The General didn’t answer, just stared at Krampus with haunted eyes, like a man who wanted to wake up from a bad dream but couldn’t.
“General, I command you and Chet to sing me ‘Jingle Bells’ . . . soft and sweet please. On the count of three: one, and a two, and a three . . .”
They both began to sing, a sad mumbling chorus, out of synch and out of tune.
Jesse laughed again and felt a deep discomfort in his back and chest. He fell quiet. I was stabbed. And through the haze of the mead it came back to him. He touched his stomach, his leg. The nails, they were gone, as was the pain, most of it anyway. I’m still alive! He slowly tugged up his sleeve, afraid to look, knowing too well what he’d find. His skin, it was speckled gray and black. “No,” he said. “No, you didn’t!” He glared at Krampus. Krampus nodded, smiling. Jesse pulled up the front of his shirt, exposing his stomach. He could see where the nails had been, the wounds were still there, not oozing blood, as they should’ve been, but well on the mend.
“I have granted you a life,” Krampus said.
“You’ve turned me into a monster.”
“Of sorts.”
Jesse held up his hands, wiggled his fingers, and winced. They were stiff and sore, but he could hardly tell they’d been broken. “How . . . can this be?”
“My blood will do that,” Krampus said with obvious pride.
“This is wonderful. I think. Now change me back.”
Krampus frowned. “Why would I wish to do that?”
“Because I’m telling you to.”
“Enough song,” Krampus called and both men ceased singing. “Jesse, you are confused. There is only one of us that gives orders and I am afraid it is not you.”
Jesse grabbed Krampus by the arm. “No, fuck that. You’re gonna change me back. Now!”
“Release my arm, I command it.”
And, to Jesse’s surprise, his body did exactly as told, as though someone else was driving while he watched. Jesse’s eyes grew wide. “Oh, that’s some shit.”
Someone snickered and he saw Chet smirking at him in the rearview mirror.
“What the fuck are you looking at?”
“Welcome to the club, dumbass,” Chet said.
“You can’t do this,” Jesse said to Krampus.
“You prefer death?”
Jesse started to say yes, found he wasn’t sure. “Just turn me back.”
“I cannot.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
Krampus shrugged.
“You son of a bitch.”
“We have great wrongs to right. Both of us. We go to kill Santa. When that deed is done, then perhaps, if you serve me well, then we can go take care of this other evil, this Dillard if you so wish it.”
Jesse fell silent. He so wished it alright, but what did it mean to be a Belsnickel? Had he been condemned to a life of slavery? Did he truly believe Krampus would make good on his offer? No way to know. He did know that for now he’d been given another life, perhaps another chance to take care of Dillard, to kill him if it came to that, to save his Abigail, and that was what mattered.
CHET DROVE THEM down the narrow drive and pulled up behind the church. A giant wolf stood next to the great oak, its fur bristling. “Oh, what in the shit now?” Chet asked.
A moment later all three Shawnee dashed from the church, clutching spears and pistols. Krampus opened his door and stepped from the vehicle. The Shawnee let out a whoop. The wolf’s fur settled and it came trotting over. It licked Krampus’s hand and the Yule Lord rubbed it behind the ears. Its tail began to wag.
“Out, all of you,” Krampus commanded and Chet, Jesse, and the General opened their doors and climbed out.
Jesse stepped down into the snow and realized he’d lost a boot somewhere along the way. He could feel the frost on his bare foot, but, oddly, it had no bite and though it was certainly below freezing out, he hardly noticed the chill. He became aware that he could actually smell the snow, the dead leaves beneath the snow. He inhaled deeply; it seemed everything was crisper: smells, sounds, colors, and he assumed all these sensations must be some effect of Krampus’s blood.
Chet and the General clung to the Chevy, their eyes shifting back and forth between the Shawnee and the wolf as though they were about to be eaten.
Isabel came out onto the back steps, saw Jesse, and let out a cry. “Krampus! No! You promised. Your oath.”
“Save your temper, little lion. It was he that broke the oath. Not I.”
Isabel walked down the steps and over to Jesse, touched his face with the back of her fingers. “Oh, Jesse. I’m so sorry.”
“Things could be worse,” Jesse said, surprised to find he pretty much meant it.
“Come,” Krampus said, and headed into the church, his tail swishing excitedly.
Chet and the General remained next to the truck as though frozen in place. Makwa gestured toward the steps with his spear. Chet and the General exchanged a fretful look and then tromped along after Krampus as though being marched through the gates of Hell.
Jesse entered the church, found the second wolf, the larger one, lying upon its side. It lifted its head, keeping a watchful eye on the new— comers. The smaller wolf came over and began licking its face. Isabel picked up one of the mead flasks, poured some into a pie pan in front of the wolf. The wolf lapped at it. “This is Freki,” Isabel said, stroking its fur. “He’s doing a lot better.”
“And no thanks to you,” someone said with open hostility. Jesse found Vernon glaring at him. “We had to carry him out of that ravine. Damnable beast weighed a ton.” Vernon walked over to Jesse, looked up at him, his eyes two angry slits. “You pushed me.”
“Yup, that I did.”
“You’re a son of a bitch. You know that?”
“Yes, I most certainly do.”
“Must’ve walked ten miles through the woods to get back here. Had to carry him all that way. All the way. That’s a long way to carry a giant canine.”
“Vernon,” Isabel said. “Quit your bellyaching. You’ve been going on about it nonstop. Starting to get on everybody’s nerves.”
“Yes, well, you’re not the one who was shoved down the side of a mountain. Now were you?”
“You didn’t fall down no mountain. You got stuck up in a tree.” She laughed. “Looked just like a treed coon.”
Vernon gave her a thunderous scowl, shook his head, and walked away. “One day I’m gonna wake up from this goddamn nightmare. One day, and it can’t be too soon.”
Krampus dropped the sack in the middle of the room. “All of you . . . here to me.” He held the spear out. “I have it!” The Shawnee gathered round. “The day we have waited centuries for is at hand. Today is the day I face Baldr. Today is the day I make him pay for all his crimes!”
He looked from face to face, eyes gleaming. “Let me tell you why you must never make the same mistake as I and pity this monster. Why he must be put down like some rabid dog.”
Krampus sat a hand on Jesse’s shoulder. “Jesse, I told you of his guise, his worship of Saint Nicholas, but there was no end to his deceit. Let me finish the tale, let me share with you the rest of the story.”
Jesse shook his head. “Can’t really stop you, now can I?”
The Yule Lord’s brow furrowed and Jesse thought he might’ve overstepped, then slowly a smile crept across Krampus’s face. “No . . . no, you can’t. No one can. Not anymore. This story will be told . . . told again and again, until the whole world knows the truth behind the lie.”
Krampus clutched the spear in both hands. “His is a story of betrayal, of a foul creature having no conscience, no regard for anything except his own blind ambitions. For even after I brought him into my own house, even after I showed him brotherhood, after all my charity, still he betrayed me, betrayed all Asgard.” Krampus’s eyes glowed. “He stole everything from me, locked me away in his dungeon. Was that enough for him? No. He wanted more, wanted my name erased from the land. He thought he could make them forget . . . forget Yule and the Yule Lord.” Krampus laughed. “But he underestimated my great spirit, and even into the 1400s, there were those who still held to the old traditions, still paid me tribute.