Don't Touch

by Barbara Taub

  She turned to the crowd. “Most of you loved Greta. Believe me when I say that she didn’t want this for you. Please, for her sake, and for your children and grandchildren, please leave with me now. We can go to Null City and live normal lives.” She turned and left the clearing. There was a moment of silence, and then Stefan’s father turned away from the Krampus and followed her. At first nobody moved, and then people started to leave, one or two at first, and then in greater and greater numbers. Finally, the only ones left in the clearing were the old Krampus and the eight cousins.

  The Krampus stood tall and straight. “Stefan, I want you to listen to what I’m going to tell you now. I’ve already named you as my heir and the next Krampus. I can’t change that while you still live. There’s no need for you to die, or for your friends to be at risk. All you have to do is come down now, and we’ll all leave. Otherwise, you and your friends are completely outnumbered. You’ll all be killed.” From his strong voice and confident attitude, you’d think he was surrounded by an army of supporters.

  But really, that group of eight determined Krampus cousins might be enough. “Their bad cologne might be enough.” I didn’t realize I’d said that last bit out loud until both Stefan and Rag gave surprised snorts of laughter. Stefan reached for my hand and asked very softly, “Are you sure?”

  I looked at Rag, who gave me a serious nod. “Yes.”

  Stefan called down to the old monster. “Not today. I don’t want you to underestimate any of us, particularly Lette. She has strengths you can’t imagine. You sent Lars and Kurt after us in Seattle and never heard from them again, right? That’s because Lette took out both of them. Nobody who attacks us today will survive. Are you sure you want to risk the lives of all your potential heirs? Because I don’t think any of the ones who just left will agree either.”

  I could see the cousins were worried when Stefan mentioned the two I’d turned into Pony-Buddies. But they were too much in awe of the old Krampus, or maybe they just liked eating fear. Either way, nobody left. Instead they moved back to the trees and began circling to surround the cabin. I knew it was only a matter of time before they would be firing ropes at the house and scaling up. As soon as they hit the tree line, the shooting started. We fell back into the house. Rag looked out the front window and quietly told me where he had spotted a Krampus. I nodded and trained my bow’s sight on the first tree. It was just like turkeys, I told myself. I waited silently until I caught a flash of movement, sighted, and shot. There was a scream, and another flash. I shot again. Another yell cut off short.

  “That’s two,” I muttered. After that, the Krampus and his grandsons pulled back further into the trees. It was so quiet. The usual bird songs and rustling noises were silent. We waited for almost an hour before the first shots came. Flaming arrows buried themselves in the roof. Rag raised a brow when I just laughed. “Mom was always worried about fire, so the roof and outer siding are ceramic tiles that just look like wood. They’re not going to burn.” We could hear muffled cursing from below as the fires burned themselves out.

  But this time there was no further wait. A barrage of gunfire had us all lying flat. When it let up, ropes hung from all sides of the house. Those climbing were shielded by the house itself. Rag was lying on top of me so I heard his calm voice rumbling through his chest. “There are at least three shooters still on the ground. So that means there can’t be more than four coming up the ropes right now. Lette—are you sure?”

  I knew what he meant. Was I sure I wanted to touch them? Hell, no. But I pulled off my gloves and moved into the small hallway. Ready. The first two cousins lifted themselves onto the porch. It would only be moments before the next two arrived. Rag reached up and pulled out that great flaming sword, standing flat against the wall by the door. Stefan’s eyes widened, but he nodded. He stepped into the room where he’d be visible from the doorway and said, “Okay. You win.” He threw down the empty gun and held up his hands. As the two cousins rushed him, Rag stepped behind them, reversed the sword and clipped the first one with the hilt. As he dropped, Stefan was already driving his fist into the second cousin’s stomach. Both were still conscious as I approached and touched each.

  I had to put down my head and gasp for air. Spots swam before my eyes, and my stomach cramped as I went to my knees. That provided a great view of the two bright, shiny jack-in-the-box toys on the floor beside me. It sounded like tiny fists were pounding on the lids. I scooted away until my back was against the wall, just in time to see the next two cousins go down. I thought I might be sick, but my hands were surprisingly steady as I crawled over and touched them.

  Then Rag’s arms were around me as I shuddered and struggled for breath. He brushed back my hair and just held me. When I could finally look up, Stefan was staring at me, as I lay on Rag’s lap with his arms clasped around me and his lips pressed to my forehead. Stefan turned bleak eyes to the four toys and grimly moved them into the hallway behind us.

  I looked around my cabin. The windows were shot out, and flying glass and shards had destroyed most of the furniture. But they hadn’t done much structural damage because the shooters still wanted Stefan alive. So my home was broken, but it could still be fixed. Stefan stepped over the piles of glass and debris to stand next to the door. In the complete silence, his voice easily reached the trees. “Krampus. Four more of your grandsons are gone. Unless you want the same thing to happen to the two you have left, you need to leave.”

  The old voice reached us. “I don’t think so. I think all three of you are going to come down here now. If not…”

  We heard a short scream, followed by a gasping plea, “Stefan, no. Don’t listen to him…” His mother. Rag handed me my gloves and carried me over the broken glass to join Stefan on the porch. We all looked down to see his father lying on the ground, his mother next to him on her hands and knees. Stefan looked at me. I nodded, and the three of us went down the ladder, crowded as close to Stefan as possible. As I stepped away from the ladder, I peeled off both gloves.

  When I turned to face them, the Krampus was standing over the sobbing woman. His two remaining grandsons looked uncertain but grimly moved toward us. The old man fastened greedy eyes on Stefan, who met his eyes without blinking. I saw the exact moment when the Krampus realized he would never control Stefan. And I knew, without any possible doubt, that he would kill us and name a new heir. As the two cousins came closer, I held out a hand to each of them as if surrendering. I heard the Krampus scream, “No!” but I was already touching them. This time it really was too much. I felt Rag grabbing for me but there was a hole, a warm black darkness I was falling into.

  I could feel the ground beneath me, but I couldn’t open my eyes or even move. After a minute, the rumble of sounds over me dissolved into separate words. Through slitted eyes, I took a cautious look around. Rag was standing with that flaming sword pointed at the old Krampus. But the monster had Stefan’s mother held against him, a knife at her neck. Spittle flew from his mouth as he babbled at Stefan. “I’ll cut her throat. You know I’ll do it. If you want her to live, you’ll have to kill yourself. Sure I’ll have to go on as Krampus for a while longer. I don’t have any grandsons left. But some of them had sons, and I won’t make the same mistake this time. I’ll choose an heir while he’s still young, and then I’ll finish raising him. You’re the only thing in my way.” His hand shook, and a thin trickle of blood dripped from the neck of the woman he held.

  Stefan looked at the old monster for a full minute. Without breaking eye contact, he held his hand out to Rag for the sword. Rag hesitated, then handed Stefan a knife instead. I remembered the way the Krampus cousins’ guns and knives had heated to a red-hot glow back at the Metro Station the day I met Rag. But Rag couldn’t heat the Krampus’ knife without risking him involuntarily slitting Stefan’s mother’s throat. Her head was pulled back so she could only look up, but she screamed Stefan’s name, begging him to leave, to stay safe, telling him she loved him. I could see the Krampus sucking
in her terror like it was dessert, and that unfamiliar anger unfolded in me again. He glared at my apparently unconscious body as he stepped closer, dragging the pleading woman in his arms. Two more steps, I silently begged. Now one. His leg drew back then shot forward in a kick aimed at my stomach. My vision splintered and wavered, and my arm felt like lead. But the anger was a beautiful, red power. Yes! Stefan must not die. It was that simple. I reached under the hem of his kicking trouser leg and touched the Krampus.

  “Stefan.” Was that croak coming from me? I tried so hard to reach him, twisting see if he was okay. “Stefan.” My last sight before the dark closed around me again was the anguish in Rag’s face. When I woke up, his arms were around me, and he was shaking. “Shh,” I crooned. “It’s okay. I love you too.”

  “Lette.”

  I froze. Stefan’s voice? I concentrated everything I had on opening my eyes. Cerulean blue eyes looked into mine.

  “Wha…hap…?”

  His arms held me closer. Just beyond me, I could see his father, holding his sobbing mother. Both were staring at the shiny jack-in-the-box at their feet. I pushed out of Stefan’s arms crawled over to the cheerfully striped box. Winding the handle, we all listened to the tinny chimes of Pop Goes the Weasel until the final release note. A horned clown with a long tongue and furious eyes burst out, waving floppy arms. I stuffed it back in the box and closed the lid.

  “Rag?” I looked around but couldn’t see him. Stefan came over and handed my gloves to me. After I pulled them on, he picked me up, staggering over to the bench at the side of the clearing. Well, I am huge, no matter what Rag says. Stefan sat down with me on his lap and put a hand to my cheek. “He’s gone, Lette. He waited until you woke up and then he walked off. I heard some of my other relatives’ cars leaving so he probably got a ride with one of them.” I closed my eyes and leaned against his chest.

  I wanted to stay at the cabin but had to agree with Stefan that it wasn’t habitable. He climbed the ladder and came back with my camping backpack and George in his carrier. Amazingly, the jar of diamond rings had survived, and I gave it to Stefan for his Metro fare back to Null City. I asked his parents to drop me at my parents’ house in Seattle. When we arrived, Stefan walked me inside. In the front hallway, he set down George and my backpack and pulled me into his arms. “I just have to know. When you woke up…after…everything, you said you loved me. But you thought I was him—Rag—didn’t you?”

  “Stefan, I’m so sorry. But he didn’t want me. He left.” Did Rag hear what I said? Did he think I meant Stefan?

  He kissed me, very softly. “I’m going back to Null City. If things don’t work out with that guy, you know where to find me.”

  “No. I know what it’s like to wait for your life to start, and you deserve so much more.” Those beautiful blue eyes were shiny, but he lifted that chin and smiled as I kissed his cheek. “Goodbye, Prince Charming.” My whisper sounded rough. “I have no idea why I fell for the dragon instead of you. But I do know your princess is out there waiting for you to rescue her and whisk her off to your castle, or at least your Northwest Craftsman cottage. In Null City, it’s probably an actual princess…”

  Mom and Dad came back the next day. They said they got a text from Rag telling them I was safe and they should return home. I took his number from Mom’s phone and sent a text back to Rag. Okay, maybe I sent several texts. Per hour. For days.

  I spent the next week being fussed over. Dad said the most words I’ve ever heard from him at one time. “It’s good to have you home, Lette. We’ve missed you.” I cried. At first, everything made me cry. Finally, Mom sat me down and told me she wanted to hear about him. “Who?”

  “I’ve never known you to cry about anything before. Who is he?”

  I told her.

  “So what’s the problem?”

  “Mom, he doesn’t want to be with a human. He tried that. Or maybe he just doesn’t want to be with me. And even if he did, I’m… dangerous. I could never touch him. Probably never have his children.”

  “First of all, you can touch anything you want. I read that there are more nerve endings in the lips than in the fingertips.” She pursed her own lips. “And actually, more in the clitoris than either of them.”

  “Mom!”

  “I’m just saying that you are obsessed with your fingertips, but you’re lucky. You have all five of your senses. There is nothing broken about you. You’re incredibly intelligent, beautiful, and he’d be lucky—damn lucky—to get you.”

  My Mom said damn. I cried again. But that was the last time.

  With my parents’ help, I repaired the cabin over the next few months. I was glad that most of the always-powered appliances survived just fine (including that vibrator at the back of my underwear drawer). We swept out all the debris, replaced windows, and plastered over bullet holes. I had to buy a new laptop. It was really annoying to have to keep charging it and I missed my old one that never ran out of power. I kept sending emails and texts to Rag, telling him it was okay if he just wanted to stay friends, but I never heard back. Stefan sent a few emails, and a picture of him with Kristin. While I painted the walls of the cabin, I talked it over with George and told him we’d have to move on. The walls looked like crap, and Mom snuck in and repainted them one afternoon while I went shopping with Dad for new furniture.

  While we were at the mall, I realized it was almost Christmas. I spent a long time watching the children visit Santa. There were still plenty of reasons for children to be afraid, but I was fiercely glad that a monster with a long tongue would not be one of them.

  For the first time, I felt like decorating for Christmas. Okay, maybe I went overboard. Evergreen swags buried the porch and the fireplace, a huge wreath hung on the door, and a ceiling-scraping tree smothered with flickering lights took up way too much of the living room. Mom said I should add ornaments, but that would probably have to wait until next year because there was something I needed to do first. With only a few days left until Christmas, I told my parents I had another old friend to visit and asked them to drop George and me in downtown Seattle. For a while we wandered streets hung with decorations and looked at families waiting in line to visit Santa’s cottage at Nordstrom’s, stopping for hot chocolate, and ignoring the rain. As usual for Seattle, only the tourists had umbrellas.

  I walked past the place where I’d turned the two Krampus cousins into Pony-Buddies, through the doorway where I had first seen Rag and his flaming sword. When I got inside, the Conductor in the ticket machine said, “Lette Simoneau. No charge for Metro pass.” The ticket that fluttered to the tray below read “Lifetime Metro Pass for Lette Spark Simoneau”. When I got aboard, there didn’t seem to be a new SA yet. So I changed into one of the train logo shirts and loaded up the food trolley. After I’d visited with the passengers (several imps heading back to Fallen Court, a nervous family of Were-Badgers that I introduced to some Krampus families since all were heading for a new life in Null City, and two Watchers who, of course, ignored me), I returned the trolley to the kitchen and cleaned up.

  Holding George’s cat carrier, I went to the engine and removed my gloves. When I could open my eyes again, Metro and I were sitting on the new sectional in my cabin, and George was complaining from my bedroom. Metro looked around at the room lit by the soft glow from the Christmas tree lights. “I like it, Spark. Looks more grown up. So do you.”

  I laughed. I knew I wouldn’t last long, so I gave him the quick update on what had happened. When I showed him the row of jack-in-the-box toys on a shelf in my linen closet, he laughed too. Finally, he took both of my hands. “Spark, are you happy?”

  I thought about it. “I miss Rag. Every day. But I do know who I am, and I’m happy with that. I don’t want to get rid of my touch any more, and I get a kick out of seeing what I’ve got each day. Today is birthday cake, chocolate of course. Want a piece?”

  He shook his head. “You know you can come back to me any time, right? And I hope you’ll visit often.�
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  I agreed and found myself leaning forward to kiss his cheek and give him a quick hug. Powerful arms closed around me. “And if you want,” his voice rumbled through the chest my cheek was pressed into, “I can beat up Rag for you.”

  I pulled back and punched his arm. “Stop being the big brother.” And that was it. The black spots ate the world. When I woke up, I was lying on the couch with a quilt over me and George was yelling about dinner. And my old laptop was on the new coffee table next to me.

  So that’s everything. I have some ideas for new research, plenty of money, thanks to another good touch day (antique gold coins), and a lifetime pass to the Metro. If I miss a grouchy, antisocial ex-angel with boundary issues, well, I’m learning to live with that one.

  Chapter Eight

  Home

  LiveJournal, December 24, 2012 by LetteS

  I was having a terrific dream that Rag was carrying me into my bedroom. The bed dipped as he lay down next to me, and I could smell cinnamon and lemon. More, I wanted more, so I scooted closer and stuck my nose into his neck. I felt his hands move down my back and realized… Not a dream. My eyes flew open, and my head shot up.“Ow!” He was holding his hands over his bleeding nose and yelling and laughing at the same time.

  “Raguel?” I asked cautiously. When he nodded, I ran for a wet washcloth. The bleeding had stopped by the time I got back, but he eyed me warily.

  “Are you still mad at me, Lette?”

  “I was asleep, you stupid ex-angel.”

  “Um… Is this one of those boundary things?”