Chapter 24
Chapter
Twenty-Four
The warmth hits me first. I haven’t been so cozy since I arrived at this cabin. Maybe for a while before that. I feel so safe and comfortable that I don’t even want to open my eyes. I cuddle deeper into the blankets and breathe in the sweet, piney scent that clings to them.
Other details sink in piece by piece: the crackle of a fire nearby. The carpeted floor beneath me. It’s far more comfortable than a floor should be, even though my body is starting to remember the aches and pains of the night—including a different kind of soreness between my legs.
My eyes fly open as I finally realize what that means. I sit up, blanket slipping from my shoulders, and look around.
I’m in the cabin. The Kohler cabin, I should say, though I’m the only one here right now, and I don’t see or hear any sign of anyone else.
I expected to be naked beneath the fallen blankets, but instead I’m dressed in the cozy plaid pajamas I brought for the trip.
I reach up, groggily brushing hair out of my face, and dimly register that it’s soft and clean, no longer tangled and full of sticks and God-knows-what-else.
My skin is clean too. I don’t feel the telltale stickiness of blood or the lingering remnants of sex between my thighs.
But when I sit back on my ankles, I wince at a throb of soreness in my ass. My back stings as the fabric of my pajamas slides over my welts. I still bear the marks of my wild night—both punishment and pleasure—which means it was all very real.
While I was unconscious, Krampus must have carried me here, and left me safe, clean, and warm in front of the fire.
I’m kind of sad I don’t remember any of it.
“Points for good aftercare,” I mumble to myself.
The sound of my voice reminds me just how quiet the rest of the cabin is. Even when I strain to listen, I don’t hear anyone else talking or moving around.
I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. If their punishments were as real as mine were, then most of the Kohlers are dead now. Which means I’m now left with the consequences.
Shit. I guess I’d better figure out how to deal with that.
I mumble a curse as I climb to my feet and stretch out my battered body. My muscles scream in protest as I shake off the stiffness and hobble out of the living room and down the hallway.
I sniff. I’m expecting the scent of drying blood, decay, or at least disinfectant. Instead, it smells like…
“Coffee?”
I follow my nose to the kitchen, where a fresh pot awaits me on the counter. I stare at the polished, fancy machine with its many buttons, utterly baffled at the thought of Krampus navigating it with his huge hands, before I remember it didn’t even exist in his realm. It must have been on a timer.
I huff a laugh at myself and pour a nice, full mug.
As expected, whatever coffee the Kohlers drink is good enough to taste great black.
I wrap my fingers around the warm ceramic and wander over to the window—no longer covered in metal shutters—to gaze out at the snowy landscape.
I can see the spot where Louis’s parents died, but there are no bodies there, no blood marring the white snow.
I stare at the spot a while, still, remembering the bolt in my hands, the gush of blood from Theodora’s neck.
I killed someone there. The reminder churns my stomach, but the guilt is less intense today.
I’ve already been punished for my sins, and Krampus deemed me worthy enough to survive despite them.
My eyes shift to fresh tire tracks through the snow; Anna must have gotten out of here before I even woke up.
As I stand in front of the window and stare out at the snowy landscape, it looks like a picture-perfect Christmas morning. The mountain is truly beautiful when I’m gazing out from behind a window, nice and warm, instead of running for my life through the snow.
I bite my lip, thinking. Remembering the way the cars disappeared, it’s clear that whatever happened last night transported all of us who were playing the game to…
somewhere else. Krampus’s realm, Louis called it at one point.
Maybe the bodies stayed there, too. But that still leaves one problem for me.
A thud from somewhere in the cabin confirms my suspicions. Louis is here, somewhere.
I swallow past the lump in my throat. I don’t want to see him, but I need to.
It’s hard to locate the exact source of the sound, but I have a suspicion, so I head to the lounge.
Just like the rest of the house, there’s no sign of the chaos that happened here last night.
None of Krampus’s spilled blood or the destruction he wrought.
Even the record player is back in its normal spot, intact, after being smashed.
When I start it up, it begins playing “O Holy Night” again.
I return to the desk and bend down to press the button hidden on the underside. The secret door behind the bookcase clicks open, and I follow a spiral staircase down into the panic room in the basement.
The space is small and plain compared to the rest of the house. The metal walls are lined with shelves stocked with necessities like canned food, water, and old-fashioned weaponry. My throat tightens at the sight of a crossbow, and I shift my gaze to the map of the area pinned to one wall.
Beside it, there’s also a fucking Christmas tree. Beneath the pine tree with its colorful winking lights is my tied-up fiancé, bruised and bloodied, with a gag in his mouth and a garish red bow on the top of his head.
Louis whimpers when he sees me and stops struggling. The stillness of prey when it sees a predator.
I ignore him, and take my time poking around the panic room. It’s downright cozy here, with bunk beds along one wall and a small bathroom attached. The Kohlers really were well-prepared. Just not quite prepared enough to deal with me.
On a table against one wall, I find the book that started all of this.
I pause, staring at it before slowly approaching.
But I no longer feel the strange pull I did last night.
Still, I’m careful as I crack it open and start flipping through the pages.
My eyes skim over the oldest entries, decades and decades of Kohlers marked in ink and sealed with blood, but I slow as I reach fresher pages.
Now that I know the truth, I pay particular attention to the names I don’t recognize, scrawled alongside Louis and his family.
Names that never appear again. Even after Anna Kohler shows up, there are others.
“I’m not the first one you did this to,” I say, “am I, Louis?”
Not even close. I count them as I flip through pages. Five different women brought as sacrifices for Krampus.
My brow furrows. After my experience with Krampus, I find it difficult to believe that he would have killed those women over minor sins. Even I survived my encounter. How is it possible that Louis would have brought five women deserving death?
Then I remember a comment I overheard from Adrian: “You’ve always been picky. Hardly ever bringing girls here, and even when you do, they never come back…”
Picky, he said. Like it was Louis’s choice.
I sit cross-legged in front of Louis and pull the gag out of his mouth.
“I—” he starts immediately.
“Shh.” I press a finger to his lips, and he shuts up, his eyes wide. “I’m going to give you one chance to answer me honestly. How many girls did you bring here before me?”
He gawks at me as I remove my finger from his mouth. A swallow. His eyes dart to the ceiling as he thinks. “Five.”
As I thought. “And what happened to them, Louis?”
His eyes flicker. He opens his mouth and then shuts it. “Krampus,” he says.
“I know he didn’t kill them,” I say.
Louis lowers his head. “No. But he… he whipped them.” He licks his lips. “I… I wanted someone better. Someone purer.” His eyes flick up to me. “I thought that was you.”
I smile without humor. He thought he was better than those women, but look at him now, beaten bloody in his own family’s game. “Hilarious. But you haven’t answered the question. What happened to them?”
He shifts. Looks away. “I would drive them home and cut ties. Our lawyers handled it if they tried to tell anyone what had happened. Not that anyone would believe them…”
So he left them with the scars and trauma. That sounds about right. But as a seasoned liar myself, I smell something off. “So all of them lived?”
He hesitates. “One of them…”
“One of them what, Louis? You know I can just leave you here to starve if I’m not satisfied by your answer, right? Nobody’s going to come looking for you out here.” I lower my voice, softening my expression. “I just want the truth. Then I’ll let you go.”
Louis shuts his eyes. “One of them froze to death. But I didn’t kill her, I swear.”
I remember how it felt when he dragged me into the snow. When his family locked the door. “You left her to die.”
His silence is all the answer I need.
Something pricks my awareness. Why would Krampus let him live after doing something like that? He didn’t hold back with the rest of Louis’s family.
Unless… he left him for me to handle.
My lips twist into a bitter smile. I push to my feet, grab the book—fuck, this thing is heavy—and head for the exit.
“Wait!” Louis calls after me. “You said you’d let me go!”
“I lied,” I say, and walk away without another glance back.