“Little Bettina with the pigtails and permanently sticky face?” Fred asked, incredulous.
“She’s now twenty-eight and a professional baker, she’s mostly taken over from Eadie.”
“Oh. Twenty-eight?”
Ryan laughed. “Yes, Fred. Contrary to what you might think, time doesn’t stand still in Pine Bluff.”
“And yet here we are, hiding from a pagan demon.”
As the last of the goblins blundered past, one of them stuck his furry head into the ginnel and looked about, causing Fred and Ryan to shrink further into the doorway. Thankfully, a screech out on the street alerted him to another victim on the run, and the goblin returned to the pack. Fred let out a sigh of relief.
“Come on, if we cut down Harbor Street and through the alleyways, we should be able to get to the Crooked Elm without being caught. There’re plenty of deep doorways we can hide in along the way,” said Ryan.
“I want to get back to the hotel,” she said, hearing the whiny baby in her voice.
“They won’t reopen the doors until midnight. So, you can either hide out here in the cold and the dark—and hope Krampus doesn’t find you—or you can let me treat my old friend to a mulled wine at the Crooked Elm.”
“Less of the old!” she said. Though she had to admit a glass of mulled wine sounded pretty good right now.
“Come on, live a little. Where’s that firecracker Fred we all knew and loved?”
“I killed her with my bad life choices.”
Ryan frowned at her. She bit her lip. He was right, shewouldn’t be allowed into the hotel until after midnight, and she didn’t fancy freezing her tits off in a drafty ginnel waiting to be kidnapped by a demonic sprite.
“Fine.” She tried her best to sound begrudging. “Where do you keep a wallet in that ensemble?”
He grinned at her and tapped the side of his nose.
2
The Crooked Elm was packedwith revelers, many jubilant at having outrun Krampus. Every few minutes another ruddy-faced runner burst through the door to cheers and back slaps and cold pints. Some had dressed for the occasion in sportswear, others were in fancy dress like Ryan. Fred wondered how the woman dressed as a Christmas pudding had managed to outrun Krampus. A man in a stiff starfish suit seemed to be regretting his life choices as he tried to reach the bar. Wodges of cash were passed between the winners and losers of bets, and sponsorship monies were collected. More notes were waved in the air as punters tried to catch the attention of the busy bar staff.
It was noisy and almost oppressively hot after being outside, but the mood was the kind of jolly that, if bottled, would surely taste of apple pie. A scruffy lurcher and a mastiff with jowls so droopy they seemed to melt along the flagstone floor were sprawled out together in front of the fire. Rows of horse brasses hooked to the uneven wallsglinted in the light from lamps so old they’d transcended being fashionable through to frumpish and would now be considered quaintly vintage. Pieces of ancient farming equipment were attached to the gnarled ceiling beams, nestled in with long garlands of dried hops; the taller patrons had to duck to avoid being clipped by a scythe or letting loose a shower of crisp yellowing flowers into their hair.
“Here we are,” said Ryan, pushing a hammered copper tankard of mulled wine across the beer-barrel table toward her. “Sorry it took so long.” He pulled out a stool opposite her. She’d managed to snag the last remaining table in the place.
“Thanks,” she said, picking up the tankard by its generous handle and holding it up toward him.
He smiled, lifting his own tankard and clinking it against hers. “Cheers!”
The wine was spicy and sweet with clementine and brown sugar. She had to admit that nowhere down south made mulled wine as good as the pubs in Pine Bluff.
“God, this takes me back,” she said, looking around the pub. “Remember how we used to sneak out to join Krampus Night when we were teenagers?”
“Yup. And the pubs would never serve us because we were underage. You know our parents knew what we were up to, don’t you?”
She laughed. “Yeah, Mum told me, a few years back. They had half the town looking out for us, to make sure we didn’t come to any harm.”
“We thought we were so hard, being out that late on a school night.”
“And the year we were allowed to dress up as Krampus elves, what were we, sixteen?”
“That was the best,” said Ryan. “You had a water bottle filled with booze from the aunts’ liquor cabinet.”
“It was the only way we were going to get hold of any alcohol.”
“It’s crazy to think one of my nephews is almost the same age as we were when we first started sneaking out.”
