Page 12 of Never Kiss a Krampus
“Tell me something I don’t know. That’s why I need help.”
He moved closer, and I forced myself not to retreat. He studied my face with unsettling focus, and I wondered what he saw there. Fear, definitely. Exhaustion, probably. Maybe a little bit of hysteria bubbling just under the surface.
“You are afraid,” he said.
“Of course I’m afraid. You’re terrifying.”
“Not of me. Of failure. Of being found wanting.” His expression softened slightly—or at least I thought it did. It was hard to read emotions on a face covered in fur with literal horns. “That fear will serve you well in the days to come. It will keep you honest.”
“I’m always honest.”
“We shall see.” He turned away, examining my bookshelf now. “Ten days, Noelle Green. Ten days to prove your worth. I suggest you begin by sobering up and getting some sleep. Tomorrow, your judgment truly begins.”
I turned away from him, needing a moment to process this absolute disaster. How had I gone from trying to save my shop from bankruptcy to hosting an ancient supernatural being in my one-bedroom apartment?
One bedroom.
The realization hit me like a freight train loaded with fruitcake.
“Where exactly do you plan to stay?” I asked, though I already knew the answer, already felt it settling in my bones like the chill that had followed him from my attic.
“Here, of course.”
Of course he is.
“I mean, umm, where are you going to sleep?”
“I do not sleep as you do. I will remain here and observe your dwelling.”
The idea of him prowling around my apartment while I slept should have been terrifying. It was terrifying. But I was also exhausted, wrung out from fear and schnapps and the sheer impossibility of the last hour.
“Don’t break anything,” I said weakly. “And don’t… I don’t know, drag any souls to the underworld while I’m unconscious.”
“I make no promises.”
I couldn’t tell if he was joking.
I retreated to my bedroom, closing the door and leaning against it. My heart was still racing, my hands still shaking. Through the door, I could hear the soft jingle of chains as he moved through my living room, exploring my space, judging my life by the trinkets and decorations I’d chosen.
My cat was huddled under the bed, a white, trembling mound of pure feline betrayal.
“It’s okay, baby,” I whispered, crouching down. “He’s just… very tall. And furry. And he has horns.” The list of Bastian’s alarming features did not seem to be having a calming effect. “But he’s bound by ancient magic to be here. So he can’t hurt you. Or me. Probably.”
Another shiver that was not entirely fear went down my spine. Ignoring it, I reached under the bed and stroked Jingle’s soft fur. After a moment, he stopped trembling and allowed a tentative purr to rumble in his chest. A small victory. I sat on the floor, leaning against the bed frame, and tried to process the events of the last hour.
This was real. This was actually happening. I’d summoned a Krampus, and he was going to spend the next ten days deciding if I deserved saving or condemnation. I looked at my bed, piled with festive throw pillows and draped with fairy lights, and wondered if I’d ever feel safe in my own home again.
Through the door came his voice, low and rumbling. “Your thoughts are loud, little human. Sleep. You will need your strength.”
“Can you hear my thoughts?” I called back, horrified.
“Only the loudest ones. The binding works both ways, remember.”
Great. Wonderful. I’d summoned a mind-reading Christmas demon.
I climbed into bed fully clothed, pulling the covers up to my chin. The fairy lights cast gentle shadows on the ceiling, and I focused on them, trying to calm my racing heart.
Tomorrow, I’d figure out how to deal with this. Tomorrow, I’d come up with a plan. Tomorrow, I’d prove to Bastian that I was worthy of the aid I’d asked for. Tonight, I just needed to survive until morning.
