Chapter 12
Chapter
Twelve
Idon’t stop screaming until I run out of air. Then I press the back of a trembling hand to my mouth, smothering a final whimper.
Krampus lets Adrian’s body slump to the ground and kneels.
He grabs a handful of snow and carefully, patiently, cleans the blood off his chains.
He didn’t react at all to my scream. He barely reacts to the death itself, except that he seems…
more relaxed. His shoulders have slumped slightly, and his breath comes easier.
When he straightens up and turns to me, even his eyes seem less red; some of the manic gleam is gone from them.
He isn’t in a blind rage, but appears calmer and more in control than he’s ever been. Like he’s… satisfied.
That keeps my feet planted instead of running. For the moment, at least, he seems sated. And despite the blood all over me and the headless corpse nearby, I feel safer with Krampus than I did with Adrian.
“You didn’t tell me you were going to kill him,” I say.
“I told you I was going to give him what he deserved.”
I study him, but there’s no hint of remorse on Krampus’s beastlike face. Of course not. This is who he is. What he is. He was made to punish, to hurt, to kill.
I can’t let myself forget that. Nor can I expect him to be merciful to me, in the end.
I stare at Adrian’s headless body until my stomach churns.
My hands weren’t the ones that killed him, but I’m still responsible.
And even though I try to think of the sins Krampus listed, of the scars on Anna’s back and all those names crossed out in the book before hers appeared, I can’t fight the pit of guilt in my stomach.
Someone is dead because of me.
I’ve done a lot of terrible things in my life, I’ve lied and stolen and used people, but I’ve never killed anyone before.
I look down at my trembling, bloody hands, clench them into fists, and raise my gaze to Krampus again. My guilt will have to wait. My punishment is coming before the night is through, anyway—a thought that, oddly enough, steadies my emotions. I’ll pay my dues later. “What’s next?” I ask.
The corners of Krampus’s lips rise. But then a gust of wind swirls through the snow around me. I brace my shoulders, and Krampus pauses, sniffing. A chill goes through me as I realize the wind has carried my scent to him.
“Your smell,” he murmurs. His tail flicks, new tension bracing his shoulders.
I hug myself, both against the cold air and the reminder of what awaits me at the end of this. “I know. But the rest of the family first—”
“It’s getting worse,” he finishes, silencing me.
“Worse?” I repeat.
“Your sins have grown more severe.”
I follow his gaze to Adrian’s corpse and swallow hard as I understand.
Krampus just killed him, and I… I helped.
I deceived Adrian and led him to his death.
A new addition to the list of things I deserve to be punished for.
How many sins will it take until I, too, deserve death? Have I already crossed that line?
If I haven’t, this path will probably lead me there. Can I carry on with the knowledge that I’m making things worse for myself? With the knowledge that Krampus might kill the rest of the Kohlers, too?
Will he kill Louis?
I falter at the thought. I don’t know if I ever really loved Louis, but I was willing to spend my life with him. I did care for him. I still do, in part, despite his betrayal.
But at the end of the day, it isn’t me deciding his fate.
I look up at Krampus to find him studying me with those piercing red eyes. “I understand,” I say. “I know revenge will have a price. I’m willing to pay it.”
He dips his chin in a nod. But he’s still staring at me, pupils fixated on my face, chest rising and falling with deep breaths as he continues to breathe in my scent.
“You are… distracting,” he says.
I’m not sure what to say to that. Nor how to deal with the fact his attention makes heat bloom in my lower belly despite the cold all around me. The way he looks at me, it’s almost like…
I swallow. “Let’s go inside before someone realizes we’re missing.”
The back door is still unlocked. I let out the breath I was holding as the door slides open, revealing the warm and inviting interior of the cabin. I step inside and hold the door open for Krampus to follow me, placing a finger to my lips.
He hesitates on the threshold, his expression unreadable, and then plants one hoof on the nice hardwood floor. He has to duck to fit through the doorway.
I shut and lock the door behind us. It’ll slow down anyone looking for a quick escape route.
When I turn back to Krampus, he’s standing frozen just a few feet inside the door, gazing around at the cabin interior.
He’s been dreaming of this moment for decades, I realize.
Generations of the Kohler family have hidden from him here.
Now, he’s finally infiltrated their little fortress, with my help.
He glances over his shoulder at me. His expression is difficult to read, but he inclines his head in a small, grateful nod.
I return it, lips quirking into a smile. I’m about to speak, to ask him what comes next, when a voice calls out.
“Adrian?”
I freeze at the sound of Anna’s impatient voice calling. My eyes dart to Krampus, but he’s looking in her direction rather than at me. His pupils are dilating, his nostrils flaring as he sniffs the air.
“Wait,” I call out, before I can think better of it. “We’re coming, just one second!”
The clack of her heels grows faster. “Adrian, if you’re fucking your brother’s fiancée, I swear to God—”
I rush to intercept her. She rounds the corner just as I’m about to, and we collide and fall in a tangle of limbs. She swears at me furiously.
“Anna, go back upstairs!”
“Try telling me what to do one more time, I dare you,” she snarls. Then she pauses. She stares at me with growing horror, and I realize belatedly that I’m still covered in her husband’s blood.
A dark shadow falls over us. We both pause, and look up to see Krampus looming.
Anna goes very pale. She sees the blood coating his fur. Coating my hands. I’m sure she notices, too, that her husband is nowhere to be found.
I slowly climb to my feet, shoulders braced in anticipation of a meltdown.
A scream that will bring the rest of the family running, or else send them fleeing to safety.
But Anna just seems… frozen. She stays on her knees on the floor, hands curled into fists in her lap, eyes wide.
The only movement is the rapid rise and fall of her chest, breasts straining against the confines of her tight dress.
She doesn’t move. Not even as Krampus leans down and takes a deep, audible sniff.
“I remember you,” he says. He slowly circles around her, pausing to scent the air another couple of times. “I remember the smell of your sin. Your silence as I whipped you.”
At first I think Anna is in complete panic mode. But at Krampus’s words, it shifts to a different picture: a woman on her knees in the snow, straight-backed and silent and proud, even in the face of potential death.
And I’m suddenly remembering those raised scars on Anna’s back, and the way she intentionally let me see them. I remember her telling me to run. It wasn’t much of a warning, but it was more than anyone else in this family gave me.
“Let her go,” I blurt out, before I can stop myself.
Both of their eyes dart toward me. It’s almost comical how well their expressions match, both full of affronted fury.
“I don’t need your help,” Anna hisses.
At the same time Krampus says, “You do not command me.”
“She tried to warn me,” I say, heedless of their anger. I step forward, my eyes locked on Krampus. “She tried to help. She doesn’t deserve to die.”
Krampus takes a step toward me, teeth baring in a snarl that renders his face monstrous. “I am the one who decides what you mortals deserve,” he rumbles. “I am the one who weighs your sins and deals your punishment.”
I swallow hard but stand my ground, refusing to back down.
If I keep his attention focused on me, then Anna has a chance to run back upstairs.
She’ll probably warn the rest of the family about what’s happening and make my plan for the night a whole lot harder.
Still, I can’t bring myself to let an innocent woman suffer for my own selfish reasons.
I can see out of the corner of my eye that she slowly lifts herself to her feet. Krampus is facing me, his back to her. She has a chance to go.
But she doesn’t. She stays where she is. And when I falter, Krampus’s shaggy head swings back toward her.