Page 24 of The Krampus' Queen
It’s a simple request with no tears. No begging. Just one word asking for civility from the monster.
The Krampus recedes. His shoulders stoop, his posture shrinking. With his head hanging low, he shoves the book back into my hands but doesn’t look at me. Once I have it, I press the book to my chest and try to slip away, but he doesn’t reach for me. With his back forever to me, he walks to the door. Hooves skitter across the floor instead of clomping with pride.
“This is not your home, human.” Red eyes peer over his shoulder, peeling me to the quick. “You don’t belong here.” With that, he vanishes, slamming the door behind him.
Panting, I press the book so tight to my chest my ribs ache. What the hell was that? This is bad. This is a twenty-foot-tall red flag, Amaya. Get the hell out before the man doesn’t snap back and, instead, he snaps you in half.
I try to focus on the book, hoping that an explanation lurks inside. Some of it establishes the rules I already know. Krampus goes to the houses of naughty children, kidnaps them to work in his mine for a day, and leaves behind a bundle of sticks to remind them to be good. None of this makes any sense. Why did this book enrage him when he told me this himself?
Nope. I can’t shake it. My heart keeps pounding, my ears pricking to listen for hoofbeats. I have no idea where he’s gone, but I can’t face him again. Not like this. For the first time since I found the children, I flee toward the red door.
He isn’t waiting there to stop me. No, he told me to leave. All of this has been what to him? Free sex? A chance to have a bit of company, then once he’s sick of it, to chase me off? The second I challenge him, he can’t handle it and he gets rid of me?
My fingers grace the doorknob.
One turn and I’ll forget it all. Be right back to Christmas Eve. No more bean shoots woven into their little trellises. No long nights nestled against his chest while his heart lulls me to sleep. No laughs when I’d press my feet to his back and he’d yelp at the cold. All of him gone—the bad and the good.
That’s what I want. Right?
To walk through that door and…
Huh?
The lights to the throne room are lit. In all the time I’ve been here, he’s never gone anywhere near that archway. I’ve avoided it too, so it’s sat cold and dark. But now the orbs are blazing under the archways.
Why?
My hand falls off of the knob, and I turn to investigate where the Krampus has gone.
CHAPTER 12
HE SITS ON the throne as if he’s trapped in another time. Hand on his furrowed brow, his heavy head bowed, he looks like a king exhausted from a day of ruling. But on this mountain top on the edge of death, there is no one to command save for me walking across the floor.
I don’t know what I want.
An apology, an explanation, an excuse—all seem like a good start and all seem impossible from the monster pressing his back into the throne of antlers. As he shifts, low grumbles of pain erupt from his lips. The points must be pressing into him, maybe even breaking skin, but he sits, dull eyes directed to the floor just before his feet.
I nearly reach his line of sight. The air’s so still, my heartbeat pounds in my ears.
Death hangs heavier than the drapery in this room. I look to the sigil that revealed the children below. No small voices cry out for help. Even the stubborn ones have long gone home by now. It’s only the Krampus and his endless, eternal mountain castle.
“Once upon a time.”
The voice shocks me. He doesn’t sit up or lift his head. I’m not even sure if he knows I’m here. His pupils shine white like a cat caught in the dark.
“Many years ago, there lived a creature of punishment and justice in his castle on the mountain. People came from all around, curious about the monster they’d tell tales of around the fire. Some were terrified, but others…” His voice catches and he closes his eyes. “Others lingered, curious for more.”
I don’t know why, but I plop down onto my ass like it’s story time. As his voice echoes off the stone walls, the cracking baritone smooths, revealing a rich, glittering geode below. I’m enthralled at his first word and can’t look away.
“In time, a village grew around that old mountain lodge. The monster was no longer alone. To fit all these people, the lodge became a castle. They looked to him for advice, for devotion, for a promise of justice that their gods and lords couldn’t provide. So many voices echoing off of the bones of the mountain.” He lifts his head, his ears twitching as if they can hear the last gasps of old ghosts. “One by one, they faded…dust…”
A cough catches, his voice splintering. I’ve never heard him talk so much at once. Can his throat handle it?
Krampus lifts his hand, his claws unfurling. “Dust in the wind.”
I gulp, waiting for cremated ashes to fly off of his palm, but nothing does. Even the dust is gone. His hand tumbles back to the chair, claws pressing into the armrest as he glares through nothing.
He’s stopped telling it, but the story is far from over. I can see people once living here, working beside him, even befriending him. There’s far too much space for one man. But I’ve seen the kind of creature that lurks within him, and I know what humans are capable of at their worst.
