Page 12 of Christmas Eve with Krampus

Ruprecht shares a small smile, lips quirking just enough that the point of his one canine fang vanishes into his beard. “It makes its drinker say exactly what’s on their mind.”

“You mean like booze,” I ask, “or a truth serum?”

“Whichever one makes it impossible for you to tell me a lie should you take a sip.”

I side-eye the steaming mug. I’m a tea girlie back home, though I’ll drink coffee in a pinch for the caffeine. But while I’ll probably get one hell of a headache if I don’t get my morning buzz now, is it worth what I might blurt out if I drink some?

My tongue darts out, licking the corner of my mouth. “You, uh… you don’t have non-truth serum tea, do you? Or water, maybe?”

He shakes his head. “I’m sorry, liebling. Until boxing day, I’m as trapped in the season as you are.” Picking up his mug, saluting me with it, he says, “Frohe Weihnachten!”

I have no idea what he means, but I can guess. The season…

Taking my mug, scooting it toward me in case I get desperate enough, I glance back over at the lit Christmas tree in the corner.

“I can see. You really got a thing for Christmas, don’t you?”

“It’s ordained. This is my fate.” He pauses for a moment, as though thinking carefully about his next words. Using his claws, he rips off a hunk of the still-steaming bread, taking a moment to chew before he says, “Part of it. The part I’ve known for centuries.”

Okay. Don’t freak, Josie. He keeps referring to you as a ‘mortal’. Obviously, that means he isn’t one. Trapped in these woods, doing whatever it is these monsters do, he could’ve been in here for ages.

Or, you know, centuries.

While I manage to shove a piece of the bread into my own mouth to keep from showing off my surprise, he actually answers me.

“But Christmas? That belongs to another, which is why I usually sleep through it once Krampusnacht has passed for the season.”

There’s another one of those harsh words again. As the delicious bread basically melts in my mouth, I hurry to swallow before I try to echo it.

“Krampus…”

“Krampusnacht. Krampus Night.”

I fucking knew it! My gut instinct telling me he’s Krampus… I was totally right.

Just in case, I say, “I thought your name was Ruprecht.”

“Krampus is the type of demon I am. The name of my kin. But I am Ruprecht like you are my Josie.”

Butterflies flutter in my belly. It’s been a long, long time since I’ve been anyone’s anything.

No. Don’t let him distract you from what this means. Between the Christmas tree and “Jingle Bells”, this stollen and Krampus himself sitting across from me after the way I was pounced on by… by…

“So you’re really Krampus. And those things I saw yesterday… you said they were elves.”

“Yes.”

“Christmas elves?”

Ruprecht nods once.

Okay. As crazy as this all sounds, it’s starting to click a little. “And the Toymaker? He’s?—”

His cheeks hollow, jaw clenching beneath his beard. “He will be no concern of yours so long as you are mine. I found you. I recognized who you are first.” Ruprecht places his tea down on the table with a loud clink. The liquid sloshes a little as his hand dips below the table, dropping to his lap. “All of me did. Forget the Toymaker.”

After a reaction like that, I’m not so sure I can.

Suddenly, Ruprecht pushes away from the table, poised to rise.

---