Chapter 10
Isteady my feet, my hooves quietly scraping on the shingles as I stand on the rooftop, claws gripping the edge of the dormer.
The house is silent, and the only light is the glow of the Christmas tree in the front window, which illuminates the house.
It’s nearly one o’clock in the morning, and if I’m correct, it’s due to turn off at any moment, plunging the house into complete darkness.
The drapes in the window have been left open, allowing the moonlight to make the long hallway glow brightly.
The room of my target is three doors down, but her scent is too faint for her to be on this floor, which means she must be sleeping somewhere else in the house.
I slowly turn, being careful not to make a noise, when I notice a subtle movement out of the corner of my eye.
The faint scent of vanilla and shea butter fills my nostrils, stopping me dead in my tracks.
A knot tightens in my chest, trying to steal my breath.
I carefully move closer to the window and crouch down, catching the silhouette of a woman as she unhurriedly shuffles down the hall in her gray robe and slippers.
The wind blows against my back, pushing me forward; my hand rises to brace against the window, causing my claws to tap against the glass and produce a loud pop in this nearly silent night.
The woman freezes, her robe fluttering as she comes to a halt, and I suck in a sharp breath, my heart rattling my ribs.
Her red curls are a wild mane as she slowly turns her head, her piercing green eyes flashing while she stares back at me.
But to her, I am nothing more than a dark cloud blocking the moon, with shadows curling around me like a cocoon, hiding me from sight.
She turns back toward the other end of the hall just as the Christmas tree lights go out, plunging the house into darkness—exactly as I planned.
She stands silently for a moment before huffing a deep sigh, crossing her arms over her chest, shaking her head slowly, then turning on her heel and shuffling back through the door she came through, closing it behind her with a quiet click.
I count to ten, letting the house settle again, then carefully lift the window and let the cold wind rush in, pulling me inside.
I stand guard as the window quietly slides shut behind me, and the house warms as heat blows from the register.
My hooves sink into the plush rug that stretches through the hall as I take a tentative step forward, staying concealed in my shadowy shroud as I pass the door she disappeared through.
Her intoxicating scent floods my senses, making my mouth water as I turn toward the closed door.
I lean forward, gripping the doorframe as I press my ear against the smooth wood.
I hear the mattress creak, along with the shuffle of the sheets, as she tucks herself back in. There’s murmuring, her voice thick with sleep as she lets out a long, exasperated breath.
Is she talking to someone?
Is there someone else in there with her?
It’s crucial that I know how many people are here and their whereabouts, to avoid getting caught or disrupting my work, especially since there was only supposed to be one person here tonight.
I press my ear harder against the wood, but now there’s only heavy silence on the other side.
My fingers twitch as my hand hovers over the doorknob, but I force it away, almost stumbling back as I fight the urge to burst into her room and claim her—punish her.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
My number one rule is not to interfere with people who aren’t on my list, let alone walk into their fucking rooms and interrupt their slumber. The last few times I’ve been to this house, I’ve never encountered another woman here, and certainly not her.
I would fucking remember.
I’m a monster—a demon—and the stories of Krampus have been twisted over the centuries, making me out to be a thief in the night, kidnapping children and whipping them.
And while I’ll occasionally encounter innocent children who have woken up and crawled out of their warm beds, they’re not who I’m after.
I’m after the true terrors of this world—adults.
However, there’s no kidnapping involved.
I simply slip into their dreams and hunt them through their dreamscapes.
My instincts make me hellbent on leaving behind marks for when they wake, a reminder that if they keep up their naughty habits, I’ll be back until they finally learn their lesson—if they ever do.
I hear the mattress creak again, my body thrumming with anticipation. This woman, nestled in her bed, sends a curling heat through me—one that intensifies with each passing second.
Who the fuck is she?
My hand drifts back to the handle, my instincts pleading with me to go inside as my heart pounds against my ribs.
I curl my fingers around the brass, my hand warming the metal.
My grip is so tight that it almost begins to melt beneath my palm.
My instincts surge forward, grabbing hold of me by my horns, and just as I start to turn it, the grandfather clock chimes below.
Each chime pulls me back to reality while snuffing out the fire that was beginning to burn me from the inside out.
I take a long step back from the door, shake my head, and shove away the impulsive thoughts racing through my mind.
I run my hand through my hair, pushing it back from my face, and take another steadying breath.
If I didn’t know better, I’d think this woman was a witch who had cast a spell on me and was waiting for me to fall into her trap.
Get your shit together, Kryx.
I turn and creep down the hall, stopping at the top of the stairs. My hand rests on the banister as my eyes scan the living room, landing on the figure stretched out on the couch, covered with a throw blanket that hides their face—but it’s no use. I know exactly who they are.
I take a deep breath, and the smell of strawberries fills my nose—the very scent I was looking for when I arrived. My shadows cover me as I slip down the stairs, and in a blink, I find myself behind the couch, watching as the woman takes deep breaths, drifting deeper into her sweet dreams.
I hear a quiet click near the fireplace, as if the flue is being closed.
My gaze snaps up, and I stand as still as a deer in the forest, watching for whoever else might be lurking in the shadows.
I half-expect a cat to come out from under the tree, but it’s as if whatever was there has vanished into the night.
I lean in and listen, but the only sound is the ticking of the grandfather clock, a reminder of the seconds I’m wasting in this wretched house.
I look over the woman’s delicate body, the blanket tucked tightly around her, as if she were lying down for a long winter’s nap.
Even after checking the list twice, I’m still unsure of this woman’s crimes or why I need to impose one of my strictest punishments, but the list knows, and I don’t question it.
In fact, this isn’t the first time I’ve been to this house, face to face with the woman who’s always asleep on the couch.
My arrival is timed just before the tree lights go out, and I feel like she’s waiting for Santa Claus himself.
But I’m clearly reading too much into this, and it’s only a coincidence.
I scan the room one last time before my shadows spread out behind me like mighty wings, filling the space and plunging me deep into the woman’s dreams, where it doesn’t take long to find her and deliver the punishment she's destined to endure.
I step out of the woman’s mind, my hooves softly clicking against the floor.
Although it feels like hours in her dreamscape, only minutes have passed in the real world.
Her cries of mercy and pleas for forgiveness echo in my ears as I examine her, noticing the trickle of blood at the corner of her mouth and her skin covered in a sheen of sweat.
This punishment better stick, for goodness' sake, because I don’t know how much more this woman can handle before she finally breaks.
Her eyes were cloudy, and her face nearly sallow as I led her to the pillory, tears streaking her cheeks as she faced her punishment head-on.
Whatever she’s done seems unforgivable and is slowly eating away at her.
I almost feel concerned for her, but as Krampus, caring isn't part of my role. The people I visit must pay for their crimes eventually, and she is no exception.
I step away from the woman, moving back toward the stairs to make space for my portal to the North Pole, when I hear footsteps coming from upstairs. I glance around as my shadows wrap around me and slip into a dark hallway—out of sight.
The woman from earlier descends the stairs, her brows knit together as she approaches the couch. “Mom?” she whispers, her voice roughened with sleep as she reaches over the back, shaking the woman’s shoulder. “It’s time to put you to bed. Okay?”
The woman on the couch groans as she rolls over, looking up at the younger woman who seems to have stolen the air from the room. “Nikki,” the woman groans breathlessly. “I had that nightmare again. It seemed so real.”
Nikki.
“It was just a dream,” Nikki says as she slides the blanket off her mother and carefully folds it over the back of the couch. “Come on. Let’s go upstairs.”
“But,” the woman says, tears welling in her eyes as her gaze shifts to the fireplace, “I can’t leave yet.”
Nikki’s gaze softens as it shifts to the cold, empty hearth. “There are still ten days until Christmas, Mom. And we’re both a little too old to believe in Santa, aren’t we?”
I watch as she extends her hand, urging her mother away from the couch and guiding her back up the stairs, but just as they reach the halfway point, Nikki pauses.
Her gaze shifts across the fireplace and fixes on the dark corner where I stand, stone-still.
Her brows crease as her eyes narrow, trying to peer into the darkness as if she knows I’m here—my pounding heart threatening to give me away.
“Nikki, is everything okay?” her mother asks, drawing her attention away from me.
“Uh, yeah,” she replies, swallowing thickly. “I just thought I saw something.”
Her mother chuckles, curling her fingers even tighter around the railing. “It’s probably nothing more than a Christmas mouse scurrying through.”
“You’re right,” Nikki replies softly, tightening her hold on her mother’s arm. “I’m obviously still half asleep and my mind’s playing tricks on me.”
They continue their ascent and disappear beyond the landing, where I wait in silence until I hear that they’re both back in bed, and the house settles into silence again.
My shadows fall away, trailing down my back like a cloak as I step into the living room.
I scan the room and approach the fireplace, breathing in the sweet scent of peppermint I hadn’t noticed before.
How odd.
I swipe my finger across the hearth, soot covering the surface, and look at it curiously—this fireplace is gas, not wood-burning.
What the hell? I bend over to investigate the hearth when the grandfather clock chimes softly behind me, breaking the heavy silence in the room and halting my racing thoughts.
“Shit,” I murmur as I step back and check the time. I’ve let myself get too wrapped up in this and need to move the fuck on. I look up the stairs, imagining Nikki sound asleep with visions of sugarplums dancing in her head, as I cup my palm, filling it with my signature sparkling sand.
I open my palm and blow across it, letting the dust drift through the air, my shadows whisking it up the stairs, where it will slip under the door and land in the corners of Nikki’s eyes—sending her off to a dreamscape I’ve curated just for her.