So I ignore the anxious squirming in my gut and take a knee in the snow. I interlace my fingers and hold up my palms as a step for Louis. He touches my cheek with one hand—a brief thanks, I assume—before planting the heel of his boot in my palms.
I wince, arms trembling under his weight. The ice crusting the edges of his boots bites into my skin. But I hold steady as he lifts himself up. He shouts something I can’t hear in the storm, and then glass rains down on me. I duck my head to avoid getting it in my eyes, and his weight lurches off-kilter. But he clings to the wall, and I steady myself.
With a low grunt of effort, Louis lifts himself up and begins to squeeze through the window. I straighten up to watch as he wriggles through the gap. My heart seizes as he pauses halfway, and I wonder if he’s stuck, if it’s not big enough for him to fit. A moment later he yanks his jacket, tearing it free from the jagged edges of the broken glass, and tumbles through. Inside to safety.
Yes.
A moment later his face appears in the window, and he extends a hand to me. I blink away relieved tears that sting my cheeks, reaching up toward him. But just as our fingers brush, his eyes slide away from me. The relief melts off his face, replaced by slack terror.
I follow his gaze and see a pair of red eyes approaching through the storm. Mountainous shoulders brace against the wind. The monster moves slowly but steadily, goatlike hooves confident and sure on the icy slope.
It’s here.Heis here, and his red eyes are locked on me.
Krampus.
“Louis, pull me up,” I scream, stretching out on my tiptoes to reach for him. But his hand recoils.
“There’s no time,” he shouts.
I shriek a wordless sound of rage and fear and protest.
“Run,” he says. “You have to run! I’ll open the back door!”
And then his face disappears from the window, leaving me here with this thing.
The betrayal hollows out my chest. But my anger is not powerful enough to stand up to the fear sinking its teeth into me as I turn and face the huge creature again. Through the howling storm, I hear heavy metallic clanking. He steps closer, and I see the chains wrapped around one of his fists, dragging through the snow behind him.
I scream, stumbling backward. I turn to face the path ahead, to do as Louis told me and find the back door to the house, but one of my boots slips.
The edge of the cliff gives out beneath my heel. My fingertips scrape the side of the building. My stomach bottoms out.
And I tumble backward, down the icy slope.
Chapter
Seven
For one moment, I am free-falling.
Then I hit the ground. Snow cushions my fall, and the way I tumble takes some of the bruising impact, so it doesn’t hurt as much as I expect. But I keep falling, rolling and sliding, my vision a dizzying spin of gray sky and white ground. Frozen branches whip me. The air rushes out of my lungs. I’m moving too fast to stop myself, so I duck my head, cover my face, and hope.
I roll—faster, faster, terrifyingly fast, out of control. More frightening than the fall is what will wait for me at the end. The sharp drop of a cliff? Frozen trees impaling me? Or a swift end in a pile of rocks?
The fall seems to go on forever. But gradually, I realize, I am losing speed instead of gaining it. I slow… slow… and stop, face down in a snowdrift.
For a moment I lie there, frozen and battered. I suck in one painful, shallow breath, and then another. My body is too numb to tell if I’m hurt. But as I gingerly push off the ground and lift myself onto my knees, I look down at myself and don’t see any blood. I flex my fingers, touch my ribs, feel my face. Nothing is obviously broken.
The slope wasn’t as bad as it appeared. More of a hillside than a cliff. But as I glance over my shoulder, I realize that wasn’t what I should’ve feared.
Krampus is heading down the hill.Leaping,really, powerful legs and sure-footed hooves finding rocks and outcroppings that my flailing body missed on the way down. He is coming toward me, and he is comingfast.
My head whips the other way as I lurch to my feet. The edge of the forest is nearby, thick clusters of snow-dusted conifers offering shelter and a potential place to hide. I step forward—and instantly my boot sinks. I grit my teeth and push forward. I am already aching and cold and tired, but I refuse to sit and wait for death to come for me.
I refuse to die here. I refuse to let Louis and his family get away with whatever fucked-up game they’re playing here.
The snow isn’t as deep once I reach the cover of the trees, but the undergrowth hinders me even more. I stumble, branches whipping at my face and roots tangling up my feet, like they’re intentionally slowing me down. Trying to catch me, trap me, truss me up as a nice meal for that fucking thing that’s following me. I hear the crash as the monster reaches the edge of the forest, branches snapping as it plows straight through. I run faster. As fast as I can, cold air burning my lungs as I gulp it down.
Then my boot catches on the edge of a rock. I swear as I stumble, and face-plant in the snow. I scramble to push myself up and dare a glance over my shoulder.
