Epilogue
ONE YEAR LATER
As I walk up the snow-covered driveway of the mountain cabin, I think about all the ways my life has changed since that fateful night one year ago.
It’s still hard to believe it was real. Sometimes it feels like some huge prank by the universe that’s about to come crashing down on my head at any moment.
When I first drove away from that cabin—watching flames climb the walls in the rearview mirror—I expected to get caught right away. Surely someone would connect me to Louis Kohler and his family, and suspicion would fall on my head when their mountain retreat burned down.
But they never found bodies.
I guess Louis wasn’t as open about our relationship as I thought, since hardly anyone seemed to even know he had been engaged at the time of his disappearance.
The story about the disappearance of the Kohler family was all over the news.
But most people seemed to think they had fled the country, especially when news broke about all manner of shady business deals the family had participated in.
Once the luck from Krampus’s magic ran out, a lot about the family came to light very quickly.
From suspicious foreign ties to tax evasion to the disappearances of multiple women associated with the family over the years.
But nothing that linked me to the fiasco.
After lying low for a while, I went back to what I do best: conning rich assholes out of their money.
I know I’m good at what I do. A natural liar, some might say.
I’ve always worked hard and worked smart.
But… I’ve never had as much success as within the last year.
Perfect marks fall right into my lap, and my schemes always turn out perfectly.
At first, I thought it was some good karma after taking care of the Kohlers.
Soon, however, my suspicion grew into conviction that there was something else at play.
Something like magic. The same magic that had let the Kohlers get away with actual murder for years. Krampus’s magic.
I didn’t win his game, but he rewarded me anyway.
It’s granted me a level of safety and security that I never knew was possible.
I’ve tried to do some good deeds to feel deserving of it.
I’ve sent anonymous money to the other women whose names I found in the Kohler family’s book, though I know I could never compensate them enough for what they lived through.
I even reached out to my parents, after years apart; we’re going to spend Christmas together this year.
But first, I’m celebrating Krampusnacht on my own. I rented a cabin just for the weekend. It’s cute and kitsch, nothing like the monstrosity of a bunker that I burned to the ground last year.
I may not smell as sweetly sinful as I did last year, but I’ve still been naughty enough that I’m excited for the chase.
I spend my evening eating Chinese takeout and sipping hot cocoa, and as midnight approaches, I settle myself on the rug in front of the fireplace and take the huge leatherbound book out of my backpack.
I spread the cracked and yellowed pages to a fresh sheet and pick up the pen.
I mark the page with only one name.
Diana Wilson
I don’t even flinch as the pen takes my blood. I’ve suffered much worse punishments.
Afterward, I take a long, luxurious shower, wrap myself in a fluffy robe and nothing else, and settle down in front of the fireplace, just the way Krampus left me to wake up last year.
I fall asleep to the crackle of the fire, already excited about what will await me when I open my eyes at midnight.
Krampusnacht is here, and I’m ready to play again.