Chapter Eighteen December Second #2
“Just in case. But, Hugo—that is, Hilda’s son—says this sect is of concern to other krampuses.
Modernized ones try to reason and reach with education and empathy, understanding how the youngsters have been taught to think.
More leave the sect than join it. He believes that in a few years, there will only be a dozen small family groups left, and it will dwindle from there.
It is something they are actively working on there—and that is another reason why they are sending members abroad weeks in advance.
For the best chance of mating and scouting. ”
Artie and I exchange a look, and I wonder if he’s thinking what I’m thinking. Some krampus was in New York last year, probably early for scouting. Found some woman. Made a baby. Drove her mad.
Like my mother.
My mother went off to live in one of these sects.
.. Or maybe she threw herself into the sea, or off some Alpine mountain.
She was chosen as prey... Maybe because she was willing to have a fling.
Be a party girl? Maybe her “demon lover” considered her bad and punishable because she was cheating on Barton. Her husband.
I hold Laurel close to my heart and wonder why she was chosen as prey.
I wonder if Laurel’s birth mother is safe.
If she went willingly. Or if she knew what she was getting into, if she loved her krampus lover, if they ran off together to escape the sect.
Maybe they thought Laurel would slow them down, or allow other krampuses to track them.
Maybe they wanted her to grow up happy and safe in a community that was safe for monsters and half-monsters, and they left her behind to give her a better life, one where she wouldn't be hunted or always running.
I’ll hope for that.
My mind goes back to my mother. I know her story wasn’t a happy one.
I bet she was giddy with the idea of freedom from the frozen wasteland of Eagle Arch, of being out of Barton’s scowling shadow, of being back home with her family for the holidays, and then some big strapping hunk came up to her. ..
Blase was so handsome and charming. At first.
I look at Artie again. He’s cute. Right now, he’s got stubble, his bangs are a half-combed disaster, and his glasses are crooked.
I think he’s gorgeous. Would other women immediately think he’s sexy?
Probably not. If monsters aren’t obvious to most humans, they probably would assume krampuses were big, hunky guys with great hair.
“The women don’t know they’re carrying a half-krampus until it’s already happened,” I say quietly. “Right?”
Mr. Minegold shrugs. “Since most humans overlook the supernatural, that’s probably true.
They believe they’re having a night of passion with an attractive and charming man.
Later on, they’re confronted with the supernatural nature of their partner and their child.
It would drive the sanest person mad to suddenly realize they’re bound to something they didn’t believe was real, locked in a magical pact they didn’t agree to.
” His eyes drift to Artie. “It takes a very special sort of person to see the truth in all things. And we see the truth in you, Imogene. You did your very best. You even tried to talk to him. To tell him that Pine Ridge was a place to start again.”
“Genesis told us,” Alban says softly. “You tried to give Blase a place to find forgiveness and make a new life. Lots of monsters come here for that. When he didn’t listen, you did what you had to do.”
“And it’ll never happen again now that we know how to fix it,” says Tessa, leaning forward, face tense, lip bitten between her teeth. “I know it’s no help for what already happened, but I... but I made you something.”
“What?”
Tessa reaches into her pocket and pulls out a compact.
It’s plain black. I think it used to hold blush.
Inside, there’s a mirror and a little metal dish with traces of rosy powder left inside.
“Well, Blase is dead, and I can never undo what he put you through. But I know you escaped another bad situation once before. I’m glad you’re happy now with a husband who adores you and a baby who is your precious mini-me.
Still—I know that someone hurt you.” Tessa’s eyes sweep to my hair. To the horns that aren’t there.
I look down at Laurel. Already, her little nubs are showing the faintest suggestion of a backwards curl. They’re a pretty pink and gold color. “She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” I rest my cheek on her head.
“Mama.” Laurel rocks back into me with a squeal.
“Like her mom,” Artie says staunchly.
“Well, I know we can’t fix the past, and I’m not into revenge.
Revenge spells turn into dark magic very quickly.
Justice, however, is the coven’s specialty.
You open the compact,” Tess demonstrates shutting it, then popping it open, “and put in a piece of paper with the name of the person who needs a heaping helping of justice. Look into the mirror. Leave the paper inside, close the compact, and forget about it. Whatever this person did to you will be gifted back to them. Call it a perspective-taking exercise.”
“My stepfather doesn’t have horns to cut off. Or a tail. Or hooves.” I take the compact, throat tight, hands slightly shaky.
“He might suddenly grow them.” Tessa smiles. “And he might be so ashamed that he hides away. Or he might rush to the hospital and have a lot of explaining to do.”
“Or he might be out on a fishing boat with a lot of very freaked-out sailors,” Artie chimed in.
“I wonder what in the world they’d do if Barton suddenly sprouted horns in the middle of lunch.
I’m picturing... Chaos. Lots of yelling.
And that tail... I imagine that would take a heck of a lot of time to get used to.
Unless, of course, he decides he should just get rid of it. ”
“That might be hard to do in the middle of the Arctic Ocean,” Alban says with an innocent look, twiddling his thumbs. “My, my. What a mess that would be.”
Slowly, I smile at the three guests. “Thank you for all the information. There’s a lot to learn, isn’t there? A lot to deal with. I don’t know what to do with all of this.”
“It’s a big deal,” Tessa nods. “You just take your time. People around here will help, okay? If you need meals, or someone to help put up the holiday decorations, run errands...”
“I have a question,” Artie asks.
“Kane Garden Center. That’s where you get your Christmas trees,” Mr. Minegold supplies.
“No, no. I mean, that is helpful, but not that. Where’s the body?”
Tessa and Mr. Minegold look at Alban.
“Oh, I sent it back.”
“Back??”
“To wherever he came from. I put a little note on his horn that said ‘Stay out of New York or expect similar packages.’ I thought that was concise.”
“Very clear messaging, Alban,” Mr. Minegold praises and rises to leave.
Laurel makes an ominous noise from the region of her diaper. “Da!”
“Why do you get the cute squeals, and I get the poop?” Artie grumbles. “Excuse me, folks. Come on, Laurel,” he sighs.
“Dadada.” Laurel head butts his chin.
Artie kisses her tiny horns with a muttered, “Gonna have to put bumper guards on these things...”
“Thank you, Tess,” I hug her and take the compact.
“I’ll be over tonight to place untraceable charms for all of you. Just added insurance.”
“And I’ll see you at two,” Mr. Wymark pats my hand and waves goodbye.
I don’t know why he thinks I’ll see him at two, but he’s wrong. I’m staying in this house. Maybe for a week. Maybe forever.
Mr. Minegold lingers in the doorway. At first, I think it’s because the sun is peeking out, but then he turns to me.
“Do you know that when a vampire takes an innocent human life, he loses his human soul, and a demon resides in its place?”
I swallow. “No.”
“I killed a great many men when I was first turned. I still have my soul. I can go to any house of worship, hold a cross, eat garlic, wear my Star of David,” he smiles.
“All the men I killed—were killers. Preying on weak and innocent men, women, and children, the frail, the sick, the elderly. You are not someone or something bad or evil, or even unworthy,” he reassures me, eyes searing into mine.
I lick my lips. “I know. It’s just... It’s that everything was going well.
Artie and I are used to struggling. We don’t have a lot, financially, but we have each other, and we love the little things.
The movies at home, the second-hand shop, playing cards and checkers, doing a jigsaw puzzle together.
Before we had each other—we had nothing.
It feels like this has ruined that. I was in a fairytale, and even though I’m the monster, I was getting my happy ending.
This attack ruined that. No happy ending after all.
” I swallow down the bitter bile in my throat as I name what’s been circling in my head.
“My dear,” Mr. Minegold’s tone is amused, and at first, I’m offended. “You aren’t supposed to have the happy ending yet! Not yet! Do you want the story to be over so soon? No more new adventures, no more new characters, no new chances to shower each other with affection?”
I shake my head.
“The story is just starting. Ah—” he stops me before I can protest. “I know the beginning was hard. I know this last week has been hard, too. Life isn’t all happiness, my dear.
You know that. True happiness is when you have the ones you love to rise and fall with.
You are in the valley, but this,” Mr. Minegold winks and gestures outside, “this is a place of mountains and high peaks. You cling to your beautiful family. You’ll climb again, and your story will keep going, if you let it.
” He kisses my cheek with a gentle pat of my hand, and then he’s gone, a dash of black running to the shelter of the car.
When Alban and Tessa wave, I suddenly remember what is supposed to happen today.
I have to leave the house to make it happen.
I have to leave the house to make the story keep on going, and the happiness keep on flowing. “Hey, Artie? When do you have to work today?”
“I called in sick! I don’t have to work until tomorrow.
My boss says I have three more sick days to use before the end of the year, and I get Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day off!
” he calls back, trotting down the stairs with Laurel tucked under his arm.
“Okay. One poop-free baby for the mama.”
“Mama! Ma!” Laurel puffs her cheeks up at me, and I giggle.
“Well. Want to go out to lunch? Get our Christmas tree? And meet Alban at two?” I ask. “I need to change first.”
Artie nods, happy disbelief in his eyes.