There was a brief pause on the other end before Carnell answered, his voice calm but edged with steel. “Nobody has been through the gate in a week.”
My stomach twisted. “Then how?—?”
“He had to have used a coin,” Carnell said, cutting me off. “Back before Sharun was enlisted as a gatekeeper. It’s the only explanation.”
“Oh my god,” I murmured, staring at my friends with wide eyes. “She wasn’t lying.”
Nishi frowned, confused. “What?”
My grip tightened on the phone, and I glanced at the others. The pieces were starting to come together, but I wasn’t sure any of us were ready to face the picture they formed.
Eve tilted her head, her brow furrowing as she leaned against the desk. “What are you talking about?” she asked, her tone distinct but curious.
I glanced at her, then at the others, exhaling slowly. “Remember the conversation I had with Dagna?” I asked, my voice tight with irritation at having to explain this all over again. “She said she had demons on ice.”
Nishi snorted softly. “Right, because that sounded normal for someone to drop into a conversation casually.”
Eve’s frown deepened. “I believe you called it her demon Tupperware container.”
I shook my head. “I couldn’t be sure she wasn’t lying. But this?” I gestured toward the camera, and the situation unraveling around us. “This proves she’s not. She has demons stashed away somewhere, and she’s figured out how to keep them contained—until she needs them.”
Standing near the window with her arms crossed, Aurora turned toward me, her expression dark. “Then we need tofind her stash. If she’s sitting on a stockpile of demons, we can’t let her keep sending them out to do her dirty work.”
“Agreed,” I said, rubbing the back of my neck. “But first things first. We have to stop Krampus from ruining Christmas.” My gaze swept over the group, my voice hardening. “And I’d really like to do that before my son ends up in the middle of it.”
The room went quiet, the significance of what I’d just said sinking in. No one argued, and no one needed to. Whatever Dagna was up to could wait. Right now, Krampus was our priority, and I wasn’t about to let him drag Liam, or anyone else, into his twisted version of holiday justice.
Nishi leaned against the desk, arms crossed, her expression half thoughtful, half annoyed. “Where would an avenging demon with a hard-on for Christmas go?” she asked, the question dripping with her usual dry humor.
I still had Carnell on the line. He’d been silent so far, letting me process everything and relay the information to the others. Now, I shifted the phone closer to my mouth. “Carnell,” I said, “where would Krampus go? If he’s topside, what does he want?”
Carnell’s voice came through, calm and steady as always. “He’ll stick close to Christmas-themed places,” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Krampus is drawn to the holiday. It’s not just his reputation—it’s a compulsion. The closer he is to the symbols of Christmas, the more powerful he feels.”
“Well, that’s encouraging,” I muttered, rubbing my temples. “Not only is he a literal Christmas demon, but he’s also got anger issues.”
Eve glanced at me, her brow furrowed. “So, he could be hiding in plain sight? Like wearing a hoodie and blending with the mundanes? Lots of them wear scarves around their mouths.”
I nodded, feeling the tension building. “Yeah. If he’s grabbed some clothing off a victim, he could blend in just about anywhere.”
Carnell’s voice cut back in. “But he won’t stay small for long. The closer he is to his prey, the more likely he is to revert. He’s not subtle when it counts.”
“Fantastic,” Nishi said, throwing up her hands. “A Christmas-themed demon with impulse control problems. Just what we needed.”
I ignored her sarcasm, gripping the phone tighter. “Thanks, Carnell. We’ll keep you updated.”
“Be careful,” he said, his tone heavy with concern. “Krampus doesn’t play games.”
I kept the phone in front of me, pacing the small cabin as the others watched me. Their expressions were a mix of anticipation and frustration. “Does Krampus have any friends topside?” I asked Carnell, my voice low but firm. “Is there anywhere he could turn to for help?”
Carnell was quiet for a beat, and I could almost hear him rifling through his mental Rolodex of supernatural knowledge. Finally, he spoke, his voice level but certain. “No. He hasn’t been topside in hundreds of years. And even then, his last stay was brief. Krampus isn’t the kind to make allies, and anyone who might’ve worked with him before is long gone, or wouldn’t dare cross him.”
“So, he’s alone,” I said, though it didn’t feel like much of a win.
“For now,” Carnell confirmed. “But I’ll dig into the archives, see if anything else turns up. Keep investigating, and I’ll be in touch.”
Before I could respond, the line clicked dead. I lowered the phone and sighed, shoving it into my pocket as I turned to face the others.
“So…” Nishi grunted. “No leads.”
