“Once I tracked him down, I hacked his credit card,” Teag admitted. Chuck looked amused; Father Anne raised a questioning eyebrow. “He’s been buying books on witchcraft—spellbooks, grimoires, and that sort of thing—from used bookshops all over the country. I’m sure some of them are total bunk—”
“You might be surprised,” Rowan said. “In among the utter nonsense, it’s not uncommon to find truly dangerous information. Like leaving razorblades in a toy box.”
“He’s got all the earmarks of a supernatural terrorist,” Chuck spoke up. “Just like the kind we used to profile. I bet if you could find his wife and get her to talk to you, she’d tell you that he changed over time, got a lot worse. Started pulling in on himself, cut off everyone else. Probably always a bit paranoid, the kind that blames everyone else for his problems. Dark magic would make all that worse. People don’t realize that the taint starts in the spellbooks. They’re like magical poison.”
“The Solstice is tomorrow,” Alicia said. “And from everything you’ve found, it sounds like Kessler wants to bring the Smoke Nights down on Charleston full-force with real monsters. What are we going to do about it?”
“That’s why I’m here.” Everyone turned to look at Knight Ruprecht. “I hunt the Krampus and his horde. When Rauhnachte comes, I fight them.” His English was stilted, and the German accent made me listen carefully. I shared a glance with Teag that said we were on the same wavelength. This guy is either totally nuts, or there’s more to him than meets the eye.
“I knew of Knight Ruprecht back in Belgium—when I was mortal,” Sorren said. “Back then, the Smoke Nights were common—and feared. We’ve worked together on occasion since then.”
A faint smile touched the knight’s stern mouth. “Many times, my friend.” Ruprecht turned to the rest of us. “I swore a vow, long ago, pledging my sword against Krampus. God heard my vow and made me an immortal warrior. Once, I fought for the Church, and then for Kings. Now, I fight because it is the right thing to do.”
“But Krampus keeps coming back,” Teag replied.
Ruprecht nodded. “And so do I. He and his horde can’t be permanently destroyed, and neither can I. I win, and push him back through the veil. He wins, and I wait to fight again. And on it goes.”
“You fight Krampus and his horde by yourself?” Rowan asked skeptically.
Ruprecht looked embarrassed. “When I must,” he replied. “The odds improve with help.”
“Just to be clear about this, you and Sorren might be immortal, but the rest of us aren’t,” Chuck snapped. “So factor that into your plan. I’ve got better things to do than get killed by some goat-headed goon and a bunch of elves.”
“Working together, we have the skills to stop Krampus and hold back more of his horde from coming through,” Sorren said.
“What about the redcaps and hobs?” I asked.
“The ones that are already here, we’ll deal with. Stop Krampus, and we keep more from crossing the veil,” Sorren replied. The thought of more of those evil elves made my blood run cold.
“Be quick about it,” Father Anne advised. “Solstice is tomorrow—and the sun sets early.”
St. Adalgar’s stone walls were mostly intact. The holes where stained glass windows had been were like a skull’s empty eye sockets. A rickety chain link fence surrounded the ruin, rusted and twisted from long neglect. We had studied the floorplans Teag had found. The sanctuary and narthex were roofless, but the back part of the building was still in pretty good shape.
“When they deconsecrated the church after the fire, they forgot about the effect on the old potters’ field,” Father Anne murmured as we approached the grounds. “The pirates were buried in unhallowed ground. The church built on top of the graves was consecrated, and that kept the ghosts at bay. But now—”
“Now there’s nothing holding the ghosts back,” I supplied.
She nodded. “Bingo.”
“Can you re-consecrate it and seal the ghosts back up?”
“Not quickly. Not in time to stop Krampus. After we win this, I’ll bring it up to the St. Expeditus Society,” she replied.
We moved through the ruined church in silence. Knight Ruprecht went first, a gleaming sword in his hands. He had left behind his drab coat and now looked the part of a real knight in his tabard and maille.
Rowan was second, with Father Anne, Teag, and me next. Chuck and Sorren brought up the rear, on guard for an attack from behind. Alicia Peters stayed outside with the rest of Rowan’s coven. The witches would raise a magical perimeter to deflect mortal interest in the battle and help contain anything Kessler brought across from the other side. Alicia’s job was to keep an eye on the ghosts and warn the witches if an attack came from that direction. It was the best plan we could come up with on one day’s notice. I just hoped it would be enough.
The stone walls jutted up toward the night sky like ancient ruins. Their energy felt all wrong. My touch magic can pick up on old buildings if there’s enough memories or magic to resonate. Normally, old churches feel peaceful to me, the collective effect of people coming together in gratitude and worship. St. Adalgar’s had a dark, brooding feel as if it knew it had lost its special status and resented it. I saw no movement in the shadows, but I couldn’t shake the sense that we were being watched.
We came ready for a fight. Knight Ruprecht had his sword in one hand and a deadly-looking morning star club in the other. Sorren had swords too, and his immortal strength and speed made him formidable even without weapons. Teag has his fighting staff and a set of daggers plus a messenger bag full of extra weapons. I had no idea what Rowan had with her, or if her magic was enough by itself. Father Anne has a blessed boline knife, and she was good at hand-to-hand combat. I had my athame and dog collar, and my own bag of extra surprises, along with an old walking stick. Chuck looked like he belonged in a SWAT team, with a bandolier of EMF grenades, knives and who-knew-what along with several large guns and a pair of night-vision goggles. None of us was overconfident. We knew that even with all our weapons, things could still go terribly wrong.
“Has Krampus come across from beyond yet?” I asked Ruprecht.
“Not yet. But soon. I feel the power building,” the knight replied. After centuries of fighting each other, I wondered if that meant that Krampus would know Ruprecht was waiting for him. So much for the element of surprise.
Ruprecht signaled us when we came to a doorway to a part of the old church that was still largely undamaged. We readied our weapons, and Ruprecht threw open the door.
Banks of lit candles lit the stone-walled room, casting the whole space in a fiery glow. A pentacle had been drawn in the center of the floor, and inside it stood a monstrous figure that towered at least seven feet tall. Even in silhouette, I recognized Krampus.
We tensed, readying our weapons, but the figure remained motionless. Ruprecht moved forward, then stopped. “Not him,” the knight said. “Just a statue.”
Even from where I stood, I could feel malevolence radiating from the figure. “Not a statue,” Rowan said quietly. “A focal point. It’s the gateway he’s used to bring the other monsters through.”
“If we destroy the statue, does that shut down the gateway?” I asked, doubting it could be that simple.
Just then, the redcaps attacked.
The redcaps swarmed down the walls like spiders, clinging to the rough stone. At least a dozen of them came at us, howling in rage.
I shook the collar on my left wrist, and Bo’s ghost materialized. He dove into the fray, pouncing on the malicious pixies with the same vigor he once used to chase squirrels. Claws tore into my sleeve, and I kicked a redcap away, leveling my athame and calling to the magic and memories it contained. A cone of cold white force blasted from the wooden handle, bowling over a whole row of redcaps.
I cried out in pain as sharp teeth gashed my shoulder, and struggled to shake free of a redcap that had jumped onto my back. Father Anne wheeled, bringing down her boline knife and impalin
g the redcap’s body on its razor-sharp blade. The creature let go of me, thrashing to free itself from the knife. Father Anne brought her Doc Marten boot down on the redcap’s feet and ripped upward with the knife, cleaving his body in two.
I was spattered with blood—the redcap’s and my own. The bite hurt like hell. Peeved, I pulled out the old walking stick, concentrated my magic and pulled hard on the resonance of Alard, Sorren’s maker. Fire streamed from the point of the walking stick, and I moved back and forth as if it were a flamethrower, incinerating three or four of the killer pixies before they could get out of the way.
I heard a metallic zing, and saw a flash of silver. Teag snapped a whip of coiled steel, and its wicked edges sliced the head right off one of the redcap’s shoulders. In the next instant, Teag scythed his fighting stave, clubbing two of the redcaps out of the way.
“Fire in the hole!” Chuck yelled. We shielded our eyes, and in the next instant, a brilliant light flared as one of his EMF grenades exploded. I don’t pretend to understand exactly how they work, but somehow their electro-magnetic frequency messes with ghosts. The blast stunned the redcaps, and I wondered if Father Anne was right about Kessler using the ghosts of long-dead pirates to animate the creatures.
There would be time to argue about it later. Right now, we seized the moment. Sorren and Ruprecht set about themselves with their swords, cutting down all of the redcaps near them. I burned up two more with another blast from the walking stick, while Teag took out the last three. The room smelled of blood and scorched flesh.
Rowan had poured a circle of salt around the Krampus statue, and while the rest of us fought, she kept a wary eye on the figure in the pentacle, using her magic to repel any redcaps that came close as if they had walked into a forcefield. “We’re running out of time,” she warned. “Krampus is getting closer to the threshold, and he’s got a lot of friends with him.”
I caught a glimpse of motion out of the corner of my eye, just before something caught me in the shins and knocked me to the ground. A wave of hobs flooded through the door, claws scraping on the stone floor, teeth gnashing.
They overwhelmed me before I could get to my feet. I was at the wrong angle to shoot fire without blasting one of my allies. Bo’s ghost lunged at the hobs, tearing them free and throwing them across the room with a shake of his head. Claws scratched me and teeth tried to bite through my jeans and leather jacket, which wouldn’t hold them off for long. I brought up my athame and willed the power to fan out flat instead of shooting forward, something I had never done before. It worked, and the hobs tumbled away, blasted loose.
Chuck backed himself into a corner, threw a metal net on the floor and pulled a long cattle prod out of his rucksack. He fired up the prod, put the tip close to the net, and sent jolts of electricity through the woven metal. Chuck didn’t need to see the hobs to fry them; if they came close to the net, they got zapped.
Sorren’s vampire speed made him just as fast as the hobs, but they were too short to fight with his sword, so he kicked and threw them hard enough to crack the stone walls when they hit. Teag wielded his staff like a golf club, swinging quickly enough that he was guaranteed to hit an attacker even if he couldn’t see them coming. Ruprecht swung his morning star just above ground level, impaling the hobs on its sharp iron points or slamming them into the stone.
Rowan was chanting, and, I could see sweat breaking out on her face. She couldn’t stop Krampus and his horde from coming through, but she was using all of her magic to make it as difficult as possible for him until we had fought clear of the hobs and redcaps.
A bolt of red fire streaked across the room, slicing through Rowan’s wardings and striking her between the shoulders. She screamed with pain and collapsed. I pivoted and dove, coming up between Rowan and the surviving hobs and fanned out the athame’s cold power again, trying to keep the goblins away from her.
A red streak of fire crackled toward me. Sorren moved in a blur, jerking me out of the way. The fire hit the stone where I had been seconds before. I looked up to see a tall creature covered with dark, shaggy fur framed in the far doorway. It had a goat-skull face and long, twisting horns, and one leg ended in a hoof instead of a foot. Scared as I was, I recognized the stolen Krampus costume from the museum and figured we had found Brian Kessler.
Teag’s urumi whip flashed toward Kessler, ripping a hole in the costume and taking a strip of the skin beneath. Kessler yelped in pain and sent another blast of red fire toward Teag. Rowan had gotten to her knees, and she thrust out one arm, sending a shimmer through the air that looked like heat rising from asphalt on a hot day. The shimmer absorbed Kessler’s fire, giving Teag the chance to dive out of the way.
“It’s too late to stop me,” Kessler taunted. As long as he stayed in the doorway, we could only come at him head-on. “Krampus is coming, and he won’t be alone. The redcaps and hobs were just a warm-up for the real show. After tonight, this city will never be the same.”
Teag sent his coiled steel whip flicking toward Kessler again, tearing another hole in his costume, then diving and rolling before Kessler could hit him with the red fire. I had crawled into the shadows, and took aim with my walking stick, returning fire with fire, and dodging behind the statue in the center of the room.
Buzz-zap. Kessler pitched forward, twitching. Chuck had worked his way along the wall, and now he stood in a firing position, taser still in his hand. We swiveled to look at him.
“What?” Chuck challenged. “It shouldn’t kill him unless he’s got a weak heart. Damn sight better than letting him barbecue the rest of you.”
Teag grabbed some rope from his bag, and I knew he had woven spelled strands and magic into the cord to strengthen it against a supernatural foe. He bound Kessler’s wrists and gagged him, then sat him up next to the doorway.
“We’ve got trouble!” Rowan yelled. I turned just as the monster stepped out of the gateway that had appeared in front of the statue.
The real Krampus was terrifying. There was no mistaking him for someone in a fur suit. He stood at least eight feet tall, and his twisted horns made him even taller. His dark fur was matted with blood, and more blood darkened the mouth of his skull-face. His body was solidly muscled like a wild animal. Long claws extended from his arms, and from the single human foot. The hoof on the other leg looked sharp. He smelled like spoiled meat. A long, pointed red tongue lolled from his deaths-head grimace, and his eyes glowed hellish red.
Ruprecht charged from the left, his sword leveled at shoulder-height, meant to drive home a killing blow. Sorren attacked from the right, swords moving in a blur backed with vampire strength. Rowan raised a shimmering wall in front of Krampus, blocking his forward movement. Teag came at the creature from the back, swinging his staff with enough force to crack a skull.
Krampus lurched forward, shattering Rowan’s warding. Ruprecht’s sword was angled for where the monster’s heart should be, but the creature turned, ducking his head and using his sharp, curled antlers to twist the blade to the side, nearly wrenching it out of Ruprecht’s hands as he forced the knight to stumble.
Sorren sank one sword deep into Krampus’s side, while the other sword slashed bone-deep on the monster’s arm. Krampus howled in rage, shaking Ruprecht’s sword free, and wheeled to face Sorren, turning so quickly his sharp horns cut deep into Sorren’s shoulder.
With his right hand, Krampus grabbed Teag’s staff, halting its motion and hurling Teag toward the other side of the room, where he landed with a thud and lay still. I came up firing, pouring a stream of fire from my walking stick fueled by my concern for Teag and pure, primal terror.
The fire hit Krampus in the chest, and the air stank of burning hair as his thick pelt caught fire. Krampus howled, turning to fix me with a glare from those hideous, red eyes. I stood my ground, pouring my energy into the walking stick, drawing from the magic and memories of its last owner. I wouldn’t last long, but for the moment, it was keeping him at bay.
Chuck opened fire. The
shots were deafening in the stone-walled room. Round after round from the huge gun in Chuck’s hands pumped into Krampus, each one forcing him back half a step, tearing into his body. Blood flowed from a dozen wounds, but Krampus remained standing, and a hideous leer twisted his thin lips.
My fiery torrent sputtered out, and I staggered back, spent. The battle was far from over, but I needed to recharge before I could use my magic again. The others would have to hold him off until I got my breath.
Krampus still stood in the gateway, but I could see shadows behind him, creatures eager to cross into our world and feast on blood. We had to keep Krampus from moving fully through the threshold, or we stood no chance of winning against his demon horde.
Ruprecht came at Krampus again; his sword pitted against the creature’s sinewy arms and sharp claws. Krampus blocked the blade with one arm, heedless of how deeply the edge bit into his skin or how the blood ran freely from the deep wound. He swung his other arm, and sharp claws raked along the knight’s shoulder and arm in bloody furrows. None of the rest of us could get in a strike without endangering Sorren and the others. Father Anne shifted position, trying to get close enough to strike at Krampus with her blessed blade, but the flurry of swords and flash of claws and horns kept her back.
Rowan said that the statue was the focus. “Chuck! Go for the statue!” Chuck turned his gun on the hulking figure just behind Krampus, Kessler’s statue of the monster. Chuck’s bullets pinged off the plaster, sending shards into the air. Holes pock-marked the statue’s torso, and one arm crumbled away.
Rowan had gotten to her feet, and I guessed from her chanting and the way she wove her hands through the air that she was placing invisible impediments to keep Krampus trapped on the threshold. I dodged back and forth, looking for an opening to do something useful.
Kessler had regained his senses and managed to push himself up to stand, even though his wrists were bound. The gag muted his shrieks of protest, as the assault began in earnest on the monster he had worked so hard to call into the world. He ran forward, trying to body block Ruprecht, who shouldered him aside. Bo’s ghost lunged for him, and Kessler stumbled toward Krampus.
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