Krampus: The Three Sisters (The Krampus Chronicles Book 1)

by Halbach, Sonia

  McNutt jumped out from the darkness and tackled Cyrus, slamming his body to the ground. But nobody in the banquet hall noticed McNutt as they dealt with the shift caused by the chandelier. The Foundlings wasted no time in turning their aggression onto the Garrisons. This took the Garrisons by surprise, making their guns useless as the Foundlings attacked.

  While McNutt and Cyrus struggled up on the mezzanine, Louis, Violet, Gardiner and Gertrude snuck out from behind the maroon curtain.

  Louis and the twins immediately went to help Catharine and Clemmie who were trying to strip Garrisons of their weapons. But as Clemmie pushed around the plump Cockrell and Catharine tangled with Cabell, Violet crept across the banquet hall, dodging between people and tables until she reached the unguarded Horologe. Under the nose of Castriot, who was distracted by those protecting him from the ambush, Violet grabbed the Horologe with both of her arms, clutched it to her chest and scurried away. Violet was almost up the mezzanine before Castriot noticed what had happened.

  “The Horologe!” he shouted, trying to get his men’s attention. “After it!”

  Violet ran toward the Krog’s stairs with Maggie following just as McNutt was able to pry the Sister Wheel out of the hand of the badly beaten Cyrus. McNutt quickly got up and bolted after Maggie and Violet.

  “Where are you going?” Maggie called to Violet as they entered the Krog, which smelled strongly of liquor and smoke.

  But as Violet dashed up one last set of stairs behind the bar in the Krog, Maggie realized the answer.

  Violet was leaving Poppel.

  he morning’s pale light poured into the Krog as Violet burst through its door that led to the outside. The sun had yet to rise, but Maggie’s eyes still struggled to adjust to the bright air as she stepped through the doorway. Squinting around at the surroundings, it soon became clear she was in a rural part of Manhattan. Small wooden houses were scattered along dirt roads while a cemetery stood in the distance. There also was an old stone church that happened to contain the secret Poppel entrance from which Maggie and Violet emerged.

  An older black man had been walking up the road, but froze when he saw Violet running out of the church’s back door, clutching a clock half her size. He watched as Maggie came chasing after her with a young redheaded man bounding behind.

  “I have it!” McNutt choked out. “I have it.”

  “Toss it!” Maggie shouted to McNutt as Violet set the Horologe onto the dirt road.

  McNutt flung the small wheel through the air and Maggie effortlessly caught it. But just as she was about to open the Horologe, a pack of Garrisons stormed through Poppel’s door. The last ones slammed the door shut before barricading it with their bodies, preventing the Foundlings and Van Cortlandt descendants from escaping.

  When the old man saw the army of black-coated men explode from the church, he turned on his heels and hobbled down the empty road.

  Maggie inserted the last Sister Wheel into the Horologe and tightened the three wheels with the key. Apprehensively, Castriot and the Garrisons watched, waiting to see what would happen.

  But nothing changed.

  Castriot let out a hoarse laugh. “Where is your great Nikolaos of Myra?”

  The rest of the Garrisons cackled with relief as they began closing in on McNutt, Maggie, and Violet. Meanwhile, the other Garrisons were holding back those still in Poppel. The pounding of hands vibrated on the inside of the church door.

  “Now then,” Castriot said, marching forward. “Hand over the Horologe.”

  Violet picked up the Horologe and pressed it to her body while Maggie defensively stepped in front of the young girl.

  “You have no business attacking these children,” McNutt shouted to the Garrisons. “If anything, you should be pleased they were able to collect the Sister Wheels.”

  “Why, yes, very pleased indeed.” Castriot took out his revolver and without hesitation shot McNutt in the left leg.

  Violet muffled a scream. Maggie was also horrified to see McNutt collapse to the ground, gripping his lower leg as he groaned in agony.

  “You’ve been helping these intruders,” Castriot emotionlessly said, walking slowly toward McNutt. “That kind of disloyalty will not be tolerated.”

  Castriot raised his revolver again, but before he could take another shot, a bullet whizzed through the air, striking his fingers and embedding itself in the church wall. Castriot dropped his gun and grabbed his bloodied hand with a painful yell. Falling to his knees, Castriot looked toward the dirt road that the old man had retreated down just moments earlier. The road was no longer empty as twenty black men and women, a few armed with rifled muskets, stood ready to fight.

  “You shot the church, Nat!” one of them called out to the man holding the sizzling musket.

  Nat lowered the barrel of the gun and glared at the Garrisons. “I don’t know who you all are, but there’s to be no harming of these here children in Seneca Village. You understand?”

  Seneca Village.

  Maggie had heard Thomas and the other Chelsea Manor servants mention it before. It was an entirely black village in the northern part of the city where former slaves had purchased their own land.

  Castriot’s face burned red as he gripped his wounded hand. And seeing that his assailants were landowning blacks seemed to only escalate his fury. Cyrus and Comstock immediately came to their leader’s side, but he brushed them off and shouted, “Attack them!”

  The Garrisons, who were armed with revolvers, started toward the villagers just as the Foundlings finally broke through the church door.

  Cyrus and Comstock, however, were more interested in the Horologe and locked their eyes on Violet. As they began approaching the young girl, Maggie seized the Horologe from Violet and shoved the young girl to the side. Maggie wrapped the Horologe tightly in her arms and ran down the deserted road. Cyrus and Comstock aggressively followed. With the weight of the Horologe slowing her down, Maggie worried that the Garrisons would catch her in no time.

  But in the mist up ahead, Maggie spotted peculiar shadows. As she kept running, these shadows transformed into solid images within the cloudy distance. Dozens of these figures were quickly approaching as yellow lights bounced above the ground. Maggie soon realized the lights belonged to the eyes of a stampede of deer.

  But something more startling than the charging deer caused Maggie to freeze, even as Cyrus and Comstock drew nearer. Among the deer were nearly twenty men on horses; foggy silver figures that Maggie at first thought were illusions. Most of the men were bald and wore old robes with thick collars. They did not carry any weapons, but rode their horses with such confidence and force that they might as well have been covered in the heaviest armor.

  The Horologe ticked away in Maggie’s arms, as she stayed planted in the middle of the road. Cyrus and Comstock stopped a few feet behind her. After noticing the stampede of deer and horses headed in their direction, the Garrisons spun around and dashed back to the church. But it wasn’t long before the storm of deer and silver horsemen caught up.

  The momentum from the stampede knocked Maggie to the ground. Still cradling the Horologe in her arms, a blur of stomping hooves and dusty air whirled around her body. Maggie squeezed her eyes shut. It wasn’t until the sound of galloping had moved into the distance was she able sit up and peer back down the road.

  The silver and brown whirlwind reached the church, breaking up the battle that had been in progress. The Seneca Villagers and the Foundlings had managed to dive out of the way in time, but Castriot urged the Garrisons to stand and fight. However, the overwhelmed Garrisons instead took off running as the cloud of deer and horsemen reached them. The Garrisons delivered one last fighting cry before collapsing under the force of the mysterious storm that carried them down the road. And then with one final swoosh, the silver phantoms disappeared, taking the Garrisons away with them.

  Maggie remained on the ground, an arm protectively draped over the unharmed Horologe. But then a shadow emerged out of t
he corner of her eye. She turned away from the church and back down the road where the stampede had started.

  There was still one hazy figure standing in the mist. Its gray form was featureless, but appeared to be the silhouette of a man.

  “Nikolaos,” Maggie whispered.

  The apparition didn’t respond. And a moment later, the figure turned and soundlessly disappeared into the fog.

  Maggie didn’t hear the rush of feet behind her and jumped when Catharine and Louis appeared at her side.

  “Are your hurt, Maggie?” Catharine asked, studying her sister with concern.

  “I… I…” Maggie still gazed down the road.

  “Come along,” Louis said, helping her up. “We must get back to the others.”

  Hostrupp was first to greet Maggie as she approached the church.

  “The Horologe!” he squealed. “Oh, goodness, goodness, thank goodness it is not damaged!”

  Hostrupp took it out of Maggie’s arms and embraced it affectionately.

  Houten wobbled forward. “You fool,” he snarled. “Have you nothing to say to the one that saved Poppel?”

  Hostrupp looked up at Maggie, embarrassed. “Oh, yes. Sorry. So sorry. You were tremendous. Those trousers ended up working quite marvelously for you. Just marvelous, marvelous.”

  Houten tapped Maggie’s knee with his cane. “You all right, little duck?”

  Maggie looked past the church where the apparitions and Garrisons had vanished.

  “The Martyrs of Gorkum…”

  Houten nodded. “You brought them back.”

  “But what about Nikolaos of Myra?” Louis asked. “Wasn’t he supposed to return?”

  Before Maggie could mention she had seen Nikolaos, or at least some ghostly man she believed to be him, a loud eruption came from the side of the road. Maggie looked over where Clemmie had Francis by the arm. Her brother was giving Francis the biggest scolding she had ever heard.

  “Really, Francis, of all the stupid, most selfish and senseless acts you have ever done! What did you think would happen? You would be King of Poppel? Wear a crown? Honestly, that you would even consider putting your family in danger. Oh, if I had a birchen rod right here I would spank the skin off your behind! You must be the worst boy that ever lived!”

  Gardiner and Gertrude were huddled nearby, watching the scolding with wide eyes.

  “Seriously, someone fetch me a rod,” Clemmie continued, flailing his arms. “I need to whack some sense into my cousin.”

  Catharine tried to calm her brother down. “Clemmie, that is not going to help the situation…”

  Lloyd, Wendell, and Harriet were clustered together in the background. It wasn’t until Maggie neared did she see that they were looking over the wounded. Albers was among those on the ground having his arm rebandaged while Nellie sat next to him, lovingly stroking his graying hair.

  Maggie suddenly realized she had yet to see Violet, and she frantically looked around.

  “Violet,” she called. “Violet!”

  Eventually, a familiar caramel-toned face appeared through the crowd of villagers.

  Violet ran up to Maggie. “You pushed me down.”

  “I am sorry for doing that. I just didn’t want the Garrisons to hurt you.”

  Violet smiled. “We won, didn’t we?”

  “Yes, we did. And all thanks to you,” Maggie said. “You were very brave.”

  “You both were.” Madame Welles marched over to the two girls. “The Sister Wheels have been reunited at last. And thanks to the Martyrs of Gorkum, the Garrisons are no more. I just wish Nikolaos of Myra would have returned as well.”

  Maggie’s eyes widened. “But I saw him. At least, I believe it was Nikolaos. He appeared just briefly. And then he left.”

  “He left?” Madame Welles’ voice sounded troubled.

  “Yes,” Maggie replied, waiting for Madame Welles to elaborate. “Is something wrong?”

  “It’s just… he was supposed to return. And if he’s not then…” Madame Welles trailed off before forcing a tense smile. “Well, Castriot is gone. That is what matters for now.”

  “But what will happen to Poppel?” Maggie asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, won’t the city eventually realize that the Garrisons are gone?”

  Madame Welles looked past Maggie where some villagers were tending to McNutt’s leg.

  “We have one Garrison.” The old woman smiled. “And that is all we need. The city officials will still have a contact.”

  “What about us?”

  Maggie turned around to see an exhausted Henry staggering over. Her pulse quickened and she fought the urge to embrace him.

  “What becomes of the Van Cortlandt descendants?” Henry asked. “Are we not to return to Poppel?”

  Madame Welles stiffened. “You have done a great service to your family and city, and especially to Poppel. But yes, you are not to return.” Madame Welles then added a bit more quietly, “I hope, in the most sincere and grateful manner, that we will never meet again, for if our paths were not to cross in our remaining time on this earth, I know that all is well.”

  Before returning to Chelsea Manor, the Van Cortlandt descendants paid a final visit to Poppel. After all, the Horologe still needed to be returned.

  Everyone crowded into Kleren until it was at capacity, forcing the remaining Foundlings to spill out onto Myra Lane. Maggie stood between Henry and Catharine as they watched Hostrupp place the Horologe back onto its rightful wall.

  An unsettling realization struck Maggie. She leaned over to Henry and whispered, “So now that the wheels are reunited, does that mean that those in Poppel… can live forever?”

  Henry looked at her with growing eyes, containing both fear and amazement. He scanned the Foundlings in the room as though their appearances might reveal the answer.

  A soft cough sounded above Maggie’s head. She turned to find Laszlo standing nearby. She had nearly forgotten about the workshop leader. He stared vacantly at the recently hung Horologe with his arms placed behind his back.

  “All right,” Hostrupp chirped, clapping his hands together. “Everyone must exit Kleren. Out out out! That is… everyone except for the Van Cortlandt descendants.”

  Slowly, the Foundlings filed out the shop. As the room emptied, the Moore grandchildren looked about with uncertainty, wondering what else could possibly be asked of them.

  Hostrupp closed the door after the last Foundling left and then spun around. He clapped once more. “Now then! There are some final pieces of business that must be settled. Yes, yes. Just a few last things.”

  “Please don’t tell me there was a fourth sister and we must head to Canada to retrieve her wheel,” Clemmie muttered with an exhausted sigh.

  Madame Welles cackled at Clemmie. Her laughter not only surprised the others in the shop, but also herself. It sounded as though she hadn’t laughed in many years.

  “Do not fear, Clemmie. All of you have done more than we could have ever hoped.” Madame Welles nodded to Houten who waddled over to the group carrying a worn, leather pouch.

  “You two!” Houten shook his cane at Maggie and Henry. “Come here and reach inside.”

  Maggie and Henry hesitantly stepped forward as Houten jiggled the pouch in front of them. “Don’t be shy.”

  Henry reached in first, followed by Maggie. Their hands briefly touched, but before Maggie’s cheeks could turn fully pink, her fingers grazed a tiny, hard surface.

  Maggie and Henry locked eyes before pulling out their hands that grasped objects they knew too well.

  The Sister Wheels.

  Maggie glanced down at the wheel in her hand. A large G gleamed up at her while Henry studied Sarah’s wheel. Maggie looked closer at Henry’s hand. He also had grabbed the Horologe key.

  “We decided long ago that if all the Sister Wheels ever had to be reunited in the Horologe to protect Poppel that we would never keep them there,” Madame Welles explained. “We would like y
ou to take Grace’s and Sarah’s when you leave.”

  “You mean you’re forsaking immortality?” Catharine asked.

  “No good would come from that,” Madame Welles declared. “And besides, the wheels were meant to stay with the Van Cortlandt descendants.”

  Although Maggie and Henry agreed, a gloomy silence fell over the room. There was now nothing left to say but goodbye.

  As Hostrupp opened the front door of the shop, an unexpected rumbling of celebration filled the room. The Foundlings were cheering for the descendants.

  Clemmie and Louis were the first ones to walk back onto Myra Lane. As a roaring applause overtook the crowd, the pair looked back at their cousins in astonishment. Neither Henry nor any of the Moore grandchildren had ever been the recipients of such appreciation.

  Francis and the twins were next to leave Kleren, followed by Maggie, Catharine and Henry. Maggie searched the crowd for familiar faces. She eventually spotted Lloyd, Wendell, and Harriet near the front window of Snop, but her heart sunk when she remembered she would never see Ward again.

  As they made their way through the crowd, a pair of small arms found Maggie’s waist.

  “I don’t want you to leave,” Violet murmured, hugging Maggie.

  “It’s all right,” Maggie said, stroking Violet’s curly hair. “I’m sure we will see each other again.”

  When Maggie managed to separate Violet from her body, Laszlo slipped out in front of her.

  “You must place the wheels somewhere safe, you understand.” Laszlo’s voice was no longer emotionless. Instead it was heavy with concern. “You never know when they may have to be reunited again.” Laszlo’s piercing eyes gazed past Maggie. She turned around to see that Laszlo had also been addressing Henry who was standing behind her. “It would be unwise not to take advantage of this opportunity.”

  Laszlo then disappeared into the crowd, leaving Maggie feeling quite puzzled. She stared up at Henry who seemed equally confused. But then he placed his hand tenderly upon Maggie’s shoulder and said with a smile, “Well, we couldn’t very well leave Poppel without one final strange encounter, now could we?”