And then her mother began to choke, her eyes wide with horror.
“It’s okay, Mum,” Eliza said. “Sit, while I wake Dad up.”
She rushed to her father, holding the vial beneath his nose before the last of the vapors could escape.
Her dad flinched, blearily rising from the table. “What the hell is that you’ve got, Eliza?” He stopped as he looked from Tom to Shard. “Oh.”
“Dad?” Eliza’s mum glanced uncertainly at Tom. “You’re alive?”
Tom nodded. “I am. And may I say, seeing you is quite a tonic after all these years.”
Eliza’s mum stood, swaying as she crossed the kitchen and wrapped her arms around Tom. They held each other for a moment, until Eliza’s mum’s memory seemed to return and she pulled away. As she glanced at Shard, she swore, her eyes traveling from his face to the bow at his shoulder and the sword by his side.
“It’s okay, Mum,” Eliza said. “This is my friend, Shard, and he saved my life. And in a way, he saved yours, too. Now, I’m going to make some tea and we’re all going to sit down, and then… then I’m going to tell you a story.”
THE END
A Preview of Krampus and The Thief of Christmas by Eldritch Black
Krampus and The Thief of Christmas
Chapter One
* * *
The man in the long red robe stood by the window as storm clouds rose from the south and a shadow fell across the land. He watched as the gathering darkness swallowed the crescent moon and extinguished the twinkling star. "It will be tonight then," he said. Black silhouettes dashed across the distant snowy landscape, like letters inked upon paper. They vanished beneath the city gates, then reappeared as they wound through the empty streets.
His spirits dropped and the room grew cold, despite the roaring fire blazing in the hearth. He jumped as someone rapped upon the door.
Eldos Stark, his faithful elven servant entered, a flicker of disgust upon his usually stony face. "You have visitors, m'lord."
"Show them in."
"Are you certain?" Stark raised a coppery eyebrow. "They're trolls."
"Trolls or not, please show them in." For nothing will stop them from entering, if that is their will.
Three grizzly wizened figures pushed past Stark, their dark garb leeching the color from the elf's bright green and red livery. Stark turned on his heels and retired to his quarters.
"Good eventide old Father Christmas," one of the trolls said, his black eyes narrowing below his wild, bushy eyebrows. He ran a grimy finger through his long beard and a slow, unpleasant sneer creased his face. "The master awaits you upon the hill near the border."
"Very well. I'll make my way there."
The trolls continued to stare in silence.
"Fine," Father Christmas said. "I'll travel with you, if that is your will."
The trolls gave a sharp nod and turned. Their long pointed shoes clacked and thumped down the stone steps as he followed.
A mighty black sled harnessed with a team of six wolves waited just outside the palace door. Their fur was the color of charcoal and sleet, their eyes flashes of green. Father Christmas climbed aboard and wedged himself on the seat beside two of the trolls. The third sat cross legged upon a pile of furs and seized the reins.
They travelled in silence through the city and out the gate, crossing the snowy wastes toward the great forest.
Father Christmas shivered as they passed beneath the trees. The lands had never looked so dark or so fearsome as they did upon this freezing, bitter night.
The wolves raced across the frozen lake and up the tall snowy hill that stood on the border between the land of Christmas and the black lands beyond. A giant pine tree rose from the crest and he saw Krampus leaning back against its trunk. He wore a long sleek black coat and his bright yellow-orange eyes gleamed below the dark silhouette of his horns. Krampus gave Father Christmas a fox-like grin. "You missed our last meeting." His voice was low yet gruff. "And the one before that."
"I was preoccupied."
Krampus nodded. "I see you've been living the good life. You've certainly grown in width since we last met. But your tailor has done a wonderful job of tucking most of it away." Krampus stroked the tip of his long goatee beard. "So you built your machine then."
"Indeed. It's been bliss. My elves and I only have to put in a few nights worth of work now. When I think back on how we used to toil away for months on end…. Well, let’s just say, we've come to appreciate the same extended break you yourself enjoy for the better part of the year."
Krampus's smile widened, revealing his long, curved teeth. "Does it still irk you that my role only requires a performance on one evening of the year? I'd work every single night if it were up to me. Because unlike you, I relish my responsibilities."
"If only we could have swapped places," Father Christmas said.
"Quite. I'd sell my ancestor's teeth for the reputation you enjoy. Hardly a soul knows who I am, and those who do are terrified. I'm as reviled as you are loved."
Father Christmas gave a short, bitter laugh. "I may well be known, but there's plenty who don't even believe I exist. I'm lampooned, made into a caricature, my identity assumed by countless imposters. Would you settle for that?"
"Perhaps," Krampus said. "But I didn't summon you here for this."
"So there's no time for idle conversation and friendship?"
Krampus's smile faded. "I want my gold. Every single gram. A year and a day has passed. You promised I'd have it back within six moons, when you borrowed it to build that machine. It's given you the easy life you dreamed of, as made evident by the girth of your belly, but now it's time for you to repay me."
"I...I can't. Not tonight. Give me more time and I'll have your gold. And more still. I'll-"
Krampus's tail lashed the tree trunk and a long claw caught the moonlight as he held up a single finger. "I've given you more than enough time. A deal is a deal."
"I'm sorry." Father Christmas felt his face flush. "I don't have the means to pay you. Not right now."
"Then when?" Krampus's purred but a hard edge crept into his voice.
Father Christmas shrugged. "Don't worry, everything will be well. I'll work night and day-"
"Time has run out." Krampus loomed over him. "If you can't pay me now, then we'll have to leave it for chance to decide." He pulled a deck of cards from his pocket. "We'll play a simple game. We will each cut the deck and whoever holds the highest card will win."
"Win what?" A sinking feeling passed through Father Christmas.
"If you win you can keep my gold without any further complaint or demand. But if I win, you hand me the key to Christmas."
"But it's not mine to give."
"And neither is my gold yours to keep," Krampus growled. "Now play the game, allow chance to decide. The deck is stacked in your favor, luck favors the good and noble, and I'm neither of those things."
"And if I refuse?"
"Then by the rock and the stone, I'll have my trolls throw you into the darkest pit beneath my mountain. And there you'll fester until I gather the goodwill to release you."
"I see," Father Christmas said. The hill and the dark lands surrounding it were making him feel very small indeed. Small and vulnerable. He averted his gaze as the trolls glared down at him, their eyes as hard as flint. "Let's play then." Father Christmas said.
Krampus nodded and held up his deck of cards while lightning lashed the clouds and thunder rumbled across the lands.
No matter what her uncle said, Gabrielle Greene was certain she'd heard wolves. She gazed through the flurries of snow that fell like soft curled feathers, toward the distant wooded hills and mountains. An icy wind screeched from the east and with it came another chorus of howls.
She glanced to the jagged mountains, and imagined the beasts descending, lean and grey, with slathering tongues and wicked-cruel teeth. She wished she could howl back, to tell them to keep away from her and Percival. To warn them that even though
she lacked claws and fangs, if they threatened her or her brother, she'd tear them apart.
But if they wished to devour her cousin Matilda, she was fine with that.
"Mind out little girl." A man in a long coat bustled past Gabrielle and hurried into a bright snug shop.
"I'm not a little girl," Gabrielle called out. "But you're definitely an idiot." She muttered as she swiped a snow flake from the tip of her nose. It seemed like it had been snowing from the moment they'd arrived, and even though they had only been in this town for a few weeks, it felt like years. "Is it ever going to stop?" she asked, half expecting her brother to chime in.
I wish we were anywhere but here. Gabrielle had lost count of the times she'd made that wish. She was completely sick of this strange, creepy place.
A din of rattling chains broke her thoughts. It was time to go home.
Gabrielle glanced at the bookshop, expecting to find Percival with his nose pressed against its window, but there was no sign of him. "Percival?" She checked the shops. He wasn't in any of them. "How many times have I told you about wandering off?" she whispered, as she scoured the snow for his footprints.
A cry rang out, and then it was gone. It came again, blown along with the wind as it whistled down a nearby street. Gabrielle glanced at the street sign with its odd, foreign words, and she knew exactly where Percival had gone.
She ran down the narrow lane, passing coffee shops, chocolatiers, bars and boutiques. Then she spotted Percival, standing near the toy shop window. Two older kids loomed over him and one tugged at his satchel.
"Get off!" Percival cried.
The boy let go of the strap, sending Percival flying against the window. He struck it with a dull thud. Their laughter grew shrill as Percival fell, and lay crumpled in the snow. Percival held his hand up as the boy leaped towards him. The boy drew back his fist but froze as he spotted Gabrielle thundering along the street towards him. "Leave him alone!" she growled.
The boys watched her from below their hoods, their expressions sullen. But when she stepped into the light of the shop window, they turned and fled.
"Are you okay, Perce?" Gabrielle helped him to his feet.
He nodded, his face either red from the struggle, or from embarrassment. Or both. He wiped his mousy-brown hair from his eyes. "I'm fine."
The boys stood at the end of the narrow street, watching. Then one of them leaned down and moments later a snow ball hurtled towards her. Gabrielle sidestepped. It landed upon the ground with a soft thump and broke apart like a lump of confetti. "Halfwit." Gabrielle's breath billowed from her mouth like dragon smoke as she whisked the snow from Percy's sleeve. She just wanted to get home and take her wet socks off. But the boys were now compacting snow into balls of ice in their padded gloves, and she knew they wouldn't stop. Not until she confronted them and provided proof of her monstrous reputation. "Go home, Percival. Don't dawdle."
"Ignore them."
"I can't." She stood her ground as another snowball whizzed past her head. Gabrielle waited for the next to fall at her feet, before running straight at them. They fled, their boots better suited to the icy ground than hers, their jackets buffering them against the screeching wind. Unlike Gabrielle's limp, ragged coat and her hand-me-down shoes. She pulled her scarf over her mouth and sprinted down the lane, the falling snow glistening around her like static on an old television screen.
The boys ducked around a corner at the end of the street. Gabrielle followed just in time to see them vanish down a gloomy alleyway. She slowed as she reached it, half expecting them to leap out and pelt her with ice-balls. Because that was what she would have done if the tables were turned.
The alley was empty.
Gabrielle ran past the dark doorways and frosted windows. Their mocking laughter seemed further away now. She emerged into a lane of closed shops, their interiors filled with formless shapes and restless shadows. It was an eerie place and her fury began to wane. She turned back and tramped through the snow, eager to be back among the warm glow of the street lights.
Percival was gone by the time Gabrielle reached the toy shop and his footprints, with the distinctive star-shaped tread in the heels, led toward the market place. There was still a small circle of condensation on the shop window where he had stood and Gabrielle could see the ornate ship-in-a-bottle he'd been obsessing over since they'd first arrived. Why it sparked his imagination, she had no idea, but it did. She'd lost count of how many times he'd mentioned its intricate sails, and the tiny wooden captain and sailors. And how he suspected they'd sail away if they were ever free of the bottle. And how they most likely came alive at midnight and plotted their escape to distant shores filled with treasure and glory.
Gabrielle checked the tag to see if the price had been reduced. It hadn't, but the fact the ship was still there meant she still had a chance to earn enough to buy it before Christmas.
She walked toward the high street, smiling as she imagined the look on Percival's face when he unwrapped it on Christmas morning. "Hey!" Gabrielle jumped back as a passing car splattered her with wet icy slush.
The market square was busy with tired-eyed locals and bright faced tourists, their cheeks rosy from either the cold winter weather or their own festive gluttony.
"Hey!"
Gabrielle turned to find a tall, fidgety looking boy approaching her. His hair appeared grey in the darkness below his hood. "Gabrielle Greene, right?" He used the same broken English as the other locals.
"I might be. Why?"
As he inclined his head, the shadows from his hood crept over his eyes. "I heard you can make problems go away. Is that right?" He stopped talking as a stream of people and a blast of jazz music spilled out from a nearby coffee shop.
"Not here," Gabrielle said. "Meet me at the library tomorrow. Eleven o'clock. Bring money."
"Right." The boy loped away.
A rush of excitement prickled through Gabrielle. Word was still spreading, just as she'd hoped it would. She could still remember the first kid who had approached her when she'd first arrived in the city. A pudgy faced girl who had asked Gabrielle where she was from. And how her eyes had gleamed when Gabrielle had told her. At first Gabrielle had been flattered by the girl's interest. Until it became clear that the only thing she required from Gabrielle was for her to take the blame for a spree of thefts from the chocolatiers. In return Gabrielle received a payment. A very generous payment.
There had been no reason she could think of not to take it. It wasn't as if she'd be staying in town for very long, and she could always do with money. But that had only been the start of her strange new venture and soon it seemed as if all the kids in the city needed someone to take the blame for their wrongdoings.
Gabrielle crossed the road. She was startled as a high pitched scream came from the market square. Within moments the scream became laughter.
A crowd of tourists surged through the market. Many clutched decorated cups, some in the shape of long red socks or scarlet and green striped canes. The scents of cinnamon, candied fruits, mulled wine and fried sausages laced the air. Gleaming festive baubles and tinsel hung from the stalls and glistened in the evening light. There were all manner of handmade goods on sale; blown glass stars, carved wooden nutcrackers, waxy scented candles and glittery holiday cards. Garlands and Christmas lights were strung up everywhere, twinkling silver, white, gold and red. Streams of voices rose around Gabrielle, tourists, shoppers, and vendors cajoling and barking for attention.
She hurried on, eager to get to the other side of the market, but as she passed by a carousel of painted horses, she froze as something sprang from the gloom.
The creature towered over her, horns jutting from its long, furry head. Fiery red eyes stared down from above its long wolfish snout. The beast brandished a clutch of birch sticks as its tail sloshed through the snow.
It roared and bore down upon her, cackling as its claws reached for her face.
________________________________
Krampus and The Thief of Christmas is available at all good booksellers.
Afterword
Thank you so much for reading The Book of Kindly Deaths! I hope you enjoyed this dark and monstrous tale as much as I enjoyed writing it.
It would mean the world to me, and Eliza, if you could take a moment to leave a quick review. Even a sentence or two would be hugely appreciated!
All the best,
Eldritch
Also by Eldritch Black
Krampus and The Thief of Christmas
* * *
Short Stories
One Dark Hallow’s Eve
The Curious Incident at Gloamingspark Yard
The Ghosts of the Tattered Crow
Three Curses for Trixie Moon
The Festival of Bad Tidings
About the Author
Eldritch Black is an author of dark tales of gothic dread and fantastical horror. The Book of Kindly Deaths is his first novel, and he's also written a number of short stories. Born in London, England, Eldritch now lives in the woods on a small island near Seattle. When he's not writing, Eldritch enjoys collecting ghosts, forgotten secrets and lost dreams.
www.eldritchblack.com
[email protected]
The Book of Kindly Deaths Page 25