Krampus: The Yule Lord (36 page)

“But somehow I had that baby, had him on the bathroom floor. And when I did, when I saw that baby boy, then I knew that Daniel’s spirit was watching over us, because our baby was alive . . . alive and healthy. Had a strong set of lungs and let the world know he was here. I could see his daddy in his face, even that small, I swear I could. Gave him his daddy’s name.

“I made it to my bedroom and passed out with him suckling at my breast. When I come to he was gone. Found them in the living room, Mama leaning over him, whispering, talking her God talk. At first I thought she was dressing him, thought maybe seeing his face had softened her heart. Then I saw, and what I saw turned my blood cold. She had a pillow over his face, over my baby’s face. I could see his little hands clutching at that pillow. I snatched the crucifix up off the top of the TV and smashed it against the side of her head. Not once but several times, until she lay still on the floor. I think I killed her, but don’t know, not even now. Because after I done that, I picked up my baby, wrapped him in a towel, and run off. And even though my insides felt like they’d been torn open, I walked the two miles over to Daniel’s parents’ house.

“Daniel’s parents didn’t know about the baby, not even about mine and Daniel’s engagement. I showed them the ring and told them our story. I had no idea how they’d take it, but I didn’t have no other place to go. Well, I never seen folks so happy to see a baby. It was all over their faces, it was as though I’d brought them their son back. I knew then that little Daniel would be safe with them. Told them I had to go get something out from the car. Of course I didn’t have no car. I just walked down the driveway and kept going, didn’t really know where I was headed, not then, just kept walking and walking, all that day and into the night until I found myself up in them hills.

“Well, y’know what happened after that.” She shook her head. “Jesse, not a day goes by that I don’t regret leaving my child. Not a day.”

Jesse let out a long, heartfelt sigh. So he wasn’t the only one hurting, no big surprise there. He wished he had something profound and uplifting to say, something to make her feel better, to make himself feel better. But sometimes there seemed to be so much bad in the world it was hard to see much of anything else. He set his hand on her shoulder, squeezed, and that was about the best he could do.

Lacy was now sticking bows all over Freki’s fur. The giant wolf just lay there, looking at them as though pleading for help.

“Maybe Krampus will let us go soon,” Jesse said with little conviction.

“Maybe.” Isabel walked over to Lacy, picked her up, spun her around, and hugged her. Lacy giggled and hugged her back. Isabel beamed.

Jesse thought Isabel would make a wonderful mother, started to say so when he caught movement outside.

Three figures trudged through the light snow, followed by a lumbering wolf. Krampus and the two remaining Shawnee walked with their heads down as though from the weather, but Jesse knew better.

K
RAMPUS AND THE
Shawnee marched up the steps and into the church, tracking slush and mud across the floor. Krampus made his way to the wood stove and sat down heavily upon a cardboard box. Freki limped over and lay down next to him. Krampus began absently stroking the big wolf’s mane.

Jesse hesitated. Krampus looked weary, beaten down . . . sad. Jesse knew it wasn’t a good time to bring up Dillard. But when was it ever? Maybe he owed Krampus something, and maybe he didn’t; regardless, he still had to find a way to take care of Dillard. And the longer he waited, the greater chance that Dillard might harm Linda or Abigail.

Jesse swallowed, walked over, and took a seat next to the Yule Lord. “I’m sorry about Makwa. Sorry for your loss.”

Krampus didn’t answer, didn’t even look up, just stared at the fire.

Jesse’s mouth felt dry, he wet his lips, cleared his throat. “I need to go and take care of Dillard.”

“I know.”

Jesse waited for more, but Krampus just kept watching the flame.

“I can take care of things on my own, y’know. Just need you to let me go. Won’t interfere with your goings-on at all. I’ll even swear to come back once I’m done.”

Krampus clasped his hands together, let out a long sigh. “What do you believe in, Jesse?”

“Huh?”

Krampus looked at him, peered deep into his eyes. “What do you believe in?”

Jesse shrugged. “I dunno.”

“There’s nothing you believe in?”

“Whaddaya mean?”

“You have to believe in something. Your muse . . . your music perhaps?”

“No,” Jesse said bitterly. “I’ve given up on that.”

“God?”

“God? Well . . . hell, maybe. Sometimes I do, anyway. Y’know, when I’m scared or want something really bad.”

“You are a religious man? A Christian?”

“I wouldn’t go that far. I’m certainly a God-fearing man.”

“There are other things besides gods in which to put one’s faith. Earthly things.”

“I suppose.”

“Do you believe that the shadows are full of dark spirits waiting to prey on the unguarded?”

“What? No.” Jesse laughed, then caught the sullen look on Krampus’s face. “Well, okay . . . sometimes when I’m alone at night I can get pretty creeped out if that’s what you mean.”

Krampus didn’t laugh, or smile; his gaze returned to the flame. “I am fearful most men of this age are like you. They have forgotten what it is to huddle in a hut with the beasts and demons howling outside their door. They no longer have want of a great and terrible spirit to protect them. They have lost their fear of the wild and with it their need to believe. And I cannot blame them, for they now have the power to chase away the shadows with a mere flick of a switch. So I must ask myself, what role can I play in a world where men worship the moving-picture box, where they make and consume potions that eat away their own brains, where they ravage and pillage entire mountains, kill the very earth itself?

“Mankind has lost its connection to the land, to the earth, to the beasts and spirits. They gather their food not from the forest and fields, but from plastic bins and ice boxes. Their lives are no longer tied to the cycles of the seasons and the harvest, no longer do they need the Yule Lord to chase away the winter darkness and usher in the light of spring. Man has only himself to fear now . . . he has become his own worst devil.”

Krampus picked up one of the branches that the Shawnee had gathered, snapped it into manageable lengths, and shoved them into the potbellied stove. “While sitting in that cave, I read the newspapers, read of such changes, but could not grasp their true meaning . . . their true effect. Not until I witnessed it with my own eyes.

“I fear Baldr might have spoken truth; that the world has indeed moved on, that there is no longer a place here for me. I now see how he sank so low. Baldr foresaw all this, tried to warn me. He gave them what they wanted, a pretty lie, and they believed, because a pretty lie is easier to believe than an ugly truth.”

Krampus scratched at his shoulder, digging at the scabbing wounds with his long fingernails. He grimaced, pulled out a piece of buckshot, rolled the bloody pellet between his fingers. “How will I make a people who do not understand the power of belief believe? And without their belief Mother Earth will wither and Yuletide will fade . . . and so, too, will I . . . like all the spirits and gods before me.”

N
IGHT FELL UPON
the little church, the spreading gloom matching the spirit in the room, and still Krampus sat staring into the flame, a bottle of mead in his hand, the sack at his feet. The Belsnickels kept their distance and even the wolves avoided him.

Jesse sat cross-legged upon the floor in front of a game of Chinese checkers. Lacy had discovered a box of old games and had managed to recruit Jesse and Vernon to play with her and Isabel.

“Go,” Lacy said and prodded Jesse.

“What?”

“It’s your turn . . .
still
,” Vernon put in. “Perhaps if you kept your mind on the game, we wouldn’t have to keep reminding you.”

“Oh, sorry,” Jesse said absently, and moved the first marble his hand came to.

“Ha!” Isabel said, a triumphant grin spreading across her face as she used Jesse’s move to advance her marble all the way across the board.

“That was brilliant, Jesse,” Vernon said. “I cannot even find the words.”

Jesse nodded, hardly hearing him, maintaining his vigil over the Yule Lord, hoping Krampus would come around so they could finally get the show on the road. But over the last several hours, Krampus hadn’t done much more than mutter to himself. And sitting there like that was certainly not getting Jesse any closer to Abigail. Jesse wanted to go over and shout at the beast, prod him, poke him, do something to get Krampus moving, anything besides sitting on the floor and playing checkers.

“Watched pot won’t boil,” Isabel said.

“This ain’t working for me,” Jesse growled, shaking his head. “Sure as shit it ain’t.”

“Get used to it,” Vernon said. “He’s in one of his black moods. Back in the cave he’d get that way and stay like that for weeks, months sometimes. Just curl up into a ball, not moving, hardly even breathing, as though he were dead. Only we were never so lucky as that.”

“Weeks?”

“Yes, certainly. Or he’d work himself into a foul temper and there’d be no talking to him.”

“Abigail doesn’t have weeks,” Jesse said and started to his feet. Isabel grabbed his shoulder. “Can’t keep pushing him, Jesse. You’re gonna go too far, and more likely than not just gonna make matters worse.” Jesse pulled away, stood. “Worse for who? Not for Abigail?” He marched over to Krampus and stared at the Yule Lord. Krampus did nothing to acknowledge him.

Jesse bent, picked the sack up off the floor. He cleared his throat and held it out toward Krampus. “It’s night. Can’t be no Yuletide without the Yule Lord.”

Jesse waited.

Krampus continued to stare at the stove.

“Are you giving up then? Is the Yule Lord turning his back on Yuletide?”

He saw Krampus stiffen, knew the beast heard him.

“I guess he won after all. Santa Claus . . . he beat you.”

Krampus’s troubled frown deepened and the end of his tail twitched.

Jesse sat the sack down on the box next to Krampus. “You might have your sack, your freedom . . . might have his head, but it appears he still won.”

Krampus took a sip from the flask.

“You were asking earlier how to go about making people believe. Well, I say if you want them to believe . . . you have to give them something to believe in. You have to get out there and be great and terrible. You have to
make
them believe.”

Krampus shifted his weight as though suddenly very uncomfortable.

“Well, shit sure ain’t happening so long as you’re moping around, so long as you’re sucking on that bottle like it’s your mama’s tit.”

Krampus took another swig, a long swig, leaned his head back, and closed his eyes as though the world didn’t exist.

Jesse snatched the flask from Krampus’s hand.

Krampus’s eyes popped open; he stared at Jesse, utterly stunned.

“Ho, ho, ho!”
Jesse cried and smashed the clay bottle to bits upon the floor.
“Merry fucking Christmas!”

Krampus leapt up, gave Jesse a tremendous shove, knocking Jesse off his feet, sending him sliding backward across the floor and into Freki. The wolf yelped, hobbled to its feet, and limped away from the fray.

“I will tear your heart from your chest for that!” Krampus snarled and stomped after Jesse. Jesse sat up, met Krampus’s burning eyes, grinned.
“There! That’s it!”
Jesse cried. “Be terrible! Come on. That’s what you do, be the Yule Lord, not some sulking brat!”

Krampus stopped, glared. “Who are
you
to lecture
me
about giving up?” He sneered. “You, a music-maker who is afraid to face his own muse. Who turns his back on the great gifts bestowed upon him, and denies the very core of his soul.”

“Yeah . . . okay, great. You’re a loser like me. Way to go.”

“Bah,” Krampus growled, throwing his hands up in disgust. He turned away, headed back to the stove, and snatched the sack up off the chair. He held it a minute, crushing the lush velvet in his hands, appeared to be carrying on a silent conversation with it, his head nodding slightly. He let out a grunt, picked up the birch switches. “Let’s go.” He tromped out the door and into the night.

The two Shawnee exchanged a troubled glance, but hopped up and rushed out after the Yule Lord.

Vernon slapped his marbles down on the checkerboard, glared at Jesse. “Thanks! Y’know, this was probably the first enjoyable evening I’ve had in . . . oh, I don’t know . . . a hundred years. Now instead of playing games around a warm fire, I get to go creeping into people’s houses out in the freezing cold. Gosh, somebody pinch me.”

Jesse gave Chet a kick. “Wake up, fuckhead. Time to go.”

Chet groaned, sat up, looked around as though trying to figure out where he was. Once he caught on, he let out a pitiful moan.

“Tall, Dark and Ugly is waiting for you outside,” Jesse said.

Chet looked as though he wanted to curl up and cry, but managed to crawl to his feet and zombie-shuffle his way out the door.

Isabel grabbed Lacy’s jacket, quickly bundled her up, wrapping a thick scarf around her neck and face and tying the panda cap earflaps securely under her chin. Lacy had to pull the scarf down and push the hat up in order to see. “Are we going for another ride in the sleigh?” she mumbled through the scarf.

“We sure are, dumpling.”

“You can’t bring her,” Vernon said.

“Well, I ain’t gonna be leaving her here.”

“Isabel,” Jesse said carefully. “You know we’re gonna have to find someplace for her.”

Isabel shot him a cutting look. “We’ll just have to see.”

Lacy clutched Isabel, clung tightly to her waist.

“Don’t you worry, shug,” Isabel said. “You can stay with me if that’s what you want.”

Lacy nodded that she did.

Jesse sighed. “Isabel, you know this won’t work.” And he saw by her face that she did, but he also saw how much Isabel needed this little girl right now.