by Dan Thompson
“What do you think?” His voice rumbled.
I struggled for the words, but Margaret beat me to it. “It’s fantastic,” she squealed. “It’s like something right out of a fairy tale, but it’s real!”
“Indeed it is!” Warrick replied. “I’ve taken it up for a few test flights out here, but now she’s ready for the city, don’t you think?”
Margaret giggled with glee and ran up to the sled, as it were, running her hands along the edge.
“And what do you think, Alice Koufax of the Herald?”
I realized I was still standing there with my mouth hanging open. It was real. A red coat hung from the side of the sled, cut like a narrow vest in back for a demon’s wings. There was even a red and white fur cap dangling on the frame. “I can’t believe it,” I said at last. “You really are Santa Claus.”
He snorted and let out a long belly laugh. “No, not Santa,” he said and raised one hand to the tip of his right horn. “More of a Satan, don’t you think? Satan Claws, perhaps?”
I nodded with a smile. Name or no name, he was really doing it. There was even a big bag in the back seat of the sled. “So, you’ve actually got presents back in there?”
He shrugged. “Or maybe a good supply of coal. Why do you ask? Have you come all this way to ask Satan Claws for a present?”
“I, um …”
“Have you been naughty or nice?”
I looked over at Margaret edging cautiously toward one of the petheks, smartly doing it on the harness side where she would be safe. She was loving every minute of it, but the truth of the matter was that she was only here because of me. She had meant it when she said she wanted to spend Christmas with me, and because of me, she was going to miss it with Paul.
I had not been nice. I had not even been naughty, not in the fun way all the Santas down here meant it. No, I had been selfish and, though I hated to admit it, spiteful. I hadn’t cared about anything but pushing back against Mother, and now it was too late to do anything about it.
It was past eight. The chairlift was no longer running, and for that matter, the trains would have stopped for the night on their holiday schedule. There was no way I could get Margaret back to Evanelle in time, and though I could barely believe it, that was exactly what I wanted to do.
Warrick took another step toward me but followed my gaze back to Margaret. “You did come to ask for a present, but not for yourself. Is that right?”
I turned back to him and nodded. “Yes, I … I think I did.”
He tilted his head back and forth, waving his horns first at Margaret and then me. “You …” A broad, tooth-bared smile crept over his face. “You want a ride, don’t you?”
I nodded. “It’s my fault, but she needs to get back to Evanelle, and I don’t think she’ll go without me.”
He chuckled a moment, frowned a bit, and then let out a giant roar of a laugh. Margaret pulled back from the pethek to look at us. “What is it?”
Warrick Bint looked back and forth between us. “I think you two just promoted yourselves to be Satan Claws’s little helpers. Climb aboard!”
“You mean it?” Margaret asked.
“Of course,” he replied. “I believe you two have a date of some kind in that cursed city of the elves.”
He hopped up with the help of a quick flap of his wings, and then reached out a hand to me. He pulled me up, and helped Margaret climb up after me. The seats were not terribly comfortable, but what would you expect in Satan’s sled?
He pointed out some leather-strap handholds and gathered up the reins. “This isn’t quite what I had planned,” he said. “But in some ways, it’s even better.”
He gave three short whistles, pulled the reins tight, and before I knew it, we were flying. The four corner petheks seemed to be bearing the weight of the sled as they flew slightly above us. Their reins ran through the frame of the sled and through some hitches and levers so that Warrick could direct them individually and in combinations. The four in front were giving us most of our velocity, and damn but we were picking up speed. We flew over the little movie cantina after another minute, and then we dove down into the quarry.
“I can’t fly us into Evanelle,” Warrick shouted back at us. I understood. After two cross-realm invasions, the elves of Evanelle had formidable defenses on their sides of the gates. “But I can fly us through Pittsburgh,” he continued. “I don’t know what we’ll look like on radar, but I think we’re going to get pretty close to one of the airports.”
I glanced at Margaret and caught her grinning ear to ear like a kid on Christmas morning. She was holding onto a strap with one hand and digging through the big bag with the other. “What about these?” she asked.
Warrick pulled the reins a little and pushed at the levers with his hooves. “I had planned to dump it all around Karthai Castle, just to show the guards that I was undeterred from last year, but you two should start tossing them out once we get over the city.” He laughed again. “Cities, by the fires above, cities! Satan Claws may not cover the whole world, but I’ll damned well cover the realms!”
We flashed up past the edge of the quarry and over Lower Karthai. Margaret grabbed one of the packages and threw it over the side. I saw it as the wind caught it, a tiny wrapped box hanging from a red and green paper parachute. I pulled one out myself and tossed it overboard. It fell away, but before I lost sight of it, it was settling into a gentle drop toward the buildings below.
I grabbed another and threw it over. Fires above, I really was being one of Satan’s little helpers. We pulled up again over the rocky slope that divides Upper and Lower Karthai, and Margaret and I picked up the pace, flinging gifts as far out as we could to spread them out across the city. I spotted Karthai Castle off to our left, but Warrick did not head for it. Instead, he took us farther up in the direction of the steel foundry and the Abaddon Gate on the far side of it.
“This,” he shouted over the wind, “should be interesting.”
He steered us down toward the gate and pulled the corner petheks in with the cranking of a gear. The Abaddon Gate did not have rail traffic because it came out on a hill in the middle of suburbia on the southeast side of Pittsburgh, so this was one of the few gates that demons could fly through. That did not, however, mean it was going to be simple.
I turned my head to look back at the right rear pethek as its wings flapped almost against my back, and before I knew it we were through. Hell’s heat and dull yellow light were immediately replaced by a Pittsburgh winter night, clear and cold.
I yanked my jacket up from my waist as fast as I could, but by the time I had my arms into my sleeves, my teeth were chattering. Margaret had been a little faster, and she was back to throwing presents over the edge, watching and laughing as they parachuted down into suburban Pittsburgh. I grabbed a few and tossed them as well. I paused when the houses disappeared beneath us, and I looked forward just as we flew past the control tower for Allegheny County Airport.
Yes, boys and girls, Satan Claws buzzed the tower.
With that as a waypoint, I knew where we were headed: downtown Pittsburgh. More houses appeared below us, and Margaret and I resumed throwing presents. First onto Brentwood, then Brookline and Beechview. I wasn’t quite calling out the names of Santa’s reindeer, but it felt like it.
Then one last turn to the north over Mount Washington, and we plunged down across the river to River Point Park, at the western tip of downtown Pittsburgh where the Ohio River is formed. Twice we circled as Warrick reined in his petheks and bled off speed. We landed with a bit of a bounce on the snow-covered remains of Fort Duquesne, right in front of the River Point Gate into Evanelle. It was just past nine, a little before eight bells by Evanelle’s time reckoning. We had made it in time.
Margaret squeezed between Warrick’s wings and hugged him from behind. “That was the best ride ever!”
After she had released him, he turned to me. “Is that what you wanted for Christmas, Alice Koufax of the Herald?”
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I leaned forward and took hold of his hand. “It’s more,” I told him. I threw a glance at Margaret. “More than I ever would have thought to ask.”
He tilted one of his spiraling horns toward me and winked. “Then off with you,” he called out. “Off with you to Evanelle!”
We both climbed down and headed to the gate. Margaret was right at the threshold when Warrick called out, “You forgot something!”
I turned to see him standing with the depleted bag in one hand and a single present in the other. I took a step toward him, but he threw it to me instead. I thought it was going to go over my head, but the parachute deployed, dropping it into my hands. I knew it wasn’t officially Christmas yet, but I had to know. I tore at the wrapping paper and the tissue paper within to reveal something small and dark.
In the shimmering light of the gate behind me, I held it up and saw it for what it was: a lump of coal. But it was not just any lump of coal. It had been carved into the shape of a cradle with a baby inside. Yes, as more of the presents were recovered over the next several days, it became clear. He had been carving nativity scenes out of coal.
I placed it carefully back into the wrapping paper and tucked it into my pocket. I turned to thank him, but he had already taken off. That’s when I realized I had never taken any pictures, so I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket. I knew it would take a miracle to get any kind of picture in this light, but I aimed it as best I could and clicked off several frames. And then I actually got that miraculous shot. While it was new moon over in Evanelle, it was a full moon in Pittsburgh, and I caught him just as he passed in front of it, with his sled and petheks silhouetted against the luminous disk.
Margaret was still waiting for me with one foot already through the shimmering surface of the gate. “So, I guess my fae friend was right. True Christmas after all.”
I nodded. “Indeed he was.”
“Shall we, sister?”
I reached out, took her hand, and crossed through into Evanelle. It took some running and crowd dodging, but we managed to meet up with Paul, Mother, and the rest of my scattered elfin cousins right as the eighth bell rang and the first magicworks lit up the sky. Mother knew enough to not say anything to me, merely giving me a hug instead. As for me, I wasn’t ready to forgive her or anything so radical as that, but I could keep the peace for a day if she could.
Of course, my phone had fried the minute I walked into Evanelle without putting it into a good shielding pouch, so I lost the pictures. The four FAA controllers in the Allegheny control tower knew better than to report seeing a flying Santa Claus of any variety, and the video feeds covering the Abaddon and River Point Gates were never captured to permanent storage because the Federal Gate Department had been upgrading the system over the holiday break. I tried to find Warrick Bint later on, but all those cryptic comments about collection agents and bankers proved prophetic. The First Steel Bank of Karthai foreclosed on his ranch in January. None of his neighbors knew what had become of him. According to the official records, Warrick Bint’s Christmas Eve flight never took place.
But I know, and so does my new sister-in-law. We were there, so don’t let the naysayers drag you down. Satan Claws is real, and I still have my Little Baby Jesus lump of coal to prove it.
Turn the page to read the next story, or click here to read an excerpt from Dan’s Hell Bent.
KRAMPUS GONE WILD
Kate Baray
Chapter 1
Lizzie couldn’t believe they’d done it. John had left his uncle Logan in charge of the Pack. She’d taken a short leave from her duties with the Inter-Pack Policing Cooperative. They’d finally coordinated their schedules, avoided any intervening emergencies, and managed to take their first vacation. A modest four days and only a few hundred miles from home, but it was a start. The little condo community they’d chosen was a summer beach destination. When Lizzie had booked for the week leading up to Christmas, the agent had promised her a quiet stay. When she and John had arrived a few hours ago, they’d taken a walk around the lagoon and only found a few year-rounders in residence. It was perfect.
Lizzie was headed to the kitchen to start dinner when movement on the porch caught her attention. She turned to investigate and froze in place.
“John. Do you believe in demons?” Lizzie asked, striving for a light, upbeat tone.
“Haven’t we had this conversation before? Or was that vampires?”
Lizzie didn’t turn toward him, but she could hear the smile in John’s voice. She couldn’t quite manage to look away from the sliding glass door. The curtain was pulled back two feet to reveal a narrow view of the deck, just enough to perfectly frame the creature standing there.
John jabbed the logs in the fire a few times. “We’re celebrating our engagement. That means no pack politics, weird happenings, out-of-control magic, or evildoing masterminds. That’s what a vacation is.”
Lizzie blinked, stared, blinked, and finally turned to look at John.
He replaced the poker in the stand and held his hands out to the fire.
Lizzie approached him, rested her hands on his shoulders, and gently turned him to face the sliding glass door. She hadn’t imagined it: a devilish creature was still there. A small, sunburnt face peered back at them.
The creature was a curious blend of cute and terrifying. Short, certainly no more than three feet, it stood upright on two thickly furred legs. Its bright red face had tiny fangs that peeked out from under full lips. Two straight horns sprouted out of the top of its curly black head. As Lizzie and John stared, the tiny, demon-like creature stuck his forked tongue out at them and then scampered down the stairs and into the darkness.
In a blink, John opened the front door. He scanned the surrounding area, but didn’t linger on the porch long. When he came back in, he looked perplexed. “Whatever it was, it didn’t leave much scent behind, and it’s quiet as hell. Do you have any ideas?”
Lizzie sighed. “No. But I’m pretty sure that’s the end of our vacation.”
Lizzie ended the call with her boss Harrington and dropped her cell into her back jeans pocket. What she wanted to do was hurl the thing across the room.
John walked through the front door, back from a quick scout around the condo. Lizzie had watched through the large picture windows as he’d circled the small lagoon at the center of the condo community.
“That doesn’t look like good news,” John said as he closed the door behind him.
“We’re having a Krampus outbreak.” Lizzie wrinkled her nose in disgust. It sounded like a disease.
“A what?”
Lizzie sighed. “A Krampus outbreak. That’s what Harrington says.”
“Krampus, the German anti-Santa? That Krampus?”
“Yeah. But I think the mundane Krampus is Austrian? Or maybe both Austrian and German? I haven’t had a chance to look online—but it doesn’t really matter. These little guys are originally from Europe. Harrington thinks they must have immigrated, probably by boat, given our proximity to the coast.”
John shook his head. “We couldn’t have a quiet pre-Christmas holiday. Three days of drama-free living.”
“I know. It’s like we’re a vortex that attracts the weird. It’s not actually us, is it? Something about us that jumps up and down and shouts: hey, magic weirdos, come to us?”
John’s lips twitched. “No more so than any other magic-user. Most mundanes have an infinite capacity to explain away the unusual. People like Max and Jack are the exception. I’m also pretty certain these little guys were attracted to us because of our magic. And since you’ve got magic and belong to the community—you see it.”
“So, basically, it is us.” Lizzie sighed. “Is it so terrible to want a tiny little vacation?”
“Not at all.” John plopped down on the sofa and threw his arm over the back. “So what’s the bad news? Exactly how dangerous is a Krampus?”
“Harrington says not very—but there’s never just one. They’re like litt
le rodents. If you see one, there are likely dozens of them. And in a group they’re a problem.” Lizzie sank down into the sofa next to John. “I really hate rodents.”
“Did he say exactly what constitutes an outbreak?”
“The community has a large number hitting adolescence at the same time.” Lizzie’s lips twitched. “Toilet-papering houses, peeing on doors, stealing and eating small house pets, sabotaging cars. You get the gist.”
John scrubbed his hands across his face. “Our vacation is ruined by a bunch of rampaging, wannabe frat-boy demons. This is some kind of cosmic joke.” He sighed. “So what’s the biggest danger?”
“Visibility. I got the impression Harrington is primarily concerned with being outed to the local community. They’re just a nuisance until there’s too many of them, and—”
“Yeah, then people start to actually see them.” John kicked his feet up on the coffee table. “How the hell did these tiny little sunburnt jokesters became the giant Krampus beast of legend?”
“I imagine they’re scary in a pack?” Lizzie snuggled up next to John. “Harrington did say that if they get a big enough group together, they’ll attack humans. Especially if they’re cornered.”
“Most creatures are more dangerous in larger numbers and when cornered.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Tomorrow. We’ll deal with the little shits tomorrow.”
Chapter 2
The next morning, John’s eyes popped open and he shot up in bed. Lizzie had been awake a few minutes, enjoying the unhurried feeling of being on vacation, so the abrupt motion startled her.
John took a deep breath, and immediately a low-pitched grumbling noise emerged from his chest.
Lizzie bit her lip. “What’s wrong?”
John didn’t answer. He rolled out of bed and moved with the terrifying speed and stealth that most Lycan seemed to possess. Lizzie jogged behind him, her arms wrapped close for warmth as a chilly breeze filled the room. The fire had died overnight, and without the cozy sheets and Lycan furnace right next to her, it was cold. When she got to the living room, she found John standing next to the open front door. Then it hit her. The look of vivid anger on John’s face, the flared nostrils, his inspection of the door.