The Snowmaiden
A Bride for Krampus
Jeanette Lynn
Copyright © 2020 Jeanette Lynn
© 2020 Jeanette Lynn
All Rights Reserved
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This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events, or locales, is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author's imagination and used fictitiously.
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To the scrooges with a damned good reason, the discarded, the weary, the struggling souls in need of something to be merry about. May the season treat you better than the people that should have. May you each find your one good thing, that special something that makes you smile on the days you just don't really want to.
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
The Snowmaiden
The Snowmaiden
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Epilogue
Interested in more books in this world?
About The Author
Author’s note
Books by Jeanette Lynn
Keep up to date with all things Lynn
Thank you a crapton
The Snowmaiden
A Bride for Krampus
Lumi Ardzman was done with this whole holiday hoopla, fake a smile and pretend to be jolly on this crap holiday bologna. It had never been happy holidays for her, and after her not so warm welcome at the family Christmas gathering she was in full scrooge mode.
What the heck was someone going to do if she dumped the holiday spirit altogether? Tattle on her to Santa? Give her a lump of coal? Punish her? Hah!
When her humbug attitude draws the attention of otherworldly beings, she unknowingly sealed her own fate.
Chosen for some preposterous wive's tale by a pair of babbling idiots, she's taken to a winter wonderland.
Thrust into this mad scheme, Lumi has to decide which end of that serious set of horns and coal dark eyes she quickly finds herself staring down she'd like to be on.
The Krampus' bride or ruin? Maybe a bit of both…? This is nothing short of a Snowmaiden's Tale.
The Snowmaiden
A Bride for Krampus
By
Jeanette Lynn
Chapter 1
Beldivere Kane, Bels, adjusted his cap. The little bell on the end gave a soft jingle. The thin, sharp-eyed male found himself reaching up and tugging at a pointed ear tip. He wasn’t made for this kind of subterfuge, but he’d do anything for a friend. Alongside him, Dedson Hollie, Ded for short, squinted into the winter landscape. Hinter was lively this time of year. They’d have to wait until nightfall to try and make their move.
The Vinterlan veil was thin this close to The Night. Ded didn’t want to be here any more than Bels did, but Shnikel was taken by the sickness. It was Shnikel’s own fault, the Elf supposed. That’s what everyone else was saying... Yet nobody knew how the sickness came about exactly or why. There were myths, speculations, tales of warning, like so many other things, and Bels had his theories, his growing suspicions, but no one, as far as they were aware, truly knew—if someone did, they certainly weren’t talking.
The snap of a twig, an animal scurrying past, had the pair jumping in surprise. Earth and Hinterland were different yet so alike.
Ded cocked his head. The Elkfen Rendar’s ear perked up, twitching, flicking the side of one of the enormous antlers sprouting from his head. His larger form hovered close to the much shorter Elf’s.
“We should start looking,” Bels said with determination. “We’ve tarried enough this eve.”
“Yes...” Ded swallowed thickly. His belly began to churn like he’d eaten too many sweet things. He knew what they were doing was wrong. They’d be in so much trouble if the big guy found out, but if the old tale that candy cane crone of an Elf Dophabra had told Bels of was true and what the Elf had found in the archives held any weight, if they could save their dear friend, was it truly so wrong?
Yes. Ded’s gut twisted. “Bels... I don’t know if I can-”
“We must.” Bel’s voice was hard, resolute.
Bels was much better about these things than I, Ded thought. The Elkfen envied his calm demeanor in the face of what they were going to do.
“What other choice do we have? Shnikel is- Shnikel’s… Don’t make me say it.” Bel’s skin pebbled with gooseflesh as a shiver tickled its way up his spine. His pointed ears pricked to their very tips, the hairs along his nape standing on end.
“She must be full of humbug,” Ded said finally, speaking softly. His voice was resigned, weary, a hollow quality to it. “I can’t stomach the thought of a jolly soul… of a jolly soul…”
“I know.” Bels spoke oddly, in a way Ded had never heard his dear friend talk before, not in all their long lived years. Bel’s voice was hard and he seemed detached. Ded’s heart pricked to hear it.
The Elkfen’s heart lurched. What was becoming of them? What had felled them and brought them to this low? It was madness, pure and simple, but Ded and Bels were going to go through with this.
Not a dream, Ded had to keep telling himself. This was all very real. What they were about to do, whatever may come of this, there was no going back.
“As you said, my friend, let us not tarry,” Ded whispered, turning to his friend to close his eyes, adjusting the collar around his neck until the red leather was no longer protected from touching his skin by the thick, jolly turtle neck he was wearing.
Stepping back, nodding, Bels did the same with the bracelet on his wrist. “Of course you’re right,” the Elf whispered, though his voice quavered.
May the saints of Christmas’ spirit past forgive them. For they knew exactly the kind of treasonous acts they were about to commit, by holly, but nothing was to deter them.
Chapter 2
Two hands on the steering wheel, I turned my head just enough to shout over the sound of the heater blasting, voice aimed towards my phone where it sat on its holder, “The cabin? As in, the cabin-cabin?” Disbelief filled me.
“Yes,” he said quickly, his relief evident. “You remember, kiddo? I know it’s been a while, but we used to have fun there. You and your brother and- You used to love the cabin.”
Sure. When Mom was alive. That was a long time ago, when we were kids. Mom’s been gone for years now. If my memory served me right, the cabin he spoke of was barely big enough for our small family of four back then, Mom, Dad, my brother Beaumont, and me.
“How are we going to fit everyone in there?” I blurted. With his new wife, Bethany, and their three sons, how was that going to work? “Are you and yours going to stay in a rented cabin nearby?” He couldn’t seriously be considering forcing me to de
n down with Beau and his lot.
Not only did my brother and I not get along, never had, he had six kids. His wife, Carrie, was nice, sure, we could hold a civil conversation if need be, but their kids ran amok. I’d wake up with gum in my hair, if there was any left to put gum in it, and god knows what else if they had access to it.
My nose twitched just thinking about the one time I’d allowed my father to talk me into staying at little bro’s, stuck on a layover one horrible holiday a few years ago. My cheeks phantom burned from the toothpaste his little freaks had smeared on my face while I’d slept like the dead. They’d also cut all the zippers off my luggage—how, I had no clue and was too horrified even now to find out—and had given me a haircut. And what had good old Beau said of it all, once he’d stopped laughing his ass off—which gave me a niggle of a doubt as to his innocence in all of that—boys will be boys. I’d never wanted to beat a gaggle of boys in my life. I mean, I rocked that pixie cut, but was the impromptu trim really warranted? I’d been ready to give those little shits a fat stack of video games they’d wanted. Not after that. After that mess, I’d returned all but one each to pay for the emergency haircut their dear auntie had needed, and they hadn’t gotten them until I’d released the three games to their mother’s discretion until right before I’d left, after she’d demanded apologies and their father punish them.
“How is any of that even going to work?” I queried evenly, though I wanted to bark at him and ask the old man if he was losing it.
“You see, Lumi girl…” he started to say, but then his voice faltered.
My stomach dropped. I wasn’t going to like what he had to say. When Dad had bad news or was about to say something I really wasn’t going to like, I was Lumi girl. Not Lumi, kiddo, or the dreaded sweetie, the sugary pet name to Beau’s Champ, when he wanted something from us and knew we’d balk. In this moment, I was reduced to his Lumi girl, and I could feel the walls closing in on me as my body stiffened.
“Dad,” I barked quietly, voice hardening. Contemplating pulling over in this mushy muck, snow steadily pelting my windshield, I was not about to get into an argument with dear old in the middle of this and risk crashing.
No, I could handle this. I was fine. I’m an adult after all. We could be adults about this. I hoped...
The last time he called you Lumi girl was to tell you Mom was dead. He’d said it with such a wooden tone, I had hope when the same wasn’t reflected this time.
“What? Tell me?” I was still barking. I couldn’t help it. He dragged crap out, like he didn’t want to say it or wasn’t prepared to deal with me and my reaction. I was going with a bit of both. I’d never met such a passive aggressive man in my life.
I’d dated enough losers close to it, but none quite matched father dear.
Dad liked to think he ruled the roost, and I was sure his wife let him think that, but Bethany ran the show. His next words confirmed it.
“Beau cancelled. Carrie is pregnant again, and hasn’t been feeling well.”
“Uh-huh…” Get on with it. What’s that got to do with anything? Carrie preggers, there was really no surprise there. Beau treated her like a broodmare. Every pregnancy, she insisted this was the last one, but Beau would just smirk like he knew better. Why he kept knocking her up when he was never around to father the progeny he’d already brought into this world, I had no clue and it was none of my business. They wanted an army of mini Damiens and live out The Omen, more power to them, but I wasn’t about to be left to tend to that satanic brood like a built-in babysitter every family get-together. I shuddered at the idea. Hire a nanny, if you need the help. I was there to visit with family, and I’d visit the shit out of them, not let Beau boss me around like he did his wife. He could kiss this big butt and get himself one of his demon-children-approved free haircuts on that. Hah.
Dad cleared his throat several times gruffly. “And Bethany and I were talking…”
He was going to milk this until I was gripping the steering wheel like it was his cowardly neck, wishing Mom was here, wondering why the hell I did this to myself. Every year I asked this same thing, risked stressing myself into a damned heart attack with this toxic-people-gathering to snipe and peck and make snide remarks about what I wasn’t doing with my life. Trying to have a career first before settling with Mr. Not So Perfect and popping out a million minions that acted as crude as this invisible potential husband, and be as miserable as the rest of them, was not the end of the world or some sign of impending permanent spinsterhood.
Why—I always begged the question.
I wasn’t bitter about not having a family, or my want of one someday. I didn’t have my head so far up my ass to think settling and settling and settling was going to make me happy. I wouldn’t be any happier now than how miserable I’d be rushing to keep up with the family’s whackadoo, insane ideals.
I’d have a family and husband someday, and it would be everything. He’d be my everything, and our kids would know they were loved, and they’d be raised with a present mother and father that wanted them to be decent human beings, damn it. In that, I’d settle for nothing less.
“Dad,” I prompted, my voice softening with the ache of that part of my life I’d put on hold, not necessarily for a career bettering move, but because it had just never happened for me.
Hadn’t happened for me, yet—that small, flare of hope flickered like a tiny flame struggling to keep lit.
“So, we were thinking, as you don’t always have fun at these things-”
“I never said-” I started to argue, then stopped myself. What was the point? He and Bethany had already discussed this and decided. They had spoken. It was done. The woman was an evil Ugnaught. She kept getting plastic surgery to keep up with the Jones like she did, she’d look like one eventually, too.
Muzzling the growl I wanted to let loose, I tried again. Dad spoke in facts. You couldn’t argue facts. “She told the boys I didn’t love them, that that’s why I wasn’t around all the time.”
“No. No, the boys were mistaken. That wasn’t-”
“Roy asked point blank, “Why don’t you love us, Lumi? Mom says you don’t come around because you don’t love us enough?”” It was on the tip of my tongue to ask who says messed up crap like that? Just what was wrong with his wife? But I said none of it. The words died, bitter on the tip of my tongue. The urge to chew gum as if to rid myself of the taste had me glancing around the console.
Dad was quiet for so long I wondered if he’d lost connection or hung up. “Well, that’s not what he meant,” he said finally.
His Bethany could do no wrong. He knew what he’d married, he just didn’t want to admit it.
Fine, he wanted to live in fantasy land with his witch of a wife, fine with me, but when did it become this weird affair to push his first two children completely out of his life? Was sweet Bethany jealous?
“Why did you even invite me?” I wondered aloud. I had a sneaking suspicion Beau had not in fact canceled but Dad had canceled his trip for him. Dad paid for it, so he, much like Beau’s extreme version of Dad’s manipulative, underhanded tactics, would cancel it first and then tell him.
Pulling over, I glanced at my phone. Picking it up from its holder, I shot off a text to Beau.
Surprisingly, Beau responded right away. “Bitchany wants a white Christmas sans us clinger-ons. Dad caved.”
Ah. And there it was.
“Why didn’t you tell me to stay home, why have me come all the way out here if I’m not welcome?” I got that blunt edge from Mom. She never put up with any of Dad’s shit. He’d never have tried to pull anything like this with us if she was still around. Mom wasn’t a witch like wifey number two, never had been. It was like he’d picked someone the polar opposite of our mother.
That weird depressed feeling that nagged at me whenever the holidays rolled around had me taking a few deep breaths. If I got emotional, he’d think it was for him. At this point, he could kiss my rump right along with the rest
of the jerks I was done dealing with.
“Sweetie, you know I’d love to see you,” Dad spluttered.
“But your wife won’t let you?” I quipped. “Right.” I bit out the word. Shaking my head, I turned on my blinker and got back on the road. “I drove how far to get to this bullshit shindig, and am in fact just pulling into this rinky dink town, and you think to call me now to change plans, because Witchany can’t handle being called out on her crap? And you can’t handle knowing your wife is a bitch to your other children. You remember us? Your other kids? You have a baseball team of demonic grandchildren from the other one?”
“Bethy is pregnant again,” Dad blurted.
I swerved a little, my arm jerking the wheel. “I’m sorry, what?” In my late thirties, I was big sister to three children under ten, and soon another. Dad was pushing seventy. Bethany was ten years older than me. I had no words.
“And you didn’t want your older children mucking up the dynamic you have going?” I began to argue.
“I just want some damn peace for once, without your idiot brother trying to “borrow” more money from me or your looks of disapproval. I know exactly how she is,” he barked with that same tone he’d gotten from me. Quieter, he repeated. “I see it, Lume. I see her. She asked this of me, and I’m going to give her this.”
My lips pursed. Swallowing thickly, my face screwed up. I’d told myself this for years, since I’d sat in the crowd at their gaudy wedding thinking of my mom and watched him pledge to love another woman, one who liked to smirk and make snide remarks about everything, I hadn’t just buried Mom a few short years prior. The father I thought I’d known had been put to ground with her.
When silence greeted him from across the line, he rushed in to add, his voice that soft, cajoling tone he thought was apologetic but struck me as condescending, “You won’t find anywhere for the night right now. Everything is booked up,” meaning he’d checked, “but the cabin is.”
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