by Dan Thompson
“Oh, no.” Lizzie covered her mouth. She tried not to laugh. Really, she did. But if one of the Krampuses had managed to approach the house in the middle of the night—quietly enough that he didn’t wake John—and then walk up the stairs to the front door to finally spray it with his very own personalized signature—that was just a little bit funny. It took a large pair, no, an enormous pair, to pee on the door of an Alpha.
“This is not funny.” John was furious.
Lizzie bit back her laugh and nodded. “I’ll just get some cleaning supplies.” And she hustled into the bathroom as fast as she could.
As she was gathering up cleaning supplies, it occurred to her that it really wasn’t funny, since the culprit might not be long for this world. Lizzie marched back into the living area, a small bucket filled with cleaner and rags clenched in her hand. She was ready to talk John down off the ledge—but he wasn’t there.
Just as she was opening the front door, John called out from behind her, “In here.”
Lizzie found him in the dining area sitting at the kitchen table. She must have been in the bathroom longer than she realized, because he had on a pair of drawstring pants that he’d definitely not been wearing when he’d jumped out of bed. And he also looked—she tipped her head—not mad?
“Everything okay?” Lizzie asked.
John rubbed the side of his neck and gave her a slightly embarrassed smile. “Yeah. They’re basically pests. Juvenile, disrespectful pests, based on what you told me last night. Right?”
It was odd hearing her planned speech come from John’s lips. “Pretty much. Well, unless there’s a really big group.”
John rolled his shoulders. “Okay. Let’s have some breakfast. Or is it too early?” He glanced at the clock and gave her a speculative look. “Let’s go back to bed and then have some breakfast.”
John was a reasonable guy. That was one of any number of reasons that she loved him so much. But the devilish and completely idiotic creature had peed on the front door—essentially marking their house as his own. John’s subdued response made her feel as if the world was slightly askew, but after a few seconds she decided not to question her good fortune. And going back to bed sounded good. She was on her engagement honeymoon, after all.
When Lizzie woke for the second time that morning, it was to the smell of cooking bacon and baking bread. She stretched, reveling in the feel of the sheets against her naked skin. Vacation rocked. Then she remembered: the Krampus outbreak. An involuntary whimper escaped before she could stop it.
John walked through the door carrying a plate piled with food.
Lizzie raised an eyebrow. “We’re sharing?”
“I already ate.” He sat down on the edge of the bed and placed the plate on her lap.
Lizzie recognized that particularly purposeful look. “You have a plan?”
“I have a starting point. I made a quick run to the local grocery and gas place. When we came through town yesterday, it looked like the place for coffee and local intel.”
“Clever. Although I think ‘gossip’ is the word you’re looking for.” Lizzie took a moment to savor the smell of crisply cooked bacon before she took a bite. “Did you get anything besides the best fishing spots?”
“Give me a little credit.” John grabbed a biscuit off Lizzie’s plate. “When I mentioned the door incident, a few of the guys chimed in. The consensus of the locals is teenagers from one town over.”
“Oh, dang it. I forgot about the door. I’ll clean it up after I finish breakfast.” Lizzie took a bite of egg. Divine.
“Already done.” John’s lip curled subtly. “As little scent as the Krampuses leave, their urine has an incredibly strong odor.”
Lizzie chewed on the corner of her lip, doing her best to hide a cheerful grin. A better-you-than-me attitude wasn’t appropriate, given the circumstances.
Once the urge to cheer her Krampus-pee near-miss had passed, she asked, “How long did I sleep? It sounds like half the day is gone already.”
“Not quite—but your breakfast is probably closer to an early lunch.” John grabbed her almost-empty plate and headed back to the kitchen. From the kitchen he said, “We’ll head out when you’re dressed. Most of the reported incidents were on this side of the bridge, near the river.”
A few minutes later, Lizzie emerged from their bedroom, layered up in warm clothes and ready to kick some Krampus butt. “All right. Let’s do this. Where exactly are we going?”
John paused, car keys in hand. “That small boat launch, the one with a bar and a bait shop. You remember passing it on the way in yesterday?”
“Yep. Um, maybe grab a jacket or sweater or something. You may not be cold, but in Texas the mid-fifties with damp in the air is actually cold.”
“Right.” John snagged a fleece jacket from the bedroom and threw it on over his T-shirt. “Good?”
“Suppose so.”
As soon as they got to the bottom of the stairs, John stopped, his stance becoming rigid. “Stay here.”
Lizzie blinked in confusion. She scanned the area and spotted one of the condo owners watching them closely. She smiled broadly and waved.
The man, dressed in camouflage, looked like he might be coming home from a morning shooting ducks. He lifted his hand briefly in acknowledgement and turned away.
Lizzie kept an eye on the surroundings and any possible neighborly interest as John stalked up to his truck. He immediately squatted down to inspect the front left tire. “That sorry son of a bitch.”
An older woman who was walking up the beach road with her small dog stopped and gave John a censorious look.
Again Lizzie waved merrily.
John looked up from his inspection of the tires and motioned Lizzie closer. He circled the truck, inspecting each of the tires. “He bit them.”
“Sorry—what?” At this point, Lizzie was close enough to see that the tires on the driver side were flat.
“The sorry little f—” John stopped himself and scrubbed his hands across his face. “Two tiny punctures and saliva—he bit the freaking tires.”
There was a certain humor to the situation, given the prank-like nature of the events. And Lizzie could just imagine the tiny little creature hanging off the tire, teeth firmly embedded in rubber. But the focused attention on them was unnerving and made the pranks seem more like attacks. Lizzie sighed. And they had no ride now.
“Wait a minute. You just got back. When could this have happened?” Lizzie hugged her arms around her middle. Maybe the wind had picked up, because she was suddenly aware of the cold.
“Within the last hour, in full daylight. He’s bold.”
“You’re talking about him. Like it’s one particular Krampus.” Lizzie rubbed her arms. “Harrington’s sure that there’s a big colony that’s outgrown itself, otherwise they wouldn’t be so brave. So it could be a few different ones.”
“No—it’s just one. Unless they all have the same scent.”
Lizzie scrunched up her nose. Even she knew that wasn’t likely. Every kind of person or animal smelled differently from others, and individuals within species varied. She’d already gotten that speech a few times. Great.
John opened the passenger door and dug around in glove box. When he slammed the door, he had a collar and leash in his hand.
“Seriously? Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
John handed them to her and said, “Yeah. I’m pretty sure I can at least catch a direction of travel out of here. Maybe that will point us in the right geographic area for the colony.”
“Okay, but I’m totally calling you Fluffy.” Lizzie grinned. “It makes you seem more approachable.”
Lizzie was pretty sure John would have rolled his eyes if he didn’t think it was beneath him. Her grin broadened. Sometimes it was fun to tweak the wolf’s tail.
After they’d called a tow service to haul the truck into the town for a thorough check—John wasn’t convinced the tires were the only fiddling the Krampus had d
one—it didn’t take long to get tricked out for their adventure. Lizzie threw on some hiking boots, and John got all wolfy.
Lizzie opened the door and followed John out. She locked the door behind her, though she doubted that would keep the little hellion who had targeted them out of the condo. When she was done, she found John patiently waiting on the top step.
“Okay. Let’s do this.”
John stayed firmly planted on his haunches. After a few seconds, he stood up and nosed the collar in her hand.
“Oh, dang. Forgot about that.” Lizzie buckled the collar around his neck. “Can I just attach the leash if anyone looks annoyed?”
John trotted down the steps, so apparently he was cool with that idea.
Lizzie hung back as he inspected the area around the truck. She pulled her phone out of her pocket and set an alarm for an hour. She’d rather not miss the tow guy if she could help it.
John was still inspecting the area when she’d finished. She’d forgotten that their Krampus would be particularly difficult to trail. Not much scent, John had said. And with all the wind, maybe there wouldn’t be enough for John to follow. As the thought formed, John’s head lifted and he looked over his shoulder. That was her cue.
“Coming.” But Lizzie was talking to herself. John had already started off at a ground-eating trot.
At first, he was headed away from the ocean and toward an undeveloped swampy field. Lizzie tried not to cringe at the thought of mud-covered boots and nasty bugs, but—yuck.
The beach road ran between their condo and the field, and John had stopped to wait for a car to pass. Hopefully no one noticed the two-hundred-and-twenty-pound wolf looking both ways before crossing the street.
The car was a Subaru Outback filled with a family and dog and a Christmas wreath attached to the front grille. Dad honked, and Mom glared and wagged a finger at Lizzie.
She waved and plastered a huge fake smile on her face. “Take that, you weirdo.” She stopped when she got to John, still patiently waiting by the side of the road.
He blinked big wolfy eyes at her and tipped his head to the side.
“What? Who takes their family to the beach in December? That’s weird.”
John made a quiet chuffing sound.
“Don’t laugh. We’re nothing like them. We came here to get away from people.” Another car approached, so Lizzie leaned down and attached the leash she’d slung around her neck earlier. “Although there really is a lot more going on that we planned.”
When the car passed, John crossed the street, tugging Lizzie behind him.
He investigated the far side of the street for a few minutes before turning left, again away from the beach. At least they weren’t tramping through the swampy field. Yet.
A firm tug on the leash pulled Lizzie’s thoughts away from cold December mud, giant biting flies, and mosquitoes. Every so often John buried his nose in the vegetation next to the road, but mostly he traveled at a slow trot on the edge of the pavement. He seemed to be certain, but Lizzie didn’t get it. They were headed directly for the exit to the condo community—and toward the main road leading into town. These guys were supposed to be stealthy. Heck, they were stealthy. Biting holes in the truck’s tires at midday without being seen required a highly developed sneakiness. Even factoring in the mundane talent for willful ignorance and blindness, those were mad skills.
“Hang on a sec.” Lizzie tugged very gently on the lead, just in case John was too engrossed to hear her.
John paused, but all of his attention remained fixed straight ahead.
“There’s no way he’d have come this way, on the main road.” Lizzie checked the left side of the road. Several condos, some definitely occupied. And to the right, there was hardly enough brush and vegetation to hide a skunk, let alone a three-foot-high wannabe devil.
John took one step, pulling the leash tight.
Apparently, he was sure.
Lizzie shook her head, but she followed along. “I mean, if such a little guy could drive…then maybe. I could just see him rolling along in his car with his horns sticking out the window. What would the locals make of that?”
Suddenly, there was slack in the leash. Lizzie stopped. John had turned around to give her a look. He sighed.
“Holy crap—you think he came by a car?”
One sharp dip of John’s nose, and Lizzie had her confirmation.
That might explain some of the care John was taking in tracking their quarry. Their Krampus didn’t shed much scent, and he’d traveled by car. Even a supercharged nose like John’s would have a hard time with that.
“Well, I’ll be damned. Driving? Or catching a lift secretly?” A sharp tug on the leash propelled her forward. “Right. Sorry.”
This was going to be a long day if they were tailing a guy who wasn’t even on foot. Lizzie giggled. The mental image of their Krampus, fangs and horns and sunburn there for all the world to see, perched in the front seat of a car with his eyes barely able to see over the steering wheel…it was simply too much. Then she remembered the tires. His fangs hadn’t looked nearly long enough to puncture a tire, and yet he’d managed it.
“Ow!” Lizzie caught herself before she fell. They’d been jogging along at a good pace—probably because John had an idea where the car had come from—but the ground was uneven. Big wolf eyes peered at her. “I’m fine. Maybe slow it down a bit, though?”
John didn’t budge.
“We’re done?” Lizzie couldn’t keep the hopeful note out of her voice.
His warm body leaned in against her. Lizzie squeezed him close, his warmth sinking into her chilly hands. He was worried.
“I just twisted my ankle. No big deal. But we‘re almost at the intersection to the main road. Let’s hang out here for a second, and I’ll cast a few wards to see if I can spot any magic.” Lizzie frowned. “I really should have checked the truck. We don’t know exactly how their magic works, so it’s not inconceivable they could have put some kind of whammy on your truck.”
John snorted.
“Or not. Still—” Lizzie cast a wide ward. She’d gotten clever with her ability to cover unenclosed areas. She picked four clear points, physical objects that would anchor her ward: a large clump of pampas grass, two large pieces of lumber lining the road, and the sign for the condo community.
“No, nothing.” Not shocking, since she could only pick up active magic. She envied the dragons’ ability to sense traces of magic and to match those traces to a particular magic user. It reminded her of John’s keen sense of smell, but for magic. Not that she’d say as much. Neither dragon nor Lycan appreciated the comparison, for some unfathomable reason.
John stood up.
“Ugh. I get it, but how far exactly are we chasing these guys on foot?”
John ducked his head.
“My alarm goes off, and we’re heading home. We have to meet the tow guy later this evening.”
John blinked. Lizzie took that as a noncommittal response.
“Fine. Let’s go.”
It didn’t take much longer for Lizzie to realize they were headed in the same direction as the boat launch they’d planned to investigate. “John?”
An alert, wolfy head turned to her.
“Are you actually trailing these guys? Or are you guessing?”
If she didn’t know better, she’d swear his lips twitched with humor.
“Don’t laugh at me. Keeping up with you is a pain in the ass. Are you at least following some trace of scent?”
With no hesitation, he dipped his head once.
“Okay.” Lizzie cast a quick ward. No magic-users present, and no wards or other magic actively in use. “All right. But we’re not going past the boat launch.”
John’s mouth opened slightly in the wolfy equivalent of a smile.
Fifteen minutes later, Lizzie was kicking herself. They’d gone about four miles, and her feet were sore. Worse, here she was at the boat launch bar with a wolf attached by a six-foot leash.
And then her phone alarm went off. She shook her head and silenced it.
“How are we supposed to check this place out now?” she murmured. She held up a hand. “Uh, he’s not super friendly with strangers.”
The woman approaching ignored Lizzie’s warning as she made a beeline for John. “Dogs just love me. And he’s obviously friendly.”
John had dropped to his haunches and was thumping his tail against the ground. Lizzie did a double take. John—wagging his tail. She nudged him with her foot. “Quit being a smartass.”
His wolfy grin widened.
“Oh my; he’s gorgeous. He almost looks like a wolf. What kind is he?” The woman leaned over and grabbed at his ears.
Good grief.
Lizzie cleared her throat. “A malamute mastiff mix. Uh, I don’t suppose he’s allowed inside? I just hiked a little ways and would love a cup of coffee—but I don’t want to leave, uh, Fluffy tied up outside.”
John dropped to the ground, cocked a hip, and crossed his front legs, presenting a picture that was the very epitome of chilled-out house pet.
As the woman cooed over him some more, Lizzie looked to the heavens hoping for just a few more minutes of patience. When had she become the cranky, short-tempered one and John the one with all the people skills?
Lizzie supposed that wasn’t really fair. John was, and always had been, charming when he chose to be. John hadn’t changed—she had. Her annoyance wasn’t helped by the fact that John was so entertained by this whole situation. And her darn feet hurt.
“About bringing him inside—do you know who I can ask?” Lizzie inched in the direction of the door, but John stayed firmly planted on the ground. At least she could assume they weren’t close to the Krampuses, otherwise John would never assume so relaxed a pose.
“Ooooh, aren’t you just adorable.” The woman ruffled the fur on John’s head one more time—and that did bother him, Lizzie couldn’t help but notice. The woman stood up and offered her hand. “I’m Gretchen, one of the owners.”
