I nod. “Blase said something like that.”
“Most krampuses now live in the modern world, and they prize order and goodness, and try to find careers where they can eradicate those in need of punishment in legal ways, or to correct the ‘naughty’ before they become adults. An astounding number of krampuses work in education, social services, and law enforcement, apparently.” Mr. Minegold smiles and reaches out to gently pat my hand. “You can correct with love and guidance. With your gentle nature, Imogene, I could see you being a loving, nurturing mother or teacher. Children would aspire to be goodaround you, to earn your approval and praise. A stern look from you would rebuke them better than any whips or chains.”
“So, Blase was in one of these extremist sects. Why was he here?” Artie demands, scooting me closer to him on the couch.
“Krampusnacht is becoming popular around the world, but it is all in revelry. People are in costumes, dressing up, shaking bells, dancing... These purists despise that. They send members to areas where there are big Krampusnacht festivities to wreak havoc and take captives, to find and bed women to make morebeschämtenmannskind. That translates to ‘shamed-man’s child.’ What’s more, the women who fall victim to this seduction and subsequent shame begin to go mad. The only cure? To be taken in by the krampus who bedded her and serve him. They increase their ranks in this way.”
“But why do they even need humans?” I whisper. “They don’t like them.”
“Because most krampuses refuse to have anything to do with these bastards any longer,” Mr. Wymark pipes up. “Without some humans in the mix, this sect will die out. And since most people wouldn’t willingly enter into a partnership with a creature who hates their kind, trickery is used.”
“Trickery and the krampus’s peculiar power. You might wonder why, in this day of airline travel and oblivious humans, a krampus would arrive in New York weeks ahead of Krampusnacht.”
“It’s expensive to fly without a reservation?” Artie hazards. “No, no. I guess since it’s the same night every year, they could make reservations months in advance.”
“Hunting their prey. Once a krampus chooses a child or human adult as a target, he can always find them. It’s like the homing instinct certain birds and animals have, a sick formof imprinting mixed with an uncanny ability to find whoever they’ve chosen as prey.”
I shiver, but Tessa’s jaw drops open. “What?”
Mr. Minegold nods. “Your wards did an amazing job keeping him at bay for days, Tessa. But as Krampusnacht approaches, the wards grow weaker, and they were already set to allow half-krampuses in. A very strong krampus with magical access to Imogene, combined with the closeness of the day... He was probably just waiting for the wards on the house to weaken when someone went in or out to make his move.”
“It is my fault! I never should have left the house!” Artie wails.
“Babe, we were all going out together,” I point out, jiggling Laurel on my knee.
“And he would have fought you inside or outside, as soon as he had the chance. Don’t blame yourself, Arthur. And Tess, you are not to blame, either. If you had directly placed wards or binding spells on Blase himself, it would have worked—and that’s why he remained hidden until he was ready to strike. And now that we know more about how krampuses who still cling to the old, evil ways act, we can offer different protections, can we not?”
Tessa thinks, then snaps her fingers. “Untraceable Charms. Binding the inner eye of the hunter and proactively putting untraceable charms on people that could be prey will help. Well. I guess the coven will be working overtime this holiday season—just in case.”
“Just in case. But, Hugo—that is, Hilda’s son—says this sect is of concern to other krampuses. Modernized ones try to reason and reach with education and empathy, understanding how the youngsters have been taught to think. More leave the sect than join it. He believes that in a few years, there will only be a dozen small family groups left, and it will dwindle from there.It is something they are actively working on there—and that is another reason why they are sending members abroad weeks in advance. For the best chance of mating and scouting.”
Artie and I exchange a look, and I wonder if he’s thinking what I’m thinking. Some krampus was in New York last year, probably early for scouting. Found some woman. Made a baby. Drove her mad.
Like my mother.
My mother went off to live in one of these sects... Or maybe she threw herself into the sea, or off some Alpine mountain. She was chosen as prey... Maybe because she was willing to have a fling. Be a party girl? Maybe her “demon lover” considered her bad and punishable because she was cheating on Barton. Her husband.
I hold Laurel close to my heart and wonder why she was chosen as prey. I wonder if Laurel’s birth mother is safe. If she went willingly. Or if she knew what she was getting into, if she loved her krampus lover, if they ran off together to escape the sect. Maybe they thought Laurel would slow them down, or allow other krampuses to track them. Maybe they wanted her to grow up happy and safe in a community that was safe for monsters and half-monsters, and they left her behind to give her a better life, one where she wouldn't be hunted or always running.
I’ll hope for that.
My mind goes back to my mother. I know her story wasn’t a happy one. I bet she was giddy with the idea of freedom from the frozen wasteland of Eagle Arch, of being out of Barton’s scowling shadow, of being back home with her family for the holidays, and then some big strapping hunk came up to her...
Blase was so handsome and charming. At first.
I look at Artie again. He’s cute. Right now, he’s got stubble, his bangs are a half-combed disaster, and his glassesare crooked. I think he’s gorgeous. Would other women immediately think he’s sexy? Probably not. If monsters aren’t obvious to most humans, they probably would assume krampuses were big, hunky guys with great hair.
“The women don’t know they’re carrying a half-krampus until it’s already happened,” I say quietly. “Right?”
Mr. Minegold shrugs. “Since most humans overlook the supernatural, that’s probably true. They believe they’re having a night of passion with an attractive and charming man. Later on, they’re confronted with the supernatural nature of their partner and their child. It would drive the sanest person mad to suddenly realize they’re bound to something they didn’t believe was real, locked in a magical pact they didn’t agree to.” His eyes drift to Artie. “It takes a very special sort of person to see the truth in all things. And we see the truth in you, Imogene. You did your very best. You even tried to talk to him. To tell him that Pine Ridge was a place to start again.”
“Genesis told us,” Alban says softly. “You tried to give Blase a place to find forgiveness and make a new life. Lots of monsters come here for that. When he didn’t listen, you did what you had to do.”
“And it’ll never happen again now that we know how to fix it,” says Tessa, leaning forward, face tense, lip bitten between her teeth. “I know it’s no help for what already happened, but I... but I made you something.”
“What?”
Tessa reaches into her pocket and pulls out a compact. It’s plain black. I think it used to hold blush. Inside, there’s a mirror and a little metal dish with traces of rosy powder left inside. “Well, Blase is dead, and I can never undo what he put you through. But I know you escaped another bad situation once before. I’m glad you’re happy now with a husband who adores you and a baby who is your precious mini-me. Still—I know thatsomeone hurt you.” Tessa’s eyes sweep to my hair. To the horns that aren’t there.
