Abigail beamed, and pointed at herself.
“Now, I want you to close your eyes and wish for any toy you want.”
Abigail shut her eyes tight.
“No peeking,” Jesse called as he stepped back to the bush and retrieved the two garbage bags. Linda eyed the bags suspiciously as he sat them down in front of Abigail.
“Okay.”
Abigail opened her eyes, saw the two bags, and gave her parents a questioning look.
“Go on,” Jesse said. “Open them.”
Abigail laid down her doll and pulled open the top of one of the bags. Her eyes grew wide. “Daddy?” she whispered, then opened the bag wider. She just stared, like she was afraid to move or even breathe. She slowly pulled out a Teen Tiger doll, then another, then another, then let out an ear-piercing squeal. She clapped her hands, laughed, jumped up and down, and squealed some more as she emptied all the toys out onto the porch.
“Daddy!” Abigail flung herself around his neck. Jesse hugged her back and stuck his tongue out at Linda. Linda was not smiling, she didn’t look happy in the least; she looked like she wanted to jab her finger in his eye.
“Abigail, dear,” Linda said, her voice terse. “Could you do me a favor and take all these inside? We don’t want ’em to get messed up.” Linda knelt down and started putting the dolls back in the sack. “Here, just take ’em in. You can open them inside. That way you won’t lose nothing.” Abigail, practically dancing with excitement, dragged one of the sacks inside and down the hall. “I’ll be there in a sec,” Linda called. “Just need to have a word with your daddy.”
Jesse didn’t like the way she said “word.”
Linda sat the other bag inside the door and pulled it shut. She glared at him.
“What’d I do now?”
“You know exactly what you did,” she snapped. “Where’d all them toys come from? Are they stolen?” She jabbed a finger at him. “Tell me Jess, what kind of a father gives his daughter stolen toys for Christmas?”
Jesse held her eye. “They’re not stolen.”
Linda didn’t look convinced.
“They’re not stolen,” Jesse repeated. “And that’s all you need to know. How come you always gotta think the worst of me?”
“Are you telling me you bought these?” This seemed to make her even angrier. “You had cash and this is what you went and spent it on? All the things your daughter needs and you buy her toys? Jesse—” She didn’t finish, she looked past him, her face stricken.
Jesse turned and saw Chief Deaton’s patrol car coming down the road.
SANTA CLAUS STOOD upon the boulder, staring across the snow-covered wilderness, searching the tall cliffs for the easiest means out. His crimson suit was torn, covered in drying blood, but the blood wasn’t his own. A mewling sound came from behind him, from among the pile of mangled beasts. One of the reindeer still lived, its legs broken, its gut busted open, a string of entrails and blood splattered atop the boulders. It began to bleat and bawl, sounding almost human in its suffering. Santa ground his teeth together.
“The house of Loki brings nothing but ruin,” Santa Claus hissed. “Krampus, I gave you every chance. Tried to show you charity, show you the path to redemption, but I was a fool to let you live, for once more you have proven there is no grace amongst serpents.”
He hopped down from the boulder, walked to the splintered remains of the sleigh. He shoved a few slats aside until he found a bound burlap bundle. He untied the cord, unwrapped the burlap, revealing a sword and a ram’s horn.
“For the death of my brother, my wife, the destruction of the house of Odin, for my imprisonment in Hel, for all the thievery and deceit, all the woe your line has wrought, the last of Loki’s blood shall be stamped from this earth.”
He put the horn to his lips and blew; a single, long, powerful note. The deep bass sound traveled through the earth and air, carried up the valley and out across the world. Santa knew his children would hear, wherever they were, even if they were halfway around the world, they would hear. “Come Huginn and Muninn, come Geri and Freki, come you great beasts of ancient glory. Come help me find this devil. It is time to finish what should have been finished five hundred years ago. It is time to bury Krampus for good.”
The dying reindeer kicked and pawed at the rocks with its hooves, trying to sit up. Santa grimaced, picked up the sword, pulled it from its scabbard. It was not a thing of beauty but a stout broadsword, a blade meant for killing. He walked over to the reindeer. It stopped struggling, looked up at him with dark, wet eyes, and let out a long bleat. Santa raised the sword and brought it down hard, chopping the deer’s head from its neck with one clean stroke.
Santa Claus wiped the blade clean of blood, replaced it into its sheath. He tied the horn to his belt, strapped the sword across his back, and started away, heading south, toward the little town where he’d been ambushed. He knew the sack had landed somewhere in that trailer park and he intended to find it. “Krampus, my dear old friend, you will pay. Your death is mine and I intend to make it a terrible one.”
THE CRUISER PULLED in beside Jesse’s truck. Dillard opened the car door and got out. The police chief was a big man, over six feet tall, and while he might’ve been pushing sixty he still looked like he could knock over a tree. He was in his civilian clothes, a pair of jeans and a tan hunting jacket, and while you could never have made Jesse admit it, he could see how a woman might find Dillard’s strong jaw and ruggedness attractive. Like a rock, Jesse thought. He looks like the kind of man you can count on.
“Jesse,” Linda whispered, her voice urgent. “Please don’t make no trouble. Just go. Please.” Jesse didn’t like it. Linda didn’t seem merely put out, she seemed nervous, anxious. He’d never seen her act like this.
Dillard locked steely gray eyes on Jesse, pushed his jacket open just far enough to reveal his service pistol. “Just the man I’ve been looking for.”
“He was just leaving,” Linda called, then, softly, to Jesse. “Now go. Please. For me.” She pushed him along. Jesse walked down the steps, across the driveway, and over to his truck. Dillard’s cold eyes followed him the whole way. “Mind holding up there a sec, Jesse? Need a word with you. Linda, do me a favor would you . . . head on in and give us men a bit of space.”
Linda hesitated.
“Go on now, be a good gal.”
“Dillard, I was just hoping that maybe—”
“Linda,” Dillard said, a strain edging into his voice. “You need to go on inside right now.”
Linda bit her lip, gave Jesse one more pleading look, then hurried inside. Jesse wondered what was going on. The Linda he knew would never let a man cow her like that. Was that the same Linda he’d torn up the honky-tonks with? The same woman he’d seen slug a man for grabbing her ass?
Dillard strolled around the cruiser, right up to Jesse, looked him up and down. “Hear there was a spot of trouble out at your place last night.”
Jesse said nothing.
“You know anything about that? Maybe hear something? See something?”
“I did. Saw everything. Santa and his reindeer landed and were attacked by six devil men. They flew up into the sky and Santa tossed one of ’em overboard.” Jesse said all this without breaking a smile. “I think the man you’re looking for has a long white beard.”
Dillard frowned, rubbed at a spot on his forehead like he was getting a headache, then just stared at Jesse for a long moment as though trying to figure out what he was. “Jesse, I knew your mother and father pretty well, and neither one of them was stupid. How come you turn out that way?”