Page 8 of Prize for the Alien Grumpus

The shadows in the hallway stretch longer than usual. Every creak of the old house sets my nerves on edge. I triple-check the front door's deadbolt, then the back door. The garage door gets tested twice.

My fingers trail along each window latch. Living room - secured. Kitchen - locked tight. Even the tiny window above the washing machine gets checked.

The security panel by the front door blinks its reassuring green light. I punch in the code anyway, watching the "ARMED" message flash across the screen.

One window left. Just need to check Sam's room and then I can try to sleep. Though how I'll manage that when my brain won't stop replaying the sight of Mr. Gregor's true form...

My feet freeze mid-step on the stairs. A deep voice rumbles from Sam's room, followed by her high-pitched giggle.

"But why is your fur so long?" Sam asks.

"The better to keep warm in winter, little one." comes a terrifying voice.

My heart pounds against my ribs. That voice - it sounds like gravel being crushed beneath tank treads. Nothing human should sound like that.

My phone sits heavy in my pocket. One call to 911 and... what? The creature would vanish before they arrived? Or worse - they'd believe me, and then men in black suits would show up to make us disappear.

Sam giggles again from her room. The sound pierces my heart like an icicle.

"Your horns are funny too!"

"All the better to gore my enemies with," the gravelly voice replies.

The baseball bat from my college softball days leans against the wall in my bedroom. Three steps. That's all it would take. But what good would a bat do against something that tore through Gregor's security like tissue paper?

The knife block sits on the kitchen counter downstairs. Eight steps, plus however long it takes to creep down without making the stairs creak.

"Do you know Santa?" Sam asks.

A low rumble that might be a laugh.

"I am... familiar with the concept."

The umbrella stand by the front door holds my old field hockey stick. Five steps. Closer than the bat, longer reach than a knife.

"Can you help him deliver presents?" Sam asks.

"I prefer to deliver... other things." Krampus says. "I punish the wicked."

"Oh, wicked? You mean bad guys?" Sam says.

"Yes, and there are soooooo many bad guys to be taken care of," Krampus says with a wistful sigh.

My hands curl into fists. That thing is in my baby's room. That monster I freed - what was I thinking? - followed us home and now it's talking to my daughter about delivering things.

Time for him to find out there's no place more dangerous than between a woman and her child.

CHAPTER 4

KRAMPUS

The small human's eyes shine with intelligence far beyond the dull-witted adults I've encountered since awakening. Strange that such a tiny creature shows more promise than its progenitors.

"Are you really blue all over?" Sam pokes my arm with a stubby finger.

"Indeed. And quite deadly." I flex my bicep, earning an impressed gasp.

"Cool! Do you know Rudolph?"

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