Jesse started to shake his head, then stopped, looked at the devil creatures, the Belsnickels, at their deadly fingernails, their terrifying orange eyes, thought about the way they’d attacked his truck, how quick and strong they were, how easily they’d taken out Chet and killed Lynyrd. Stealthy night creatures . . . they could cut the General’s boys down before they even knew they were there. He knew that after the way things went down last night, the General would’ve already served his death warrant. He’d heard Chet screaming that it was a setup, no doubt that’s how they’d all see it, and no amount of explaining on his part would ever change that. He also knew that the General would put a price on his head, offer a reward to anyone who’d report his whereabouts, would enlist every resource to track him down. But most of all, the General had made it clear that if Jesse ever crossed him, he’d hurt Abigail, would put her in a box. Jesse felt sure they’d probably already nabbed her, most likely taken her over to the compound. He couldn’t help thinking about how scared she must be.
“Some bad folks is after my daughter,” Jesse said. “I need to make sure she’s safe.”
Krampus nodded. “I understand.”
“There’s more to it than that. It’s complicated. Need to make sure they won’t ever hurt her again.”
“Dead men cannot hurt anyone.” And Krampus smiled.
Jesse thought about how good his odds would be if he showed up at the General’s compound alone—his old hunting rifle against a dozen or more heavily armed men, men with automatic weapons.
“Punishing the wicked is something I’m very good at. We can cut them down . . . make them disappear.” Krampus pointed into the camper, at the velvet sack.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean I am the sack’s master. I can command it to open to any place I wish . . . of this world or of others. We can send your friends to the bottom of the ocean, into the realm of the dead if you so prefer.” Krampus’s smile turned sinister.
Jesse tried to get his mind around this. He’d not considered what would happen if you put something back into the sack, of where it might end up. He found the thought disturbing, but if it were true, if any of what this creature promised were true, it would sure simplify things, might even keep him out of prison. Only how did one go about trusting a devil? He gave Krampus a hard look.
“How can you trust me?”
Jesse was startled by how easily Krampus read him.
“You have already saved my life once. Why would I not help you?”
Jesse realized it all came down to risk. The odds of him successfully saving his daughter on his own against the odds that this creature, this devil, would truly come through for him. Maybe this is an opportunity. Maybe it’s at least worth a shot.
Makwa returned, holding both birds by the neck. He gave Jesse a dark look. One of the ravens still lived and Krampus reached for it. Jesse had known the birds were large, much bigger than any raven he’d ever seen, but seeing it up close he was amazed. They were at least as large as a vulture or eagle. The bird struggled in Krampus’s grasp, cawed, and tried to bite and peck him.
“Huginn,” Krampus cooed softly to the bird. “Huginn, be brave.” Krampus leaned his head and whispered softly, soothingly into its ear. The bird began to calm. Krampus cradled it, gently stroking its black feathers. The bird’s breathing slowed and its eyes fell shut. Krampus kissed the top of its head. “It grieves me so to see you thus. You and your brother have both served Odin well.”
He stroked the raven’s beak, its head. It fluffed its feathers and leaned against his chest, and then Krampus slipped his fingers around its neck and gave a quick, hard twist. Jesse heard a snap and the bird fell still. Krampus hugged the bird and Jesse could see the heartbreak upon his face.
“So few of the ancient ones still live,” Krampus said, almost to himself. “And now we have two less.” His lips began to tremble. “This deed shall rest on your hands, Santa Claus. One more murder to add to your list, one more death to be avenged.” Krampus kissed the top of the raven’s head once more, then bit into the bird’s skull.
“Oh, Jesus,” Jesse said and took a step back.
Krampus chewed loudly, grinding the bones between his teeth. He swallowed and looked skyward. “Thank you, Odin. Thank you for this great gift . . . for this bounty of your blood in my time of need.” He wiped his lips and took another bite, then another and another, as the raven’s blood spilled down his chin and chest.
Jesse glanced about to see if the Belsnickels were as appalled as he was, but they acted as though nothing unusual was going on. Krampus ate not just the meat and guts of the bird, but also the beak, bones, and talons. He slipped off the tailgate, dropped to the ground, and picked up the other bird, sitting upon his haunches, gnawing and chewing until he’d consumed every feather.
The first rays of morning sun broke over the mountain, glistening off the snow. Krampus set back his head and basked in the sunlight. He let out a long, deep groan and Jesse noticed the change—the creature’s skin gaining pigment right before his eyes, darkening from an almost lucent gray toward black. His flesh and bones appeared to be gaining substance.
Krampus grabbed hold of the bumper and pulled himself up onto unsteady feet, bracing himself against the truck. It was apparent that he was still far from health, but he was a much more formidable beast than the creature that’d been huddled in the blanket. He looked at Jesse, at the gun as though for the first time. “What were we discussing?”
“How you could help me get rid of some trash.”
Krampus smiled, wiped his hand down his face, through his chin hairs, looked at the blood smeared across his fingers, offered the hand to Jesse. “There is no stronger pact than one sealed with blood.”
Jesse stared at the blood. “What do you need me to do?”
“I need a place to hide away. A place where I can heal, can prepare. A face that is not pitch, eyes that do not glow to fetch us a few needed items. That is all.”
“And for that you’ll help me get my daughter? Will kill them men that took her?”
Krampus’s eyes gleamed. “It has been long since I was terrible. I miss it dearly. It will be a great treat to see the fear in their eyes, to hear them beg for their lives, to feast on their blood and death cries.”
“Feast on their death cries,” Jesse said as though tasting the word. “I like the sound of that.” He leaned the rifle against the truck, walked over, and took Krampus’s extended hand.
Jesse was making a pact with the devil and he didn’t mind one bit.
DILLARD’S CELL PHONE buzzed across the dashboard of his Suburban. He shoved his coffee into the cup holder, snatched up the phone, looked at the name of the incoming call, and contemplated not answering. It was the General, again, third time in the past hour. It buzzed again, again, then again. Dillard grimaced and flipped his phone open.
“What’s the word?” the General asked, his voice raw and scratchy like he’d been doing a lot of yelling.
Dillard switched the phone to his left hand and turned off onto Coal River Road. “The word?”
“Yeah, what’s the fucking word?”
There wasn’t any word. Jesse and that piece-of-shit truck of his had disappeared. There were several hundred coal roads crisscrossing the mountains around Goodhope and almost as many old mining roads, most of which weren’t on any maps. Even with all the General’s crew out driving around they didn’t have the manpower to search half of them. Shit, Dillard thought, even if I had the entire state’s police force it’d still take over a week. Problem was, the General didn’t want to hear that. “Noel’s north, combing the hills around Elk Run right now. I put the word out county-wide to the folks I know I can count on. Let them know it’s a personal matter between me and Jesse. They promised to keep an eye out.”