Page 73 of Never Kiss a Krampus
CHAPTER 23
Panic, cold and sharp, lanced through me at the thought of what Bastian’s permanent solution might entail.
“No. Absolutely not. We are not unleashing ancient winter justice on a sleazy real estate developer. This is not a fairy tale.”
“Then what is the alternative?” he countered, a new frustration in his tone. “We have confirmed he is involved. We know he is trying to crush this town. We are sitting here, while the binding itself screams for action, doing nothing.”
“We are not doing nothing! We’re fighting back with joy! With the Good Deeds Extravaganza! With a community tree!” I stood up, wrapping the comforter around me like a shield. “Your way isn’t the only way.”
“But it is my way,” he said, rising to his full, imposing height. He was fully himself now—all horns and fur and dangerous intent. “It is the very essence of my being. To deny it is to deny myself.”
“And to embrace it is to lose yourself!” I shot back, my voice shaking. “You told me. Unmade. Is that what you want? To unravel because of a greedy man in a cheap suit?”
“It is not about what I want!” he roared, the sound cracking like thunder in the small apartment. The lights in the tree flickered violently. The windowpanes rattled in their frames. The cat, who had just rejoined us, shot under the couch with a yowl of pure terror.
The power in the room was terrifying. Not just the volume, but the ancient, elemental force behind it. For a second, I saw him not as Bastian, the grumpy, surprisingly tender being I was falling for, but as a Krampus. The punisher. The harbinger of winter’s reckoning.
He saw the fear in my eyes. He had to. And the fire in his own died as quickly as it had ignited. The rattling stopped. The lights stabilized. He slumped, the sheer effort of regaining control visible in every line of his body.
“I am sorry,” he whispered, the words heavy with exhaustion. “The binding… it is strong.”
I took a hesitant step towards him, my anger replaced by a wave of fierce, protective pity. “It’s not just the binding, is it? It’s you. You want to go after him.”
“Yes,” he admitted, not looking at me. “Every instinct I possess screams for it. He is a parasite, feeding on the light of this town. My purpose is to excise such parasites.”
“But you’re fighting it.”
“Because the alternative is… unacceptable.” He finally met my gaze, and the raw turmoil in his eyes made my chest ache. “Iam fighting myself, Noelle. A battle I have never had to wage before.”
“Then we’ll be a two-person army,” I said, closing the distance between us and taking his massive, clawed hand in mine. It was cool to the touch, but it immediately warmed under my palm. “You fight your nature, and I’ll fight you. We’ll balance each other out.”
A flicker of something akin to hope crossed his face, so fleeting I might have imagined it. “A fool’s hope.”
“It’s the only kind I have,” I said with a shrug. “And so far, it’s working pretty well.”
I let go of his hand and went to the window, peering out at the snow-covered street. The town was quiet, dark, and fragile.
“What if,” I said, thinking aloud, “you could follow the trail? But not for punishment. Just for information. Reconnaissance.”
His ears perked up, a subtle but clear sign of interest. “To what end?”
“To find proof. Not magical residue, but something tangible. Something we could use against him without resorting to… well, that.” I gestured vaguely at the air, which still felt electric with his spent power.
“Your human laws are… inefficient.”
“Maybe. But they’re safer. For you.” I turned back to him, my expression earnest. “Please, Bastian. Try it my way. Just for tonight.”
He watched me for a long, silent moment, the internal debate visible in the tense set of his shoulders. The binding, I imagined,was screaming at him. A primal roar for action. But he was fighting it. For me.
Finally, he gave a curt, reluctant nod. “Information. Only.”
Relief washed over me, so potent my knees felt weak. “Okay. Good. What do you need me to do?”
“Nothing,” he said, already moving towards the door. “This is not a task for mortals. You need to be here. To be a point of… stability. An anchor for me while I am on those pathways.”
The thought of him venturing into some unseen magical realm while I waited, helpless, sent a fresh wave of anxiety through me. “An anchor? What happens if the anchor fails?”
“Don’t fail,” he said, his tone grim. He paused at the top of the stairs, turning back to me. The apartment lights cast long shadows behind him, making him seem even larger, more formidable. “Lock the door. Do not let anyone in. Especially not Grinchly.”
