Chapter Thirty-Two
It was Perchtentag.
Gudarīks had no extant feast days to his name, so this one was his favorite.
It was one of the few nights a year when even nonbelievers honored the old traditions. Much like Krampusnacht, which took place a month earlier, the humans dressed as terrible beasts and donned hideous horned masks, seeking to “out-ugly” evil spirits and chase away winter’s cold. They drank and caroused, feasted and set off fireworks, and led a noisy procession called der Perchtenlauf that cut through the main thoroughfare of Baden-Gottsdorf and into the forest.
It was the one night a year when Gudarīks stalked but did not devour. Watched but lived vicariously in the humans’ revelry.
Not eating the Perchten seemed like a suitable gift to Perchta on her festival day. That, mixed with an unhealthy serving of foolish sentimentality for the days when he, the forest, and humans lived in harmony. For this night, and this night alone, Gudarīks allowed himself to observe the human procession from the shadows, and pretend they still lived in awe of der Schwarzwald, of the harsh winter season, and of the creatures that ruled in the darkest parts of night.
If there was ever a safer, more opportune time to meet Astrid’s human friends and formulate a plan, it was tonight. Not that he’d hurt those dearest to her, but when Astrid spoke to him about meeting them, she mentioned that the forest ranger needed assurances. He wouldn’t need to worry about her spouse—she said Suri was a two on the Enneagram scale, whatever that was, and only needed emotional affirmation. Courting Astrid gave him plenty of opportunity to practice, and he was pretty sure he could apply it platonically.
Couched in the shadows of the setting sun, tucked away in the trees, Gudarīks listened to the nearby town’s church bells ring. And waited. The Perchtenlauf procession would begin there, and he didn’t have to strain to hear the rise of pounding drums, jingling bells, and a jovial crowd.
Rangers from the national park service were already camped out along the procession’s path. They were quieter than most, and yet he’d both seen and heard them when they entered the forest. He was careful to stay out of sight. Even though they forgot the old ways, and could probably do with a reminder, those who took care of the forest had his respect. He didn’t wish to scare them, especially after what they’d seen with the poached wolves.
As the sun sank below the horizon, the Perchtenlauf snaked its way into the forest, along the main trail. In the old days, the way was lit by torches, then tapers. Today, the humans lit the way with light from the contraptions they called “die Handys” or “phones.”
From behind he heard approaching footsteps. By scent alone, he could pick out Astrid and her mother from kilometers away. Had known for quite some time that they were behind him, but with how intentionally heavy-footed they walked, he recognized the courtesy to not sneak up on him.
“Guten Abend,” Perchta called, and with a turn of his head, he saw her gliding toward him, Astrid not far behind.
He inclined his head. “Guten Abend. Happy Perchtentag.”
“Danke, Wald Vater. I wish we were getting better acquainted under more celebratory circumstances, but the humans insist upon making things interesting.”
“We’ve no shortage of time for happier circumstances,” he replied. “But I appreciate your help. It’s not every day the dead claw their way back from the Otherworld.”
“Indeed not.”
His gaze fell upon Astrid, and every emotional fiber in him softened. “Liebling.”
Two long, platinum braids fell over her shoulders and draped down, just past the curve of her chest. Even though she was clad in bulky winter gear, he thought of the night before and wanted her.
Perchta cleared her throat and skirted away. “I’ll give you two a moment.”
Right . No clothes. Nothing to hide his feelings for the witch.
“Sorry,” he said to his Hexe. “To say you’ve made an impression on me would be an understatement.”
The grin on Astrid’s face was positively wicked. “I’m not complaining. I think that’s the first time I’ve ever seen her scandalized.” She took his hand and, leaning up on tiptoes, pressed a kiss to the underside of his jaw, the highest piece of him that she could reach.
He caught one of her braids in his long, tapered fingers, smooth as corn silk. “Come back to my den with me tonight?”
“I need to be up early to go to Mutter’s, but yes. Just don’t keep me up too late. Training and all.”
“Quick it is then. I’ll not stand in the way of your goals.”
She stuck her tongue out at him, and oh, how he wanted to wrap his own around it.
“How gracious,” she teased. “Now, settle down before my friends arrive. Johanna’s already on edge enough as it is.”
He tipped her chin back with the crook of a finger. “Suppose I should stop looking at you then.”
“Mmm. Suppose so,” she answered, running her fingers through the fur of his short tail. “So fluffy.”
“That’s not helping.”
Swatting his backside, Astrid withdrew to join her mother.
While the Hexen watched the oncoming procession, Gudarīks took a moment to compose himself, aided by a little meanly placed snow. Shocking, but nothing he couldn’t handle.
Once settled, he rejoined the other two.
“Won’t be long now,” Perchta said, motioning a gnarled hand to the line of twinkling lights headed their way.
The sound of drums and jingling bells grew louder, but the increasing noise didn’t grate on Gudarīks’s nerves. Tradition was tradition, and humans honored the things they loved with raucous merrymaking.
In groupings of twos and threes, costumed humans marched past, completely unaware that their festival’s namesake looked on. They poured an admirable amount of time and effort into crafting their masks. Different types of rams’ horns. Noses long and pointed, some beaked, with exaggerated chins to match. Some had gnashing, jagged teeth. Others fangs and lolling tongues.
Manes, beards, long draping hair accompanied each mask, as well as suits of fur. Some of the Perchten had strapped barrels to their backs and wrapped them in chains and bells. All manner of fearsome creatures thrashed bundles of birch branches about.
A faraway look made Perchta’s gaze shiny, and Gudarīks recognized it for a moment of remembrance.
“Do you miss him?” Astrid asked softly, threading her arm through her mother’s.
The elder Winter Hexe shook her head, a sly smile forming as she patted her daughter’s hand. “He visits. Just not when you’re around.”
Astrid suppressed a giggle behind her hand.
Krampus. There was no bad blood between Gudarīks and the other being, but they avoided each other as much as possible. Gudarīks could count on one hand the number of times they crossed paths, and each occasion was marked by little more than a stiff head nod and a grunt. It was proof that two stubbornly dominative folkloric entities could coexist, while also making a pointed effort to forget that they did.
Two horned Perchten broke off from the main procession, doffing their hand-carved wooden masks.
Astrid went to greet them, Perchta trailing regally. “Suri, this is my mother, Perchta.” She didn’t introduce the second human, the taller one with olive skin and a reserved expression, so they must’ve already known each other.
Suri, the dark-skinned human, gestured behind them to the procession they’d left, practically vibrating with too much energy. “To say I’ve heard all about you would be an understatement.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, my dear.” Perchta inclined her head, taking one of the human’s hands between her own. “Winter’s blessings to you.”
“And to you!” Suri beamed. “Jaan, she’s practically a goddess. I’m holding hands with a goddess, right now.” The exuberance was rather endearing, so he didn’t fault Perchta for preening under the attention.
“Schatzi, I know,” Johanna laughed, rolling her eyes. “Your fanby is showing.”
“Don’t care,” they quipped, extracting a woven lace shawl from the knapsack they had slung over their shoulder. “I made this for you. Happy Perchtentag.”
Eyes shining, Perchta took the delicate gift, turning it over carefully in her hands. “Your craft is most excellent. Thank you, sweet child.”
“Gudarīks’s here, too,” Astrid reminded her friends gently. “Are you ready to meet him?”
That shuttered Johanna’s burst of good cheer. “Ach, suppose so,” she muttered gruffly, folding her arms. An admirably stoic display, but he scented the truth of her fear.
“Yes!” At least one of them was enthusiastic.
He took a tentative step forward into the dim light cast off by the passing processional.
The smaller one gasped, taking him all in, but not lingering on any one part. “Oh, my, he’s big.” Then, nodded appreciatively. “Well done, Astrid.”
Johanna was not so easily pleased, and from the smell of her, currently engaged in an internal battle of fight versus flight. He could crouch down, attempt to make himself smaller, but that wouldn’t make him appear less threatening in her eyes. Just poised and ready to lunge.
Bowing his head, he said, “A friend of Astrid’s is a friend of mine. And thank you for all that you do for this forest. It’s not gone unnoticed.”
Surprise lit the human’s features. “You’re welcome.” While she remained tense, its potency dulled, more vigilant than fearful.
And to Suri, he said, “Astrid tells me I’ve not lived until I’ve tried your Desi cooking. I hope we can meet again under better circumstances and rectify that soon.”
Waves of excited, bubbly energy rolled off them. If there was ever a human to make him believe he’d the capacity to inspire joy, rather than fear, it was this one.
“We’ll have lots to celebrate, that’s for sure—victory, Astrid’s transformation.”
“Where are the other rangers?” Astrid asked.
“Keeping an eye on the procession.” Johanna flapped a hand at the trail. “I’ll relay our plan to them, whatever we decide.”
“So, what can we do?” Suri asked.
“Keep vigilant,” Perchta replied, clasping her hands.
Even to Gudarīks’s ears that was rather ambiguous.
But Astrid clarified, “You’re our eyes in Baden-Gottsdorf. The spell didn’t work when wolves were sacrificed, it wasn’t powerful enough. We think they’ll target humans next, people in town. Folks who’re easy to snag.”
“It’s best we avoid that outcome,” Gudarīks added grimly. “No one should endure such a fate, except for those willing to enact it.”
“So that’s it? Just stake out the town, keep an eye on things?” Johanna didn’t seem happy about that. Offended even, which confused him. Preventing the brutal murders that would power a resurrection was no paltry task.
“Not much of a plan,” Suri agreed.
He was missing something.
“It takes a kind of darkness to go against evil like this.” Astrid laid a hand on Johanna’s shoulder. There was a gravity to her tone that promised wisdom, and the forest ranger paused to listen. “We’ve all been both predator and prey at one point or another, but this darkness is a part of us monsters in a way it isn’t for you and Suri. Nor should it be. There’s still a meaningful role for you in all this. This forest and the responsibility for it belongs to you too, but we’d like to spare you from the violence we’ve readily accepted to protect it.”
“You’re not a monster, Astrid.”
“Oh, I am.” The witch’s expression frosted over. “I just don’t let you see how much.”
Johanna shivered. “Maybe so, but I’ve never been afraid of you.”
“I never wanted you to be.”
“If you have suggestions for what we should do,” Perchta gently interjected. “We’re listening.”
“Well, first order of business is to shut down public access to our section of the forest,” Johanna began. “I’ve already talked to our local officials about it, and they agreed to do so after Perchtenlauf. They didn’t want to cancel the event, and since a parade is hard to miss, they weren’t worried about poachers stumbling onto participants and causing trouble. The tourists, however—there’s too many variables, too much we can’t control and still keep the park open for them. There’ll be a ‘see something, say something’ public service announcement, too. We’ll leave out the supernatural details, but folks should know there’s danger afoot.”
Seemed reasonable as far as Gudarīks was concerned.
“We also know the location of where they’re likely to spring from, right?” Suri continued. “I know the goal is to stop it from getting that far, but we need to know what to do if the worst happens. What’s our role then?”
Astrid nodded. “Magic is hard to fight when you don’t have it yourself, but it’s not impossible. Gudarīks and I will try to take the brunt of any assault—he is, and I will be, harder to kill—but we’ll need your help.”
“Why not lay a few traps?” Suri suggested. “It doesn’t completely neutralize the threat, but a vicious ‘welcome back’ might be a nice sucker punch. We’ve got the home ground advantage, why not use it?”
“There’s a few spells I miss using.” Perchta ran a claw over her lips, a wicked gleam in her wolfish eyes. “I have my hands full with the containment spell, unfortunately, but Tochter, I can teach them to you this week.”
“And Jaan, if you take me to the site, I’ll map out the air space, rig up and program a couple drones to release pepper spray...”
“We also can carry guns.”
Suri scrunched their face. “My idea is way cooler.”
“It is cooler,” Johanna acquiesced. “I’ve got bear spray at the office. Just a couple sprays will clear out the whole site.”
Reaching into her pocket, Astrid withdrew a phone. “I’ll keep this on me at all times, too, for speedy communication.”
“It only took a crisis,” Johanna teased, mood lightening, just as Suri asked, “Is that a flip phone?” The way they said it, it must’ve been a relic of human technology. Odd, since the last time he’d seen one was only a decade or two ago.
“Also—” Astrid rooted around her pocket again and pulled out an amulet hung on silver chain. “This is for you, Suri, especially if you’re going near that site. It won’t help you against spells that cause physical harm, but it’ll protect your mind from compulsion magic.”
Sobering, the excitable human thanked her and slipped the charm over their head. “How much time do we have to prepare?”
“About six days.”
“It’ll have to be enough.”
A flicker of movement from the trees above caught the corner of Gudarīks’s eye, and when he looked up, a crow launched off a branch and took flight, inky feathers disappearing into the night sky.