13

Krampus climbs down through the trap door, then pulls me up with him.

Up , because though we went down through the bottom of the house, when we emerge we are standing upright, as though we climbed out of a skylight and we’re standing on a flat roof.

“Are we upside down?” I gasp.

“Don’t try to understand it. Just know that there is gravity to hold us here, air to breathe, and just enough warmth to keep us from freezing solid. Look.”

I lift my eyes, and my mental horizons explode into infinity.

Space is all around us, a black and endless void reaching above, and below, and far away on every side. Stars and suns sprinkle the depths, sometimes alone, sometimes in great colorful swirls and clusters. There are clouds of green gas threaded with luminous pink, bursts of dazzling blue flecked with a white so pure it’s painful to behold. In the middle distance, I spot a pathway of pale clouds streaking across the universe.

“One of the paths of the Wild Hunt,” says Krampus. “Sometimes you can see them riding between worlds and realms. Walk this way. Don’t be afraid—you won’t fall.”

But I’m locked in place. My feet refuse to move until he gathers my hand in his. When he walks me to the edge of the house and we peer beyond it, there is nothing. The house appears to be floating in emptiness.

“We’re at the bottom of a quarry in Visseland,” I say breathlessly. “And we’re here, in the middle of nothing.”

“In the Void,” he replies. “Yes.”

“We are occupying space in both places. At the same time.”

“Yes.”

I nod, taking a moment to adjust my definition of reality. I may not comprehend how both states of existence are concurrently possible, but the truth isn’t contingent on my understanding. It simply is .

Besides, the Void is beautiful. Astonishing. Mind-shattering in the most brilliant way. I let go of Krampus’s hand and look up, trying to take in the glory of it all. “I’ve been longing for a nice view.”

Krampus looks surprised. Then he throws back his head and laughs, showing his fangs, while his long tongue lashes the air. His eyes glow green, brighter than ever. “I thought you’d be cringing and wailing at the vastness of this place. Yet here you are, taking it all in stride. You amaze me.”

Heat floods my cheeks. He clears his throat and glances away, as if he didn’t intend to say those last three words .

Desperate to break the awkwardness, I blurt out a foolish question. “Why is your tongue pierced?”

He lifts his long black claws to his mouth, and his tongue twines around them as if it has a mind of its own. He touches each silver stud, then retracts the tongue. “These piercings have a purpose. They offer greater sexual stimulation when I’m pleasuring someone.”

I suspected as much, but my stomach does a wild little flip when he says it aloud. “And the ring in your nose?”

“That’s simply an accessory, like these.” He touches the little bar through his eyebrow and the jewelry along his ears. “Sometimes I remove the one in my nose. Depends on my mood. Of course then it heals over and I have to pierce it again…” He frowns, shaking his head. “Why are we discussing my personal modifications?”

I shrug. “Maybe I want one or two. At least in my ears. I wasn’t allowed to have earrings in the cabin. Little Sisters don’t wear jewelry.”

“Fuck that.” His eyes flash. “You shall have earrings, and soon.”

I follow him back to the trap door. “Where does our water come from?”

“It’s elemental magic. A convenient feature of this house.”

“And where does the house’s magic come from?”

“A centralized locus of power called the Nexus.”

“And where did that come from?”

“Fuck if I know. I only live here.” He climbs through the trap door and crouches on the floor on the other side, extending his hand to help me through.

It strikes me suddenly, how strange we would look to a faraway observer. Two creatures, entirely dissimilar, crouching on opposite sides of a wall—one above, one below. Me, the frail human in borrowed clothes, my brown hair and blue cloak billowing around me, caught in the eddies of some mysterious wind of the Void. Him, the gorgeous Fae with black horns, scarlet hair, and a furred cape, reaching out with elegant, claw-tipped fingers to draw me back inside his magical house.

His expression shifts, turning anxious as I linger outside. In a tone of velvet and blood, he urges, low and insistent, “Come, Feather.”

I place my fingers in his palm. His hand closes around mine, and he pulls me through, out of the vast maw of the yawning universe, into the security of the house.

We rise together, and for a moment our bodies tilt against each other, my silk-covered breasts touching his bare chest. The contact sets me on fire, like it did when he grabbed me on the stairs. It’s tantalizing in a way I’ve never experienced.

But he moves away, lowers the trap door into place, and stamps on it to make sure it’s tightly closed. “Upstairs. Now. And don’t come down here trying to make friends with the Meerwunder. It won’t work.”

I had no intention of doing so until he said I couldn’t. Rebellion flares in my chest, an unfamiliar yet appealing fire. With him, I like pushing boundaries. It’s subversive, yet safe.

“You thought I couldn’t make friends with the Imp or the Bahkauv,” I retort. “But I did.”

“And I still don’t understand it.” He begins climbing the steps. “Even if they seem friendly, I beg you to keep their bloodthirsty natures in mind and realize that no matter how much you like them, they could decide to devour you at any moment.”

I laugh a little. “I’m used to volatile beings.”

He turns, glancing over his shoulder at me. “Of course you are.” His tone is thoughtful, almost sorrowful.

“It’s alright, you know,” I tell him impulsively, sensing his anxiety, wanting to soothe it. “I’ll be alright.”

His throat moves as he swallows. “This is no place for you to heal. ”

The comment terrifies and unsettles me. I want to scream at him that he’s wrong—that this house is exactly the right place for me. I want to dig my nails into the floorboards, claim this mansion as my own, and make him promise he will never send me away.

“I’d rather be here than anywhere else,” I tell him.

“That’s because you don’t know any better.” He turns away, continuing up the steps. “I’m going to bathe. I’ll come fetch you when I’m ready to leave for the pub.”

Once he’s ready, we travel by geistfyre and spend a couple of hours in a small town, at a seamstress’s shop where I’m measured and fitted for lovely, comfortable clothes with more coverage than my maid’s outfits. I’m allowed to select the styles and the fabric—soft colors and subtle floral patterns—but Krampus chooses the material for the gown I’ll be wearing to the Mayor’s party. It’s a flowy, plum-colored fabric which the seamstress promises to decorate with lavish appliques along the shoulders and waist. Krampus also commissions a pair of plum-colored lace gloves.

“All the women wear gloves, at least for the first part of the evening,” he explains. “While they’re still pretending to be chaste, elegant ladies.”

For our foray into town, he has glamoured away every sign of his true nature—horns, fangs, ears, and claws. His eyes are green, but they don’t glow like they often do at the house. His red hair trails over the huge, rolled collar of his coat like tendrils of scarlet silk. He looks human, except for the stunning beauty that sets him apart. The seamstress keeps bobbing curtsies to him and tucking stray curls behind her ears while beaming broadly. For my part, I have to fight the impulse to kneel at his feet and beg him to touch me.

“Look through the ready-made clothing rack,” he tells me. “Choose anything you like.”

The seamstress eyes us both, faint envy in her gaze. “You two are courting?”

“No,” Krampus barks out, so sternly that the woman looks startled.

I interpose with the innocent, charming smile I cultivated in the cabin. “I’m his little sister,” I explain. “An accident occurred while I was traveling to visit him. Both my trunks were lost in the river. That’s why I need new clothes.”

“Sister.” The woman glances between us, somewhat unconvinced. “Well, I’m happy to provide you with what you need. We have some very fine underthings and nightwear as well, and a beauty enhancement kit with cosmetics of the highest quality. And a dressing gown so plush you’ll think you’ve been wrapped in a cloud.”

“We’ll take all of it,” says Krampus. “And a scarf. And those fur gloves with the matching hat.”

He hands over an assortment of coins, and the seamstress is so delighted she doesn’t question us any further. When we leave her shop, Krampus’s arms are piled with bundles. I skip beside him, wearing my new hat, scarf, and gloves, barely able to contain my joy.

“I always thought choosing pretty clothes must be delightful,” I exclaim. “But I never knew how much fun it really is.”

“It was more fun than I’ve had in a while,” he admits. “And I’ve worked up an appetite.”

“I didn’t realize how late it was getting.” I glance up at the deepening blue of the evening sky .

“The rest of the shopping will have to wait,” he says. “We’re off to The Spinning Sow for dinner.”

He takes me into a shadowed alley and puts the packages in my arms while he conjures his chains and swings them in a circle around us. The alley vanishes, and we’re transported to a broad, snowy field.

The cloud cover is thicker here. Not far away stands a line of bare gray trees, interspersed with bushy evergreens. I’m knee-deep in soft snow, while large flakes drift lazily down from the heavy clouds above us. The flames of his geistfyre circle dissipate quickly, leaving us in semi-darkness.

“Well, fuck,” mutters Krampus. “I didn’t realize how much snow there would be in this spot.”

“There’s snow in my shoes,” I gasp, giggling. “At least you have tall boots.”

He swears again, then bends and lifts me off my feet, packages and all. I scream a little, but it’s partly a laugh.

“I’ve never seen snow falling so heavily before,” I tell him. “It’s lovely. And it’s so quiet.”

The snow has a pale luminescence all its own, as if it’s absorbing any trace of starlight from the gaps between the clouds. It muffles sound, too, creating a thick, beautiful silence.

Krampus is looking at me, and I hold my breath, because he’s even prettier when our faces are this close. Snowflakes are caught in his dark lashes.

“You’ve never played in the snow before?” he asks in a low voice.

I shake my head.

“Well then.” He strides over to a large rock, one of a few boulders in the field. He sets me down long enough to brush the snow off the rock and place our packages on it. Then he scoops me up again, spins us both in a fast circle, and flings me into a drift of fluffy snow.

I squeal and flounder, my smile so big that my cheeks hurt .

Krampus gathers a double handful of the snow, cups it firmly, and shapes it into a ball. The moment I scramble to my feet, he flings the ball at me, and it bursts into white powder against my chest.

He laughs, his long tongue slithering out for a moment. But his merriment is short-lived, because I’m a quick learner, and within seconds I’ve formed a similar snowball and sent it hurling toward him. It strikes his stomach.

“Little devil.” He snatches up more snow and presses it hastily into a ball.

I run from him—or I try to, but running in deep snow is more difficult than I expected and I keel over face-first into the pillowy white. His snowball hits my rear, and then he’s on top of me, rolling me over. I grab a handful of snow and toss it into his face before wriggling out of his grasp and backing away.

He jumps up to chase me, but one of his feet sinks into a hollow beneath the snow, and he teeters, off balance. I barrel into him, shoving him flat before jumping astride him and dropping a lump of fresh snow into his laughing mouth.

“Delicious,” he croons. “Try some.” And he presses a generous clump of snow into my mouth, too. It melts instantly, leaving a fresh, sweet taste on my tongue.

“It’s wonderful,” I say, panting. “Thank you. Not just for this, but for… everything.”

His eyes soften. “You deserve better than I’ve given you.”

Guilt seeps into my soul, a familiar acidic burn in my stomach. If he knew everything I’ve done…

But why am I even thinking about that ? It’s not as if tormenting myself will change the past. I have to move on and pretend it never happened.

Krampus lies beneath me, his arms splayed wide, his pale face and throat tilted up to the sky, and his red hair spilled like blood on the snow. He looks so human like this, so vulnerable. Not like a hulking beast of vengeance. When he looks at me, I see tenderness in his eyes.

Still, I can’t shake the memory of how he rejected me the other night. My foolish admission: I want you . And his voice when he replied, Get out.

“I’m wet and cold and hungry.” I climb off him and stand up. “We should find the pub.”

His expression changes, the tenderness veiled by cool composure. “It’s just down the road. Stay here, and I’ll get the bundles.”

Once he has fetched them, he hands everything to me again and picks me up, heedless of my muttered protest. His long strides carry us swiftly to a road that’s half snow, half frozen mud, which we follow until a large stone house becomes visible ahead.

“The Spinning Sow is a wayside inn and pub, situated between two towns and popular with the citizens of both, as well as with travelers,” Krampus says. “They know me as Lord Brandt here. The host is a kind man, welcoming to all and open-minded to trysts, but with a low tolerance for thievery and brawls. It’s a safe place, with good food.”

I nod, trying not to notice how good his arms feel around my body. “How long will we stay?”

He clears his throat, which tells me I won’t like what’s coming. “You should walk the rest of the way.”

After putting me down and taking a few of the bundles, he keeps walking, and I hurry alongside him.

“I told you that sex helps the Fae heal,” he says, staring ahead. “But that’s not the only benefit for my kind. Sex also bolsters our energy, enhances our magic, and feeds our very life-force. We need it to function properly. And I haven’t bedded a woman for too long. So tonight, I will be leaving you in the common room for a short time while I take care of that need.”

“You’re going to leave me alone? With strangers? ”

“I told you it’s safe,” he replies. “Would you rather stand in a corner and watch me fuck the woman I choose?”

“Maybe,” I retort. “Perhaps then I could see how it’s done, and how it works between two people who both desire it.”

He glances sharply at me. “You’re serious?”

Truth be told, I’m not sure I could bear to watch. But the thought of him leaving me alone for even a short time is terrifying. What if someone steals me away and locks me up again?

“I’d be happy to observe… unless it would bother you .” I let a hint of challenge seep into my tone.

“Why would it bother me?” He’s walking faster, striding ahead with such restless ire that I can barely keep up. “Watch if you want. It won’t disturb me in the slightest. The women who come to The Spinning Sow to have their needs met are generally amenable to all sorts of things. I’m sure I can find one who doesn’t mind an observer.”

“Then it’s settled,” I snap.

“So it is,” he replies caustically. “I’m very pleased about it.”

“So am I.”

Thanks to our furious pace, we’re approaching the inn already. The pale snow of the yard has been shaped into hollows and crusts by dozens of hooves and boots. Warm yellow light spills from the windows.

Once inside, we leave our outerwear and packages with a servant boy in the coat-room before proceeding into the pub. I stay close behind Krampus as we enter the common area.

This time, I’m better prepared for the noise, the lights, and the people. I hold my head up, like Krampus taught me, and I pretend that I belong here, that I’ve been coming to places like this all my life.

With a few quick glances, I observe the women in the room. One is balancing trays, sidling between chairs, laughing as she returns the friendly jibes of the patrons. Another woman, long and slim, has draped herself in a booth between two men who both seem fascinated with her.

A square-shouldered woman with short, sandy hair and freckles is playing a game of cards and dice with three men. Judging by their expressions, she’s winning. Three young women about my age are chatting and chuckling, sharing a large platter of chopped vegetables and sauces.

A few other women are scattered through the pub, conversing or drinking. I wonder which of them Krampus will pick. At least I’ll get to see what sort of woman appeals to him.

Someone yells “Lord Brandt!” and Krampus returns the greeting with a genial, raucous shout of “How are you, you motherfucking bastard?”

At the exchange, the languid woman looks up, her hooded gaze latching onto my escort. She has olive skin with gold undertones, and her black hair shimmers like a waterfall of ink. Her purple lips are small, plump, and pouted.

She shoos the two men away from her and gestures imperiously for Krampus to approach.

“Do you know her?” I whisper.

“Rather well,” he replies in an undertone. “It so happens she’s the sort of person who might let you watch.”

“Oh,” I respond glumly. “How wonderful.”

He leads the way toward her, and we both slide onto the bench opposite her in the booth.

“Midrael,” he says.

“I haven’t seen you in ages, Brandt.” Her voice is mellow, liquid. “And who is your… friend?”

“This is Feather,” Krampus replies. “She and I are looking for some good food—and some pleasant company.”

“Is that so?” Midrael surveys me. “Well, you know I can be very pleasant. And very open to new friends, especially pretty ones. ”

She reaches across the table and strokes my hand lightly with her long, delicate fingers. She has perfectly tapered nails, smooth and pink. A jeweled ring sparkles on her central finger, and there’s a lacy tattoo across her wrist.

Krampus clears his throat. “Let’s have some food and wine.”

“Something light,” suggests Midrael. “I prefer not to consume too much before a dalliance.”

“I remember. The soup, then?”

“Perfect.”

“I’ll speak to our host about the wine.” He rises from the table. “You two can get acquainted.”

When he leaves, Midrael cocks her head, surveying me. “Interesting choice of clothes for someone who’s seeking pleasure.”

“My trunks met with an accident while I was traveling.” The lie rolls easily from my tongue.

“Indeed. And where were you traveling from? How do you know Lord Brandt?”

“Um…” My mind races, trying to conjure answers to questions I wasn’t prepared for. Play the role, Feather. “I was traveling from a village on the southern border. Lord Brandt visited my family there a while back, and we became acquainted—”

“I actually don’t care.” She gives me a wide, vicious smile. “I may be open to sharing my bed, but I do have standards. My choice of bedmates reflects on me, and frankly, you look as if you’ve been rolling about in the snow. You’re dreadfully flushed and disheveled, and those hands… ugh. What are you, a farm girl?”

“Do you have something against farm girls?” I reply coolly.

“Not at all, provided they stay in their place,” she answers. “Here’s what we’re going to do. You’ll stay down here and stuff that pasty face of yours with the inn’s best dumplings while Brandt and I take our wine upstairs. A man of his beauty belongs with someone like me, not with a farm wench from the south.”

Heat flushes my cheeks. “You know nothing about me.”

“I know he deserves better than some uncouth trollop, and you’re certainly not the kind of woman I’d share a bed with. I like my ladies shaved bare and well-perfumed. Judging by the state of you, I suspect you’re smelly and hairy as a sheepdog down there. Leave Brandt to me, and stay put. There’s a little reward in it for you if you do.”

She produces a silver coin and holds it up between two fingers.

The only other woman who angered me this much was the Wife who came to the cabin when I was eleven. She said her real name once: Colletta. And from the moment she was brought to the cabin, she treated me like a crusted piece of shit on the bottom of her shoe.

I hated her, because she almost took everything from me.

And I made sure she didn’t last long.

Midrael hasn’t won, but I need her to think she has. When people believe they have triumphed, they reveal their true intentions.

I pluck the coin from Midrael’s fingers. “Agreed.”

“At least you’re smart enough to know when you’re bested.” She smirks, fiddling with her empty wine glass. “I have the right of first claim, anyway. I’ve slept with him twice. He has more stamina than any man I’ve bedded, and he’s rich, too. We’re perfect together. All I need is a little more time with him, and he’s mine—his fortune, his cock, and his pretty face. Ah, here he comes.”

As Krampus approaches with a bottle and two more glasses, she coos, “Brandt, my precious one, your friend has graciously allowed me to have you all to myself tonight. She can order anything she likes, on my tab, and have a grand time here while you and I take our wine upstairs. ”

Krampus looks down at me, his brow furrowed.

“It’s true,” I assure him. “We had a lovely chat. Go on, I’ll be fine.”

His frown only deepens, but he lets Midrael tow him away from the booth toward the stairway at the back of the pub. They both pause briefly at a small desk where a woman hands them a key. As Krampus accepts the key, Midrael reaches up, laces her hands around the back of his neck, and pulls him down for a long kiss. Her eyes flick open during the kiss, looking at me over his shoulder.

A dark, bloody haze creeps inward from the edges of my vision. My chest tightens until I can hardly breathe.

She touched him. She kissed him.

She is going to take him. Take him with her body, take him away from me, take his heart and his thoughts, and I can’t fucking bear it.

My ears roar with my pounding blood. I can’t form coherent thoughts through the hideous red storm in my brain. The coin slips from my fingers, rolls off the table, hits the floor with a ringing sound like a Krampus bell.

I wait until they’re almost out of sight, and then I blow out the large candle on the table, yank it out of its iron holder, and leave the booth with the holder gripped in my hand. The woman at the desk doesn’t stop me from going upstairs; perhaps she saw me sitting with Midrael and she assumes I’m going to join the tryst. I keep the iron candlestick low at my right side so she doesn’t notice it.

I reach the narrow second-floor hallway just as Midrael and Krampus are unlocking their room. As they move inside, I run lightly and silently along the carpeted hall and catch the door just before it closes.

Krampus heads for the bed while Midrael follows him; but he hesitates and begins to turn around, saying, “Perhaps this was a mistake— ”

At the same moment, I strike Midrael’s skull with the candlestick.

She crumples instantly, unconscious. Not dead. I knew exactly how hard the blow needed to be.

A smile teases the corners of my mouth. I like her better this way. Quiet and still. Less boastful.

“Feather!” Krampus exclaims. “What the fuck have you done?”