by Johnny Miles
“Why give him to me?” Krampus glanced at the boy before looking into his son’s eyes. “Why such a sacrifice?”
“Whatever it takes to keep him here with me.”
To his credit, Black Pete’s gaze never wavered. If anything he stuck his chin out and puffed his chest, all but verbally daring his own father to say anything else on the matter. It was the one thing Krampus liked most about his number-one son. Black Pete had always stood up to him. But this was almost bestial.
After a moment, Krampus spoke again. “And…if he doesn’t want to be with you?”
Black Pete remained undaunted.
Krampus sighed.
“Very well. We’ll discuss this later, but…you do realize I might not be able to take his power. I’ve yet to steal magic from one who is loved by another in such a deeply disturbing fashion.”
Black Pete remained quiet.
“Fine. Put him in a cell for now, then meet me in the grand hall. And get the prisoners from their cells. Bring them with you, within the hour.”
“All the Magicals, Father?”
“What do you mean? Former Magicals. They’ve been stripped of their powers, remember? And yes, all of them!”
“Including the maimed?”
“Yes. Including the maimed. Unless they’re dead of course. Our…guests…should be here by then. I’ll alert the minotaur.”
Krampus clomped toward the open doorway and stopped.
“And for all that is blasphemous, put some clothes on the boy before he catches his death of cold. I don’t want him dead before I’ve had a chance to take his Magic.”
Chapter Fourteen
With no direct portal to where they were going—no one knew of any shortcuts—the Wild Hunt jettisoned through each realm upon leaving Earth. Not that Griffin had time to see the worlds they entered and sped across. He was too busy struggling with his emotions as well as controlling the urge to puke.
At first he felt shock, stunned as they left Earth Realm, denying the implausibility of travel between dimensions using magical doorways created by the demons themselves. Such things didn’t just happen, did they? It was impossible, wasn’t it?
This can’t be happening, Griffin thought as the soupy gray matter surrounding them flashed and rumbled. This surely must be a dream. I will wake up, and I’ll be a kid again back at home. My mom will still be alive, and my dad…
But as they entered the next realm, the thought of his mother caused such grief that Griffin felt the pain of the whole world had been laid upon him. His own guilt over her death welled up within him. It threatened to choke and consume him as he faced his past, raw and sore as it was, and he knew in that moment why people escaped with booze or drugs. It wasn’t always recreational. It was about escaping the horrors of life.
As the Wild Hunt flashed into the next realm, Griffin felt a different emotion overwhelm him. Now flushed with anger, Griffin was pissed at his life turning out the way it had, at his mother for believing in such nonsense as to think Griffin’s father was Santa Claus. Why couldn’t he live a nice, normal life? And if he had to be from such a crazy world, why hadn’t someone come along sooner to tell him who and what he was? Why hadn’t he looked into it or believed his mother or even Jackson when he’d admitted who he was? Hell, even Harry Potter had Hagrid to guide him!
If I ever see Jackson, I swear I’ll—
“What do you mean if you see Jackson again? We will see my son again. And I better not catch you thinking like that ever again, so help me…” Woden shot Griffin a steely glare that made him quiet down long enough to break through into the next realm.
Here, in this new terrible void of space, Griffin felt alone and suddenly depressed. The enormity of all he’d lost hit him hard, and it was with great effort he drew his next breath. The loss of his former life he’d eventually get over. He didn’t know if he’d get over the loss of his mother, however. Pain like that, he knew, never went away. One simply got used to having it around. And losing Jackson? The one person aside from Thomas with whom Griffin had ever connected with on such a level?
But he couldn’t think like that. Not with Woden around. If Jackson’s own father wasn’t giving up hope, then there was no reason for Griffin to do so.
Why am I so moody? What’s happening to me?
Griffin hadn’t directed his thought at anyone. In fact, he hadn’t really expected an answer, but Gaea replied in a voice that was surprisingly soft and tender.
“Traveling through portals into new realms can affect our emotions. Especially when going through them the way we are. What you’re feeling is what happens when we don’t take the time to sync with that realm. Some are more sensitive than others.”
“Sensitive?”
Gaea glanced over her shoulder at him, one eyebrow cocked with obvious amusement.
“You men are all alike. Criticism seems to be a blow to your ego. I merely meant that you are far more in tune with yourself, your space, than you give yourself credit for. Relax. Let go. Enjoy the ride. There are things to look forward to.”
Gaea smiled and turned away from Griffin, clearly declaring their conversation over.
Things to look forward to?
Griffin wasn’t quite sure what Gaea meant, but he suddenly felt an odd excitement growing.
The Wild Hunt journeyed on, skipping through portals and cutting across dimensions with relative ease if not turbulence. With every jump, Griffin wanted to hurl, even though he’d begun to feel lighter as they entered the last few realms.
“Are we almost there?” Griffin shouted above a great rush of wind, not unlike traveling on a plane. Mindspeak would have been easier due to the incredible noise surrounding them. It was like flying through a storm, thunder and lightning rumbling and flashing all around them.
Woden, Gaea, and Kris all turned to him and shot him a look, their impatience barely masked.
They entered a new realm of possibilities, one that filled Griffin with hope, joy, and promise. He saw himself at peace, with Jackson once again and walking hand in hand, souls merged. He saw himself as an older man dressed in a thick and luxurious red-and-white suit, black, knee-high boots, and a big bushy red beard laced with white. A bit filled out, perhaps even rotund, but happily passing out gifts, thriving off the glee and delight within people’s hearts as they believed in him and had faith.
What was this? What had just happened? Where had the vision come from? He felt like he could live forever!
Griffin glanced at Kris and beamed. Kris smiled wanly back, then looked away. Sensing his concern, Griffin looked down at Bucket. Suddenly feeling as though he needed to place a hand on the Elf’s chest, Griffin did so. The joy, power, and energy surging through him seemed to shoot through his body, down his arm. It made his fingers tingle as a warmth passed through him and into Bucket.
Bucket’s eyes fluttered open. He gasped. He still looked old and wrinkled beyond belief, but it was the first sign of life since he’d collapsed.
Kris and Griffin exchanged glances.
“What the hell was that? What did you just do?”
“I…I don’t know.” Griffin shrugged, dumbfounded but elated that Bucket now sat up. A tear slipped down Kris’s cheek as he and Bucket embraced. Griffin looked away, briefly wondering if he might be able to restore Bucket to what he might have looked like before.
The Elf’s small hand upon Griffin’s own larger one pulled Griffin out of his reverie. Bucket smiled.
Turbulence increased as they hurtled into the last realm. The sleigh buffeted from side to side. Something, or someone, didn’t want them there.
“It’s not that no one wants us here,” Kris offered.
“We’re not supposed to be here,” Gaea added.
“Silence. That’s enough talk. Face forward and focus. We’re in for a bumpy landing!” warned Woden.
Thunder rumbled so loud it felt as though it were coming from inside Griffin.
“This is like being in a bowling alley when all
the lanes are in use. Except much, much louder!” Griffin shouted above the incredible roar.
Lightning illuminated the darkness, and in the sudden flash, Griffin saw the clouds part. A black maw of space yawned before them like a mouth ready to swallow them as they fell into a vortex. Griffin noted Woden as he leaned into Gaea and whispered in her ear. She nodded.
What was Woden plotting? But before Griffin had a chance to ask, the wind blew so hard in his face he had to clamp his eyes shut or they’d be pushed back into his brain from the force. He could scarcely breathe, and his ears hurt as they flew through great atmospheric pressure. He tried to open his eyes but was pelted with sand and debris.
Something or someone howled painfully in the distance.
They began to spin out of control.
Certain they would die a terrifying death, Griffin prepared himself even as some in the Hunt laughed maniacally while others shrieked with perverse pleasure. Then, with an abrupt slam that made Griffin’s teeth rattle and his brain hurt, they landed. The ride was over. He dared to open his eyes and look around.
As far as he could see, there was nothing but sand and rock with scraggly mountains to his left and what looked like a long, tiny, abandoned castle sitting at the edge of a cliff. To his right there was nothing but flat barren land. This was a cold and desolate place, unwelcoming, with a murky streak of twilight on the horizon. Above, stars did not shine. They’d been blotted out by a sky black with ink, and it felt like it would snow.
Griffin gulped, finally daring to speak.
“What is this place?” His own voice sounded to him as if he were listening under water.
“This is the Ninth Realm,” Bucket replied.
“Where anything or anyone that’s been lost—” Kris added.
“Or banished,” Woden interrupted.
“Or banished,” Kris acquiesced.
“Loveless and without hope…” Bucket sighed.
“This is where it all ends up.” Kris spoke with finality.
“So…this is like…hell?” Griffin tried to grasp the concept of a place so desolate, so arid and unwanted.
“More like purgatory,” Kris replied. “Or limbo.”
“It’s the Ninth Realm,” Woden added.
“But, Kris…why are we even here?” Bucket asked.
“This, though there’s no guarantee, might be the only way to get my wish of returning you to what you looked like before we left the North Pole.”
Bucket looked as though the weight of the world had suddenly fallen on his shoulders.
“I don’t wish to ruin the moment, but we must start moving.” Woden jumped down from the sleigh.
Kris followed, turning around to help Bucket down.
“Wait,” Griffin called out. “Why can’t we, I dunno, use magic or something? To get there quicker. Wherever there is. I mean, Woden, you’re…you’re wind, so you can get there quick, and Kris…I saw you like…bamf out of the cell and come back. Why can’t—”
“No Magic,” Woden warned. “Any Magic used here gets sucked out of us and remains. We will have less power than we currently do, thus assuredly making our return to Earth Realm impossible.”
“Yeah, but can’t you…I dunno…whisk us up and drop us all there? At the same time? You know, the way you moved so quick back in Greensboro. Like a-a tornado or something.”
Woden turned and started walking. Griffin watched after him a moment, then turned to Kris and Bucket.
“We’re not getting out of here alive. Are we?”
“There’s always hope, Griffin. Always. But we must do as Woden says and be on our way.” Kris cleared his throat but did not look him in the eye.
This must be what it feels like to be on Mars. Or the moon.
Griffin jumped down and started to follow Kris and Bucket. Then he stopped, suddenly realizing they were the only ones there.
“Whoa! Wait a minute. Where’d everybody else go?”
“Most of the creatures and entities from the Wild Hunt cannot exist in this place,” Woden said as he continued walking. Griffin had to trot to keep up.
“Then how are we here?” Griffin began to feel winded from the effort of keeping up and talking simultaneously.
“Some can survive for a short while with rare exceptions. Especially if they are from your Earth Realm,” Woden explained.
“What do you mean for a short while? What happens after? What about Gaea?”
Woden stopped and smiled the way a parent might smile at a child who said something silly or simple or even adorable. “I understand and applaud your curiosity. There is much for you to learn. But now is not the time. Krampus already knows we are here.”
“Who is this Krampus? And why isn’t this the—”
“Time works differently here, and if we hope to leave—”
“Hope to leave? What do you mean?” Griffin turned to Kris. “What does he mean?”
Kris appeared to think a moment, but it was Bucket who delivered the message in a way Griffin would understand. “The longer we stay here, the less chance we have of getting back to Earth Realm. And even if we do, even if we make it back, we may not find it the same as when we left.”
“Meaning?” Griffin insisted.
“Meaning, if we don’t get back to Earth Realm in time for Christmas, we—the realms, planets, and possibly the universe—are all, to put it in your Earth lingo, royally fucked and not in a good way. So, let’s go. Time to save the world. Tick-tock.”
Woden tapped his wrist, then turned and started walking.
“Couldn’t have put it more succinctly if I’d tried.” Kris offered up a sheepish grin.
Stunned into silence, Griffin watched them getting smaller. Their footprints filled quickly with sand, carried on the soft yet unnerving wind that had begun to blow.
He made a face and stuck a finger in his ear, jiggling it as if trying to dislodge earwax. He briefly wondered about the ringing in his ears but tossed it off as a side effect of flying with so much wind and turbulence across the realms.
Griffin looked up. His traveling companions seemed tiny as they walked farther away. Griffin glanced over his shoulder. Sleigh and reindeer already seemed distant, and yet he barely seemed to have moved. He jogged after Kris, Bucket, and Woden.
Then a voice made him stop. It was weak and distant, to be sure, as though coming across hundreds of thousands of miles.
“Griffin, is that you? I’m so cold and…frightened. Wait. You’re not…you’re not Griffin. Oh…it’s you.”
“Woden!” Griffin hurried toward Woden, who had stopped as well. He sniffed at the air, searching. “Did you hear?”
“Yes, I did.”
“What’s going on?” Kris asked, catching up.
“My son,” Woden explained. “He’s here.”
“Here? Are you certain?”
“I heard him,” Woden said flatly.
“I heard him too,” Griffin added.
“But what would he be doing here?” asked Bucket.
“I don’t know.” Woden let out a weary sigh, turned his back on them, and hurried away.
“There’s something going on here. Isn’t there? This isn’t just about getting Bucket’s youth back or…or finding Jackson.”
“I’m sorry we didn’t tell you sooner, Griffin. I was afraid you might not join us. Krampus is…a very dangerous creature.”
Griffin blinked.
“It all must seem quite insane to you,” Kris continued. “You weren’t exactly open to Magicals when we first met in jail. But if you’re with us, if you believe there’s still good in man, that Earth is worth saving, you could greatly help our mission if you’d at least consider being our next Santa Claus.”
Griffin staggered, swallowing back his fear and excitement. It took him all of thirty seconds to weigh his options.
“What the hell? Mom’s gone. My career was over before it ever took off. And it’s not like I’m going to change the world as a bouncer at a titty joint. So…
yeah. I’m in. On one condition.”
“Name it.” Kris seemed relieved.
“Well, two really. One, don’t lie to me anymore. And please don’t keep things from me either. I want to know everything.”
“Consider it done. But we must hurry. We need to catch up to Woden, or we’ll definitely not survive this place.”
Griffin and Kris turned, ready to pursue Woden as quickly as possible, but Bucket swayed and collapsed. Kris bent down to pick him up. He carried Bucket in his arms as they closed the distance between them and Woden.
And despite the feeling of impending doom threatening to break Griffin, as well as the enormity of what he’d just committed to, along with the high-pitched whine grating on his last nerve, he found new strength in visualizing Jackson as clearly as he could and stating, “Sit tight, Jackson. We’re coming for you.”
Chapter Fifteen
Jackson awakened groggy and confused. He sat up with great difficulty and looked around, but it was too dark to see anything clearly. What little light there was came through an opening to his left, from flaming torches fastened to rock walls. From what he could make out, he was in a prison cell excavated from rock.
To his right, an overwhelming blackness beckoned. It seemed strangely inviting, and a part of him wanted nothing more than to crawl into that blindness, curl up, and close his eyes. But there was also a part of him that knew if he gave in, he might never wake up, let alone leave.
Jackson struggled to hands and knees. Using the cave wall for support he managed to stand on wobbly legs. A dingy, almost threadbare sheet fluttered to the ground.
What the hell? Why am I naked? And where am I?
Feeling vulnerable, Jackson picked up the sheet and draped it around his shoulders like a shawl. He clutched it tight and tried to remember but found he was too full of aches and pains to focus on anything else. His throat was sore, and it hurt to swallow. It felt as if he’d swallowed a dozen razor blades. His ears hurt, and his eyes burned. Jackson had hardly ever gotten sick, but he knew enough to know he was coming down with something. But what?