by Johnny Miles
He’d called out to each of his children in turn, making sure he saw them in person to warn them of what was happening. But Jackson, his youngest, the one with whom Woden had the most difficult relationship, had ignored his call.
Naturally when Jackson finally called out just a few short hours ago, Woden was relieved. Except he hadn’t liked the tone in Jackson’s Mindspeak. He felt something awry. Then when Melchior, Kris’s Head of Transport, got in touch to see if there was anything Woden could do with weather to help Kris and Bucket, Woden took it upon himself to investigate rather than sending out spies.
And now, here he was, in the one place he’d ever expected to be, surrounded by all the disappeared Magic.
Standing in the home he had never expected Krampus to make for himself, Woden froze in place. But how could this be? Woden wondered. He was an Elemental, a force of nature. Magic wasn’t supposed to affect him that way!
Woden scanned the crowd, shielding his mind from Krampus. Desperately attempting to connect with one or two Magicals he recognized, Woden realized there was little if anything left with which to connect. They were broken or beaten, drained of power and Magic, including their ability to Mindspeak.
Clearly Krampus was amassing arsenal. But why? For what purpose? Was he planning a rebellion? With so few Magicals left to fight, Krampus’s return would be catastrophic. One man—one demon, really—with all that power could trigger governments to collapse and civilizations to perish, just by his appearance alone. All would be lost, and the one thing everyone feared most would come to pass: mass destruction.
The planet would heal eventually from the fallout. Man and animal would once again flourish, but it would take hundreds of centuries. Woden was certain the Goddess Gaea herself would welcome a long winter’s nap, as would he. Still, there was a part of Woden that welcomed global failure, just as a part of him wanted to avoid the end of times.
Whatever Krampus was planning, he had to be stopped.
Krampus stepped toward Kris, and Woden noticed he could just about move again. After admonishing Kris, Krampus moved to Bucket. By then, sensation had returned to Woden’s limbs.
As quietly as he could, as still as he could, Woden wiggled his toes. He wiggled a finger within clasped hands. He poked his cheek with the tip of his tongue. He swallowed. Rolled his eyes. Blinked. He took a deep breath through his nostrils and pursed his lips together, testing the air with a tiny bit of breeze. Luckily, all eyes were on Krampus.
And now Griffin.
Woden continued to wait, calling to him all the power he could muster, channeling it to the very core of his soul. He held and cradled the energy, relishing the near sadistic way in which it made him feel so alive. His hair slowly electrified. Even the hair on his arms and legs stood on end as he charged…
Any second now.
…and waited.
When Krampus gave his orders, that was when Woden unleashed the power he’d been building. With a flash and a great wind, he whisked through the hall. He knocked people and creatures off their feet. The brownies scurried into the far corners of the hall as Woden blew out fires and torches to add to the sudden confusion, thrusting them all into darkness.
Escape. Escape! he told himself.
But he couldn’t. No. He wouldn’t. Not yet. Not while his son was still here. And no matter what, despite Woden’s usual cold, detached demeanor, there was a part of him that loved his son greatly. He could not leave Jackson behind.
Woden reached out with his mind and homed in on his son.
Sweeping through the ancient, narrow corridors, past oddities he instinctively knew Krampus hadn’t yet discovered, Woden reached the cold, dark cell where Jackson lay. There, Woden materialized and watched his son’s life force flicker as the boy shook with fever, vaguely aware he lay dying in such a hideous damp place, his blood injected with venom that had begun to spread to his organs.
Woden picked his way through his son’s mind, pushing aside the dizzyingly human emotions he possessed. For the briefest of moments, Woden thought to call for his daughter, Spring. If anyone could rid his son of the rot taking hold, it would be her and her power of renewal. Except she might not hear him. Even if she did, she would never get there in time. Plus, Woden didn’t know if she possessed enough energy to make it through each of the portals, let alone share her healing power with her half brother. Jackson needed to be stabilized, but he needed it now.
Alas, that was a power Woden lacked.
And with the time he’d already taken to find Jackson, Woden knew it wouldn’t be long before Krampus and Black Pete, or their minions, came and tried to capture him once again. Already Krampus had somehow managed to render Woden powerless, even if for a few minutes. What if he managed to do it again and for a longer period of time? If there was any hope of getting out unscathed to bring back the Wild Hunt waiting in the previous realm to free the prisoners and kill Krampus, Woden had to leave immediately.
The sacrifice must be made. I’m so sorry, my son.
With a heavy heart, Woden dropped to one knee and gazed on the chiseled features of his half-human son. Jackson was as beautiful and striking, if not more so than his human mother had been.
Woden leaned forward to kiss his son’s forehead but stopped himself. As Old Man Winter, filled with the Arctic, his kiss just might push Jackson further into delirium.
With a heavy sigh, Woden stood. Then something moved.
He stood still, listening. Suddenly, from one of the dark, far corners, a wasted, skull-like face appeared like a spectral image. The face had sunken cheeks and red hair that hung limp and bedraggled. He had a beard that was as long, dirty, and unkempt as the passage of time.
Woden searched what remained of the man’s mind and gasped.
“Gavin Kloss?”
Griffin’s father still wore his Santa Claus suit. Once red and white with luxurious fabric, it now hung lackluster, ripped and tattered on his emaciated body. Gavin stood and approached, head bowed and shoulders drooped, as though afraid yet curious.
“What have they done to you?” Woden asked, using Mindspeak. Gavin stared blankly back at Woden, who realized that, like the others, Gavin’s Magic had also been stripped away.
“Gavin—” Woden started.
“Woden. It is you. I’m sorry. I…I tried to heal your son, but…I’ve no Magic left. None of us….” Gavin nodded at Jackson. “He still has some. But not for long. It’s fading. Can’t you…?”
Woden shook his head sadly. Gavin let out a heavy sigh. For a moment, all was silent. Then the man’s tears came. He sobbed as Woden probed his mind, searching thoughts and memories. They were a jumble of darkness and confusion. All Woden was able to ascertain was that Gavin, along with his Elf, had been ambushed as they returned to the North Pole from a minivacation on Earth Realm. Woden opened his arms wide, and Gavin stepped into them.
“Your son…” Gavin said finally and pulled away from the embrace. He wiped his tears away, smearing the dirt on his face. “I remember him. He came with us that summer. With my Elf and me. We were in…” Gavin seemed to be struggling to remember, but Woden couldn’t wait for the thoughts to connect.
“Gavin, I can’t. As you can see, Jackson is ill, and I—”
“Fort Lauderdale!” Gavin cried. “I remembered.” His pride-filled voice echoed through the corridor and the very chambers themselves. A distant, disembodied moan rose, then faded.
“Be quiet, or they’ll hear you,” Woden whispered and felt pity when Gavin retreated back into himself, into darkness like a turtle hiding in his shell.
This was once a man to be reckoned with. Huge and powerful, muscle on muscle, with flaming red hair and glittering green eyes that practically made snow melt. Now he’s reduced to the ghost of a memory.
“My son needs to be stabilized. I can’t do that for him.”
“But…neither can I. Not anymore. You can’t leave him here, Woden. If you leave him here, he’ll die.”
“And if I tak
e him with me in his current condition, he’ll surely die. Here, at least if I return in time, Jackson might still live. Can you…would you…watch over him?”
They shared a moment of silence.
“Of course. I made a vow, remember? I might no longer be Santa Claus, but I’m still a Santa, damn it. And I will protect and nurture all that is good.”
Woden gave Gavin what he hoped was a smile of encouragement. He placed a hand on Gavin’s shoulder and squeezed, sending a bit of frost to help clear Gavin’s mind. Already Woden could see a marked improvement in the man’s posture.
“Where are you going?” Gavin asked.
“To gather the Wild Hunt. Let everyone know, if you can. I will return as soon as possible to free you.”
Woden stepped back and spread his arms.
“But, Woden? How will I… How will we know you’ve returned?”
Woden thought a moment, then looked around. He dropped to one knee and scooped up a handful of sand. Then, using the power in the atmosphere, Woden channeled it to create a crystallized snowflake slightly larger than a gold coin. Its power, however dull, shone in the near dark as he handed the thing to Gavin, who took it and stared at it with obvious confusion.
“When it glows with the ice blue-white of the Arctic…”
A distant noise distracted them. Prisoners were returning, and from the sound of things, protesting their incarceration. There was a thud, followed by a scream, and Woden knew there was one less Magical who would be returning to her home.
Metal clanged here and there, and ozone filled the air as electricity buzzed.
“Thank you, Gavin. And don’t forget. Be on the ready!”
Woden called power back to him, closing his eyes a moment before opening them again. The former Santa looked up questioningly. Woden couldn’t resist a smile.
“Your son, Griffin. He’s here.”
“My-my son? Here?” Gavin’s eyes grew wide with excitement. He took a step forward. “But…he’s still a child.”
“How long do you think you’ve been here?” Woden asked.
Gavin shrugged and shook his head.
“He’s a man now.” Woden spread his arms, and his immediate surroundings fell away as he dematerialized. Flying like the wind through dark corridors, through a fissure, a weak spot of the castle, and out into the open, he flew across the flat, rocky plain they’d crossed earlier, now covered in undulating dunes from the most recent haboob.
In a flash, Woden stood before a panting Dunder and Blixem, who’d huddled together for protection against the sandstorm. They were all but buried, their coats covered with the gritty stuff. Their eyes had encrusted shut, but they clearly knew Woden was near and grunted their displeasure. Still not in corporeal form, Woden blew wind into their eyes even as he stormed the sand away from them so they were no longer buried. He placed a hand on each muzzle, and the crusty stuff fell away from the animals. They stared him down, flicking their ears back and forth and snorting with distaste.
“Forgive me. I came as quick as I could. The others are…detained. But at least I can move at the speed of the fastest storm without them. Are you ready?”
Instantly alert, the reindeer stomped their hooves and nodded. Then, because they seemed anxious to leave, Woden hurriedly sat in the sleigh for fear they might take off without him. He pressed the cloaking-device button, lest Krampus be scanning them.
To Woden, it appeared as though nothing happened. To an outsider, he knew the sleigh, along with the deer would have rippled, then disappeared from view.
Woden grabbed the reins and snapped them. Within seconds, they’d risen into the air, intent on the stratosphere, before popping through a portal, leaving Krampus and his realm behind.
Chapter Eighteen
Buoyed by the words that still lingered on his mind, Gavin threw his arms up to protect himself from the debris that kicked up in the rush of wind after Woden’s exit.
“Your son, Griffin. He’s here. He’s a man now.”
Gavin felt his heart swell with hope. He had intended on getting back to Virginia. In fact, he’d known she was pregnant with his child before returning to the North Pole, but Gavin and his Elf never stood a chance against Black Pete and the half demons.
“My son. A man,” Gavin muttered. But no sooner had the words left his lips than his heart sank. How would he be received? After all this time, Griffin would surely be upset. He’d have thought Gavin wanted nothing to do with him or his mother!
A heavy sigh escaped Gavin. He focused on the fact that he would soon see his adult son for the first time in…
How long have I been here?
Gavin scratched his head, trying to figure out the passing of time, but there was no way of knowing what year it was in the Realm of Krampus. At times the sun barely rose. Other times it barely set. And it was always either hot or cold.
“No way of knowing. Time marches on. It’s all different here.” Gavin made a sound of disgust. It would hardly be the reunion he had envisioned. Almost instantly, the mental darkness returned to grab hold of his heart and drag him down to the depths of despair.
No! he told himself. I won’t go. Jackson is here with me. My son soon will be. And Woden will return.
Clutching the softly glowing snowflake Woden had given him, Gavin sat near Jackson’s head, legs spread. He tucked the flake into his boot and placed both hands at Jackson’s temples. Eyes closed, Gavin imagined the power he once had, how it might feel if he still had it running through him, his arms and fingers, into Jackson. Nothing came. Gavin grunted.
Footsteps and voices approached.
Gavin quickly extricated himself from Jackson. He went to scurry away but stopped. Grasping the edge of the sheet covering Jackson, Gavin pulled it up over the boy’s head. He looked like a dead body in the morgue. Satisfied, Gavin then crawled into the darkest corner of the cell just as wicked laughter and scuffling sounds reached the cell.
With his back to the wall, Gavin brought his knees up and clutched them to his chest. He then forced himself to breathe as little as possible and willed his heart to slow so they wouldn’t pick up his life force. Suddenly, before the chamber opening, two minotaurs appeared. Between them, the struggling silhouette of a man Gavin had never met but knew immediately.
My son!
Gavin’s heart pounded, and his breath caught.
“Did you hear something?” one of the minotaurs asked.
Gavin held his breath.
The other minotaur listened.
“I don’t hear a thing.”
They peered into the chamber. Gavin felt them searching. He retreated further. Back to black. To nothingness. The dreariness was there, always ready to grab hold of him and drain his soul. He let it.
“Probably just that pitiful thing on the ground,” the first minotaur said. “It’s dying.”
“Might have been his last breath you heard,” said the second minotaur, and the two burst into cruel laughter.
Gavin watched as the first minotaur waved a hand before a hidden panel in the rock wall. The invisible force shield slid back with an audible hiss. They shoved Griffin inside. He half rolled, half slid across the floor and came to a stop where the light from the torches in the corridor ended and darkness began. Gavin shut his eyes and begged not to be discovered. When they’d shuffled away, Gavin opened his eyes to see Griffin stand and reach for the opening.
“No, don’t!” Gavin thought.
Surprisingly, his son stopped short,. Had he heard? Gavin then realized he’d planted his legs on the ground to rise, but they’d slid out from under him, his worn boot heels scraping on the sand. Gavin held his breath once more and remained perfectly still. He waited while his son scanned the space, trying to see into the dark.
When it appeared his son was convinced he was alone except for the body on the ground, Griffin reached out tentatively.
Zap!
“Fuck!” Griffin jumped back, away from the force field, and tripped over Jackson.
Gavin remained where he sat, suddenly terrified of what his boy would say, let alone what Gavin would say to him now they were almost face-to-face.
Gavin watched as his son pulled the sheet off Jackson. Even in the darkness, Gavin could see the glittering green eyes open wide in stunned recognition.
“Oh my God. Jackson? Jackson, it’s me. It’s Griffin. I’m here. Jackson?”
When no response came, Griffin felt for a pulse. He placed an ear on Jackson’s chest, then a hand below his nostrils. A moment later, though he seemed to hesitate, Griffin placed the tips of his fingers at Jackson’s temples.
It was then that Gavin broke his paralysis and propelled himself forward, toward the handsome young man who now held Jackson’s limp body in his big, strong arms as a faint glow began to emanate from Griffin’s pores.
And Gavin knew in that instant, without a doubt, he still possessed a little bit of Magic within him, for he felt his son’s emotions wash over him as surely as if they were his own.
“Kiss him!” Gavin whispered harshly.
“What?” Griffin jumped. Barely started, the glow died off. “Who the hell—”
“Kiss him, you fool! He’s dying. The only thing that can save Jackson now is true love’s kiss.”
GRIFFIN STARED AT the madman who’d abruptly sprung from the darkness. He stared into the man’s eyes, took in the sight of the gaunt face, the ghostly pallor, the ripped, tattered, and dirty suit. Griffin felt his throat go dry. It couldn’t be. Could it? Was this…?
“True…love’s…kiss!” the madman hissed.
Griffin was reminded of a movie he’d seen long ago when he was a child. He’d have laughed, except his heart felt heavy and his throat tightened. Plus the command reminded him of the one his mother had made when she’d awakened from a coma eighteen months ago, thanks to whatever Jackson had done.