Krampus: The Yule Lord (43 page)

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.

S
OMEONE SHOOK
J
ESSE
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

K
rampus 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.

Isabel stoked and fed the potbelly while Vernon, Chet, and the two brothers found their beds and collapsed. Not Jesse: he hustled over to the cardboard box holding the weapons and cash, passing up on the machine pistol, going instead for a Colt revolver, wanting a gun he could depend on. He pocketed one of the stout hunting knives and a box of ammo. He snatched up the keys to Chet’s truck, feeling it would be best to take the pickup. It’d be dawn soon and a flying sleigh wouldn’t be the most inconspicuous means of getting around.

“Where you going?” Isabel asked.

“Taking Krampus on a snipe hunt.”

She scrutinized him for a moment, then shook her head. “Nu-huh?”

“Going to take care of things.”

Her face tightened. “You watch yourself.”

“Try to,” he said and headed out.

Jesse found Krampus sitting on the porch between the two wolves, rubbing their fur and looking up at the fading stars.

“Ready?” Jesse asked.

“Please, here, sit.” Krampus moved the sack over, made a spot. “There are a few words I would share.”

Jesse tried not to show his frustration; he wanted to be off—to get this thing done. He felt a growing sense of dread that he couldn’t explain, and the last thing he wanted to do right now was to be drawn into another one of Krampus’s lengthy conversations.

“I shall keep it brief.”

Jesse sat on the step next to Krampus.

Krampus inhaled deeply. “It was a glorious night. Was it not?”

“It was.”

“Jesse, your songs, they touched my heart . . . and not just me. Did you see them, see their faces? You touched them all. Your muse is full of magic.”

Jesse smiled, nodded.
Magic.
He liked that. It was the only way to describe how his songs had made him feel last night. “Was that your hand at play?”

“Oh, yes indeed, but the music . . . that was your muse. I only helped you to truly see her, to free yourself from your own fears, to let go. But I promise you, it was your spark that captivated.”

Jesse nodded. He’d never put himself out there like that before, never truly bared his soul. He still felt the rush; still felt one with the melody. And more, he felt no trace of his former misgivings, actually couldn’t wait to play in front of an audience again.

“And my eyes, too, have been opened,” Krampus said. “For I clearly see that mankind has not yet forgotten who they are. That deep down their wild spirit still burns. That they need only a little nudge to be set free.” Krampus grinned, beamed. “And I will always be there to give them that nudge . . . in some shape or form, no matter what games the gods may play.”

Jesse nodded; he hoped so. He’d never felt more alive, more connected with the world around him, and he fully understood that it was Krampus’s Yule magic that had awakened these feelings. He inhaled deeply, savored the feeling, found he still felt the rhythm, that strange primitive beat from last night, it faintly pulsed through his entire being.

“Jesse, when the sun rises it will be a new day . . . the start of a new age of Yule. Yule will spread, my flock will grow, of this I am sure, and I wish only to have those who desire to serve near. Thus, I intend to release the Belsnickels from bondage . . . to return those that wish it back into their human flesh.”

Jesse sat up straight, looked at Krampus in wide-eyed astonishment. “You can do that then? Change them back? Change
us
back?”

Krampus smiled. “Of course. It is my blood. I can call it back at any time.”

Jesse could hardly believe his ears. He’d resigned himself to dying a Belsnickel. “Wow, no fucking kidding?”

“I intend to offer each of the Belsnickels a choice. I am starting with you. You have paid your debt to me. If you intend to kill this bad man, I believe you would prefer to do that as a free man . . . for him to see the true eyes of his slayer.”

For Jesse, there was nothing to consider. To return to his own flesh, to have another chance with Linda—why, he’d do whatever was asked. He nodded wholeheartedly.

Krampus held out his hand. “Your knife.”

Jesse fumbled in his pocket, plucked out the hunting knife, handed it to Krampus. Krampus pulled the knife from its sheath, tested the tip. “Give me your hand.”

Jesse put his hand out, palm upward, and winced.

Krampus laughed. “Do not fret. It is but a mere drop that I need call home.” Krampus pricked Jesse’s fingertip. Touched the mark with his own finger, and closed his eyes. Jesse’s body tingled from head to toe. Krampus opened his eyes, removed his finger, and there, on the tip, sat a smear of shimmering blood. Krampus licked it clean.

Jesse inspected his own finger. “That’s it?”

“That is all.”

Jesse didn’t feel different. He examined his hands. His flesh was still a blotchy gray.

“It will take a little while,” Krampus said. “For now we should . . .” His voice trailed off. He leaned forward, peering intently upward. His brow furrowed and slowly a look of alarm and confusion spread across his face.

Jesse followed his eyes; saw a star falling earthward.

“What’s that?”

“No,” Krampus said, and stood up fast. Geri and Freki both raised their heads, a low, menacing growl coming from deep in their throats. The shooting star headed their way, growing in size as it approached. Krampus stepped out into the yard, peering up at the pulsing light. “This cannot be so. Not now. Not so soon.”

A voice fell upon them, little more than a whisper. “Krampus,” it called. Jesse felt it more than heard it.

Krampus’s face hardened. “No, this is not fair. Why could they not wait? Why could I not have but a bit longer?”

The two Yule goats snorted and began to stomp about in the snow. Krampus walked to them, snatched the mistletoe spear from its post on the sleigh. Stood a moment, absently stroking their necks, staring at the spear, his face tense, his eyes distant. Finally, he let out a great sigh, nodding as though coming to some profound decision, and walked quickly over to Jesse. “Here.” He picked up the velvet sack, pushing it into Jesse’s arms. “The keys? You still have my skeleton keys?”

Jesse patted his pocket. “Yeah . . . why? What’s—”

“Jesse, it appears that I have misjudged, that my time here is to be far shorter than I had hoped. You must take the sack, get in your carriage, and go far away.” He clutched Jesse’s shoulder. “You are free now, so I must beg this of you. Please, do what you must to keep this sack out of his hands. Go deep into the mountains and bury it somewhere. Burn it if you have to. Just do not let him have it. Please.”

“What? No! Why?”

“Baldr comes now, and with powerful allies.”

“Baldr? But—”

“The game is rigged. A cruel joke. I will
not
run . . . not this time. There is no escape for me anyway. It should be interesting to see where this will all end.” Krampus smiled. “Do you not agree?”

Jesse tried to say more, but Krampus shook his head. “Jesse, make haste. Go now or the chance will be lost.” Krampus led him down the stairs, pushed him toward the side of the building. “Go!” Krampus called.
“Hurry!”

Jesse stumbled around the corner, stopped, and looked back, found himself transfixed by the golden orb-shaped glow. Krampus faced the light, his tall shadow stretching out long behind him. He raised the spear, pointing it at the orb. “I am Krampus,” he stated solemnly. “The Yule Lord. I will hide in caves no longer.” The two wolves slunk over, stiff-legged, fur bristling, and stood on either side of Krampus.

There came a sound, soft and low, yet it blocked out all others, a chorus of a thousand voices joined together in a hymn. Krampus held his ground, pulled himself up to his full height, shoulders back, eyes clear and resolute.

The orb alighted upon the snow between two apple trees, the golden glow fading away, revealing three figures. Santa Claus stood in the center, dressed in heavy white robes trimmed in thick fur. His long beard and hair loose of braid fluttered in the light morning breeze. He was framed on either side by two winged men, or maybe women, impossible for Jesse to tell, as they shared features of both, their faces stern, beautiful, and terrible at the same time. A slight golden aura surrounding each of them, thin, wispy robes fluttered loosely about their lithe, elegant frames and white wings spread out from their backs. Long swords hung in gold scabbards strapped across their chest. Jesse wondered if they were angels, wondered what else they could possibly be.