“Ugly,” Nicholas murmured. “I can see the resemblance to the Perchten.”
Behind the Krampus, eight more creatures appeared. Tall, bulky, with massive shoulders and sharply curled horns, they had bulls’ heads set on human torsos. “Torc Tarbh,” Nicholas said. “The Turon are were-bulls.”
“They were, once,” I agreed. “But no longer. Look at their eyes.”
Nicholas squinted and then gasped in horror. “They haven’t got any.” He took a step forward, and I grabbed his sleeve. “I think they’re dead.”
“Dead, but kept alive and moving by some foul sorcery. How is your math now?”
“Eight Turon, eight Perchten, plus Frau Perchta and the Krampus. That’s eighteen, by my count.”
“And we have four Torc Fianna, one immortal human, one Alchemyst, and a Sorceress.”
Nicholas grimaced. “The odds are not in our favor.”
I reached into my coat and pulled out my whip. The long thong hissed like a serpent as it curled onto the cold ground.
Frau Perchta stepped forward, and the Krampus lumbered up behind her. He pulled at the chain around his waist, gathering it up, starting to spin the loose end. The old woman pointed a black-nailed finger at Nick. “Two hundred years ago, I told you that Christmas belonged to me. But you would not listen. You said Christmas should be a time of happiness and joy….” She almost spat the words. “I reminded you that December belonged to the darkness and that we, the creatures of the shadow, were its rightful rulers.”
Nick pushed between Nicholas and me. “This is a time of celebration. Midwinter has come, and now the world turns toward longer days and toward the light!” he yelled back to her.
Frau Perchta limped forward, and the Krampus followed her. Behind them, the sixteen monsters shuffled into place, enclosing us in a half circle.
“You insisted on creating your own legend, promoting yourself, imprinting yourself on people’s memories and consciousness. Once we ruled Midwinter; now no one remembers us. Well, tonight, that changes. This time next year, the entire world will know our names and worship us. Tonight we kill Santa Claus and return December to its rightful owners.”
13
A spear bit into the grass not two feet in front of us. Two of the Torc Fianna fired their bows, and the nearest Perchten and Turon were hit with long feathered arrows. It had no effect on them.
“Killing the dead has always been tricky,” Nicholas muttered.
“We can take out the monsters, I think. One of the elemental magics: fire, perhaps?” I suggested.
“They are dead. They will be upon us before the fire can consume them,” Nicholas said. “And we’re up against at least one Elder. I have no idea what the Krampus is.”
Nick leaned forward and put his hands on our shoulders. “I am desperately sorry I involved you in this.” He sounded genuinely upset. “I didn’t even know you were in New York until the hook-handed man told me.”
I looked at Nicholas at precisely the same moment he looked at me. “Why did Marethyu embroil us in this misadventure?” Nicholas wondered. “There must have been others in the city he could have called upon.”
“He specifically told me to find you,” Nick said. “Even gave me your address. Find the Alchemyst, Nicholas Flamel, and the Sorceress, Perenelle.”
Frau Perchta and the Krampus edged ever closer. “It is unfortunate that you two are here!” she called, her little-girl voice cracking with excitement. “Well, unfortunate for you. A tasty snack for us.”
“Marethyu never does anything without a reason,” I reminded Nick.
“Tonight you too will die beneath this silly metal statue. You’ll not die in vain; we will have an early Christmas feast.”
We both looked up. “Liberty Enlightening the World,” Nicholas muttered. “A copper statue.”
And I heard it then. That sound I had come to know and love. The excitement in my husband’s voice when he’d discovered something exciting. He turned to me, colorless eyes tinted vaguely green in the reflection from the statue. “Madame Perenelle, I am in need of your aura.”
Without hesitation I put my hand in his and allowed my ice-white aura to blossom around my body.
“Do you think your parlor tricks will have any effect on us?” Frau Perchta shouted. “We have killed Elders and Next Generation, Earthlords, Ancients, and Archons have fallen before us. And humani: we have devoured them through the generations.”
My entire hand turned into a dove-white glove, and then the smoke wrapped around Nicholas’s flesh, curling along his wrist to disappear up his sleeve. It steamed out of his collar and drifted across his face, turning his eyes white.
Another spear bit into the ground before us, closer this time.
The Krampus stepped forward, spinning its chain, and snapped it out. It ripped away a chunk of earth not three feet in front of us.
Nicholas raised his left hand and pointed toward Frau Perchta and the Krampus. His index finger drew a perfect circle in the air. At the bottom of the circle he traced a cross. The symbol hung shivering in the air, outlined in traces of my white aura, now tinged with the green of his.
“Copper,” Nicholas Flamel said. “Soft, malleable, ductile copper. One of the Seven Metals of Antiquity. And the first metal used by alchemists.” He turned to look at me, eyes, nostrils, and mouth smoking with my aura. “I will need everything you have.”
“Always.”
I was vaguely aware that Frau Perchta and the Krampus were advancing, aware that the Torc Fianna were returning fire, but with no effect. The Krampus’s chain cracked out, catching one of the warrior women, slamming her back into the wall.
“Do you remember the night we bought the Codex?” Nicholas asked me.
“I will never forget it.” I could feel my strength seeping away as Nicholas absorbed my aura. I was struggling to stand.
Suddenly Nick stepped between us, wrapping an arm around each of us, holding us tightly together.
“Remember Francis Bacon,” Nicholas said dreamily, “and his mechanical man…?”
“Talon,” I whispered. Bacon had come for us in Paris and set his stinking, talking metal creation on us. Talon, unfortunately, had encountered Scathach and ended up in the Seine, minus his head.
“You know I spent a long time studying how he brought that metal man alive.”
Nicholas jerked his left arm up, fingers wide. Green light, the same color as the copper sheets that covered the statue, flowed from his hand. Five thin strands shot up, thickening as they rose, then whipping around the base of the statue, glowing brighter, spinning faster as they rose higher and higher.
Suddenly Liberty’s torch blazed to life, and light strobed across the bay.
“Are you calling for help?” Frau Perchta cackled. “No one is going to see your light. No one is coming to your aid tonight.”
The Krampus pushed past Frau Perchta and advanced on Nicholas, chain buzzing in a lethal whine. The beast’s mouth opened, strands of sticky saliva dripping onto its fur as it licked its lips. When the chain was a spinning blur, he would snap it forward—
Like a huge hammer, Lady Liberty’s torch drove the Krampus straight into the ground.
Perhaps there was noise—metal grinding, copper screeching—but I heard nothing. I saw the statue crouch on her stone plinth and use her torch as a baton, sweeping aside the Turon and Perchten, sending them cascading out to sea.
I watched the Krampus clamber out of the torn earth and stagger to its feet. It lashed out at the statue with its chain, which scored a long gouge in the soft copper. Liberty opened her left arm and dropped the tabula ansata, burying him beneath it. Even though I heard nothing, I felt the entire island shake with the detonation.
Frau Perchta looked on in horror. She was flickering between her two aspects, almost too quickly to see.
I
saw Nick’s lips shape her name as he spoke. “Holle…”
She stopped, the right side of her body young and unblemished, the left side withered and ancient.
“Holle,” Nick said. “This is for you.” He tossed something small and round toward her. Almost unconsciously, she reached out and caught it. It was a snow globe. The snow within started to swirl and then exploded from the globe, spiraling madly around the creature before flowing back into the globe. I didn’t need to look: I knew Frau Perchta was now trapped in the glass sphere.
I fell away from Nicholas, and one of the Torc Fianna caught me before I hit the ground. Slipping in and out of consciousness, I watched as Liberty almost delicately picked up the tabula ansata and settled it back in the crook of her arm. With the last of Nicholas’s aura buzzing green about her, she climbed back onto the plinth and settled into position. Her light blazed green and white before fading to darkness.
Nick caught my husband as he fell to his knees and helped him over to lie beside me.
“Happy Christmas,” Nicholas whispered.
“I haven’t gotten you a present yet,” I told him.
“That coffeepot sounded nice. Six cups, you say?”
“You don’t drink coffee.”
“I could start again.”
14
Two days later, we awoke in a hotel in Vero Beach, Florida, with no idea how we’d gotten there.
The room was filled to overflowing with brightly wrapped Christmas presents, including one of every item in the Pyrex kitchen range. Luckily, they all came with receipts, so we could return them.
In a wooden box, we found a snow globe. It showed a wood-paneled room, with a tree growing out of the corner and a fire flickering in the grate. There was a note written in a looping childish curl: If you ever need help, just shake. It was signed Santa Claus.
What is lost will be found.
Discover another Lost Story from the world of the New York Times bestselling Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel series
Coming February 2021
Perry Hagopian
An authority on mythology and folklore, MICHAEL SCOTT is one of Ireland’s most successful authors. A master of fantasy, science fiction, horror, and folklore, Michael has been hailed by the Irish Times as “the King of Fantasy in these isles.” He is the author of the New York Times bestselling Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel series: The Alchemyst, The Magician, The Sorceress, The Necromancer, The Warlock, and The Enchantress.
DillonScott.com
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Nicholas and the Krampus Page 5