“Man,” Chet said. “I’m telling you, you’re picking the wrong house. Old Wallace, that man, he likes his guns, likes shooting them, too. Just pick another house why don’t you?”
“Come,” Krampus said. “All of you, now.” They climbed out and followed Krampus up the drive.
Jesse nudged Isabel. “Look.” He pointed to a hand-painted sign stuck in the front lawn. It read, NO SOLICITING. THIS MEANS YOU ASSHOLE!
Isabel shook her head.
All the windows were dark. Jesse hoped the family was away for the holidays. Krampus stepped onto the porch and a dog barked twice from the other side of the door. It sounded like a big dog. They could hear its claws clacking as it paced back and forth.
Krampus raised his fist to knock, stopped. “Maybe a little prudence is in order,” he whispered. “A slightly different tack. Jesse, the key.” Jesse handed him the key ring. Three of the skeleton keys were of the old-fashioned variety, but the rest were smaller, more modern in design. Krampus picked one of these, tried to insert it into the lock—it wouldn’t fit. Jesse didn’t understand how these six keys were supposed to open every key lock in the world, but after all he’d seen recently, he felt relatively optimistic. Krampus didn’t disappoint; the second key slid in, he gave it a twist, and the bolt flopped over.
Jesse had no idea if the sleeping sand worked on dogs or not, but dug a pinch from his breast pocket and held it at the ready. Krampus twisted the knob and pushed the door inward. The dog jumped out at them and Jesse flicked the sand into its face. It was a basset hound—a really old basset hound. It looked at Jesse with big, sad eyes, wagged its tail, then collapsed.
Everyone gave Jesse a hard look.
“What?”
They stepped over the sleeping dog and entered the foyer. Voices and the cast of a flickering television came from the far end of the hall. Jesse smelled weed.
Krampus crept toward the light, avoiding the clumps of dirty clothes. They stopped in the doorway to the living room. A pudgy man with about a week’s worth of beard lay sprawled across a sofa, fast asleep, an ashtray full of butts balanced on his chest, an empty bottle of whiskey on the floor, and a large gray tabby resting in his lap. The cat opened its eyes and stared at them.
The children, all six of them, were sitting on the floor in front of the television, their backs to them. They ranged in age from about ten all the way down to a toddler in diapers, two girls and the rest boys. An enormous, economy-size bag of Cheetos sat between them, orange crumbs littering the grungy carpet. It’s a Wonderful Life was playing, and Jimmy Stewart was trying to convince the fine residents of Bedford Falls not to pull all their money from the Building and Loan, his disarming manner and warm sincere drawl holding the children spellbound.
There was no Christmas tree in this house, no Christmas lights, or any sort of decorations other than a lone group of pinecones hanging over the fireplace. Jesse found no new toys, or signs of any gifts. It appeared as though Christmas had pretty much passed these children by.
Isabel touched Krampus’s arm, pointed to the man. Krampus nodded and she tiptoed over. The cat stretched, yawned, began to purr. Isabel dropped a few sprinkles of sleeping sand onto the man’s face. His nose crinkled, but that was about it. Isabel shrugged. When she turned around, all the children were looking at her—six faces smeared with orange crumbs. Isabel raised her hand. “Hi.”
They watched her step back over to the hall. “We should go try and find their ma,” Isabel whispered.
“She ain’t here,” Chet said. “She run off about a year back.”
“Oh,” Isabel replied.
Krampus handed Isabel his switches. “I won’t be needing these.” He stepped into the room and every eye went to the towering Yule Lord, terror spreading across their faces.
“There is no need to fear,” Krampus said in the same soft, lulling voice he’d used on the little girls at the previous house. “I am a friend.”
Their terror appeared to lessen a degree, but one of the younger boys still began to cry.“Casey, you shush now,” a girl said and stood up. The little boy did his best to stifle his tears. The girl appeared to be the oldest of the bunch, maybe nine or ten years old. She took a step forward, putting herself between Krampus and the rest. “What’d you want?” she said, trying to sound tough, but Jesse could hear the fear in her voice. “If you’s looking to steal stuff, we ain’t got nothing.”
“We are not thieves,” Krampus said, his voice calm and hypnotic. “I am the Yule Lord and I come bearing gifts for all of you.”
Curiosity appeared on a few of the faces. They looked up at their big sister. She gave Krampus a hard, cynical look. “Folks never give you something, ’less they be wanting something. What’d you want?”
“You are wise beyond your years. What is your name, child?”
The girl hesitated. “Who’s asking?”
The Yule Lord grinned. “I am Krampus.”
“Well, Krampus, my name is Carolyn, and this here is Chris and Curtis, Casey, Clayton, and over there is Charlene.”
Krampus nodded to each of them. The baby looked at Krampus, began to whimper. A boy, couldn’t have been older than four, pulled the baby into his lap, found its pacifier, and patted it on the back, doing his best to reassure the child.
Krampus walked softly over to the children and unslung his sack.
The girl stood her ground. She looked terrified, but Jesse could see that she’d take a beating before she’d let anyone, even a horned demon, get their hands on any of these children.
Casey crawled behind his big sister and began to cry again. “Casey, I done told you to shush up, now. Y’know Pa don’t stand for no tears.”
“Please . . . do not be alarmed.” Krampus knelt down on one knee. He placed the sack between them, slipped in his hand, closed his eyes, and pulled out a handful of the triangular gold coins.
Their eyes let up, all of them bedazzled by the ancient coins. He handed one to each and went on to tell them all about Yule, about the old traditions, about shoes on doorsteps and rewards for those who believe. They listened, captivated and hanging on his every word. Soon all trace of their fear was gone.
When Krampus finished, he stood, bid them Happy Yule, and headed out. The children followed them to the door.
“Hey,” Jesse said to Carolyn. “Be sure not to let your daddy see them coins.”
The girl nodded as though she was way ahead of him.
“Take them down to Dicker and Pawn. Ask for Finn, he’s out to treat you better than most.”
“Yeah,” Chet put in. “You tell him Chet Boggs said he better treat you square. Got that?”
The girl nodded again.
Jesse and Chet caught up with the rest of the Belsnickels in the sleigh. Krampus popped the reins and the Yule goats leapt skyward. Jesse watched the children, their six small faces staring up at them in wonderment. Carolyn raised her arm and waved, all the children did. Jesse waved back.
CLOUDS OF BLACK smoke drifted across the gardens and through the topiary, shifting with the early-dawn wind. A few pockets of flame still crackled. The scorched beams and stones of the stable formed a stark skeleton against the morning sky.
Six women dug through the smoldering embers with pitchforks and rakes. Their dirty, soot-covered gowns clinging to the sweat of their bodies, ash smeared across their hands and tear-streaked faces.
“Here,” the woman with the long white hair called. “He is here.”
They all came, dropping rakes and forks in favor of their own hands, gently pulling the mutilated corpse from the ash. Some of the women turned away, could not bear to look upon the blackened, headless body.
“Help me,” the woman said, and together they lifted the body and carried it across the courtyard, down a narrow path outside the wall, to a small, single-room chapel overlooking the sea. There they lay it upon a stone slab, beneath a window of golden stained glass in the shape of a cross. One of the girls fetched towels and a pail of seawater. Together they washed the body, wiping away the dirt and soot. The fire had burned away all of his clothing, but left his body untouched. It gleamed porcelain-white, perfect except for the great injuries inflicted by the spear. They washed his hands, scrubbed beneath his fingernails, toenails, his genitals, his wounds, and the grisly flap of torn flesh at his neck. They bathed him until no trace of soiled flesh remained, then wrapped him in white linen.