Krampus: The Three Sisters (The Krampus Chronicles Book 1)

by Halbach, Sonia

  Grandfather Clement’s eyes blinked a couple times and then squinted at the fireplace. “It’s gone,” he muttered.

  Maggie was unsure what he meant, but then she realized Grandfather Clement had spotted the small gap in the brick where the Sister Wheel had broken loose.

  Maggie nodded. “It’s in Poppel. And if we don’t bring Grandmother Catharine’s key there, the Garrisons will come after us. The entire Moore family will be put in danger.”

  Grandfather Clement’s eyes widened as though finally realizing the severity of the situation. Getting up from the chair, Grandfather Clement shuffled to the west end of the Great Room and entered the gentlemen’s parlor.

  “Where’s he going?” Sir Pringle asked nervously. “He doesn’t keep any weapons in there, does he?”

  A minute later, Grandfather Clement returned with his hand balled into a fist.

  “I never understood Poppel. Not in the way Catharine and…” Grandfather Clement paused. Maggie knew that he was about to say Sidney’s name. “Not in the way Catharine understood it,” Grandfather Clement continued. “And I never quite knew what the wheel and key meant. Maybe I was never supposed to.”

  Grandfather Clement opened his hand, exposing a tiny golden key. He brought it up to his face and studied it closely.

  “She only trusted me with the information years later―after Poppel was revealed by the poem. She knew something bad was starting to happen. But it couldn’t be stopped.”

  “Well, if you hadn’t stolen the poem, none of this would have happened,” Sir Pringle grumbled from the other side of the room.

  But Grandfather Clement didn’t respond.

  Maggie looked past her grandfather and into the open door of the gentlemen’s parlor. Through the parlor window, a speck of light floated in the distance, along the Hudson River.

  It was a steamboat.

  “I must leave,” Maggie whispered.

  Grandfather Clement looked down at his granddaughter. His expression seemed almost loving. But then it quickly turned firm again as he dropped the key into Maggie’s hand.

  “If you must, you must.”

  Maggie slipped the key into her pocket. She glanced at Sir Pringle standing in the doorway and said, “Whether you like it or not, you both are family. Take care of him.”

  Then Maggie hurried into the kitchen and through its backdoor, returning to the wintry landscape. After wiggling the blue sled out of a snow pile, Maggie grabbed it with both hands and trudged across the yard.

  The Hudson River glistened as a steamboat slowly docked in the distance. Maggie dropped the sled down. Although it had only been yesterday morning when she had last made the same ride, it now felt so long ago.

  Positioning herself on top of the sled, she thought about aiming farther than the stone wall on this attempt. And how Henry wouldn’t be coming to her side if she crashed.

  It was now Maggie’s turn to save Henry, and so much more.

  rampus.”

  The terrifying word crawled out of Albers’ mouth.

  “That’s what you saw―Krampus.”

  Maggie had never been on a steamboat, so she wasn’t sure if it was the motion of the water or hearing what had occurred at Van Cortlandt Manor that caused the uneasiness in her stomach.

  From the murdered Garrisons to the possessed children and the frightening creature in the orchard, Maggie was starting to believe that she had been dealt the lucky hand. The sword-wielding Sir Pringle and the descent down the Chelsea Manor chimney seemed quite relaxing when compared to Catharine and Henry’s night.

  Maggie sat crossed legged on the steamboat deck, wrapped in blankets. Mounds of flour sacks surrounded the group, creating a barricade to block out the wind. Catharine had not left Maggie’s side since her younger sister had breathlessly leapt onto the steamboat.

  Maggie had yet to see Henry and McNutt who were in the hull having their injuries treated. But she was surprised to hear McNutt’s name, especially after finding out the fate of the other Garrisons. But Catharine explained how McNutt had saved them from the creature in the orchard.

  “What is… Krampus?” Maggie asked.

  “Whatever spirit or goodness Nikolaos of Myra embodied, Krampus is the opposite,” Albers explained. “While Nikolaos of Myra gave, Krampus took. And punished. And frightened.”

  “What was it doing at Van Cortlandt Manor?”

  “The Sister Wheel,” Wesseling replied, who was sitting particularly close to Catharine.

  Albers and Wesseling were the only Furnace Brook men on the deck. Boe was in the wheelhouse with Captain Noble and the others were below with Henry and McNutt.

  “Krampus seeks power,” Albers continued. “While Grace and Sarah vanquished their immortality, Lily held onto her Sister Wheel. Somewhere along the way she crossed paths with this creature, and her wheel was taken.”

  Maggie recalled the ancient book in the Boeken Kamer. The image Maggie saw before Harriet had shut the book had been Krampus. She just knew it.

  “How can that be?” Catharine asked. “Lily’s Sister Wheel is now guarded at Poppel.”

  “Krampus followed Annette Loockerman to America,” Albers replied. “His plan was to gain control of all three Sister Wheels. But in the process, Lily’s was taken from him by the Van Cortlandts and left to be protected in Poppel.”

  “Looks like he’s been keeping watch over Sarah’s wheel now,” Wesseling added. “Probably has a hold over those children. Krampus is too strong to fight off.”

  It grew silent before Maggie finally asked, “What happened to Lily?”

  Wesseling shrugged. “Nobody knows for sure.”

  “She likely came under Krampus’ control like those Van Cortlandt boys,” Albers added.

  The hatch snapped open and Henry climbed out of the hull with the assistance of McNutt.

  “Henry!” Maggie stood up so quickly she almost stumbled into the wall of flour sacks.

  She wanted to run over and wrap Henry in a hug, but then she noticed his bandaged body.

  Henry gave a weak smile. “I heard you were successful, Maggie.”

  Maggie nodded. “I recovered the key.” She then distrustfully glared at McNutt.

  Henry looked over at McNutt and then to Maggie. “It’s all right, Maggie. McNutt helped us. And he will be an even greater assistance when we reach Poppel.”

  But Henry’s features turned dark as he looked past Maggie. She turned to see what had caused the sudden change in him, but she only spotted Catharine and Wesseling chatting quietly with one another.

  Wesseling had now inched as close as possible to Catharine; his eyes fixated on her face. When Maggie looked back at Henry, he was still captivated by the situation. And even McNutt snuck a few glances in Catharine’s direction.

  Maggie’s mother and aunts used to talk about Catharine’s beauty and how she always had the focus of any room she entered. But tonight was one of the few times Maggie witnessed firsthand the extent of Catharine’s allure. Even in the midst of their precarious situation, onlookers were pausing to take note of Catharine. And watching Henry stare at her sister only elevated Maggie’s seasickness.

  But quickly a new concern pushed away Maggie’s nausea as a group of black-coated men filed out of the hull. Maggie was so overtly startled at the sight of the Garrisons that Catharine rushed over to place a comforting hand on her shoulder.

  “It’s just the Furnace Brook men,” Catharine said gently.

  The Furnace Brook men were dressed in the tattered suits of the dead Garrisons. It was like seeing the living dead. Although the bloodstains were not too visible on the black fabric, still knowing where the uniforms came from sent waves of sickness to Maggie’s already troubled stomach.

  Unable to contain her illness any longer, Maggie raced to the side of the steamboat. Both Catharine and Henry voiced concern. But after a few moments of being slouched over the railing, Maggie’s lone visitor was McNutt.

  “Seasickness?”

  Magg
ie tried to respond, but she ended up dry heaving underneath her knotted hair that the wind was wildly whipping into her face.

  “Try looking at the horizon,” McNutt supplied, helpfully.

  Maggie lifted her head and looked out into the distance, trying to find the point in the darkness where sky met Manhattan. But even as McNutt continued sharing old sailing lore, Maggie knew her sickness couldn’t simply be blamed on the steamboat.

  “Are you going to betray us?” Maggie interrupted.

  McNutt didn’t respond. His back stiffened as he stared at the black silhouette of New York City.

  “Don’t you see why we must return Poppel back to the Foundlings? And why the Garrisons must be removed?”

  “Our society is faced with an uncertain future,” McNutt shot back. “Now is not the time to challenge those who protect it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The Garrisons have not always done right. But an attack against them is an attack against our city’s stability. And we cannot risk any part of the city not being unified.”

  “You really believe the situation in Poppel will damage New York City?” Maggie snapped.

  McNutt’s expression turned defensive. “I’m saying that what may be best for the Foundlings is not best for everyone else. Those who live above Poppel will be affected by what occurs below.”

  Maggie studied McNutt, thinking that if her stomach was going to become sick again, she knew whom it would be directed toward. She reached in her pocket and touched the key. Its presence helped settle her emotions.

  “So you are going to betray us,” Maggie stated.

  “I have always stood for what is right. Whether that lies with the Garrisons or the Foundlings has yet to be seen,” McNutt replied.

  Maggie couldn’t help but scoff at McNutt’s self-righteousness.

  “Well, if you fight as well as you can convincingly recite that rehearsed bit, I don’t think you’ll be much help to us either way.”

  The impact of Maggie’s words was lost as a scuffle started behind her. Maggie turned to see Henry and Wesseling roughly rolling about on the deck. She was startled that Wesseling would wrestle Henry in his injured condition. But she soon realized Henry had been the one to provoke the brawl.

  Before Maggie could even take one step toward the fight, McNutt aggressively gripped her arms as though trying to prevent her from intervening.

  “Don’t get involved,” he directed.

  Maggie briefly struggled against McNutt before she shrugged out of his hold and sprinted away. Albers had already separated Henry and Wesseling by the time Maggie reached the pair.

  “Enough!” Albers placed a protective hand on Henry’s chest while shoving Wesseling away with the other.

  “I don’t have to take that from a stupid Dutchman,” Wesseling spat. “Wooden shoes and wooden heads.”

  Henry tried to take another swing at Wesseling, but Albers had a firm grip on the red-faced Poughkeepsie man.

  “What is the issue?” Albers glared from Henry to Wesseling before his eyes fell on Catharine standing a few feet away. The context of their brutish slugs and grunts was suddenly clear.

  “You two best deal with it before we reach Poppel,” Albers said, letting go of Henry’s shirt. “The Garrisons aren’t going to care about some jealous squabble.”

  While both Henry and Wesseling shamefully looked away, Boe stuck his head out of the wheelhouse.

  “Almost there,” he hollered.

  “Right,” Albers turned to the group. “Henry, Wesseling, and I still need to get into our Garrison garb. Catharine and Maggie, go hide in the hull until we know it’s safe to dock at Poppel.”

  “If I go down in the hull, I’m going to be sick,” Maggie said, clutching her stomach and imagining the stuffy-aired space.

  Albers shook his head. “You’re too exposed up here.”

  “We’ll hide over there.” Catharine nodded toward the flour sack barricade they had been resting behind earlier.

  Albers silently agreed and then directed Henry and Wesseling back to the hatch. McNutt followed even though he wasn’t asked.

  The next few minutes ticked by so slowly that Maggie thought perhaps they were once again under Poppel’s extraordinary time rules. Maggie and Catharine couldn’t see anything from where they crouched within the flour sacks. But as the steamboat entered the enclosed canal that led to Poppel, Maggie could see a vaulted stone ceiling push away the starry December sky.

  Albers, Henry, Wesseling and the rest of the Furnace Brook men popped out of the hatch and took their place on deck.

  “Stay low for now,” Albers instructed Maggie and Catharine.

  Maggie peeked through a crack in the stacks and watched as the steamboat pulled up to the dock. At first there was no one in sight, but then three Garrisons emerged from under the archway. It took Maggie a moment to recognize that the Garrison in the middle was Francis. He was wearing a full uniform with a black cap placed delicately on top of his dense auburn hair.

  “Hello there,” McNutt greeted as the fake Garrisons tried to blend into the background, not wanting to be recognized as outsiders. “We’re returning from Furnace Brook. We haven’t seen any sign of the missing Foundlings. What is the situation in Poppel?”

  “The Foundlings staged an uprising,” said the tall, lanky Garrison on the right. “But it didn’t last long. We fought them back and then they all disappeared.”

  Francis stepped forward; clearly annoyed he wasn’t given room to speak first.

  “And who might you be?” he asked McNutt.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “You are speaking with the Head Garrison, Sir Francis Casimier Moore,” Francis snapped, projecting a leg out and placing his hands on his waist. “So when you address me it must be done with formal respect. And if not, you can take the matter up with Castriot.”

  Maggie could almost feel McNutt’s muscles tighten at the tone in her cousin’s voice.

  There was a long pause before McNutt responded, quite dryly, “Yes, Sir Francis Casimier Moore.”

  Francis relaxed his stance a bit. “Now then, who might you be?”

  “Augustus McNutt. One of the Garrisons assigned to the steamboat.”

  Francis became silent as he looked up at the various Garrisons on the deck. His eyes widened and his mouth drew pointy in a repressed smirk. Maggie recognized Francis’ face from when the cousins would play card games. Francis would get the same expression when he knew he had the better hand but wasn’t ready to admit it.

  Francis turned to the other Garrisons and roughly pulled them to the side. After whispering in their ears, the two Garrisons took off, leaving Francis alone on the dock. He waited a moment before charging toward the steamboat.

  “Maggie!” Francis called.

  Reflexively, Maggie shot up from behind the sacks.

  “No!” Albers shouted while McNutt gestured for her to stay hidden.

  But it was too late. Maggie had already marched to the steamboat’s railing.

  “How did you know I was here?” Maggie asked, looking down at her cousin.

  “You think dressing that Livingston fool up as a Garrison would hide his identity?” Francis pointed to Henry. “I knew who he was just after a glance. You’re lucky I sent the others away before they realized that he wasn’t a Garrison.”

  Henry swiftly appeared at Maggie’s side.

  “And where did you find this bunch?” Francis nodded to Albers, Wesseling, and the others. “Again, you’re lucky the others aren’t as perceptive as I am.”

  “You better not tell anyone we’re here,” Henry ordered. “It would put your cousins in great danger.”

  Francis glared at Henry. “I am quite aware of their predicament. I saw that Clemmie and Louis were with the Foundlings during their little rebellion. And no doubt are hiding away with them now. Gardiner and Gertrude as well.” Francis looked back at Maggie and smirked. “So did you successfully retrieve the final wheel?”
r />   “Why does that concern you?” Henry snapped.

  “I’m tired of this place and want to return to Chelsea Manor,” Francis whined.

  Maggie found her cousin’s familiar tantrum especially absurd now that he was dressed in such authoritative garments.

  “Yes, we found it,” Maggie admitted.

  Henry sent her a sharp look.

  “Well, come on. Out with it,” Francis said. “I’m ready to be done with this whole ordeal.”

  Albers, Wesseling, and the others quickly jumped down from the steamboat and surrounded Francis on the dock. Henry, Catharine, McNutt, and Maggie were still on the deck with Boe and Captain Noble who had quietly slipped out of the wheelhouse to see what the commotion was about.

  “How can we trust you?” Albers asked.

  “I have more power here in Poppel than you could even imagine,” Francis said, crossing his arms and raising his shoulders proudly. “I know you’re seeking the Horologe and I am one of the few who know its location. What other choice do you have but to trust me?”

  “Well, we could always just toss you below in the hull like a bag of potatoes,” Wesseling said, aggressively bumping his chest against Francis’ body. “As it so happens, we have our own Garrison here to take us to the Horologe.”

  Wesseling looked toward McNutt, expectantly. But McNutt’s face flushed.

  “I don’t know its location,” he murmured, shaking his head. “It’s classified. Only a few Garrisons know.”

  The confidence Francis already contained was only magnified by this confession.

  “Ah, interesting,” Francis said, smiling boldly. He lightly pushed Wesseling with the tip of his finger, causing the blond man to take a step back. “Now we should be on our way.”

  Albers and Wesseling decided to come with Francis, Maggie, Catharine, and Henry as they searched for the Horologe. Albers wasn’t eager to put his trust in Francis while Henry certainly didn’t care for the boy. And even Catharine seemed to have her doubts. But Maggie knew that Francis was their best chance at finding the Horologe.