Page 20 of Never Kiss a Krampus
“You don’t know me,” I whispered.
“The binding ensures that I do. I know you better than you know yourself, little human. I know that you undercharged Mr. Bumble because you know his daughter is sick and medical bills are mounting. I know you spent time helping Mrs. Taylor with her coat because she mentioned her arthritis and you worried she might struggle. I know you give away candy canes because a child’s smile makes you feel like you are doing something meaningful in a world that often feels meaningless.”
Each word made me wince. He did know. The binding had given him access to my thoughts, my motivations, my desperate need to matter.
“You cannot save your shop by bankrupting yourself emotionally and financially,” he continued. “You cannot pour from an empty cup.”
“So what do I do?” I slumped back down into the chair. “How do I balance it? How do I care without drowning?”
“That,” he said, “is what I intend to teach you.”
“By punishing me?”
“I have many ways of teaching.”
Which wasn’t exactly a no. My heart fluttered with a terrifying mixture of fear and something I absolutely refused to name. Silence filled the shop for a long moment, the twinkling lights casting shifting shadows across his face, making
“There is another matter,” he said, breaking the quiet. “Your antagonist. Grinchly.”
“What about him?”
“He is disrupting the balance of this town. He is creating despair, profiting from it. This is a transgression against the natural order.”
“He’s a businessman, not a demon.”
“Are you so certain?” He walked to the window, looking out at the dark street. The few shop lights that were on cast long shadows across the pavement. “The world is filled with those who take without giving. Those who thrive on others’ misery. I have met princes and paupers, gods and mortals. The face changes, but the nature remains.”
“He offered to buy the building.”
“At a price calculated to break your spirit. To make you feel like a failure. There is no generosity in that offer. Only acquisition.” He turned back to me, and the fire in his eyes seemed to burn brighter. “This will be your task. You will defeat him.”
My jaw dropped. “What? How? I can’t even pay my electric bill, and you want me to take down a predatory developer?”
“You will find a way.” He walked back to the armchair and placed one massive hand on the back, right above my head. “You want my help? You want the aid you called for? Then you will prove your worth. You will save this shop. You will save this street. You will show me that your spirit is not just a flicker, but a fire.”
“You’re insane.”
“I am ancient,” he corrected. “There is a difference.”
I sat there, trapped by the weight of his presence and the impossible demand he’d just made. How was I supposed to defeat Mr. Grinchly? I couldn’t even defeat my own mounting pile of bills. I sighed and rose to my feet.
“Can I at least have dinner first?”
“You may. Though I have notes about your nutritional choices as well. Peppermint schnapps is not a meal.”
“It was one time!”
“It was the night you summoned me. First impressions matter.”
I shook my head, trying not to smile and failing. “You’re going to be impossible, aren’t you?”
“Undoubtedly.” He moved towards the stairs leading back to my apartment. “Come. You will cook something that contains actual sustenance, and I will begin your lessons.”
The way his voice dropped on the last word made my stomach flutter again as I followed him upstairs and into my apartment, absently noticing that he hadn’t required a key to open the door. The fairy lights twinkled, casting a warm glow over my overstuffed furniture and chaotic collection of Christmas-themed everything. It should have felt cozy and safe. With him in it, it felt charged, like the air before a lightning strike.
Jingle Bells took one look at him, let out a pathetic meow, and retreated under the bed again. Smart cat.
“Your kitchen is an abomination,” Bastian announced, surveying the small space with the same critical eye he used on my shop.
