All five of them raced through the woods. There was no need to hide their faces in the growing darkness, and Isabel reveled in the winter wind blowing through her hair. Krampus’s blood ran through their veins, increasing their strength and endurance noticeably. Isabel could sprint faster, leap farther, and run endlessly without tiring. But his blood did more than that; it also opened their senses to the wildness of the world in a way no ordinary mortal could ever know. She could smell the spice of rotting leaves beneath the frost, the fish in the creek, could hear a family of squirrels nesting high above in the treetops, could actually sense the pulse of life running beneath all things. Ancient forces, she thought, older than the very dirt. And when she ran like this—leaping and dashing through the woods like a deer, her heart and soul open to the spirit of the land—she found she could almost forget all that had been stolen from her.
They followed a creek beneath the highway, skirted a cluster of homes, then climbed up an embankment, coming out of the trees into a field behind the high school. The school looked the same to Isabel as it had when she’d attended over forty years ago. She stared at the dark windows and wondered if her son had gone there as well.
Makwa held up his hand and they stopped. He pointed toward the dark clouds. This time Isabel made out two specks circling about a mile away, near the elementary school, caught their distant calls. Her heart sped up. “He’s still here!” Isabel felt her hopes rise. This time they knew the make of the man’s truck, knew what he looked like. He wouldn’t get away.
Makwa shook his head, looking troubled.
“What?” Isabel asked. “What’s wrong now?”
“They call him. Call Santa Claus. He must be near.”
The two brothers nodded their agreement.
“Oh, wonderful, that’s just wonderful,” Vernon said, his voice edging toward hysteria. “What do we do now?”
“We beat him there,” Isabel stated.
“That’s all well and good, but what if he already has it?”
“Then we take it from him,” she said, not the least bit happy about it.
And that was the end of it; they all knew what she meant. Krampus had given them a direct command. He possessed them; the same blood that gave them the ability to run like deer also dominated their will. If Krampus should demand they chew open their own wrists while humming a tune, they’d be powerless to do anything but. They’d been commanded to bring back the sack at any cost, and so they’d expend their last breath trying, even if it meant going into the jaws of Santa’s monsters to do it.
“We’re wasting time,” Isabel said, and dashed away. The Belsnickels followed.
She ran all out, and as she ran she took note of the beauty around her, the thousand shades of blue and purple, savored winter’s twilight in its entire splendor as it fell across the mountains, knowing too well it may be her very last.
CHET CLIMBED OUT of his truck. “Why, I knew we could count on you, Jesse.” He walked up to Jesse and gave him a slap on the back. “You’re the man.” Chet did a double take on Jesse’s truck then tilted his head sideways. “What the fuck happened to your pickup?”
Lynyrd got out from the passenger side of Chet’s Chevy and came up behind Jesse, grabbed him by the collar.
“Hey,” Jesse cried. “Get your goddamn hands off of me.”
“Cool it,” Lynyrd said, and proceeded to pat Jesse down. He found the pistol in Jesse’s jacket pocket and fished it out.
“What? You gonna take my gun? What the fuck?”
“Just calm down, man. You can have your shitty shooter back once we’re done.” Lynyrd sat the pistol on the hood of Jesse’s truck. “Just wanna be sure you don’t do nothing you’re gonna regret.”
“How’s the hand?” Chet asked, and smiled.
Jesse glared at him, pressed his back up to the camper so he could keep an eye on both of them as well as the trees behind them.
“You nervous about something, Jesse?” Chet asked.
“Let’s just get this over with.”
“Well, damn. You don’t sound very enthusiastic.”
“I got better things to do then hang out with you two pricks.”
Chet glanced over at Lynyrd and raised his eyebrows. “Jesse, I’m gonna ignore that on account you’re too stupid to know better.”
Jesse thought he caught movement in the bushes behind Lynyrd. Chet followed Jesse’s eyes into the trees. “Relax,” Chet said. “Nobody’s out there. Besides, your good buddy Dillard’s got us covered.” Jesse sucked in a breath and fought to keep his nerves under control, did his best not to think about burning orange eyes.
“Oh, and hey,” Chet said. “Thought you’d like to know . . . my nephew went batshit-crazy over that video game machine you gave me. I mean you should’ve seen his face. Thought he was gonna turn blue and piss himself right there on the carpet.”
Jesse thought he was gonna piss himself if things didn’t get moving. He wanted to scream at Chet to shut the fuck up and get on with it already before they were all eaten alive.
“Gave another one to his cousin. Did you know you can link those—”
“I’m so fucking happy,” Jesse broke in, forcing a broad smile across his face.
“What?” Chet cut his eyes to Lynyrd. “Is it just me or is Jesse plain weird tonight?”
“Jesse is always weird,” Lynyrd said.
Chet squinted at Jesse again, studied him like something escaped from the zoo. “Yeah, you’re right on that one.” Chet pulled out a tin of chew, twisted it open, dug out a plug, and stuffed it into his cheek. Jesse felt like the man moved in slow motion.
“Okay, sugar britches,” Chet continued. “Here’s the deal. Like I was telling you before, quick run up to Charleston. Same place as usual. It’ll be Josh meeting you this time—his brother got another DUI and is still in jail. His wife won’t pay his bail neither.” Chet snorted. “I think she’d just as soon he stay in there, to tell you the truth. Anyhow Josh will be expecting you at nine. Do us all a favor and make sure you’re on time. I don’t want him bitching at me. I swear that man can carry on like an old woman sometimes. So don’t be—”
“I’ll be there on time,” Jesse said, his eyes darting about in the shadows.
“Yeah . . . all right then.” Chet paused. “You jacked up or something?”
“No.”
Chet didn’t look convinced. He nodded at Lynyrd, and Lynyrd unzipped his jacket, pulled out a large brown packet wrapped in duct tape.
“Josh will have six grand waiting for you.”
“Six grand?” Jesse said, unable to hide his surprise.
Chet eyed Jesse, spat a wad of tobacco juice onto the snow. “Yeah, six grand. Don’t you go getting any funny ideas. Just remember what the General said about your daughter. I mean it, Jesse. For her sake, you fly right.”
Jesse’s jaw tightened.
Chet jabbed a thumb toward Dillard’s patrol car. “You’re to follow Dillard as far as Leewood. Martin said he’s on duty tonight. So the interstate shouldn’t be a problem. He knows the make of your truck. So if you happen to notice the state patrol tailing you, don’t sweat it none.” Chet slapped Jesse on the shoulder. “See there, guitar man, we got you covered. And the General’s bumping your bit up to three hundred. Y’know, to show there’s no hard feelings on that there hole in your hand. That’s three hundred bucks for doing just about nothing. You can send him a thank-you card if you want.”
Lynyrd stepped up to the passenger side of Jesse’s truck and popped the door open. The Santa sack tumbled out onto the ground. Loud cawing exploded from somewhere up above.