“Sorry about that . . . been a little while.”
People began turning away, laughing and cutting up, drifting back toward the bar for more drinks.
Jesse’s chest tightened. Who am I fooling? He made himself start up again, hit a few more sour notes, but this time kept going. His fingers were still a bit stiff, but he knew that wasn’t the problem. He began to sing, his voice stale, he could hear it, could see it on their faces.
People shook their heads, a few put their hands over their ears, laughing, laughing at his singing. Jesse caught Krampus watching him from the bar, the Yule Lord’s eyes steady and intense. Krampus spoke, and even though there was no way Jesse could’ve heard him across the crowd, he did, actually feeling it more than hearing it, deep down inside of him. “Free your spirit.”
It was silly nonsense, but Jesse closed his eyes, tried to forget the crowd, concentrated on his music. Slowly the din of the crowd faded and it was just him and his guitar, alone, just like in his room. The tension melted away, the stiffness left his hands, his fingers found the right chords, and he began to sing, to really sing.
It was an up tempo number, a song about a man running away from his mean, mean woman. About a minute into the song the music came alive, the melody and notes became so clear he could almost see them. The music flowed through him, felt more like he was weaving a spell than performing a song, and he strummed the guitar hard and fast as though meaning to tear loose the strings. He finished the first song and went right into the next, and then another. And it was as though someone had pulled cotton from his ears and he was hearing his own music, his own voice, for the first time. He wasn’t sure if it had something to do with the spell Krampus had woven about the tavern or his heightened senses as a Belsnickel, or maybe a little of both, but what mattered was that he liked what he was hearing just fine. Decided his songs weren’t half bad after all, were quite good, actually.
Jesse opened his eyes and found the crowd thought so as well, folks no longer cutting up but watching him, marking the beat, and moving to the rhythm. He’d never felt such a connection with an audience, it was as though he was touching their souls. He saw Krampus grinning at him and knew then that the Yule Lord was right, he could no more quit music than breathing, and while he needed air to live, he needed music to truly be alive. He stamped his boot with the beat, shouted and yowled with the best of them, sang on and on, his voice clear and strong, the music lifting him higher and higher.
Krampus moved among them, bopping and clapping in time. A deep hum arose from the crowd, a warm sound, almost a purr. The music took on a life of its own, the melody of his song fading as he strummed the guitar to some distant, primitive beat. Krampus began to chant and the crowd joined in. Jesse found himself chanting along, his song forgotten, babbling without meaning, only feelings. At some point the band had joined in and the pounding of drums and deep pluck of the standup bass swelled, setting the pulse. Every person in the hall moved out onto the floor romping, dancing, and stomping to the beat. They nodded and swayed, eyes half closed as though in a trance.
The primal rhythm grew, filled Jesse from head to toe, to his very core. The crowd pushed together, forming a wide circle, hands on the hips of the person in front of them. Krampus headed the parade, circling round and round the hall, the two women from the bar holding on to his tail, laughing and stumbling after him. The beat continued to rise as though a hundred drums had joined them. Jesse felt cocooned in the warm cacophony of sound. The hall grew murky and the lights flickered like flame, sending a host of shadows dancing across the wall and ceiling, the shapes of men and woman hopping and prancing. Jesse blinked, saw some with horns and tails, then beasts, stags, bears, and wolves all swirling together across the walls like ancient cave paintings come to life.
At some point Jesse must have joined in, because he found himself adrift in that sea of bodies, feeling as though floating in a dream. The drums were accompanied by hoots and howls, not just those of the men and women, but bleating, braying, growls and howls. He heard his heartbeat, then the heartbeat of all those around him, they fell in sync to the rhythm, and he understood it was not drums he was hearing but the pulse of life itself, of Mother Earth. It pumped through him, a sensation of purest joy, and he saw how he was part of this pulse. How he truly belonged. An overwhelming affection for those near him, for life, for all life swelled in his chest.
The heartbeat hammered on, the dancers broke from the circle and began writhing and grinding together, it seemed there were more and more people in the room, many wearing bones, half-dressed or nude, some wearing masks and covered in ash and paint. At one point Jesse found himself in the clutches of a woman, his hands on her bare sweaty hips, her tongue in his mouth. She smelled of honeysuckle, had pointy ears, and—he blinked—there were small antlers growing from the top of her head. She spun away from him and a moment later he held the fore-hooves of a goat, the beast swirled him around, laughing, its yellow eyes full of mirth. Jesse laughed right along with it.
Outside the revelers, within the deepest shadows, Jesse perceived other shapes, shapes of things he’d never seen before, yet some deep part of him recognized. He shivered. They, too, seemed drawn to the heartbeat, but, Jesse sensed, for a different purpose. The shapes watched them reproachfully, but none entered the circle of light, ducking away as though in pain each time Krampus laughed or bellowed.
Krampus began to chant again, and they all joined in, laughing, drinking, whistling, shouting, and swirling into one another, all of them drunk on his spirit. Jesse had no idea how long this went on, only that at some point he collapsed and either fell asleep or lost consciousness.
SOMEONE SHOOK JESSE awake. He opened his eyes and found Krampus grinning down at him. Jesse looked about at the sleeping, snoring bodies. They lay everywhere, some curled up together right on the dance floor, others draped across the bar, tables, and benches. He searched for the woman with the antlers, found no sign of her, or the wild, painted people either, or any of the other strange beasts.
“It is time to go put things right with the Dillard. Are you ready?”
Jesse sat up quick, nodded. “Oh, yeah. I’m ready.”
Krampus’s grin widened, a dangerous, toothy smile. “Then let us go and be terrible.”
They headed outside, the chill helping to wake Jesse up. He stumbled after Krampus, feeling light-headed. The rest of the Belsnickels sat waiting in the sleigh, looking exhausted but happy and content, even Vernon.
A ghost of a dawn showed along the ridge line. Jesse stopped in his tracks.
A bear sat in the snow beside the sleigh. A very big bear.
Jesse started to point this out when he noticed the three deer standing next to the bear. He glanced around, saw more deer, another bear, raccoons, a fox, rabbits, animals of all sorts. They were gathered around the tavern. He also noticed that much of the snow and ice around the tavern had melted away, leaving a broad swath of exposed earth. Here and there new grass sprouted, leaves and fresh buds bloomed from the nearby trees, even a few fresh flowers peppered the landscape.
Jesse glanced at Krampus.
Krampus shrugged. “We sang to Mother Earth last night. She heard us.” He plucked a flower from the snow, sniffed it. “And this with the spirit of just a handful of drunks. Imagine . . . imagine what we might do with a thousand voices, a hundred thousand, a million.”
Chapter Seventeen
God’s Wrath
Krampus brought the sleigh down behind the old church. Geri and Freki sat waiting for them on the back porch. The Belsnickels crawled out and stumbled in, leaning heavily upon one another. Krampus strolled up onto the porch, dropped the sack on the steps, and took a moment to rough up the wolves’ thick pelts.