Page 75 of Never Kiss a Krampus
I took a deep breath, aimed the heavy brass candlestick, and threw. It wasn’t a good throw. It was more of a panicked, lobbed pass. But it was enough. The candlestick flew through the air and hit the doorframe with a loud clang. The bells erupted into a frantic, chaotic jangle, a shock of pure sound in the suffocating silence.
Grinchly froze, spinning around with a panicked look on his face. He fumbled with the snow globe, nearly dropping it. “Who’s there?”
The bells kept ringing, a wild, joyful noise that seemed to push back against the oppressive cold. The lights on the tree flickered, fighting to stay alive. For a second, the vibrant colors returned.
Taking advantage of his confusion, I scrambled down the stairs, my bare feet slapping against the wooden steps. I hit the last step and sprinted towards him.
He saw me, and his eyes widened in shock. “You! What are you doing here?”
“That’s my line,” I shot back, grabbing the empty wooden box from the counter. “What are you doing with that thing?”
He clutched the snow globe protectively to his chest. “This is none of your concern. You should be in bed.”
“Not when there’s a soul-sucking parasite being planted in my family’s shop!” I made a grab for the globe, but he twisted away, his face a mask of fury.
“Foolish girl! You don’t understand what you’re dealing with.”
“Oh, I think I do,” I said, circling him, trying to find an opening. “I know it’s been feeding on this town. Feeding on our hope. And I know you’ve been helping it.”
He let out a harsh, ugly laugh. “Helping? I’m saving this town. It was dying long before I got here. I’m just… putting it out of its misery. And making a profit while I do it.”
He lunged for the door, but I was faster. I blocked his path, my heart hammering against my ribs. I was terrified, but I was also furious. This man had poisoned my home, my community, my season. I wasn’t letting him leave.
“You’re not going anywhere,” I said, my voice shaking but firm. “Not with that.”
He looked at me, then at the snow globe in his hands. A calculating, cruel smile spread across his face. “You want it so badly? Fine.”
Before I could react, he turned and hurled the snow globe with all his might.
It flew through the air in a slow, glittering arc, heading not for the door, but for the massive brick wall at the back of the shop.
“No!”
The crash was shattering. The glass exploded into a thousand glittering shards. The water inside, dark and murky, splashed across the floorboards. But the most horrifying part was the sound that came with it—a high, thin wail, like a ghost in pain, that seemed to suck all the warmth and light out of the room in a single, violent gasp.
The change was instantaneous.
The twinkling lights on my beautiful tree went dark. The cheerful reds and greens of the ornaments turned to the color of ash. The oppressive cold intensified, a physical weight that pressed down on my chest, making it hard to breathe. The little remaining light in the shop seemed to be draining away, pulled towards the spreading puddle of dark water and broken glass like a vortex.
I stumbled back, horrified. Grinchly had the same look of shock on his face. He hadn’t expected this. He’d meant to destroy the evidence, but he hadn’t realized what destroying the container would do.
“What have you done?” I whispered, my teeth chattering.
“I…” he stammered, taking an involuntary step back from the spreading darkness. “I don’t know.”
The dark water wasn’t just spreading; it was moving. It writhed on the floor, tendrils of shadow snaking out from the puddle, seeking something. The air grew colder still, the silence so profound it was ringing in my ears. The only sound was the faint, sorrowful wailing of the unleashed magic. Jingle Bells, peering from the top of the stairs, let out a low, terrified hiss and vanished.
This was it. The parasite Bastian had described, freed from its glass prison. And it was hungry.
Grinchly, finally realizing the danger, scrambled for the door. But it was too late. A tendril of shadow shot out from the puddle and wrapped around his ankle. He cried out, a thin, panicked sound, and fell hard.
I stood frozen, the brass candlestick a useless weight in my hand. I should run. I should lock myself in the apartment and wait forBastian. But I couldn’t. This was my shop. My home. And the darkness was swallowing it whole.
Think, Noelle, think. What would my grandmother do? She’d fight. She’d use the only weapon she had. Light.
My eyes fell on the switch for the shop’s spotlights, the ones that highlighted our most prized displays. They wouldn’t be enough. The darkness was too strong.
Then I remembered something else. Something ancient and bright.
