Chapter 3
Ileft the others in the cabin, giving them a quick excuse about needing to grab a battery pack for the camera.
It wasn’t a complete lie. I did need the battery to see what Brody had captured, but I also wanted a moment to think, to process the creeping unease that had settled in my gut since seeing those photos.
The electronics store was a short walk away.
It was a tidy little shop tucked between a candle store and a bakery that smelled like cinnamon rolls and regret.
Inside, I grabbed the first compatible battery pack I saw, paid the smiling cashier, who wished me a cheery “Merry Christmas,” and stepped back into the cold.
That was when I noticed the map board standing near the edge of the village. It was brightly lit, with a cheerful “Welcome to the Mystic Falls Christmas Village” banner stretched across the top and a diagram of the area beneath. As I scanned it, my eyes caught on a section labeled “Playground.”
The playground. My mind flashed back to the photos Aurora had found—the monkey bars, the woman, and the child. Brody had followed them to that playground. But why?
Without overthinking it, I started toward the site, weaving through the maze of festive decorations and candy-cane-colored fencing.
The playground wasn’t far, sitting on the outskirts of the village.
It was close enough to still feel like part of the festivities, but far enough to be quieter.
The cheerful hum of carols faded as I stepped onto the snow-dusted woodchips, and the soft creak of the swings in the cold breeze broke the stillness.
I stopped at the edge of the playground, scanning the equipment. It was the same as in the photo—brightly painted monkey bars, a small slide, and a couple of spring-mounted animal rides. It should’ve looked inviting, but knowing what had been done, it felt… off.
Brody had been here. He’d taken photos of that woman and her child. But why? Was he watching them, or was something watching him?
I stepped closer, examining the site. Nothing was obvious. No footprints that stood out in the churned snow or discarded items that screamed for attention. I circled the monkey bars, comparing the angles to the photo in my memory. This was the spot, no doubt about it.
I moved to other landmarks from the photos, tracing Brody’s movements—the small bench where the woman had sat and the edge of the playground where the girl had played. Nothing of consequence—just mundane spaces filled with mundane memories.
But still, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was missing something. Brody hadn’t followed them here by accident. Whatever had drawn him to this spot was important. I just had to figure out why.
The wind picked up, carrying the faint sound of carolers from the village behind me. I pulled my coat tighter and stepped back toward the path, my mind spinning with questions. It was time to regroup with the others and see if the camera held any answers.
I made my way back to Santa’s Village, where the cheerful lights and Christmas music were doing little to chase away the chill settling in my bones.
The wind nipped at my face as I walked past the shops, the cinnamon and peppermint scents almost cloying after the sterile, empty cold of the playground.
My thoughts churned as I approached the cabin, the photos of the woman and child replaying in my mind.
Kara, the elf assistant, was standing just inside the door, her hat slightly askew and her expression tense. She perked up when she saw me, the jingle of her bells soft as she shifted nervously.
I stepped closer, holding up the photo of the woman, and child that Aurora had uncovered. “Kara,” I said, keeping my voice calm but direct, “is this the woman who complained about Brody?”
Her eyes widened as she leaned in to look at the photo, and I could see the exact moment recognition hit her. She straightened, her expression tightening as she nodded quickly. “Yes,” she said, her voice hushed. “That’s her.”
I studied her for a moment, searching her face for any hint of hesitation, but she seemed certain. “You’re sure?” I asked, just to be certain.
She nodded again, her gaze flicking nervously toward the desk where the photos had been found. “She came in a few days ago, really upset. She didn’t say much, but she was angry, and scared. I remember thinking she looked like she’d seen a ghost or something.”
Her words sent a fresh wave of unease washing over me. I glanced at the photo again, the woman’s face partially obscured by her hat, the little girl clutching her stuffed animal. They looked normal—completely ordinary. But if Brody had been following them, nothing was ordinary.
“Did she give you a name?” I asked, lowering the photo.
Kara shook her head, her bells jingling softly. “No. She just wanted to file a complaint. I… I didn’t know what to do, so I told her I’d talk to Marty about it.”
I nodded, my mind racing as I slipped the photo back into the box. Brody had been following this woman and her child, but the why was still a mystery. And now, with him dead, the pieces weren’t adding up.
“Thanks,” I said, stepping back. “That helps more than you know.”
Kara gave me a weak smile, but I could tell she didn’t feel reassured. Neither did I.
Aurora and Victor exchanged a look, the kind that said they were silently deciding on something without needing to say much out loud. Aurora finally nodded toward me. “We’re going to pop back to the shed and make sure the scene is contained. We’ll be back in a bit.”
“We will text you if we find anything,” Victor added, his tone steady but carrying that underlying edge of authority.
I nodded, watching as they turned and headed back toward the edge of the village.
As much as I trusted them to handle it, their absence made me feel the toll of the investigation even more.
The others were milling around Santa’s Village, checking out the area, their eyes sharp as they took in every detail.
I pulled the battery pack I’d bought from my coat pocket and returned to the cabin where we’d left the victim’s camera.
The cold air still lingered in the room, but it was quieter now, and the festive noise from outside was muffled.
Sliding the battery into place, I held my breath as the camera hummed to life, the flip screen glowing faintly.
The first few pictures looked like standard Santa’s Village fare—kids sitting on Santa’s lap, families laughing together, and a few awkward smiles from toddlers on the verge of a meltdown.
But as I clicked further, my stomach turned.
The images shifted. Close-ups of kids’ mouths.
Their knees. Cropped angles that felt too intimate, too deliberate.
My jaw tightened as I turned the camera toward the others. “Take a look at this,” I said, my voice low but clipped.
Nishi was the first to step closer, her brow furrowing as she peered at the screen. “What the hell?” she muttered, her tone dripping with disgust.
“This guy’s a total perv,” I said, my voice harder now as I scrolled through the images, each one more disturbing than the last. It wasn’t just creepy—it was predatory. Brody hadn’t been taking innocent snapshots of holiday cheer. He’d been… cataloging something. Or someone.
Eve leaned over my shoulder, her lips pressing into a tight line. “And here I thought I couldn’t feel worse about this guy.”
Nishi crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing. “Makes sense why someone would want him dead. But birch branches? That’s not a typical revenge kill.”
I nodded, my thoughts swirling. Brody’s death wasn’t random. Someone had targeted him. And judging by what I was seeing, he’d given them plenty of reasons. The only question now was whether his death was mundane justice… or something supernatural.
Eve leaned against the desk, arms crossed and her gaze fixed on the camera’s screen. “What kind of demon would want to kill a child predator?” she asked, her voice steely but thoughtful. “Doesn’t exactly scream typical demonic behavior.”
I slid the camera onto the desk and rubbed the back of my neck, the weight of the disturbing images settling heavily on my shoulders. “The only demon I know with any connection to kids is Krampus.”
Eve arched a brow, clearly unimpressed. “Krampus? Like the Christmas myth? Hooves, horns, scary bedtime stories for bad kids?”
“Yeah,” I said, deadpan. “And he’s got a major hard-on for Christmas too, so this would be right up his alley.”
Nishi made a face, muttering something under her breath about annoying demons, while Eve tilted her head, her analytical side kicking in. “What do we know about him? The real Krampus, not the folklore.”
I sighed. “Not much, honestly. Everything I know is the folklore version. But the stories say he either kills or protects children.”
Eve nodded slowly, the gears in her mind turning. “So, if this was Krampus, he didn’t pick Brody randomly. He knew.”
“Could be,” I said, glancing back at the camera. The images burned in my memory, each one more unsettling than the last. “If it’s him, it means Brody’s death wasn’t just some act of vengeance. It was a message.”
“A bloody, twisted, birch-branch-wrapped message,” Nishi added darkly.
The air in the room seemed heavier now, the tension thick enough to cut through. Krampus wasn’t just a scary bedtime story. He was real, dangerous, and—if we were right—he was already here. And the last thing any of us wanted was to find out what he had planned next.
I leaned back against the desk, the camera still glowing lightly with its disturbing content. “I should ask Carnell about this,” I said, mostly thinking out loud. “If it is Krampus, he’d know. I don’t think Krampus has been topside in a long time, but if anyone has intel, it’s my grandaddy.”