“He coulda just run away,” Bu said.
“Sure, but that’s kind of a coincidence,” Whelan said, trying to keep his voice down. “After Halloween, I’m not down for coincidences anymore.”
“What’s happening?” I asked, surprising the boys.
Whelan jerked, waking Laney. She sat up, trying to look casual, touching her chin to make sure she hadn’t humiliated herself by drooling.
“Nothing,” Whelan said.
“Not nothing,” I said, eyeing him with one arched brow.
“A couple of kids have gone missing in my parents’ neighborhood. One of ‘em was our next-door neighbor,” he said.
“Missing?” I sat up, making my grandmother’s afghan pool in my lap. The conversation between the Weres in the kitchen had gone quiet. “Like kidnapped?”
“I dunno,” Whelan said.
“Be weird to run away right before Christmas though, right?” Bu asked, his eyes imploring me to agree with him.
“Kinda, yeah,” I said. “All the missing kids human?”
“Yeah,” Bu answered. “Does that make a difference?”
“No, just wondered why we hadn’t heard anything over here.”
“They’re all messed up,” Laney offered around a big yawn she tried to hide.
“Not messed up.” Whelan’s brows came together, making the piercing in his right brow catch the light. “Just kids.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Well,” Whelan said slowly, “like the kid next to my parents? He got suspended right before Christmas break. He’s a good kid, though, just, you know, angry or whatever.”
“Maybe Krampus got them,” Joey joked. “Snatched them up in his sack and took ‘em to his lair.”
I felt the energy in the apartment shift as the other supernaturals and I turned toward her, fear rippling through the air.
“That’s not funny,” Ronnie said, making Joey flush.
“What’s Krampus?” Laney asked.
I looked over my shoulder to see most of the Weres sharing a look, and I could feel them getting ready to leave. Only Kyle didn’t look phased, having been born and raised a human. The spell of comfort and joy was wearing off at the mention of our childhood tormentor.
“Nothing,” I said, then stretched dramatically before standing. “It’s getting late.”
“Early, you mean,” Whelan tried to joke. He stood and waved at Laney and Bu to follow.
Everyone hugged or kissed me on the way out—everyone except Frankie. But I got a rare, real smile from her, so I counted it as a hug. A smilehug. Ronnie said good-bye to Spencer and told Joey to head upstairs. When everyone was gone, she looked at me, fear pinching the corners of her eyes.
“Do you think…?” she asked as if she was afraid that saying the words would make things real.
“I don’t know, but…” I took a deep breath. “I’m like Whelan now—I’m not down for coincidences.”
“But why all human kids? No supernaturals? That’s weird, right? We’re the ones who believe, not them.”
“Maybe the humans brought him back with all that stupid Rumpus stuff and the joke cards.”
Ronnie’s eyes got so wide, and I could feel mine mimicking hers.
“So the humans are starting to believe?” she asked.
“Maybe?”
“Oh dear gods,” Ronnie whispered behind her hand. “Merry freaking Christmas.”
“I know.” I blew my bangs out of my eyes. “Well, we don’t know for sure.”
“True.”
“So…”
“So.” Ronnie nodded.
After a moment, we embraced, and Ronnie went home. I threw the many locks on my door, setting the freezing spell last. One thing humans didn’t always understand was that the belief in something gave it power. I thought about the Krampus I’d seen under the streetlight the other night, and a chill ran over my body. I just prayed the humans hadn’t given him enough power to come back to life.
I scooped up Artie and headed to bed, refusing to acknowledge the echoing laugh in my mind.
Chapter 5
The next night, after I woke, a thrill went through me when I walked out of my bedroom and found my apartment still looking like a holiday wonderland. The heatless flames flickered in my fake fireplace, and I promised myself that I would pick up stockings for Artemis and me before I came home later. Yes, I was getting a stocking for my cat. If you only have one cat, you’re not a crazy cat lady—yet.
I flicked my fingers at the flames and whispered, “Viridans.”
The blue flames flickered and shifted until they became a cheery, merry green. I twitched my nose and stood back, taking in the scene.
“Not quite.” I flicked my fingers again and said, “Canus.”
The flames became silvery and sparkled in the fake fireplace. The light bounced off the silver ornaments my friends had hung and made the room brighter. Happy with that, I headed into the kitchen.
I opened the window over my sink to let in the cool air contained by the ward around the city. I was going to take Ronnie some premade potions and charms for her to sell on consignment. She was getting a lot of orders for things she didn’t usually carry, so it was up to me to provide them. I placed bottles of rejuvenation elixirs, calming draughts, and sweet sleep in a basket. It was amazing how fast people bounced from one emotion to the next during the holidays.
Ronnie could make them herself, but managing the store and nurturing a fledgling relationship took most of her time. This was what I did for a living, so she might as well buy them from me. Also, I had more practice at making large batches. She usually just made one or two doses of a potion she needed.
As I nestled a few small pain-healing charms into the basket, there was a knock at my door. Artie jumped across the surfaces leading to the door and sniffed at the threshold. When he turned and sauntered into the kitchen, I knew it was safe to open the door. Setting my basket next to the front door, I checked the peephole. A small, short man was on the other side. If he had been standing closer to the door, I wouldn’t have been able to see him.
He had wispy white hair that was combed back and skin that was almost grey. In his scaly hands was a narrow-brimmed black hat with a beige ribbon circling it and a small brown feather stuck in the ribbon. His suit had seen better days. It looked as though it was stuck in a closet 364 days a year. But when he lifted his grey eyes to look at the peephole, seeming to make eye contact with me, I recognized him.
I hurried to turn the locks, breaking the freezing spell as I turned the knob. The gremlin man who had been kidnapped by Jackson Racanelli stared at me across the threshold. I didn’t think I did a very good job at hiding my surprise to see him standing there. He hadn’t exactly liked me when we met, caged like animals in the pound.
“Hello,” I said when he remained silent.
“Good evening, Ms. Kavanagh,” he replied with an infinitesimal nod.
“Come in.” I stepped back and held open the door. I received another tiny nod before he stepped past me, stopping almost too close to allow me to close the door behind him. “Please.” I held a hand out toward the kitchen table.
He took a chair and declined my offer of tea. He was still holding his hat as his grey eyes flickered around my apartment, taking in the decorations. Leaning against the counter, I crossed my arms and waited for him to talk.
It took him another full minute before he cleared his throat. “My nephew is missing.”
“Oh.” I blinked and stood up straight. “I’m sorry to hear that. Did he run away?”
“No.” His thick Bavarian accent made the single word sound like a growl. “He would not.”
“So someone took him?”
“I believe so.” He was gripping his hat hard enough to crush it. “I understand you were the one who found Prince Roane, not your redheaded friend who arrived with you.”
“Yes,” I said slowly.
“I have come to hire you to find my nephew.�
�
My stomach knotted into a hard rock, and I was already shaking my head. His white brows came together as he glared at me and my shaking head.
“I’m sorry,” I said, holding out my hands. “I don’t do that kind of work. I’m not a Tracker. I’m just a witch. I brew spells, potions, charms. I don’t find people.”
“You found the prince.”
“I know,” I said.
“I see.” He stood, the chair scraping against the wood floor. “My nephew isn’t royalty, so you cannot be bothered.”
“No!” I pushed away from the counter and stepped toward him. “That’s not it at all. Look, the Fae Court coerced me into that. I told them no too. I can make you a seeking charm to find your nephew.”
“I suppose you gave the Fae a charm.” He put so much inflection on the word that it sounded like a curse.
“I tried, yeah,” I said, feeling defensive. “But they wouldn’t take it.”
He lifted his chin indignantly. “Then neither will I.”
“That’s not what I mean.” I pinched the bridge of my nose and silently counted to five to keep my temper. “Look, I told them no, okay? I offered to make them a charm to find Roane, but someone had used one of my charms to catch Princess Rae, so they blamed me for Roane going missing. They told me if I didn’t find him and bring him home, they would execute me.”
“You are not Fae,” he said.
“Do you really think Stoirm cared about that?”
“I don’t suppose I could threaten you?”
“I suppose you could,” I said, tilting my head, “and I suppose I could turn you into a toad for my cat to play with.”
He stared at me for a few long, silent moments, and I willed him to believe me.
Finally he nodded. “Very well. I will take this charm of yours.”
“Great,” I said with a breath. “It’ll just take me a moment. I have a couple prepped.”
With a grunt, he took his seat again.
“You know, you never told me your name,” I said into a cupboard.
“Dietrich,” he said, his accent heavy on the name. “Dietrich Hemmel.”
“Nice to meet you,” I said, getting a grunt in return. I didn’t try to keep him talking after that.
It didn’t take long to get the charm ready, just as I’d said. Dietrich held it up by the cord and watched the pale wooden disk spin, skepticism etched on his grey face.
“You have to activate it with something of his,” I said. “You’re related to him, so you could use your blood, but one of the parents would be better.”
“Mmmm,” he said, pocketing the charm.
“What? They won’t want to help?”
“He is my brother’s son,” Dietrich said, fitting his hat over his head. “My brother is long dead. His mother is human, and I do not believe she would like me to bring magic into her home.”
“Oh,” I said, not really knowing what else to say.
“My nephew is a good boy,” he said, holding me with his steely gaze. “It is not easy to be a half-breed in this world. Can you imagine what it would be like to be half gremlin?” He held up his scaly hands, the dragon-hide-looking fingers winking in the firelight.
“No,” I said softly, “I can’t imagine.”
“He is a good boy, but troubled. Should he just let the others torment him? Should he not fight back?”
I didn’t know what to say. Witches had it easier than most supernaturals because we looked so human. We blended in seamlessly.
“Thank you for the charm,” he said, pulling out a few bills and handing them to me. “But I do not think it will work.”
I stared at the money, feeling dirty for taking it. Then his words sunk in, and I stopped him before he opened the door. “What do you mean you don’t think it’ll work?”
“No one knows where Krampus’s bag leads.”
And with that, he was out the door, shutting it softly behind him and leaving me slack-jawed. A chill ran down my back and lifted the hairs on my arms.
***
“So he thinks Krampus took his nephew?” Ronnie asked, staring at me through the shelves of her shop as I set out the potions I’d brought.
Her shop was decorated for the holidays, but because it was already so crowded with overstuffed shelves, the decorations felt a little oppressive. I didn’t tell her that, though. Joey’s pixie dust made everything glitter pleasantly and added a little—much needed—light, so that helped.
“I guess. I mean, he kinda just dropped that bomb and left,” I said, nearly knocking over a rejuvenation potion. Ronnie flicked her fingers, righting the bottle, and I held my shaking hands. My basket was still mostly full.
“That’s insane,” Ronnie said as she came around the aisle and picked up my basket.
I let her finish putting the bottles up while I took a handful of charms by their ribbons and walked to the cash register. There was a jewelry carousel for impulse buys there, and I draped the charms on the empty hooks.
“What’s insane?” Joey asked as she came out of the stock room with a basket of evergreen boughs. It looked as though it weighed half as much as she did, and I wondered how she didn’t topple right over.
“A missing boy,” I said. “His uncle thinks Krampus snatched him.”
“What?” Joey dropped the basket at the end of a crowded aisle and laughed. “It’s not even Christmas.”
“Krampus isn’t a Christmas entity,” Ronnie said, moving to another shelf to put out the calming draughts.
“What?” Joey blinked her wide, lavender eyes.
I said, “Krampus comes around a couple of weeks before Christmas to dole out his punishments.”
“Whoa, so he’s real? He’s really real? Like alive in the flesh? And snatching kids?” Joey was starting to glitter in her agitation.
“Calm down,” I said, hanging the last charm. I nudged the three levels of the carousel and watched the charms glint in the lights of the shop. “No one said that. I just said that a customer thinks his nephew was taken by him.”
“But you thought you saw Krampus the other night,” Joey said, pointing at me.
Ronnie spun around to pin me with a stare. “What now?”
“I didn’t.” I shook my head. “I mean, I don’t know. He was just creepy. Really authentic, that’s all.”
“Matilda Kavanagh,” Ronnie said, fisting her hands on her hips, “spill.”
“Frogs.” I sighed. “Thanks, Joey.”
Joey just shrugged. I told Ronnie about the lone Krampus I saw after the ball and how realistic his costume was, that he wasn’t wearing a mask and headdress like the others. I told her about the chill that had run down my back when I looked into his eyes. I didn’t mention the laugh that had been haunting me.
“Oh dear gods, Mattie,” Ronnie said behind her had. “You should have told me.”
“Why? I thought it was just a really good costume or a serious glamour—I’m not the only witch who can do those, you know.”
“But people should know.”
“Know what?”
“That he could be back.”
“Maybe I was right,” Joey said. “Maybe he really is snatching those kids Whelan and Bu were talking about.”
Ronnie and I shared a look.
“Guys?” Joey took a few steps forward to stand between me and Ronnie, turning her head back and forth to look at us. “You both look like you just saw a ghost.”
That made us blink at her.
“What’s weird about seeing a ghost?” Ronnie asked, making Joey’s eyes bulge.
“Do humans not see ghosts?” I asked, earning another bulging-eye look from the half-pixie.
“Seriously?” she asked, making Ronnie and me laugh.
That was enough to ease the tension, and I relaxed against the counter the old register rested on.
“I forget you grew up in the human world,” Ronnie said, turning toward a case of crystals to polish them.
“Don’t say it like i
t’s weird.” Joey crossed her thin arms. Silver glitter pooled at her feet, and I realized we were edging into pissed-off-pixie-land.
“So,” I said a little too loudly, “should we tell someone about the missing human kids and seeing Krampus?”
“Not if you don’t want to get collared for being insane,” Ronnie said, wiping a smoky quartz about the size of a baseball.
Joey walked over to the counter I was leaning on and jumped up, sitting cross-legged with her pointy elbows on her knees. “They would do that?”
“Yeah,” I said with a sigh, “they might. They’ve done worse, that’s for sure.”
“So then you go find Krampus. Where would he be, you know, if he’s still alive?”
“The seventh circle of Hell,” Ronnie said, as I said, “In a cage in a mountain.”
“What?” Joey asked, shaking her head.
“Story time,” Ronnie said, moving to the obsidian display.
“Once upon a time, in a land right here, not so long ago,” I said, getting a punch in the shoulder from the pixie girl. “Ouch, okay, okay.” I rubbed my shoulder. Tiny knuckles could still pack a punch. “You know all about the Wave of Revelation, right?”
“Yes,” Joey said, nodding emphatically.
“Well, after the supernaturals revealed our true natures, we needed to assimilate into human society, show them that we’re all normal, just like them. In order to do that, we had to hide a lot of our ways. We knew that someday we might be able to reveal those things, but there was no question that some things would be too much too soon. Some of those things were our gods and demigods. Most humans, though they have many, many religions, hold with the concept of one god. They might call him by different names and different languages, but it’s one god because they can handle that. The idea of many gods with children of their own is a bit much.”
“Maybe if Hindus had a stronger global presence, it would’ve been an easier concept to accept,” Ronnie added, making Joey snicker.
“Anyway,” I said, “my point is that Krampus is, technically, a demigod.”
At that, Joey gasped, blinking slowly.
“Yeah, he’s the son of Hel, who is the daughter of Loki, the Norse Trickster God. It’s said that Odin charged Hel with ruling the underworld, Helheim, or as humans call it, Hell. She’s trapped there—everyone who goes there, god or mortal, becomes trapped if they cross the river into her realm. The Nordic people believed that only those who die valiantly in battle get to go to Valhalla, or heaven, if you like. Everyone else, good or bad, goes to Hel in Helheim. Humans don’t like that idea.”
Yuletide (Matilda Kavanagh Novels Book 3) Page 6
