Reverend Owen watched aghast as the paper streamers landed in the candles perched along the windowsills, amazed at how quickly they caught fire. Whatever materials the Sunday school teachers had used lit up like a fuse. The flaming streamers hit the curtains, the original curtains put up when they’d first moved into the place back in ’68, which, guessing by the way they were starting to blaze, predated any fire codes. In no time they had fires going on both sides of the church.
“FIRE!” Cindy screamed at the top of her very capable lungs. “FIRE! FIRE! FIRE!” People found their senses and began a panicked rush for the exits.
Reverend Owen didn’t move. He stood there, watching the rapidly growing flames, and did something he’d never done before. Within his own church, Reverend Owen took the Lord’s name in vain, not once but over and over again.
OFFICER ROBERTS HEARD the shouts and screams from almost a block away. He sped up, taking the last corner hard, shooting into the parking lot of the church. He’d driven over without using his siren and lights, as the chief had instructed, to keep the element of surprise, but watching the people streaming out from the front doors of the church, he didn’t believe it even mattered.
He snatched up his rifle, jumped out of the cruiser, using the car for cover, bracing his rifle across the hood just like they’d taught him at the academy. He was only about thirty yards from the front steps, but it was still hard to tell who was who as he watched figures running to and fro—mere silhouettes in front of the growing flames.
Noel glanced up the street, hoping to see the chief’s cruiser heading his way. Dillard had ordered him to stay back, but folks needed help, things were getting out of hand fast. He hit the mic. “Chief, I’m at the scene. We have an emergency. Please advise.” He waited a few seconds that felt like forever and hit the mic again. “Chief. Copy.” Nothing. Where was he? What was taking him so long? Noel changed frequencies, put a call in to the dispatch. “Dispatch, we got a ten . . . a ten . . .” His mind drew a blank, all the codes went out the window. “We got a fire, Methodist church in Goodhope . . . possible dangerous suspects.” He heard his voice rising, racing, forced himself to slow down. “Hell, we got all kinds of trouble! Send fire and rescue . . . let the sheriff know right away!” He got a confirmation that help was en route, then the radio clicked again and Dillard’s calm voice cut through the static. “Just hold on. Cutting across First now. Almost there.”
Noel started to reply, but forgot what he was trying to say, because a towering figure with horns came out of the burning church, towing a Christmas tree behind him and carrying a man over his shoulder. The suspect matched the description, no doubt about that whatsoever. He dropped the man down from his shoulder into the snow. Officer Roberts recognized the man, it was Reverend Owen, he looked confused but okay.
The deputy locked the sight of his rifle on the suspect—the man, or beast, or whatever it was—tried to hold his aim steady. “Oh, good gracious alive! Dillard you better get your ass here and quick!”
A LOUD THUD reverberated through the ceiling. Isabel and all the women looked up.
“What the hell’s going on up there?” the woman in the hunting jacket asked.
A moment later they heard screams, cries, and the sound of feet drumming overhead. Isabel had a pretty good guess. Aw, shit, Krampus. What’ve you done now?
Someone up the stairs screamed “FIRE!”—and at that moment smoke began to pour out of the ceiling vents.
“OUT!” The woman in the hunting jacket yelled. “The place is on fire! Everyone get out!”
The group of women standing in front of the double doors all turned and rushed for the exit, pushing those closest to it into the doors. And since the doors only opened inward, toward the hallway, this jammed them shut.
“Stop! Wait!” someone yelled. “You’re gonna all have to back up.” It was the woman behind Isabel, the one in the simple dress. She started down the hall toward the wedge of women. “Stay calm. You must stay calm.”
A few women were trying to pull themselves out of the tangle, but the others, in their panic, only pushed harder. Isabel started forward, intent on pulling the women off one another, when she heard screams coming from behind her.
At least a dozen women had come out of the room at the far end of the hall and were stampeding toward her. Lacy stood right in their path. Isabel scrambled to get to her, but she had no chance. The woman, the one in the dress, grabbed Lacy, shoved her into the shallow door well, the one in front of the locked door. The women drove past. Isabel didn’t see what happened, the next thing she knew she was knocked back down the hall, slammed to the floor, and caught up in the press of grappling bodies.
The air grew dense, the smoke making everyone cough, spurring on the panic. Isabel found herself pinned, struggling to get air in her lungs. She heard her name, a deep, booming call that resonated above the din of screaming, crying women. There came a terrific snapping and splintering of wood, and all at once light appeared at the top of the double doors. There came another snap, more splintering, and a large chunk of the door ripped outward. She saw him then, his glowing eyes and unmistakable silhouette. Krampus wrapped his large hands on the door, let out a roar, and gave a mighty tug. The door frame popped and snapped, one of the double doors broke free, crashing down onto the steps.
And there stood the Yule Lord, tall and terrible, the Belsnickels just behind him. Krampus pulled the women out of the tangle, pushed them up the stairs; the Belsnickels, in turn, lead them out of the death trap.
“Isabel!” Krampus yelled, his voice frantic. “Where are you?”
“Krampus!” She managed to get a hand free and wave. Krampus shoved women left and right, plowing his way to Isabel, grabbed her, and pulled her to her feet.
“Hurry!” he cried, pushing her toward the stairs.
“Wait,” Isabel shouted. She looked down the dim, smoky hall searching for Lacy. And there she was—in that woman’s arms, the one in the dress. The woman coughed, her eyes streaming with tears, but she held tight to Lacy. Isabel leapt to them, put an arm around both of them, and steered them to the stairs. The last couple of women were stumbling up the steps with the help of Jesse and Chet. Isabel led Lacy and the woman up and out, followed lastly by Krampus.
They came out into the night air. Isabel drew in a deep breath; never had air tasted so sweet. Ash and glowing cinders fell upon the snow, smoke billowed around them. Isabel saw Krampus’s tall, horned figure before the hellish landscape, surrounded by his Belsnickels, and could not help but think of Satan and his host of demons.
“Come,” Krampus called. “Let us find the Yule goats before they stray.” He headed back around the side of the church, followed by the Belsnickels, all of them disappearing into the smoke.
People were gathering in the parking lot. Isabel started to lead the woman and Lacy that way, spotted a police cruiser barreling into the lot, nearly hitting two bystanders. It skidded to a stop beside another cruiser. Isabel halted, dropped to one knee, gave Lacy a quick kiss on the cheek, and hugged her tight. “I gotta go, Lacy. You be good. Okay?”
“You be good, too,” Lacy said and hugged her back.
Isabel stood, clutched the woman’s arm. “Her name is Lacy. Please look after her.” The woman gave her a confused look, but nodded earnestly, picking Lacy up and heading away from the flames. Isabel wanted to watch them go, but tears blurred her vision and she turned back, darting away into the smoke after Krampus.