Snowed (The Bloodline of Yule Trilogy Book 1)

by Maria Alexander

  I wrap my arms around him. We’re both shaking. “I love you, Aidan the Klaas.”

  “And I love you, Charity Jones. More than you’ll ever know.”

  We kiss. An eternity between our lips.

  Mom sleeps after what seemed to be a rough visit with Charles. The only thing we’ve heard is a text from Michael.

  Ricardo says his mom went crazy after one of his brothers was incarcerated. He says try not to hate your mom.

  Ricardo’s shields are stacked in the corner of the loft.

  I say nothing about the gun.

  A burst of light at the windows. Two seconds later, thunder rips up the sky.

  My phone lights up, too. A text from Leo.

  It’s Judy on Leo’s phone! We’re almost there!

  BEST. FRIENDS. EVER! How come you didn’t answer my earlier texts?

  Sorry I didn’t message before. Mom took my phone.

  And then Michael.

  Parental units in bed. ETA 00:15.

  Roger that. Door is unlocked.

  Elated, I show Aidan.

  “My father can’t arrive before midnight,” Aidan says.

  “But what if he comes at midnight? Or three minutes after? Can we last fifteen minutes by ourselves? Can we last even five minutes?”

  Aidan places a loaded water pistol in my hand. “Let’s hope we don’t find out.”

  A knock at the door.

  I jerk toward the noise, startled. Aidan turns toward the staircase.

  “No!” I grab his arm. “We can’t leave this post.”

  “But what if it’s Leo and Judy?”

  Doubt suffocates the moment.

  Another knock.

  “Come in!” I say. If it’s Aidan’s father, he won’t be able to enter unless we open the door.

  Nothing.

  “Come in,” I say, louder, worried I will wake up my mother.

  No response.

  It’s 11:49 p.m.

  Aidan and I look to one another. Maybe the person outside can’t hear us over the rain.

  Or maybe it’s his father.

  In eerie silence, Aidan makes his way down the staircase. I crouch behind the loft wall, clenching one of the pistols. With the other hand, I text Judy.

  You here?

  No answer. Of course! She doesn’t have her phone. I text Leo instead. I then reach over and flip on the quadcopter controller. It whirrs to life. The armed Nikitas are ready under the tree.

  The windows shudder like it’s an earthquake, the rushing wind howling through the eaves like a pack of ghosts.

  I peek over the wall. Aidan madly motions to someone at the door through the window by the Christmas tree. Outside, people scream.

  A bone-chilling crash and clatter on the roof.

  12:00 a.m.

  Christmas.

  The front door flies open. Judy and Leo burst through, soaking wet. Aidan flings the door closed behind them. They pound upstairs. I leap up to greet them.

  “Charity! Jesus, it’s horrible!” Leo yells.

  Pale and trembling, Judy throws her arms around me. “It’s worse than you can imagine!”

  The sting of adrenaline drives me to pure action. I pump the first cannon as the noises on the roof get louder. Pounding. Crunching. Cursing and shrieking. Leo and Judy quickly fall in line and take over the weapons.

  Aidan remains downstairs. He must be assuming his original position now that Judy and Leo are here.

  “I’m so sorry,” I say to them both as I pass them goggles and face masks.

  “Don’t be,” Leo says, confident. Driven. Changed. He puts on the goggles. “We’ve got this.”

  I text Michael.

  KRAMPUS

  We hear an explosion of bricks and metal. Wild chattering and baying. He’s probably tearing off the chimney cap. A horrible smell wafts into the living room as fluid rains down, extinguishing the fire. Everyone gags. Ammonia.

  Elf piss.

  “We’re locked,” Leo says, voice low as Judy readies the mallet.

  The mistletoe pencils are hovering, ready to launch. So unnerving. Adrenaline spikes my nerves.

  “On my word,” I say, aiming steady.

  Ash dribbles down the chimney walls into the fireplace for several moments.

  A small wooden windup toy drops down onto the grill. Playing a child’s tune, it whirrs and twitters as it climbs out of the grill and rolls onto the hearth on miniature wheels.

  It stops at the hearth’s edge. So cute! So sinister.

  The toy spews black smog that rapidly billows into the living room.

  Black. Blind. Terrifying.

  I wait until I hear the half-burned wood scatter.

  “Go!”

  The cannon blasts a large ball of mistletoe dust into the spreading cloud. The darkness rises to the loft, tendrils of midnight creeping over the wall’s edge. Dual beams of blue light flash in the smoke. Judy and Leo duck, but they keep loading. If the smoke is poisonous, we’re not suffering. Yet. The filter masks might help.

  “Go!”

  Another blast. Agonized cries tear through the expanding darkness.

  Aidan says nothing. He doesn’t give away his location.

  “Go!”

  I pump the largest water pistol and spray the room. More cries. The stench of burning flesh and fur overpowers me. I gag. A loud crash against the wall and fireplace. And another. And another. Great tearing noises as claws slash the couch fabric, the couch and other furniture overturning. Lamps smashing.

  “Go! Move around!”

  I fall back with the water pistol, grabbing another as I dash to the staircase. The blackness unfurls around me from behind. I crouch, aiming. Waiting.

  The wails of Aidan’s injured siblings rise in a bloody chorus. We’re hurting them. Killing them.

  But where is Aidan?

  “Aidan!” I shout.

  One of the pencils floats up the staircase, pointing at me. Before I can jerk out of its trajectory, it turns sideways and…bends. Into a smile. The pencil returns to him as we’re enveloped in blackness.

  My heartbeat thuds in my ears. I hear shrieks of pain. Claws raking into the walls as they climb to the loft.

  I stumble into my room and throw open the window. In the bathroom, I do likewise, opening every window except Mom’s and Charles’.

  Charles.

  The gun calls to me.

  And then something awesome happens.

  A downstairs window smashes open. And then another. And another. At last the front door explodes open, the smoke escaping into the windy night.

  “Fuck you, Santa!”

  The inky smoke dissipates to reveal Michael and Ricardo blasting through the living room with mistletoe water, shields up, sometimes bashing them into the snarling, slashing elves. Bodies are piling up, the dead and dying mutilated by the poisonous plant. The freezing wind carries away both the smoke and the stench that stabs at the back of my throat.

  Fireworks in his eyes, Ricardo clobbers the last standing elf. It staggers back against the trashed polar bear. Three pencils dart out of nowhere—phht phht phht—straight into the elf’s chest.

  Dead and dying creatures litter the room, many clogging the fireplace, their cries of suffering creating an eerie chorus with the wind.

  Everyone is panting. The roof creaks ominously. Hooves stomping. They sound like they’re just inches from our heads.

  Motioning to Leo and Judy, I point to the cooler. One? Two? How many left?

  Leo makes a “zero” with his hand.

  Crap.

  And Krampus is still up there with no telling how many more elves. He sent his children in first to take whatever we had to dish out, exhausting our resources. The tree has fallen on the Nikita. There’s still too much smoke to see clearly if any of the quadcopters can get free.

  There is one weapon left.

  The box is where I left it under Charles’ bed. I heft the gun. Heavy.

  Deadly.

  More creaks on
the roof.

  Aidan hovers in the archway of the downstairs hallway. He looks bereaved as he surveys the bodies of his siblings.

  Gun at my side, I rejoin Leo and Judy in the loft. Freezing winds tear through the living room. I shiver. Sweat drips down my neck into my collar. I scan the area for more elves, pointing the gun at any movement on the floor or fireplace.

  “Holy crap! Charity!” Michael says, backing away when he sees the gun. Shield up. “You’ve gone L.A. on us.”

  A figure steps into the broken window frame.

  “Charity? What the hell is going on here?”

  It’s Dad.

  He stands in the broken window, wide-eyed, exhausted, staring at the living room carnage in disbelief. He steps through the window and over the frame, glass crunching underfoot.

  I aim at him and pull back the hammer.

  Chapter 44

  “Don’t move!” I command, bracing for a shot.

  Dad puts up his hands, eyes even wider. “Baby, what the hell are you doin’? Put that goddamn thing down!”

  Tears pour down my face. I miss my dad so much. It’s Christmas. We’re supposed to be together. We’re supposed to be a family. But this isn’t my daddy. Or is it? “Where’s your suitcase?”

  “My suitcase? The fuck are you talkin’ about, girl? We’ve gotta get out of this mess! Now. Where’s your mom?”

  I feel myself breaking down. I’ve just been through hell. Stinky, horrible dead things litter the floor. The house—my home—is destroyed.

  Everyone watches him and then looks to me, questioning. If it’s my dad, I don’t even need the gun. And if it’s actually Krampus, it’s useless, as Aidan so kindly demonstrated weeks ago…

  Or is it?

  “Mom’s in bed. Asleep.”

  I so, so love my dad and want him here right now. He’s smart and cool, and knows What The Doctor Would Do. I’m just his Little River. The resemblance twists me up inside. I’m paralyzed with love, longing, pain, fear.

  Aidan loves Dad, too. This must be hard for him.

  As my eyes scan Dad, I spot a bright blue sticky bow. One quadcopter is partially visible beneath the fallen tree.

  Judy moves confidently to the console. I forgot that she games. She’s seen me work the console and it looks like she knows what to do.

  He walks further into the living room. “Asleep? With this shit goin’ on? Baby—put it down. It’s gonna be okay. Just come here and give Daddy a hug.” He opens his arms.

  The Nikita rises behind him.

  Aidan disappears beneath the loft.

  “Hey! Where you going?” Dad calls after him.

  “Not with you,” I reply.

  I pull the trigger.

  His hand extends in front of him. The bullet stops in midair, hovering before his face. As he’s distracted, the Nikita soars over him, releasing the powdered mistletoe payload.

  A hellish roar reverberates through the house. Where the mistletoe powder hits, my father’s skin boils off his body. A hideous hide of thick silvery fur emerges from his flesh. Hooves burst from his shoes. The rain of dust seizes midair.

  I’m thrown against the back wall. Stars explode behind my eyes. Pain singes the back of my skull and spine. I fall forward, landing on the loft carpet.

  “Charity!” Judy scurries to me.

  I crawl forward, waving my hand at the console. I can hear a quadcopter struggling to rise under the pine branches. Leo dives for the console and takes over as Judy helps me up.

  Through the wooden slats of the loft wall, I see the tree rise by itself—Aidan!—freeing the remaining quadcopters. Michael and Ricardo rush Krampus, pistols splashing, before they, too, are thrown clear, smashing against a wall.

  “Idiot children. Should never have opened the windows.” The Krampus rises to his full height, twisted horns spiraling from his massive, goatish head. Thick nostrils flaring. His muscled chest spans at least three feet, covered in white, scarred flesh. His shaggy silver fur is streaked with dirt and soot. A long, black tongue lolls from his mouth surrounded by fangs jutting from his bottom jaw. The legendary black bag hangs like a backpack from his shoulders.

  His glowing blue eyes narrow as he scans the house. He strikes the Nikita, but because it’s a gift, he can’t hurt it and his claws pass through, leaving it unharmed. Snarls of rage and agony. The dust that hit him is burning the skin of his head and left shoulder, leaving a stretch of charred, raw flesh.

  “Such clever friends, Aidan,” the Krampus bellows, his voice basso profundo. “Come here before I kill them all.”

  The Nikitas swarm him. He bellows again, trying to move his hooves. They seem glued to the floor. Aidan holds him, no doubt.

  Leo clutches at his throat as his body lifts into the air, passing over the loft wall up to the vaulted ceiling. Judy screams.

  “What will you do now, Aidan?” Krampus shrieks, his voice fanning into a demonic chorus. “Where is Charity?”

  I then realize what I have to do. When the Nikita lands in the loft, I pluck the baggy from her payload and stuff it in my jeans pocket.

  “Come and get me, you bastard!”

  My body rises. In one “empty” hand, he holds Leo, whose face is turning purple. In the other, me. An invisible force squeezes my waist. I feel my ribs ready to snap.

  “Let them go!”

  The house groans. Wood from the banisters splinters off. The kitchen cabinets open and the dishes hurtle out, smashing around Krampus.

  In this moment as I hang in the air above the carnage, over the death and rage, all I can think of is how much I love Aidan and how much I hate his father. I don’t care for my life. Or my death. I just want this monster dead.

  Krampus throws Leo through the sliding glass door. A sickening crash. He lands on the deck. Blood from a gash in his neck quickly soaks the planks. Judy wails with grief.

  “You had to make this difficult, didn’t you? I need to get a good look at the girl who would defy me for my worthless son.” Krampus leers at me and his long moist tongue whips around the opening of his mouth. He clutches me and brings me closer to his face, his claws sinking into my waist. Blood soaks into my shirt. He steps out from under the rain of mistletoe dust, letting it continue to the floor. His rough tongue runs over my neck and face, leaving slime in its wake. His breath smells like rotten eggs.

  “Delicious. I see why my son wants you. Too bad you must die.”

  Blinding pain in my chest as a rib snaps. I shriek but I don’t hear myself as the pain obliterates everything. White light explodes behind my eyes.

  “Stop!” Aidan shouts. “I will come with you, but only if you don’t hurt her. Or anyone else.”

  My eyes meet those of Krampus. Alien. Hateful. Where is Nicholas? He is lost. Forever. His foul breath rushes over me.

  “Here I am. Now release her.”

  Aidan is behind me, but I don’t look. I’m losing blood.

  My moment has come.

  Hand plunging into my pocket, I withdraw the baggy and smash it against Krampus’ chest. His eyes widen as he shrieks. Inhuman. Wounded. His skin blisters against my hand. The mistletoe eats into him, but it’s not killing him quite as I’d hoped. I push it deeper into his flesh. He drops me as he convulses in pain.

  Ricardo breaks my fall, quickly dragging me away with his one good arm. Tears pour down his face. “Don’t look!”

  But I do.

  Aidan walks obediently to his father who shakes with pain and rage.

  “Don’t hurt anyone else,” Aidan says. “Please.”

  The house shrapnel rises up, jagged edges pointing toward us as they hover in mid-air. Ricardo covers us with his shield. Michael crawls over to join us, raising his shield, me between them.

  The bag on Krampus’ back opens and swallows Aidan.

  “Aidan!”

  Krampus whistles “God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen” as he limps to the fireplace. He throws the dead elves clogging the opening aside. Then, with a twinkle in his eye, he disap
pears up the chimney. The frightening clatter of hooves. His voice calling into the night.

  “Aidan!”

  I scream until I taste blood in my throat. Tears burning my face. My body. Screaming.

  Bleeding.

  Everything goes black.

  Epilogue

  Nine months later.

  Reconnaissance mission. Geographical North Pole.

  The Russian ship’s nuclear-powered engine hums a mechanical lullaby beneath me. I awaken to the sharp, guttural exchanges between crewmembers.

  Propped up on an elbow in my bunk, I blink with exhaustion. The dreams started haunting me immediately after that hellish Christmas. I’ve gotten used to them now, but it can still be hard to rest. As Leo said once, maybe physical contact with Aidan has affected me in more ways than one.

  The dreams have been a homing beacon leading me to the exact coordinates of the fortress where Aidan is captive. There’s the geographical North Pole, the magnetic North Pole, and the “magical” North Pole. Filled with tourists and scientists, this Russian icebreaker is headed toward the first. It’s just a reconnaissance run courtesy of Volertech, the company contracted by the State Department where I’m an intern. They build drones and other high-tech machines of war. I’m designing one that flies in subzero temperatures. The Arctic is getting warmer, which means Russia is on the move. The U.S. wants to keep an eye on them.

  Like father, like daughter.

  And like Leo, I died, too. For a minute, anyway. The paramedics brought me back. Judy was dialing 911 on Leo’s phone as Krampus tried to kill me. I saw no lights, experienced none of the typical near death phenomena. Just the delicate darkness. Silky, like Aidan’s skin. Warm. Peaceful.

  I woke up screaming. I’m not sure when I stopped.

  Every minute since that hour I’ve planned to avenge my friend’s death and the kidnapping of the one person I love more than anything.

  That night changed not only me but also the world. Science. Anthropology. Biochemistry. Zoology. And much more.

  We didn’t tell anyone it was the Klaas. We told them Aidan’s father—an enormous, incredibly strong guy—brought the creatures to attack us. He murdered Leo, tried to kill me and everyone else, and then took Aidan away. They asked us about the dust. We answered that Aidan had told us mistletoe was toxic to the creatures.