “Oh, no. What have I done?” Kris hurriedly stood. He loomed over Griffin, who shuffled backward, coughing. He gasped for air and clutched at his neck. Gavin and Jackson rushed toward him and helped him to his feet.

  “Why does everyone want to choke me?” Griffin took a deep breath and cracked his neck this way and that.

  “Griffin, I-I’m so sorry. It must have been that demon’s life force. I breathed it in. I didn’t know it would… I’m sorry.”

  Griffin shot Kris a look and held up a hand.

  “We can talk about it later. Right now, let’s just get the hell out of here.” Griffin stepped out into the corridor. With the shields fried, more prisoners swelled into the throng.

  “Hurry!” Kris urged them on, but as he turned, the demons Piedmont and Thomas suddenly appeared before them and blocked their path. Some of the prisoners scrambled past. Others ran in the opposite direction. A great many remained.

  “And where do you think you’re going…nigger?” the Piedmont demon taunted. The shit-eating grin on his and Thomas’s faces as well as their laughter pissed Kris off to no end. He clenched his teeth.

  “What did you call me?”

  “You heard me. Nigger.” Piedmont grinned.

  Kris’s nostrils flared. One of his eyelids twitched. “No one calls me that…ever.”

  “Aaawww. Pooh wittle baby upset? You gonna cwy?” Thomas mocked laughingly. At that moment, the ground rumbled and shook. The walls buckled and swayed. A crack threatened to collapse the corridor on them. Dust, grit, and gravel fell, and a great wind like that of a hurricane whooshed through the corridor. It blew out the torches, plunging them into darkness.

  “Remember…do not use your magic!” Woden cried out. His words echoed in Griffin’s brain, as did Kris’s reply.

  “Woden! You miserable S.O.B. I thought you’d left us for good!”

  “And leave you to have all the fun? Fuck you too, Kris!” Woden’s laughter resonated aloud. His obvious excitement and
glee filled them with a renewed vigor.

  Griffin remained still a moment, long enough to focus on where Piedmont and Thomas had stood before Woden reappeared. Then, despite the darkness and the clash that had already begun, Griffin honed in on the glow given off by the blood pulsing and rushing almost angrily through Piedmont and Thomas.

  Griffin lunged. Caught off guard, Thomas let out a grunt as Griffin swung. Griffin heard the sickening sound of cartilage crunch beneath his knuckles. Warm and sticky blood sprayed him as Thomas’s demon head snapped back and to the side. By then, Griffin realized he could more than see life force in the dark. He was able to make out their silhouettes, feel their presence.

  Thomas staggered and wiped at his face with his forearm.

  Griffin somehow sensed Thomas grin as he gave off a malevolent wave of emotion.

  Despite his better judgment, Griffin leapt. Thomas spun and karate kicked him in the chest. Stunned, Griffin slammed into the wall behind him, and the back of his head smacked the sandstone. Hundreds of tiny white lights sparkled in his mind. Griffin struggled to his feet as he tried to catch his breath. Thomas came toward him. Suddenly Jackson was on Thomas, jumping from out of the crowd, his arms about Thomas’s neck.

  Thomas bucked and tried to shake Jackson off, which gave Griffin enough time to stand. Thomas yelled and ran backward, smashing Jackson into the opposite wall. Griffin watched as the otherwise spry and toned Jackson crumpled to the ground and let out a pained moan.

  “You son of a bitch!” Griffin wrapped his hands around the demon’s neck and squeezed. “I should have killed you when I had the chance. If you’ve hurt him in any way, so help me—”

  “Fuck you, Kloss!” Thomas managed, his voice garbled.

  Griffin realized too late someone was behind him.

  Finding himself in a chokehold, Griffin gasped for air. His blood raced and his heart pounded. Whomever—or whatever—had grabbed him stank of rotting flesh and overcooked onions.

  Griffin felt someone punch him in the face, in the stomach. Then the creature holding him in place grunted. The pressure at Griffin’s neck eased, and a green vapor rose in the air like a mist. It grew light enough for him to make out a felled goblin.

  “Careful, Griffin,” Kris cried mentally. “Don’t breathe that in! It’s his life force. It turned me into the monster you saw.”

  Griffin quickly stepped back and barely avoided the vapor as it dissipated, but someone grabbed him and whirled him around. He didn’t need to see to know it was Piedmont.

  At that moment, the torches in the corridor leaped back to life. Griffin looked straight up at Piedmont, into the eyes of a man inside the monster as he grinned maniacally and said, “Time to say good-bye, Kloss. I hate you very fucking much.”

  Griffin tried to step back as Piedmont reached out, but Griffin was too slow. Piedmont grabbed him by the neck and squeezed.

  Griffin blacked out.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Woden pulled the Piedmont demon off Griffin and cast him aside. He fell into the heart of the throng, and the imprisoned former Magicals immediately pounced. The demon screamed in pain. He struggled to get up, but the weight of the people was far too great, and no one offered assistance. He gave a final gurgle as he was kicked, stepped on, and bludgeoned to death.

  Jackson hurried toward Griffin, but Woden intervened.

  “Leave him to me.”

  Jackson stepped back and let his father perform CPR. Within seconds, Griffin sat up, coughing and gasping for air, a hand to his throat.

  “Are you all right?” Woden asked.

  “I…” Griffin hacked and coughed some more. “I think…” He hacked again, and his face went red from the exertion.

  Jackson helped Griffin to his feet, then threw his arms around him. They clung to each other, afraid to let go. In the insanity they’d all fought through, with the carnage of dead demons, monsters, and Magicals in their midst, nothing else existed. In that one embrace, Griffin and Jackson breathed the same air and exchanged energy. As one, they sighed.

  “Breathe easy for a moment, but it’s not over yet,” said Woden. He turned from them and faced the anxious yet hopeful crowd looking up to him for guidance.

  “My friends, as big as this tiny battle was, it will be worse trying to escape from Krampus and this realm. We will no doubt suffer losses, but we will leave this forsaken place.” The crowd cheered. Woden allowed them that moment, then quickly placed his fingers to his lips for silence. “We must be patient. We must be quiet. Above all, we must remain unified against the evil we face if we are to return to our homes.”

  Woden beckoned for them to follow. Then he turned and led the way.

  SLOWLY, CAREFULLY, amidst the throng, Griffin trod down the corridor toward a bend that led to a narrow set of steep stairs. They ascended.

  The shadows that roamed within the castle, attracted by the group’s energy, flittered by every so often, as if they wanted to know what was happening. They whispered in a language no one seemed to understand, nearly invisible to the ordinary eye, except for their cloying presence that pulsed with a black cold that dulled the senses. Griffin swallowed back his fear every time one of the shadows moved, steeling himself against any further mental intrusions.

  They pressed on as a group—humans, creatures, and former Magicals stripped of their powers—supporting one another as they continued to climb with Woden in the lead.

  At each floor, they stopped and searched for other Magicals who had been left to die. Unfed, parched, and lacking touch as well as any form of human interaction, the sensory-deprived individuals came out of their cells looking disoriented, their minds in disarray. But they knew Woden the moment they set eyes on him. They swore allegiance to the cause and joined the growing ranks.

  Hundreds if not thousands of Magical creatures—fairies, banshees, gnomes, elves, leprechauns, sprites, brownies, will-o’-the-wisps—all of them now part of the Wild Hunt, they gathered around Woden. Into the mix came all manner of spirits and the ghosts of Magicals who’d passed on but for some reason were still bound to the realm where they’d died, including members of the Yule Lads. They rallied with their living brothers, round their leader, Kaine, who swore to defeat Krampus by whatever means necessary. For his fallen brothers. For whatever they might be doing to his son, Bucket.

  The bedraggled group continued to climb. As the climbed, the darkness lightened. And soon, a stunned group had reached the castle foyer, unclear of what to do or where to go from there. Several dozen charged for the door the moment they saw how close they were to freedom.

  “No, wait! Stop! We don’t know what—” Woden cried. But it was too late.

  The first ones to get to the doors, who laid their hands on the handles, burst into flames. They instantly burned to cinders, falling to the ground in piles of ash. The Magicals immediately behind them tried to stop, but their momentum was too great. They piled on one another, and they too burned to ashes.

  The Magicals who were rallied around Woden, Griffin, Jackson, Kris, and Gavin gasped in horror. Some gawked. Others looked away. Despite the sickening smell that lingered in the air, Woden and Kris struggled to get their attention amidst the crying and sniveling.

  As Kris and Woden quieted and consoled those who remained, Griffin gradually became aware of the many members of the Wild Hunt coming out of hiding. New members had been recruited, including wolves and shape-shifters, who changed according to who stood next to them. There were Elves who greeted Kris with hugs and grim looks on their faces. And there were orcs and goblins, dirty, smelly creatures who made Griffin cringe.

  Among the group was a beautiful woman with a blinding white dress, ringlets of gold, and a halo of light. She floated inches off the ground. Beside her, in sharp contrast, stood a humpback witch with gray hair like straw. Her one eye seemed to pierce right through to Griffin’s soul.

  The witch signaled to the floating woman in white, who graciously leaned in close so no one would overhear wha
t she said. But Griffin knew she was talking about him. It didn’t take a clairvoyant to figure it out. Not when the witch pointed her club-like walking stick at him.

  “She finds you attractive,” a voice whispered in his ear.

  Griffin jumped, startled. The buxom Gaea, no longer naked but wearing a gown of thin gossamer, her thick, wavy red hair piled high on her head and held in place by golden twigs, stood beside him like a regal queen. How had he not seen her?

  She stepped before him, leaned her head back, and gazed at him appreciatively.

  “I can see her point. What a lovely pelt. So masculine.” Gaea reached out and ran her fingers through Griffin’s chest hair, her nails raking across his flesh.

  Gaea suddenly grabbed Griffin’s face and forced him look at her. “She also says you’re afraid. Are you?”

  Excruciatingly aware of everyone watching, Griffin looked into Gaea’s stormy eyes. She scanned him, one eyebrow arched. She then gave him a lopsided smile and released him.

  “Good. You should be afraid.”

  “Ummm. Thanks?” Griffin gulped. “Sorry, but…if that was meant to be a pep talk, I’m not feeling particularly inspired.”

  “The man we are about to take on is an ancient soul,” Gaea continued, unperturbed. “Very powerful. Perhaps more so than he himself realizes. He’s influenced and corrupted by unspeakable Magic, poisoned with dark thought and his bloodthirsty desire for revenge. It doesn’t help that he’s been on his own for more than two millennia.” Gaea stopped. A sad, maternal look came over her as she continued. “Alas, I knew him before he became…who he became. When he was young and beautiful. An innocent who still believed, despite the odds.”

  Gaea sighed heavily. The sadness that had come over her, the maternal look, vanished with her expelled breath. In place now was the countenance of a strong and determined woman who would not be deterred.