Yuletide (Matilda Kavanagh Novels Book 3) (10 page)

Chapter 10

When I turned back around, I realized Frankie hadn’t left with the others. Her back was to me, and I had a moment to admire her impressive size. She was probably twice my size and a good six to eight inches taller than me, but her curves were something to envy, and the way she moved spoke of many nights running under a full moon.

Artie sat in the doorway to the bedroom, eyeing us both. His yellow eyes were wide and bright in his black, smushed face.

“He’s not scared of Weres?” Frankie asked, sounding strange because she sounded so normal. I was used to her yelling or snapping at me.

“I think Kyle has really worked wonders on him,” I said, tugging at the hem of my T-shirt.

“Right,” she said, still not looking at me. “He comes here for his migraines.”

“Yes,” I said, watching the back of her head.

“You’ve really helped with those, you know.”

I blinked. Did she just compliment me? “Thank you?”

Frankie glanced over her shoulder, and I realized I was being more than a little rude. I hurried forward to stand in front of her.

“So what’s all that?” Frankie asked, waving at the mess that was my table and kitchen.

“Oh, I’m making goody bags for clients,” I said. “I was baking the last batch of cookies when they showed up.”

“You make presents for your clients?” Frankie walked to the table and looked through the bags.

“Just my regulars,” I said, slinking into the kitchen. “To say thank you.”

I didn’t know what to do with myself, so I dropped cookie dough onto a sheet pan, darting glances at Frankie. She picked one of the silver bell ornaments and tied a red bow to it before dropping it into one of the bags. Then she did another and another—she was actually helping me.

“So,” she said, making me pause as she kept tying the pretty red bows with deft fingers, “are you really not going to help them?”

“No,” I said without hesitation. “I am not part of the Collar Coven.”

Frankie met my gaze, and her nostrils flared as she tried to scent the lie in my words. She nodded slightly, as though satisfied, and looked back at her task. I scraped together one last ball of dough and dropped it on the sheet before washing my hands.

Just as I was sliding the pan into the pre-heated oven, Frankie spoke. “My grandmother was German.”

I closed the oven door and turned to face her, feeling the pinch between my brows. “Okay.” I wasn’t sure what to say to that.

“She used to scare me and my brothers with stories about Krampus.” Her words were punctuated with the gentle chime of the silver bells as she tied the ribbons on them.

Feeling as if I was walking on thin ice over deadly water, I came out of the kitchen, picking up a basket full of mistletoe bundles on my way. I took the chair across from Frankie and put bundles into the bags.

“My mom used to tell me Krampus stories,” I said, catching Frankie’s eyes when she flicked them up.

“I still have mixed feelings about this stupid holiday,” she said. “I used to have nightmares about him. I mean, what the hell kind of story is that to tell kids? Be good or a demon may come in the night and beat you bloody?”

“Or snatch you in his bag to take you home so he can eat you?” I offered.

Frankie lifted her eyes to mine again, and after a moment, we laughed at the absurdity of it all.

“I mean, my brothers were awful—you know how hyper Were boys can be,” she said, and I nodded slowly, “but come November and the Krampus stories, they became perfect little saints.”

“Yeah, Ronnie and I wouldn’t put a toe out of line starting at Samhain because that’s when the stories started for us.”

We fell silent for a time, each of us filling the goody bags. My jaw almost hit the floor when Frankie picked up a couple of the metallic pens I’d bought and started decorating the outsides of the bags. She drew beautiful, intricate designs with wishes of happy holidays and bright New Year’s written in script I could never have managed.

“I do feel badly for the kids, though,” Frankie said, her voice softer than I’d ever heard it.

“So do I.”

“Do you really think he’s back?”

“Maybe,” I admitted with a deep breath.

“How?” Frankie’s hands went still, the pen hovering over the bag as she looked at me with those intimidating eyes.

“Well, some geniuses broke into his cave to excavate his relics and put them in a museum.”

“Wait, that stuff is real?”

“Yeah,” I said. “I went there the other day and felt the power of his bag. It’s the real deal. But I mean, the fact that his bag is there proves he’s not snatching kids.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because he needs his bag to snatch kids.”

“Lots of kids, yeah,” Frankie said, “but not one at a time. At least, my gran told me that he’d drag a kid through the streets by his ankles before taking him to the Underworld.”

There was a sour taste in my mouth as I stared at the she-wolf.

“And there’s something else, something those witches and cop should have told you.”

I was afraid to ask. “What?”

“That museum was broken into tonight.”

“What?” Sparks shot out of my fingers, dying in midair but making Frankie sit back in surprise.

“Yeah, it was on the early broadcast tonight. Someone broke in after hours and stole half the exhibit. Including the bag.”

“Oh gods, I must’ve turned the news off too soon.”

“They also shredded the paintings of Krampus and smashed the heads of those creepy statues of him.”

I didn’t want her to go on, but I couldn’t find the words to stop her.

“Mattie, I don’t want you to help the Collar Coven, but if he’s really back, then maybe you do need to help them. They’re pretty useless and…”

When I met her eyes, I saw something shift in her face. “And?”

“And you’re a pretty amazing witch. If anyone can find him, find those kids, it’s you.”

I opened my mouth, but words failed me. After a moment, and swallowing the lump that had formed in my throat, I managed to croak, “Thank you, Frankie.”

She nodded and finished a flourish on the bag she was working on. “Just, you know, don’t turn into one of those stuck-up bitches.”

I laughed, but it was a strangled sound. Frankie stood and walked to the door, I had to rush to open the door for her to lift the freezing spell. When she was gone, I was left alone in my apartment with the scent of baking cookies and a pit in my stomach.

***

The world around me was dark and cold. My feet were bare, and I realized I was standing on a stone floor. Snow flurries were swirling around my ankles, soaking the cuffs of my pajama bottoms. I wondered when I’d taken off my socks.

Behind me, a storm of snow and ice raged. Freezing wind pushed me forward, deeper into the cave. Ahead of me, the cavern glowed in an eerie orange. Shadows and light flickered against the stone walls, making me squint into the distance. There was warmth there, and that was more inviting than the snowy tundra behind me. I moved forward, and all questions of how I’d gotten there left my mind.

The cave became a tunnel, leading deeper into the mountain and drawing me around a corner. I kept one hand on a wall, my fingers dragging along the rough relief to keep my bearings and balance. The ground was smooth under my feet, but my toes ached with cold. There was a
pop
and
snap
of wood breaking and burning. Light flared brighter, bringing the heat toward me, and I found myself walking faster to reach it. I forced myself to slow my steps and listen.

A sniffle. A hiccup. A sob. The noises echoed in the cavern.

“Shhhh,” a low voice said. “He’ll hear you. It’s worse if he catches you crying.”

Though the girl sounded as though she was trying to help, she sounded so scared. I continued forward, sure the next corner was the last, that as soon as I went around that bend, I would see what was waiting for me. The heat of the fire was stronger on my face, too strong for a simple campfire. A gust of wind whipped through the cavern, snaking around my body and bringing with it the scent of sulfur and ash and cooking meat.

I touched the corner of the cave wall and peered around the bend. The tunnel opened to a wide room with rock walls and ceiling. Shabby, broken-down furniture was scattered around in no discernible pattern, as though whoever put it there didn’t know how to arrange a proper sitting room. A threadbare, rust-colored couch was catty-corner to the opening where I crouched. A patched leather wingchair was shoved against a wall, and off to the side was a pile of presents, some ripped open, some tossed aside.

But the cages and children were what caught my eye. A boy and girl were chained to the wall by their hands and ankles, the boy crying so hard he was hiccupping. The girl was trying to quiet him. Beyond them were cages stacked on top of each other, all filled with huddled children, like animals in a kennel.

“You have to stop crying,” the girl said, sounding more and more tired. “It’ll only be worse if he—” She stopped abruptly when her eyes slid past the boy and found me clinging to the corner. Her eyes went wide and her mouth slack as fear etched her features.

She turned her head, and I followed her gaze to the doorway across the cavern. That was the source of the orange light, warmth, and sour smells. It was rudely carved, a gaping maw to shadow and fire. Piled beside the opening were birch branches and bundles of switches. They looked old and brittle, ready to break and crumble at the slightest touch. The girl turned to look at me again, and a chill ran up my back that had nothing to do with the snowy landscape outside.

“He’s coming,” she whisper-hissed.

The boy sucked in a breath, pulling his trembling bottom lip between his teeth. He desperately tried to stop crying, but it was no good—tears leaked out of his eyes like a broken faucet.

“He’s coming,” the girl hissed again, and I realized she was speaking to me.

I dove behind the pile of presents and went as still as stone, even willing my blood to freeze for fear of this monster that chained and caged children.

My hand brushed something soft and warm. I looked to find a crumpled velvet bag on the floor beside me, presents falling out of the open mouth. Power vibrated from the bag, pushing against my aura. I gripped the bag I had last seen in the museum, feeling the velvet crush under my fingers. A sound, too close for comfort, brought my attention up, and I all but forgot about the bag as soon as I looked away from it.

The sound of something scraping against stone cut through the silence, and the boy lost his battle of will. A sob escaped him. I flinched, scared for him. Risking a look over the edge of one dusty present, I saw the boy trembling, making his chains rattle softly. Another scrape, and the girl chained next to him tried to pull her body aside to put some measure of distance between her and the boy who couldn’t stop crying.

A gust of heat washed out of the doorway as distant flames roared, casting orange light into the room and making it impossible to see through the black doorway. When the light faded, a demon filled the doorway. Horns twisted from his shaggy head, reaching for the ceiling and glinting black. His cloven feet clicked against the stone floor as his thick, furred, muscular legs flexed under the weight of the fresh birch branches he carried.

The boy sobbed again, drawing the attention of the demon. When he turned, the firelight highlighted his bright yellow eyes and black, slitted pupils. A smile curled his blood red lips, exposing razor-sharp teeth.

“Crying, crying,” he said as he sauntered into the room, a branch dragging along the ground behind him. The scrape of twigs against the stone floor promised pain and nightmares.

Only the crying boy could look at the demon. All the other children fought to keep from making eye contact, sure that if he looked at them, they would be the recipient of whatever attention the demon wanted to give. My throat was tight, my mouth dry, and my fingers trembled, threatening to send the pile of presents tumbling and giving away my hiding spot.

Then there was laughter. Slow, maniacal laughter that echoed along the stone walls, reverberating against my ears and setting my teeth on edge. I knew that laughter. That laughter had haunted my dreams as a child and followed me home the other night. A rock formed in my stomach as I watched Krampus approach the crying child, his laughter buffeting the boy’s face.

“Cry baby, cry baby,” Krampus crooned, “tears leaking out your eye, let me give you a reason to cry.” The rhyme echoed softly in the cavern.

Krampus reached behind him and hefted the branch. The wicked twigs scraped along the ground as he lifted it like a baseball bat. The boy screamed and clenched every muscle in his body. He squeezed his eyes shut, unable to watch as the branch arced through the air.

“No!” The word was out of my mouth before I could stop myself, but when I reached out to stop the demon, the cave was gone. I was sitting in bed, safe and sound in Havencrest with the sound of laughter and the crack of a branch against a boy’s battered body echoing in my ears.

Chapter 11

“Local police are urging parents to keep a closer watch on their children this holiday season as reports of missing children are on the rise,” the anchor woman’s voice reached me in the kitchen where I sat with Artie, my hands wrapped around a warm coffee cup. “Lieutenant Knoll, head of the investigation, says this is particularly important for children who may have recently been in trouble at school or with police.”

I took a sip of the scalding coffee, wanting the heat to chase away the chill that had settled in my body ever since I’d woken from that creepy nightmare. I hadn’t had a nightmare about Krampus since I was a child. I felt a little stupid, but it had seemed so real. All the talk of missing children was really starting to get to me. My phone buzzed on the table. and Artemis jumped to all four feet, hissing at the vibrating thing.

“Easy, buddy.” I reached out to pick up the phone before it knocked against the table again and sent my cat running out of the room.

                          
 
Ron-ron: Shop stupid busy, plz come help.

                            Me: Be right there.

Grateful for the distraction, I downed the rest of my coffee before pushing away from the table and heading to the bedroom. I hadn’t had the energy when I woke up to get changed. Not bothering with a lot of makeup, I swiped on some mascara and lip gloss and finished my winter casual look with knee-high boots and a scarf.

“I’ll be home later, Artie,” I called as I snatched up my bag and keys.

The street, though decorated beautifully and brightly lit, was pretty empty considering how close we were to Christmas. Usually the street would be teeming with people loaded with purchases, hauling children, and grumbling, but I almost expected to see a tumble weed roll down the road. The wardens had even stopped the enchanted snow, allowing what had gathered on the ground to melt during the day.

When I turned left, I found where all the people had gone. There was a line about thirty people long standing outside Ronnie’s shop. They were surprisingly quiet and orderly, but every face was set in worry or anger, lines drawn at the corners of mouths and eyes pinched. As I approached the head of the line, I saw a spot of bright white and yellow—Spencer was acting as a bouncer. His light blue eyes met mine, and he motioned with his chin for me to come forward.

I chewed the inside of my cheek as I stepped forward, unsure how I was going to do this. “Excuse me.” I wedged myself between two people.

“Hey, what do you think you’re doing?” one man snapped.

“Don’t you dare try to cut,” a woman yelled.

I pushed forward, reaching for Spencer, who was trying to move people out of the way of the door. They all started yelling and pushing forward, and I was in serious danger of being trampled. A roar cut through the commotion, and everyone fell back, taking a collective breath in surprise. I looked up in time to see a glance of the beautiful and terrible blond wolf hidden inside Spencer.

“Everyone will please calm down, or you will all be banned from the store.” Spencer’s voice seemed to carry without him actually yelling. “She is not cutting. She works here. Now get out of her way, or I will move you myself.”

Like water rushing around a rock, the crowd parted without another word, and I was able to walk to Spencer and through the door he held open for me. I touched his arm in thanks as I passed him, and he gave me a nod before closing the door and standing in front of it again.

When I saw what was waiting for me inside the shop, it took all my self-control not to turn around and run back out. The store was jam-packed. People crowded the narrow aisles, and the line for the register snaked around the store, ending just before the entrance. From where I stood, I saw the shelves were already scraped bare of merchandise and barrels and baskets of ingredients were empty. People’s arms were overloaded with purchases, their faces just as pinched and worried as the people waiting outside.

“Oh, thank the gods you’re here,” Joey said as she came forward, a basket of thistle thorns in her hands.

“What is happening?” I unwound my scarf to shove it into my bag. The air in the shop was almost too muggy to breathe.

“People are panicking,” Joey said matter-of-factly as she placed the basket on a shelf. Two women descended upon it without hesitation.

“Criminey,” I said, scanning the crowd.

“Yeah, please tell me you brought some protection charms, because we’re totally out.”

“There are some in my bag,” I said, pulling it over my head and handing it to her.

Joey snatched the bag and darted to the front of the store, her pixie magic making her movements deft and light. I didn’t know exactly what Ronnie expected me to do, so I thought I would take inventory of the shelves and help Joey restock. Fluffing my hair to release some of the heat, I stepped forward down one crowded aisle.

Just as I was about to turn down the next, I saw a small boy standing in front of the good luck charms. His little fingers wrapped around a golden disk, and he shoved it in his pocket. His brown eyes darted from side to side to see if he had been spotted, not realizing I was already marching over to him. Ronnie had wards on the store to prevent any shoplifter from making it out of the store, but with the crowds, I wasn’t going to let him even try to get out.

“Are you serious?” I demanded when I got to his side.

A woman with mousey brown hair and a pale face dusted with freckles turned at the sound of my voice.

“You’re stealing?” I asked. “Right now? When Krampus is out there snatching up bad little boys and girls? Really?”

The boy’s face paled, and I held out my hand for the charm. With a shaking hand, he dug into his pocket for the golden charm.

Before I could say anything else, a man behind me asked, “So it really is him?”

“What?” I asked.

“Krampus,” a petite gremlin woman croaked. “You said Krampus! So it is him! It’s true!”

And then all hell broke loose. People were yelling, some were crying, and others were just rushing the counter with their purchases. I heard Ronnie yell something, but I couldn’t make it out over so many other voices. I snatched the charm from the boy before he could run, and his freckled-faced mother glared at me as she pulled the boy close to her. I stuck my tongue out at her before I turned to help my friend.

There was a crash. I heard Ronnie’s voice again, but people were starting to scream. I was being pushed one way, then the other. Hitting a shelf with my shoulder sent a hot lance of pain through me.

Another ear-splitting roar cut through the din, and the crowd froze as a half-shifted Spencer burst through the door. His face was long and narrow with white and golden fur sprouting over his features. His teeth were huge, and his eyes were too big for his face. His clawed hands swiped at the air, and people screamed, but they stopped rushing for Ronnie.

I pushed through the crowd and found the counter, where Ronnie and Joey were standing. Ronnie was still yelling, but no one was paying her any attention. I climbed on the counter and brought power to my hands, feeling my aura spike and expand around me.

I screamed, “PAX!” I brought my hands together. An explosion rang out, and the floor shook, causing everyone to freeze, mouths open in silent screams, arms raised, eyes wide.

“Thank you.” Ronnie brushed her ropy hair behind her shoulders as she straightened her back and stood tall. “The store is now closed. Please leave whatever you have not paid for and get out.”

People struggled to argue, but with me standing on the counter, energy sparking at my fingertips, and a half-shifted Were growling at the door, they thought better of it.

“If you would like to call and make an appointment, you will be welcomed back, but we are now closed to the public until after the holiday.” Ronnie sounded so calm and collected among the harried masses.

People grumbled, but they eventually put down their items and made their way to the door. At the sight of Spencer, any pushing or shoving was rethought, and everyone filed out calmly.

“Oh, and you?” Ronnie snagged the boy I caught shoplifting by the sleeve of his sweater. “If I catch you in here again, I’ll put a pox on you.”

“How dare you,” his mother said, pulling the boy to her.

“I dare just fine,” Ronnie snapped. “If you bring him in here again, he’ll get what’s coming to him. Especially if you’re not going to do anything about it.”

The woman opened her mouth to say something, but I flicked a spark of energy at her over Ronnie’s head. She squealed, gripped her son’s arm, and rushed for the door.

***

It took nearly ten minutes to get everyone out and get the line outside to disperse. No one wanted to go home empty-handed. Joey moved among the crowd, passing out business cards and encouraging people to call and make appointments. That seemed to satisfy most of them, and once the majority of the crowd had moved on, the rest followed.

When the people cleared, we saw the apothecary shop down the street had its own line curling around the corner of the block. I didn’t think Morty the Vamp was having nearly as much trouble with his crowd as we had.

With the shop empty of customers, Ronnie and I pulled the blinds and spelled the doors and windows closed. Joey was in the back making hot chocolate, and Spencer was trying to calm down so that his face would go back to normal. By the time we were standing around the register, all that was left to fix were his eyes, but the yellow light and black oblong slits suited his pale face. Ronnie placed a hand on his wrist and whispered something to him. He stopped fighting the wolf and took a sip of hot chocolate.

“Well,” I said with a deep breath, “that was fun.”

“That’s one word for it,” Ronnie said into her cup.

My back stiffened at her tone. I cut her a look, but she wouldn’t meet my eyes. I set my cup down a little too hard on the glass counter and made her flinch. Then she looked at me. I lifted my brows, silently daring her to say what she was thinking.

“We can’t keep ignoring this anymore,” she said.

“Ronnie, it’s not our job to save the world.” She opened her mouth to continue, but I cut her off. “Look, if it really is Krampus, he’s a freaking demigod. We’re just people. Mortals. And let’s not forget he’s probably lost his frog-loving mind. Trapped in a cave at the entrance to Helheim for decades? Anyone would lose their mind.”

“Did he have some special powers or something?” Joey asked, cutting into the argument.

Ronnie and I glanced at her.

“I actually have no idea,” Ronnie admitted.

I shook my head. He could transport children to Helheim to torture them or eat them. He could sneak into homes in the middle of the night to beat children, then disappear without a trace. That was the extent of his powers that we knew of. “I think teleportation and a yen for beating children is power enough.”

A flash of a branch whistling through the air and a child’s scream went through my mind. I covered my flinch with a sip of cooling hot chocolate. Spencer shifted uncomfortably across from me, and when I looked up, I found his normal blue eyes staring back at me.

“I just want a quiet, normal holiday,” I said to no one in particular. “Is that too much to ask?”

“Yes,” Ronnie said, gesturing toward the shambles of her shop. “I think it is at this point.”

My shoulders slumped.

I was about to say something catty, but Joey stopped me. “You thought you saw him at the Krampus Ball, right?”

I nodded.

“So maybe he’ll be at the Rumpus tomorrow.” She was careful to keep her voice upbeat and hopeful as her pink eyebrows climbed her forehead. “If he is, if we spot him, then maybe we can just turn him in to the authorities or alert them or whatever. You know, help without actually getting involved-involved.”

Ronnie met my eyes again and tilted her head. I felt an argument bubbling inside me from the little girl who wanted nothing more than to wrap and unwrap presents, drink hot chocolate, and watch Claymation movies, but somehow I managed to keep her quiet. I answered with a half shrug.

“We’ll all go,” Spencer said, making me realize that was the first thing I’d heard him say since he started roaring.

“Yes, it’s not all on you, Mattie,” Ronnie said. “We’ll go tomorrow, like a team.” Her smile was so big, her voice pitched so high, that she reminded me of the little Claymation heroes.

I had to stifle a laugh. “Okay, but we’re just going to find him and let the authorities deal with him, right?”

They all nodded emphatically around me.

“Then I’m gonna need a few of those silver bracelets.” I blew out a breath, fluttering my bangs, and said a silent prayer that we weren’t being totally naïve about this whole plan.