Yuletide (Matilda Kavanagh Novels Book 3)

by Shauna Granger

  “You’re welcome.” I jolted, blinking. “Oh! Hold on!” I ran into the kitchen and pulled out my index of clients, looking for Antonia’s information. My handwriting was sloppy but legible, and I managed to copy her name, address, and phone number onto a scrap piece of paper. I took it to Knoll.

  “Antonia?” he asked, reading the paper.

  “Yes, she’s the one with the litter of munchkin kittens. Just tell her Mattie sent you. Not Matilda or Ms. Kavanagh, but Mattie.” I held up my finger for emphasis.

  He tapped the paper to his forehead and nodded. “Got it. Thanks again. You just made my Christmas.”

  “Well,” I said, “maybe hold your thanks until you meet Antonia.”

  Chapter 20

  Ronnie was sorely tempted to curl up on my couch and just fall asleep, but somehow she gathered the strength to head upstairs to sleep in her bed with Pumpkin. One of the ways witches and familiars bonded in the first few weeks was by letting our auras shift together. Time spent asleep was the perfect time to do that, so sleeping in her own bed was a better choice than my couch. Joey walked out with her.

  As for me, I found my absent familiar fast asleep in the middle of my bed, covers and pillows piled around him like a cozy little nest. The jerk. But hell, if I could have slunk off to bed already, I would have too. I couldn’t blame him too much, but I could hurry up and join him.

  After changing into my standard baggy flannel bottoms and oversized Black Witch White Magic T-shirt, I walked back into the living room and looked around. Usually by that time of day, I would be fast asleep and the light in the apartment wouldn’t bother me, but something about it felt as if I was standing in a solarium. The light coming through the windows cut into my eyes, and the once comforting flicker of the fire made me see spots. Even when I glanced into my bedroom, it looked as though my bed was under a damn spotlight.

  “All right,” I said, “let’s see what I can do about this.”

  My fingers twitched, and I remembered what little power I had left in me after the fight on the mountain. I needed time to recharge and let Artie’s magic help me refuel. So I dropped my hands and walked into the kitchen, where I pulled down the shades to throw the apartment into a false twilight.

  In the living room, I had to use magic, but not much. I waved at the fire and whispered, “Finem.”

  The silver fire flickered, collapsing in on itself until it winked out, leaving the fake fireplace dark. All that was left was the pixie dust Joey had scattered, but I had no idea how to extinguish that.

  With the light from the living room gone, my bedroom was much darker but not as dark as I wanted. I was being picky, but it was a holiday, and I’d nearly killed myself saving some kids. I deserved a little persnickety behavior.

  I brought a small measure of power to my hands and swept them in front of me, saying, “Nox obscurum.”

  The whole room plunged into darkness. My body tingled as the spell raced through me, but it didn’t take much power. As soon as the darkness fell, I felt a little better. My eyes took a moment to adjust to the sudden dark, but soon I could just make out the shape of my bed and the doorways to the bathroom and living room.

  When I looked into the living room, I saw that even the pixie dust didn’t sparkle quite as brightly as it had a few moments ago. I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the night and morning settling into the muscles of my back, and exhaled loudly. I was done. I’d done everything in my power to help, and I could crawl into bed and close my eyes. The weight of the world slid off my shoulders to drain into the earth beneath the building.

  I stumbled a little, but I managed to find the edge of the bed. I crawled to the pillows, lifting and pushing Artie out of my way so I could crawl under the covers. I pulled my familiar close and wrapped my arms around him like a child with a doll. Already I felt our auras shifting and blending together.

  I would sleep the whole day away, and when the moon rose, I would wake, hopefully refreshed and full of power again. I would gather the gifts I still hadn’t been able to pass out, and I would take them around. Then I would go to Ronnie’s parents’ house and enjoy Christmas Eve with my family, around a fire with food and love. Then on Christmas, I would stay in my pajamas all night, eat comfort food, and watch movies with Artie.

  My last thoughts were of Detective Knoll. I hoped he listened to me and located the hunters and trackers who could find Krampus again and cage him. A cold, maniacal laughter echoed in my mind when I thought of Krampus. I squeezed my eyes shut and cleared my mind. The trackers and police could deal with the monster in the mountain. I’d done my part.

  ***

  Sleep came heavy and fast, rushing around me like an ocean in a storm. I couldn’t fight the waves that pulled me under. So when something woke me, I gasped, bursting to the surface.

  The darkness pressed around my eyes, which were as wide as possible, trying to take in any tiny sliver of light. Sitting up, the covers pooled in my lap, and I looked around. I could just make out the doorways off the bedroom, but nothing but black lay beyond. Though I couldn’t see him, I felt Artie next to me, his furry body warm under my fingers. But he wouldn’t wake when I shook him.

  I turned my head, trying to listen for whatever had woken me. My hair drifted around my face, strands lifting, full of static from a spell recently cast. But I hadn’t cast a spell… had I?

  My skin tingled where the air touched it. Power had been used by someone nearby. I patted my hair to make it lay down and heard the crinkle of static popping between the strands. Artie’s fur slipped between my fingers as I tried to wake him again. He was warm, and his side rose and fell under my hand as he breathed, so I was sure, though he wouldn’t wake, that he was alive.

  If my cat wouldn’t wake, then it had to be a dream. A strong dream, a powerful dream, but a dream nonetheless.

  The stitch forming in my chest eased as I took comfort in the idea of this being a dream. The last dream I’d had had helped me find the kidnapped children, so I decided to go with it. Pushing out from under my covers, I swung my legs over the edge of the bed. My feet hit the cold hardwood, sending a chill up my body. The cuffs of my pants bunched at my feet as I took one tentative step forward.

  The darkness made my head hurt, and I had to force myself to blink to keep my eyes from watering. Reaching out, I tried to guide myself. When I thought I was about to grip the doorframe leading to the living room, I grabbed air and nearly fell forward. Blinking rapidly, I caught my balance and took a moment to steady my nerves. Why was it so freaking dark?

  I lifted my hands and whispered, “Lux lumen.”

  But nothing happened. Power didn’t rise inside me. The spell didn’t cast. The darkness didn’t abate. I swallowed hard.

  Lifting my hands in a dramatic wave, I whispered, “Finem.” Still, nothing.

  Power should have coursed through my body, but it didn’t. I thought I’d slept long enough, that Artie’s power had healed me, but it hadn’t. I had no way to know just how much time could have passed, so I tried not to panic. Maybe it was part of the dream?

  I stepped forward, my hands reaching toward the doorway. When my fingers found the edge, I gripped and pulled my body against the wall. Looking around the edge of the doorframe took more courage than it should have, but I managed it.

  The living room was as dark as my bedroom. I could almost make out the shapes of my furniture, but I thought that was only because I knew where it should be, not because I could actually see it.

  Pixie dust should be glittering along my bookshelves and on the tiny tree, but it wasn’t. Across the apartment, I saw the black squares that were my windows. Light should be leaking around the edges of my shades, but it wasn’t. Was it already night? If I’d slept that long, then why wasn’t my power recharged? I’d never tried portal magic before—I had no way to know just how my power and body would react to it. Maybe this was normal.

  I stumbled into the kitchen, looking for the source of my unease. When my feet f
ound the cold tile, I stopped and turned on the spot. My hair no longer floated away from my head, and my skin had stopped tingling with the whisper of magic. Nothing was out of place, nothing changed, and I was alone in the apartment.

  “Just stress.” I ran my hands through my hair, tucking it behind my ears. “This is just a weird dream because I made it too damn dark before I went to bed. I’m being paranoid. Go back to bed, fall asleep, and you’ll wake up for real, and everything will be fine.” My voice sounded so confident that I found it easier to breathe and walk out of my kitchen.

  I knew my apartment blindfolded—there was no need to shuffle and stumble. I turned the corner and stepped into the living room.

  And there, standing in the doorway to my bedroom, stood Krampus.

  My legs were heavy, but my stomach churned. The muscles in my back fired as my whole body became one massive knot. I lifted my hands instinctively, but no power snapped at my fingers. My dream had quickly become a nightmare.

  Krampus stood in the doorway, backlit by the bright portal filling the doorframe. I couldn’t see his face, but I heard his laugh. Cold and grating, it clawed up my spine, wrapped around my throat, and choked me. His big black bag sat on the floor by his boots as snow melted around his feet.

  He gripped the ties of the bag in one clawed hand and stepped forward. The light of the portal threw the whole living room into stark relief. His face came into focus, and he was smiling. Of all the expressions I didn’t want to see on his face, that was the last one. Nothing good could come of Krampus smiling at me.

  “He knows when you’ve been bad or good,” he said, his voice flat as he spoke the lyrics.

  I realized he was holding something in his other hand for me to see. Pinched between his thumb and forefinger was a tiny, lonely piece of birch that Knoll had missed. My stomach plummeted.

  Krampus dropped the twig and reached behind him. As though he was drawing a sword, his arm arced up, and he pulled a bundle of long, wicked switches over his shoulder. The ends of the whip-like switches hit the floor with a series of snaps and scratches. It sounded like a banshee’s nails scraping along a window.

  I stepped back, my hands still out in front of me. I felt so small, and Krampus got even bigger. My fear, my unadulterated belief in him, was feeding him as I watched. The shoulder seam of his tattered coat was torn, his shoulders too big for the coat now. That thin slice of flesh looked so vulgar.

  It was time to wake up. I slapped myself. The sting on my cheek made my eyes water, but I didn’t wake. I pinched my thigh and pain blossomed under my fingers, but I didn’t wake. I tugged on my hair. I clawed at my arm. I bit my cheek until I tasted blood.

  But I didn’t wake.

  Krampus laughed.

  He continued forward, coming for me. His bag dragged along the floor, whispering softly of more nightmares to come. He lifted his weapon, the switches cutting through the light as he pulled his arm back, ready to strike me down until I was bleeding on the floor.

  I lifted my hands again and desperately tried to call my power to the surface to strike at him, but nothing happened. My hands were as dull and useless as a human’s. I screamed in frustration, which only made him laugh again. He brought the bundle of switches down, striking the floor. I jumped back, out of reach of those cursed pieces of wood, and slammed into my bookshelf.

  Scrabbling, I reached behind me, finding bookends and a large purple crystal. I flung the heavy objects at the monster, scoring a hit to his shoulder and leg, but they did nothing to stop him. He continued forward, slow and steady, enjoying the heady perfume of my fear as he grew ever bigger, ever more powerful.

  I found a box of knockout powder. It wasn’t much—just enough to stop a mortal intruder from forcing his way through my door—but I threw it at him. It hit him in the chest, and silver powder exploded around his face. He gasped, pulling it into his lungs, and coughed violently. Curses flew from his mouth, but he didn’t pass out as I’d hoped he would.

  I took the momentary distraction to run for the front door. I had to get out of there, to put distance between me and the monster, and find help. I would run all the way to the police station with him chasing me if I had to.

  My fingers wrapped around the cold metal doorknob, and the freezing spell broke under my hand, letting me know I wasn’t totally drained. Fighting with the other locks, I didn’t see him get his bearings. I didn’t see him drawing back the bundle of switches.

  But I felt them hit me.

  The switches struck my back. The long, thin ends wrapped around my throat and curved over my face, opening fresh cuts on my flesh. Welts formed under my shirt almost immediately, and I cried out in pain. He hit me again, screaming as he did so. I was knocked to the floor, and the hardwood bit into my knees and palms.

  I slipped as I tried to crawl away, and I nearly busted my chin when my body flailed. The switches came down on me again, biting into the backs of my legs, almost cutting through my clothing. I screamed again and tried desperately to get away. He wouldn’t stop hitting me, laughing harder and harder every time he struck.

  Tears blinded me, and my nails broke as I gripped the floor, trying to pull myself forward, out of his reach. Blood dripped from my face and neck. A tingling sensation followed the tracks of blood along my flesh, power flaring weakly inside me. I didn’t use blood magic, but there was power in blood, and I would use it if I had to. Right then, it wasn’t enough yet.

  He was singing again. His voice crawled into my ears and slid down my spine. I knew now this was no dream, as surely as I knew that he was going to kill me.

  I dug deep, got one foot under me, and shoved myself forward just as the switches came down again, missing me and striking the floor. I didn’t have anywhere to go with him at the front door and the portal taking up my bedroom door, but I had weapons in the kitchen. If I could get to my cabinets, I could get my hands on something that would knock him out or kill him. Hopefully I could find something to kill him because that was all I wanted to do. But if all I could do was slow him down, then maybe I could cast a circle of protection around myself and buy myself some time. I’d scream until my throat was raw. Whatever it took, I would do something to save myself.

  Krampus howled in frustration as I climbed and vaulted over my couch, throwing myself at the kitchen. I hit the tile floor hard, the jolt going all the way up my legs and making my teeth chatter, but I didn’t even give myself a moment to recover. I rushed forward, sure my feet were carving into the floor as I made my way into the kitchen. Slamming against the counter, I tore through my cabinets, hearing his hooves on the floor as he rushed for me, all pretenses of games completely gone.

  My hands closed around a canister and a glass bottle, but it was too dark to read the labels. I didn’t know what either item was, but before I could turn and fling their contents at him, total and complete darkness enveloped me.

  My world turned upside down, and I yelped in surprise as my feet left the ground. He pulled the opening of his bag closed.

  Krampus had snatched me.

  Chapter 21

  I was trapped in a nightmare. The world was black, and I could hardly breathe. Nothing but me was inside the bag—a bag that had haunted my dreams. It was musty, the air heavy with dust and the promise of torture if I ever got out. The cloth was rough against my feet and hands. The cuts on my face and neck burned as tiny particles of I-don’t-know-what got into them, making me imagine all the different infections that could be taking root. I didn’t have even one healing potion to stop it.

  My hands flexed around the two items I’d managed to steal out of my cabinets. I had no idea what either could possibly be, but they were all I had, and I would cling to them for dear life. Inside the canister, I heard powder shifting. Maybe it was my knockout powder. Maybe I had enough to do some damage. The glass vial was cool in my hand, though I know my skin was flush with heat from struggling and fighting and being bundled in that stupid bag. Maybe it was a revitalization elixir. If it was
, it would boost my powers. But there was no way I would risk drinking it without being sure, and I couldn’t be sure until I could see it.

  A part of me hoped it was poison that I could throw at Krampus, watch his flesh melt and burn away as he screamed in pain. It would serve him right after the generations of pain and torment he’d inflicted. What kind of god existed only to bring nightmares and pain to thousands of little children? Hell, I was an adult, and I was still scared of the monster in the dark. But of course, I knew I had every reason in the world to still be scared of him.

  When he hauled me off the floor, he did so with the same effort I expended picking up Artemis, and he slung me over his shoulder. I grunted when I hit his back. I shifted and bounced as he walked, and I knew it the moment we went through the portal. I prayed that as soon as he closed the portal, whatever enchantment was keeping my familiar asleep would be broken and he would wake and go find help.

  When we went through the portal, the magic and power of it slid over my body, making my skin tingle and my cuts burn. Static popped in my ears, and my fingers prickled with the promise of power coming back to me. It wasn’t much—not yet. I gripped my canister and vial. I couldn’t waste even the tiniest amount of power testing my kinetic power yet, not until I was sure I could do some damage.

  Freezing air gushed around me, reminding me how little clothing I was wearing. If Krampus dumped me into the snow, I would freeze or lose a toe without the power to cast a spell to keep the cold away. Gravity pulled on me as he climbed the side of the mountain, his hooves crunching the frozen snow. He was as sure-footed as a mountain goat, never once slipping or stumbling on the rocks and snow. At least I could take comfort in knowing he wouldn’t drop me and break my bones. No, he was probably saving that for later.

  I swallowed against the bile rising in my throat as I bounced against his back. I thought I felt his tail swish under me, and I shivered against the strange feeling, but there was nowhere for me to go. Despite the freezing air outside the bag, I was sweating, my breath hot inside the bag. If I ever got out of this, I would start sleeping with a weapon on my nightstand, and I would never again investigate a strange sound in the middle of the day without it.