Krampus: The Three Sisters (The Krampus Chronicles Book 1) (24 page)

Henry and Catharine watched carefully, but the boys didn’t move. They stood barefoot on the snow wearing only their wispy nightshirts, looking at their visitors through the gray trees.

“We have the Sister Wheel,” James announced.

Henry and Catharine slowly approached the children, expecting them to take off any moment. But they remained in place until Henry and Catharine were standing right in front of them.

The youngest, Theodoric, stuck out a small fist.

Henry reached his hand out and Theodoric dropped a familiar golden wheel into his palm. Then the boys scattered, leaving Henry and Catharine feeling more unnerved than relieved that they were finally in possession of the Sister Wheel.

And then they heard it.

Bells.

It wasn’t like the mighty church bells that boomed through the city on Sunday mornings, or the crisp tinkling of tiny silver bells that accompanied carolers. The clinking of chains and rattling of rusty bells sounded through the air as though a deathly procession marched right toward them.

A strong wind whipped through the orchard, kicking snow from the tree branches down at Henry and Catharine. After a moment of no visibility, Henry realized there was more than wind in the trees. They watched as a dark shadow bounded from branch to branch. The figure’s face was hidden, except for a pair of yellow eyes and two horn-like structures that stuck out of its head. The rest of its body appeared thick and hairy like a wild animal. But its movement resembled a human―an incredibly strong human.

As the creature moved through the trees, the bells and chains wrapped around its body sang out mercilessly.

Catharine clutched Henry’s shoulder. “What is it?”

“I don’t know,” Henry mumbled, slipping the Sister Wheel into his jacket’s breast pocket.

But Henry’s shaking hand missed the pocket and the wheel tumbled to the ground. As soon as it landed on the snowy earth, the creature in the trees stopped moving. The Sister Wheel’s shiny appearance against the white backdrop had caught its attention. With a deep growl, the creature launched itself from the tree, pouncing down on Henry in lightning speed. Catharine let out a scream as the creature slashed and gnashed its sharp claws and fangs at Henry’s clothes and skin.

Catharine looked around for something to fight the beast away, but all she saw was a broken branch barely hanging onto a tree. Catharine gripped the rough bark and pulled on the branch, trying to break it free. After a couple swift kicks, the branch loosened enough for her to pull it off.

Hoisting the large branch in her arms, Catharine turned toward the creature that was still mauling Henry. She thrust the branch at its hairy body. Although no damage was done, it was enough to distract the creature and allow Henry the chance to roll away.

Henry’s clothes were torn, revealing scratches on his arms and chest that oozed blood, dotting the snow like wilting rose petals. But he had managed to protect his head and face.

Catharine and Henry could fully see the creature now. It was human in shape, but taller than the average man. Its hairy body was grayish white except for the head, which was as bald and bony as a skull. A pointy nose jutted out of the face while two brown horns twisted up from the head. Between the creature’s sharp teeth, a long tongue stretched far from the mouth, whipping about like a black leathery rope.

The tree branch could only distract the creature so long before it looked ready to pounce again; its chains and bells drummed off its body, signaling the next attack. But the sound of galloping hooves stopped the creature in its tracks.

A horse carrying McNutt appeared in the distance, charging down the orchard. The Garrison was no longer dressed in his black garments, and a square spade was raised in his hand, ready to swipe. The creature ducked away from the impending rider while Catharine and Henry dashed to the side. McNutt made an attempt at the creature’s head, but just narrowly missed. He quickly halted the horse and steered it around for a second try.

Henry then remembered the Sister Wheel still lying on the snow. He knew with McNutt distracting the creature, it was the best chance to get the wheel back without the creature seeing. Henry dived toward the Sister Wheel. He snatched it up and dropped it into his pocket. Stumbling back to Catharine, he grabbed her hand and tugged her away from the fighting.

McNutt returned to the creature and tried again to strike it with the spade. But the creature seized the handle of the spade in midair, pulling McNutt off the horse and tossing him onto the cold ground.

The horse continued galloping toward Catharine and Henry. After grabbing the reins and pulling herself up on its back, Catharine reached down for Henry’s less battered arm and helped him hop on. With much struggle, Henry was finally situated on the horse behind Catharine.

“Go quickly,” Henry’s voice shivered into Catharine’s ear.

Every movement of the horse caused Henry to wince in pain.

“We have to go back to the Manor,” Catharine said. “Your injuries must be attended to as quickly as possible.”

“No, Catharine,” Henry snapped. “We can’t risk going back. We have the wheel. Let’s just go.”

But before they could flee the orchard, painful cries sounded from nearby. McNutt was cornered against a tree trying to fight the creature back with the spade. But the creature was relentless.

“We must go,” Henry said, sensing Catharine’s hesitation.

“We can’t just leave him,” Catharine said. “He came to our aid.”

“He’s a Garrison,” Henry harshly replied. “He’s after the Sister Wheel.”

An idea struck Catharine. “Give me the Sister Wheel.”

“What?” Henry stammered.

“Now!”

Henry fumbled in his jacket, and then placed it in Catharine’s hand. She aimed the horse at the creature and, with her arm extended, she charged. If the Sister Wheel was sought so desperately, she believed it must also be a rather powerful object.

Catharine’s theory proved to be correct, for as they drew nearer, the creature lunged away when spotting the Sister Wheel in her hand. Not satisfied with its small retreat, Catharine jumped from the horse and chased after the creature, feeling propelled by whatever strange powers the Sister Wheel contained.

The creature let out a final growl before disappearing between the trees and into complete darkness.

“Bels! Bels!”

The children’s voices returned to the orchard.

Catharine couldn’t see Romeyn, James or Theodoric, but she certainly didn’t want to stay and witness them summoning the frightening creature back. Catharine looked over at McNutt leaning against a tree, trying to catch his breath. Catharine then turned to Henry still slumped on the horse.

“We need to dress your injuries,” she said to Henry who was coddling his right arm.

“There’s a ferry house next to the river,” McNutt spoke for the first time; a slight accent slipped through his words.

Henry stared at McNutt. The sight of the Garrison seemed to cause the bruise on his chin to sting stronger than all the fresh wounds scattered over his body.

“How can we trust you?” Henry spat.

“Castriot wants the Van Cortlandt descendants captured alive and returned to Poppel with the Sister Wheel. And I will see to it that you two are brought back safely.” McNutt frowned. “At the very least, I owe you that.”

Catharine reached up and rubbed Henry’s knee. He shivered in response.

“What do you think we should do?” she asked softly.

Henry’s eyes reluctantly looked up from where her hand touched his leg.

With a sigh, he whispered, “We do still have to retrieve Maggie. And I don’t think she’ll be too pleased if we’re late.”

horse-drawn carriage flew down the darkened streets of New York carrying a rather jovial Sir Pringle and an anxious Maggie who was gripping the rattling carriage door with all her strength.

Clemmie, Louis, and Ward had said their goodbyes back at Sylvan Terrace before slipping down the ash pit.

“By the time you find the key at Chelsea Manor, it won’t be safe for you to travel by way of the sleigh tunnel,” Ward advised Maggie. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a sugarplum. “Use this to contact Catharine and Henry. It will find them. And then they can find you.”

Maggie kept a hand on her pocket that held the sugarplum, guarding it from the turbulence of the bouncy carriage. But she worried that if the sugarplum wasn’t sent soon, the steamboat wouldn’t stop near Chelsea Manor. And then Maggie would have no way of returning to Poppel.

Before the pointed rooftops of Sylvan Terrace were even in the distance, Maggie brought the sugarplum to her face and thought deeply about how she wanted Catharine to retrieve her at the river pier near Chelsea Manor. Then the sugarplum shot out her hand and into the night, searching for its recipient.

As they arrived at the Chelsea estate, Sir Pringle stopped the carriage in front of the Manor. Maggie looked up at the mansion looming above the area, a huge shadow sitting upon a pearly white hill. It dawned on her for the first time that all of Chelsea Manor was locked for the night. There was no way of getting inside without waking the family.

“Well,” Sir Pringle said, leaning back in his seat and sliding a pipe between his lips. He lit the bowl with a match and then quickly flapped his massive hand, putting the tiny flame out. “You better be on your way.”

“I can’t get inside,” Maggie mumbled, feeling rather foolish. “The doors are locked for the night.”

“What?” A cloud of smoke puffed out of Sir Pringle’s mouth as he twisted his thick neck in the young girl’s direction. “We came all this way and you’re telling me this now?”

Maggie nodded sheepishly. She wanted to disappear in the heavy fur coat Sir Pringle had given her to wear.

Sir Pringle looked over at Chelsea Manor and gestured at it with his pipe. “Surely you will be let inside if you ring the doorbell.”

Maggie shook her head. “That will wake the entire house. And there’s no time to explain to everyone what has happened.”

“Well, you better think of something,” Sir Pringle huffed. “I didn’t come all this way to sit in this carriage, smoking my pipe.”

Maggie studied Chelsea Manor, her eyes drifting from the bottom front steps to the top of the roof. An idea suddenly struck her, and at the same time, frightened her to the core.

“Do you―do you have rope?” Maggie stammered.

Before leaving Sylvan Terrace, Sir Pringle had scrambled around, pulling tools off shelves and shoving them into a box that was placed in the back of the carriage. Although Maggie wasn’t certain, she thought he had grabbed a coil of rope hanging from a rafter in the cellar.

Sir Pringle’s face lit up. “Why, yes, I do.”

Maggie examined the west porch and its neighboring sycamore tree before settling upon the Manor’s chimney. It didn’t take long for Sir Pringle to guess her plan. And a minute later, he was demonstrating to Maggie proper rope techniques.

“So this is the knot to make if you don’t want to die,” Sir Pringle instructed bluntly.

Maggie watched nervously. With the task of climbing a tree ahead of her, she thought a knot would be the least of her worries.

Maggie shook the dense coat off her body before wrapping the bulky rope around her arm. The weight of the rope threw off her balance and she worried about climbing with the additional barrier. But with a supportive shove from Sir Pringle, Maggie scampered across the road.