Page 1
Prologue
NIKOLAUS KRAMPUS
“You fuckers better not fuck up any of my shit.” My voice rumbles through my living room like thunder as I watch Kraken drip seawater on my Italian sofa. Fucking sea monsters. No fucking respect.
“Relax, Santa.” The Boogeyman’s voice slides out of the dark corner by my bookshelves like it’s been waiting there all night. Knowing him, it has. He’s sprawled on a couch, boots up on my coffee table. “In a bit, you’ll be too busy punishing naughty girls to care about furniture.”
I smirk. That’s the plan, motherfucker.
I’m facing the floor-to-ceiling windows, watching San Francisco’s lights twinkle below. My city. My night. Krampusnacht. Every year, my brothers show up to help me work through my list, and every year they drink my liquor and wreck my shit while they do it.
“Brother.” El Cuco’s voice sounds like a broken radio, never quite settling on one tone. Creepy bastard materializes from the shadows by the bar, already helping himself to my top-shelf shit. “How long is the list this year?”
“Longest it’s ever been.” I grin. “This city’s been very, very bad.”
The Oni grunts from where he’s squeezed himself into my biggest armchair. When he speaks, it’s the sound of pure gravel and war drums. “Good.” He cracks his knuckles, each pop sounding like breaking bones. “My beast is restless.”
“Your beast is always restless,” Tokoloshe chirps from his perch on the mahogany counter. His voice is deceptively high for someone who can rip out throats with his bare hands.
More of my brothers arrive. Wendigo ducks through the entryway, his antlers scraping the frame. His voice comes out like wind howling through dead trees. “Nik. Good to see you haven’t gone completely soft.”
“Fuck off.” I grin as I say it. My asshole brothers are the only ones who get it. The hunger. The need. The fucking curse.
“I’ve been starving all year,” Rakshasa growls, his voice a dark harmony of madness.
“Maybe you’re just too ugly to catch anything,” the Boogeyman suggests, examining his claws.
He scoffs. “Says the creep who lives under children’s beds.”
“Enough.” My voice cuts through their bullshit. “Everyone here?”
A chorus of grunts, growls, and otherworldly sounds confirms. We’re packed inside my penthouse like sardines. The smell of old magic, thick enough to choke on.
“Alright, brothers. You know the rules.” I push off from the window, dropping my human mask to reveal the shadows underneath. “Invitations went out to every name on my list. One night. Until sunrise. They get punished. They learn their lesson, and they go home with a story nobody will ever believe.”
“And if they run?” The Jersey Devil’s voice resonates, all screeching tires and flapping crow wings.
Every monster in the room grins, laughs, or makes whatever sound passes for amusement in their species.
“Then we chase,” we say in unison.
Some traditions never die.
I check my Patek Philippe… 11:30. “Pandemonium opens at midnight. The VIP section is ours. The humans think it’s a high-end Krampusnacht costume ball,” I remind them. “Pick whoever you want. Every name in that building is on my list.”
“Dibs on redheads,” Mothman rasps, sounding like whispers in the dark.
“You can’t call dibs on people, you fucking insect,” Oni rumbles.
“Technically, I’m an arachnid…”
“How do we know who’s the worst?” Tokoloshe cuts him.
“You’ll smell it.” I bare my teeth. “Guilt’s got a scent.”
“And how bad do we punish them, Santa?” The Boogeyman’s grin splits his face in the dark.
“As bad as they can take.” I straighten my shirt, letting my human disguise settle over my true form. “Then a little worse.”
