Chapter 13
Icursed under my breath, the sharp words cutting through the tension in the room. “Where in the village?” I demanded, heading for the door.
Aurora’s jaw tightened, and she hesitated for only a moment before answering. “A candle shop,” she said. “The one I checked out half an hour ago.”
“Damn it,” I hissed, turning and breaking into a jog.
The others were right behind me, their footsteps pounding against the frozen ground as we wove through the crowds of holiday shoppers.
The cheerful music piped through the village speakers felt cruelly out of place, mocking the urgency in our every step.
“How the hell did he manage that when you were just there?” I asked Aurora, glancing at her over my shoulder. My breath came in short bursts, my chest tight with both exertion and frustration.
Aurora shook her head, her eyes blazing with frustration. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “The shopkeeper was about to go on break. He had posted a sign saying the shop would be closed for fifteen minutes. Everyone is working longer hours as it’s almost Christmas.”
“Too quiet,” Tegan muttered behind me, her voice low.
Krampus was playing us, staying one step ahead while we scrambled to catch up. My heart pounded in my chest as we rounded a corner, the glow of holiday lights casting long shadows across the snow-covered streets.
When we reached the candle shop, we came to an abrupt halt.
A blockade of officers stood in front of the store, their faces pale and grim as they tried to keep the growing crowd of onlookers at bay.
The store’s window was lit with the glimmer of flickering candles, a peaceful facade hiding the horror inside.
My breath hitched as I took it all in, my hands clenching into fists at my sides. Krampus had been here, right under our noses, and we’d missed him. Again.
We cautiously approached the candle shop, weaving through the crowd gathered just outside the blockade. The soft glow of the shop’s window lit their curious faces, and the flickering candlelight inside cast an eerie warmth against the night.
As we neared, a mundane officer stepped forward, his hand raised to stop us. “I’m sorry, this area is off-limits—”
“It’s okay,” Victor’s familiar voice called from the shop’s entrance as he stepped outside. His face was grim, his usual calm demeanor edged with tension. “They’re with me.”
The officer hesitated for a moment before nodding and stepping aside.
Victor waved us forward, and we followed him through the door, the warm scent of wax and cinnamon hitting us like a wall.
The shop was cozy, with shelves lined with jars of brightly colored candles, their labels promising scents like “Winter Wonderland” and “Frosted Cranberry.”
Victor led us through the narrow aisles, his steps purposeful, until we reached the back of the shop. The cheerful glow from the candles barely reached here, and the air felt colder, heavier. And then I saw him.
The body was slumped against a display of pillar candles, his eyes wide and white, the unmistakable look of terror frozen on his face. But something was off. Unlike the other victims, he wasn’t bound or whipped. No birch branches were scattered around him, no signs of Krampus’ usual theatrics.
“Krampus was in a rush,” I said, my voice quiet as I took in the scene.
Victor nodded, his arms crossed as he surveyed the body. “I agree.”
Eve stepped closer, her expression a mix of concern and curiosity. “Why change his M.O. now?” she asked, glancing at me.
“Maybe he has a schedule to keep,” Nishi said, her tone dry as she leaned against a shelf.
“Yeah,” I muttered, narrowing my eyes as I studied the body. “And I want to make sure he misses his next appointment.”
Aurora crouched beside the man, tilting her head as she inspected him more closely. Her gaze swept over his features before moving to the scattered contents of a bag near his feet. “This isn’t the shopkeeper,” she said, glancing up at Victor.
Victor nodded grimly. “You’re right. This guy slipped in through the back. He has a candle in his bag and two toys. We think he was stealing them. But he didn’t touch the cash register, which is… odd.”
“Shop owner?” Tegan asked.
“In the smoking area near the forest,” Victor explained. “Forgot to lock the back door.”
I exhaled sharply, glancing at the stolen items in the bag. “So Krampus caught a thief in the act, decided it was worth stopping, and skipped his usual punishments.”
“Which means he’s losing focus,” Eve said, her brow furrowed. “Or he’s discarded Dagna’s plan and has his own agenda.”
“Either way,” I said, my voice tight, “we need to figure out where he’s heading next. Because if this was him in a rush, we can’t afford to find out what he’ll do when he’s got more time.”
Victor’s phone beeped, cutting through the uneasy quiet of the shop. He pulled it out, his face tightening as he glanced at the screen. After a moment, he let out a long sigh, shaking his head. “Damn.”
“What is it?” I asked, already bracing for whatever bad news he was about to share.
Victor slid the phone back into his pocket. “We got his prints back. He has no criminal record. But he recently lost his job as a security guard due to budget cuts.” His voice was unwavering, but I could hear the frustration beneath it.
I crouched beside the man’s bag, reaching in to pull out the Barbie doll nestled against the stolen candle.
Turning it over in my hands, I exhaled slowly.
“The guy lost his job,” I said, my voice quieter now.
“He wasn’t some career thief. He probably took the toys for his kid.
And the candle…” I turned it over in my hand, feeling the smooth wax under my fingers.
“Probably for his wife. He didn’t touch the cash register because he never intended to. ”
Victor nodded, his expression grim. The others fell silent, the gravity of the situation sinking in.
I stood, gripping the Barbie tightly in my hand as anger bubbled up in my chest. “Krampus doesn’t care,” I said, my voice cutting through the still air. “He’ll look for any excuse to kill. A man down on his luck, trying to give his family a Christmas? That’s all this was.”
My free hand curled into a fist at my side as I glared at the lifeless body, the rage simmering just beneath the surface. “He doesn’t just punish the guilty. He punishes the desperate. And Dagna unleashed him here like it’s some kind of game.”
“Because to her, it is,” Victor said quietly, his tone laced with disgust. “But to him? It’s a hunt.”
“And we’re going to stop him,” I said firmly, setting the Barbie down on a shelf with a soft thud. “Before he turns this whole town into his playground.”
A scream pierced through the air, severe and chilling, cutting straight through the thick tension inside the shop.
My heart seized, and without a second thought, I bolted toward the door, my boots pounding against the floor as I ran.
The others called after me, but their voices barely registered over the blood rushing in my ears.
Outside, the night felt colder, sharper, as though the scream had stolen the warmth from the air.
I scanned the street, my breath coming in quick bursts, until I spotted a commotion near the ice rink.
A crowd had gathered, forming a tight, shifting ring around the edge of the rink, their murmurs blending into a low hum of concern.
I pushed through the crowd, weaving between worried faces and craning necks. “Excuse me,” I muttered, shoving past a couple who were clutching steaming cups of cocoa. My pulse quickened as I reached the center of the chaos, bracing myself for whatever horror Krampus had left behind this time.
But it wasn’t a demon I found—it was a boy, no older than eight, cradled in his mother’s arms. His face was streaked with tears, his small hands clutching at her coat as he sobbed. Blood dripped from a deep cut on his leg, staining the ice beneath them, his skate lying discarded to the side.
The mother’s face was pale with worry as she rocked him, whispering softly to calm him down. The boy clung to her, his cries muffled against her shoulder. My chest tightened as I watched the scene, the tension slowly melting into something closer to relief.
I glanced up as a man with a first-aid kit threaded his way through the crowd, his expression calm and focused. He knelt beside the boy and his mother before he opened the kit and pulled out gauze as he began to assess the wound.
I stepped back, turning to see the others standing at the crowd’s edge. Their faces were tense as they waited for me, and I shook my head as I approached.
“It’s just a boy who fell and cut himself,” I said softly, the weight of the moment still pressing on my chest.
Aurora let out a sigh, running a hand through her hair. “Yeah,” she said, her voice low, “but Krampus has us on edge. We’re jumping at the slightest flicker of danger.”
I nodded, my eyes drifting back to the boy and his mother. She was holding him close now, the man with the first-aid kit working quickly to stop the bleeding. The scene was so painfully normal and human that it almost hurt to look at it. But Aurora was right.
“We can’t let our guard down,” I said finally, my voice steady. “Not even for a second.”
The others nodded, their expressions grim as we turned back toward the candle shop.
A short, piercing screech rang out, crackling and piercing, before the loudspeakers scattered across the village came to life. The village promoter’s cheerful, overly enthusiastic voice boomed through the air, cutting through the low murmur of the crowd at the ice rink.
“Ladies and gentlemen, just a friendly reminder—tonight’s tree lighting is in half an hour! Gather around the square for a show to remember!”
The words hung in the air like an ominous echo. I stopped in my tracks, glancing at the others as the crowd around the rink began to disperse, their focus shifting toward the upcoming event.
“A show to remember,” I muttered under my breath, the words tasting bitter as they left my mouth. “That’s exactly what Dagna wants.”
The others closed around me, forming a tight circle as we stood near the rink’s edge. Aurora crossed her arms, her eyes scanning the bustling village square as though Krampus might materialize out of the shadows at any moment. “What do you think his plan is?” she asked, her voice low.
I exhaled sharply, running a hand through my hair. “If Dagna has anything to do with it, it’s going to be big,” I said. “The tree lighting brings the entire village together. Perfect opportunity for Krampus to create maximum chaos.”
“Could he be planning to go after the kids?” Tegan asked, her voice laced with worry. “It’s a family event. There’ll be a ton of them there.”
Salima’s jaw tightened, her hand brushing the pouch of potions on her belt. “If that’s the case, we need to figure out how to stop him before he gets anywhere near them.”
“He doesn’t need to target kids specifically,” I said, my voice grim.
“Krampus punishes whoever he sees as guilty. Parents, vendors, and random people who happened to break a rule or two. And Dagna doesn’t need him to go after one specific group.
She just craves the chaos. Fear. It’s all the same to her. ”
Nishi frowned, her gaze fixed on the towering Christmas tree in the distance. “So what’s the play? Is he going to attack the lighting itself? Before? After?”
“Hard to say,” I admitted, clenching my fists at my sides. “But if he’s still under some kind of glamour, he could already be here, blending in. Waiting.”
“Great,” Liam muttered, his arms crossed as he surveyed the crowd. “So we’ve got half an hour to find a demon disguised as a normal person in a crowd full of normal people.”
I nodded, my heart pounding as I glanced back toward the square. “Exactly. And if we don’t figure it out before the tree lighting starts…” I trailed off, the reality of what I didn’t need to say settling over all of us.
Eve broke the silence, her voice measured. “Then we ensure he doesn’t finish whatever he’s planning.”
“Right,” I said firmly, meeting their gazes. “Let’s spread out and start watching. Look for anything—anyone—that seems off. We stop him before this turns into the kind of show Dagna’s hoping for.”
The others nodded, tenacity etched into their faces as we moved out. My stomach churned as I glanced at the tree looming in the distance, the star already reflecting the surrounding lights.
We spread out, our eyes scanning the bustling area in front of the massive Christmas tree.
The air was crisp, the subtle smell of roasted chestnuts and spiced cider lingering as people laughed and chatted, utterly unaware of the danger lurking in their festive little bubble.
The tree itself stood tall and proud, its branches adorned with garland, ornaments, and ribbons, but its lights were still off, waiting for the big reveal.
This wasn’t the first tree-lighting ceremony of the season.
A few times throughout December, the ceremony was held for those who couldn’t make the first one.
But tonight, the crowd seemed just as lively as if it were opening night.
Families huddled together, children bundled up in thick coats and scarves, pointing excitedly at the decorations.
Couples held hands, their smiles glowing brighter than the dim bulbs strung across the nearby lampposts.
The square was packed, but a few stragglers still wandered in and out of the shops lining the streets, some clutching shopping bags, others sipping on steaming cups of cocoa.
A group of carolers stood off to one side, their harmonious voices blending into the hum of conversation, adding to the illusion of peace and joy that blanketed the village.
But I couldn’t enjoy any of it. My eyes darted from face to face, searching for any sign of Krampus.
A man with a heavy coat and a hood pulled up over his head.
A woman lingering at the edge of the crowd, looking too nervous, too twitchy.
A child clutching their parent’s hand a little too tightly.
I couldn’t shake the feeling that he was here, blending into the crowd like Dagna had planned.
I turned my gaze back to the tree, its ornaments glinting faintly in the light of the lampposts. Most of the crowd had already gathered around it, eager for the ceremony to start. It wouldn’t be long now.
I shoved my hands into my coat pockets, my fingers brushing the hilt of one of my throwing stars as I moved through the crowd. The festive energy pressed around me, sharply contrasting with the tight knot in my chest.
Where are you? I thought, my eyes narrowing as I scanned the faces again. Krampus would thrive in this kind of setting—large, distracted, vulnerable. And if we didn’t find him before the lights came on, this cheerful holiday scene was about to turn into a nightmare.