Krampus: The Yule Lord Read Free Page B

The bathroom was open and unoccupied, but his bedroom door was shut and he couldn’t remember if he had left it that way or not. You’re gonna have to go take a look . But his feet decided they were just fine where they were, so he continued standing there staring stupidly at that shut door.
    Red and blue flashing lights caught his eye; a patrol car was coming down the hill. He thought what a pretty picture he painted, standing there pointing a gun into a trailer. Okay, Jesse told himself, this is the part where you don’t be a screw-up. He stepped up into the trailer, pulling the door to but not shutting it.
    It took another full minute of staring at his bedroom door before he said, “Fuck it,” and walked over and turned the knob. The door opened halfway in and stopped. Something blocked it. Jesse realized he’d bitten his cigarette in two and spat it out. Don’t like this . . . not one bit. Holding the gun at eye level, he nudged the door inward with the toe of his boot. He could just make out a hunched dark shape on the far side of his bed. “Don’t you fucking move,” he said, trying to sound stern, but he couldn’t hide the shake in his voice. Keeping the gun trained on the shape, he batted at the wall switch. The lamp lay on the floor, the shade smashed, but the bulb still lit, casting eerie shadows up the wall.
    Jesse let out a long breath. “Well, I’ll be damned.”
    There was no orange-eyed demon waiting to devour him, only a sack—a large red sack, tied shut with a gold cord. It had smashed through the roof and ended up on his bed.
    Jesse held the sack at gunpoint as he plucked out a fresh cigarette, lighting it with his free hand. He inhaled deeply and watched the snow accumulate in his bedroom. A few deep drags, and his nerves began to settle. He set a foot on his bed, leaned forward, and poked the sack with the gun barrel as though it might be full of snakes.
    Nothing happened.
    Jesse jigged the gold cord loose, pulled the sack open, and took a peek.
    “I’ll be damned.”

 

 
     
    Chapter Two

The Santa Sack
    W here are my Belsnickels?”
    Krampus strained against his chains, the ancient collar biting into his throat. He craned his neck upward, and there, far up the shaft, he caught a faint glow reflecting off the cavern roof. Moonlight, or the first traces of dawn?
    He scratched at the lice plaguing his filthy hide, studied the bits of crusty flesh and scabby hair clinging to the tips of his broken fingernails. I am rotting away. While he indulges in life’s pleasures, I die a little more each day. He noticed the tremor in his fingers. Am I shaking? Do I stand here and quiver like a child? He clutched his hands together.
    And what if they should never return? What then? What chance do I have without my children? There would be no hope, no chance to once again spread my name across the land, and without hope, even I, the great Yule Lord, would eventually succumb to madness. Would wither and fade and he would win after all.
    “No!” he snarled. “Never! I shall never let him win. If I lie here nothing but a shriveled carcass then so be it, for my spirit shall never rest. I will become a plague upon his house. I will vex him. I will . . . I will . . .” His voice drifted off. He shut his eyes and leaned his forehead against the cold cavern wall. He pressed his palms against the moist stone and listened, hoping to sense the vibrations of their running feet through the layers of earth.
    “The Belsnickels will return,” he said. “They must return. Must bring Loki’s sack home to me.”
    The light above flickered and his heart sped up. He waited, watched, but knew it was his wishful fancy and nothing more. A draft of cool air drifted down the shaft. Krampus inhaled deeply, catching the faintest hint of pine needles and damp rotting leaves. He closed his eyes, tried to remember what winter dawn in the forest looked like, what it felt like to run and dance among the trees with the