Makwa left the stall, walked over to Krampus, and pointed to the elves. “What of them?”
Krampus strolled back into the stable, called up to the elves. “You are free. Return home to the wilds where you belong. Reclaim your spirit. But do so now, as I intend to burn this stable—and all that belonged to the traitor—to the ground.”
The little people glanced about uneasily but, one by one, began to slip away.
“Jesse,” Krampus called. “Open the stalls, free all the beasts. The rest of you, move those bails there, the barrels, that cart, anything that will burn, against the center post.”
While Jesse freed the reindeer, Krampus walked down the length of the stable, peering into each stall, stopping near the back. He opened a gate and led two goats out. “Jesse, bring those two harnesses there and follow me.” Krampus led Jesse and the goats outside to the green sleigh. He strapped on their harness, speaking kindly to them as he hitched them up. He guided them well away from the structures and tied them to a bench near a garden.
Krampus returned to the stable, looked over the pile of wood and hay, appeared satisfied, then grabbed Santa’s body by the leg and dragged him over. Together with Makwa, he tossed the body onto the pile like one more scrap of wood.
Krampus lifted one of the oil lamps from its post, threw it atop the pile. The lantern shattered, setting the wood and hay ablaze. The fire crackled and spread.
“Come,” Krampus called and led them out. They crossed the courtyard, went through a topiary full of shrubs cut to resemble mythological creatures, then across the garden surrounding the main house. Jesse watched the reindeer joyfully munching on the rows of flowers. Krampus stopped in front of a single-story building that ran the entire length of the main house. Two statues of rearing white horses stood astride a wide, double-door entrance. Krampus walked up to the doors and gave them a tug. The doors were unlocked and they entered.
It appeared to be a warehouse of sorts, with rows of shelves all the way to the ceiling and stacked with all manner of items, mostly toys, but Jesse also noted rows of children’s shoes, coats, and other articles of clothing, even a row of crutches and basic medical supplies. It took him a moment to put together that this must be where the sack had been open to, back when he’d first put his hand into it. He shuddered to think what might’ve happened if he’d been caught and pulled through.
Krampus ignored the toys, walking along the wall, opening each and every door he came to. Jesse had no idea what he might be looking for. Krampus opened one door, shut it, then paused, seemed to reconsider. He walked back, reopened it, and went in, came out a moment later with a bundle of colorful clothes. He tossed them onto the floor, and then brought out more. Shirts, pants, jackets, boots, all made from fine leathers and fabrics, in deep emerald greens, golden ochers, and dark crimson reds. “Lose your drab rags and don this finery. Those that serve the Yule Lord shall hide in shadows no longer.”
The Shawnee weren’t the least interested, but Isabel appeared delighted. She dug into the pile with obvious spirit, admiring one piece after another, holding the rich textiles up against her small frame for fit. Jesse guessed it must’ve been tough on her, spending the last forty years wearing nothing but grungy, ill-fitting pants and jackets.
Some of the items appeared to be well-worn work clothes, but most were flamboyant and ornate, rich velvets and corduroys, they reminded Jesse of movie costumes, the sort of thing they wore back in the seventeenth or eighteenth century, or whatever century men used to prance about in ruffles and powdered wigs.
Vernon seemed glad to shed his ragged coat and filthy pants, had no trouble finding suitable replacements for his small build.
Jesse had lost his boots and jacket at the General’s, his shirt and pants were torn and covered in dried blood. He wasn’t too sure about the selection, but at this point most anything would do. He quickly realized most of the items were too small, sized to fit children or elves perhaps, but he managed to find a shirt and a pair of leather britches that laced around the calves, and quickly slipped into them. He dug through the shoes until he found a pair of boots that fit, they came almost to his knees but he didn’t care, it was good just to have something on his feet again. The only coat he could find that fit was long-tailed with a high velvet collar, burned gold in color with copper buttons running up the lapel and along the oversized cuffs.
“Oh,” Isabel said. “That’s very romantic.”
Jesse groaned.
“No, really. You look dashing.”
Chet snickered. “You look like a queer.”
“Chet,” Jesse said. “You have a way of growing on people . . . about like a fucking wart.”
Isabel ended up in a fancy turquoise velvet long coat, the sort of thing a pirate might wear. Jesse felt her panda cap gave her costume that last needed touch of lunacy.
Krampus picked up a lavender crushed velvet coat with swirling gold trim, something that would’ve been right at home in any glam rock band. “This one is simply splendid,” he said and held it out to Makwa. “Do you not agree?”
Makwa crossed his arms over his chest and looked in the other direction. Krampus pushed it toward the brothers and they both stepped back as though from a snake. Chet snickered, and Krampus’s eyes fell on him. He held the lavender coat out to Chet.
Chet shook his head. “Oh, hell no. I ain’t wearing that.”
“Put it on. It is a command.”
“Fuck,” Chet said, and did as he was told, making a face like he’d been made to eat mothballs.
Jesse snorted and Chet locked eyes on him. “Say something, you little twat,” Chet growled. “Go on. Break your fucking jaw. See if I don’t.”
Jesse blew him a kiss.
Chet’s lip curled and he started toward Jesse, murder in his eye.
“Stop,” Krampus commanded. “This is not the place.”
Chet halted, glaring at Jesse.
Jesse gave him the finger and grinned. Chet’s face turned red, looked fit to burst.
Krampus found a red ribbon and tied his long hair back out of his eyes, and inspected his Belsnickels. He nodded and smiled. “Yes, elegant, dashing . . . as servants of the Yule Lord should look.”
From where Jesse stood, he couldn’t figure how they could’ve possibly looked any more ridiculous.
Krampus continued down the building until they came to an archway containing a door of solid iron. Krampus twisted the handle and gave it a shove. The heavy door slid inward, revealing a short hallway that emptied into darkness.
“Fetch me a lantern,” Krampus said.
Isabel pushed past, hit a switch on the wall, and the hall and the room beyond flooded with light. She smiled at Krampus. “Some things have changed for the better.”
Krampus examined the switch, flipped it off and on a couple of times. “Perhaps.”
The short hall opened into a large oval room with a beamed cathedral ceiling. They entered. Jesse glanced around and immediately thought of a mad scientist’s laboratory, the sort of place where Doctor Frankenstein might go about bringing the dead back to life.
Krampus moved down the rows of wooden tables, past beakers and flasks filled with iridescent liquids, past tall shelves of jars containing all manner of dried creatures: frogs, lizards, snakes, squid, metallic colored beetles, jar after jar of powders, leaves, herbs, roots, and mushrooms. The Yule Lord pulled at his chin hairs as he peered into sinks, trays, flipped through books, poked, prodded, sniffed, and tasted his way from one station to the next. He stirred his finger through a tray of sprouting crystals, plucked out a few of the larger specimens and held them up to the light. “Alchemy.” Krampus appeared impressed. “Diamonds, rubies, sapphires. All of the highest grade. Someone has uncovered many of the ancient secrets.”