“Krampus will punish you.”
“Not with birch rods, I hope?” I joke, but Louis doesn’t smile.
His father, however, does. “That depends on what Krampus decides you deserve.”
“Hmm,” I say, resisting the urge to roll my eyes. “And who will be playing the role of Krampus? You?”
His grin shifts into something sly. “No. Not me.” He steps back from his desk and claps his hands twice, so loud, it startles me. “It is time to sign our names,” he announces.
The rest of the family all form a line in front of the desk, including Louis. After a moment’s hesitation, I rise to follow, the last in the queue.
I remember seeing those names listed on the pages earlier, but I feign ignorance.
“Sign?” I whisper to Louis, since his father is occupied, leaning down to sign first.
Louis glances over his shoulder at me. “Everyone who’s playing has to write their name in the book.”
“Why?”
He hesitates, and then says, “Tradition.” Then he turns forward in a clear dismissal.
I bite the inside of my cheek. His father finishes signing and moves aside for the family matriarch to move into place. Next is Adrian, then Anna, then Louis. Finally, I step up to the desk. The room is painstakingly silent, anticipation thickening the air, so I resist the urge to speak. Surely they’ll explain more about the rules after this weird signing ritual.
Louis holds out the pen in offering. It’s heavier than I expect, and strangely warm. I’m the last one, so I feel the weight of the entire family’s eyes upon me as I look down at the yellow pages of the open book.
Karl Kohler
Theodora Kohler
Adrian Kohler
Louis Kohler
Anna Kohler
I look down at the pen in my hand and bite my lip. It’s probably silly, but this moment feels important, especially with everyone watching. Mine will be the only name on this page that isn’t a member of the family… yet. If I sign the book next year, I suppose it will beDiana Kohler.
But for now, I take the pen and write:
Diana Wilson
As I finish the swoop of the final letter, something pricks my finger. I gasp, letting the pen clatter onto the desk, and see that a wicked-looking, sharp protrusion has come out of the side of the writing implement. I must have activated some hidden mechanism, and it stabbed right into the pad of my pointer finger. A drop of blood wells up and falls onto the open page, right beside my name.
It soaks into the parchment and disappears. Like the bookdrankit.
I clutch my stinging finger to my chest and whirl to face the family. “Something just—” I start, stammering.
I’m certain it’s some kind of accident, until I see them all grinning at me. Even Louis is smiling, enjoying a cruel joke that I’ve been left out of. His father reaches over and claps Louis on the shoulder. Louis’s eyes brighten at the gesture of approval.
He’s not even looking at me. I’m standing here bleeding, being laughed at, and he’s more concerned about getting Daddy’s attention.
Heat creeps up the back of my neck and blooms in my face. My breath comes short and fast as anger climbs up in the inside of my throat, clawing for release.
“What the fuck?” I blurt out.
Thatgets Louis’s attention. He shoots me a look, not of concern, but of disapproval.Disdain. Beside him, his mother’s lips form a firm line of displeasure. Adrian is smirking at me, along with his wife clinging to his arm.
“Is this some kind of prank?” I ask, holding my still-bleeding finger. Goddamn, that hurts. And I’ve bled on my designer dress, which means I can’t return it after this trip like I planned.
