14

Feather stands over Midrael’s insensate body. Her right hand shakes so much she can barely grip the candlestick, but her smile is bright and cruel. I’ve never seen her wear such an expression. It shocks and excites me at the same time.

“Too bad,” she says softly. “You can’t fuck her while she’s unconscious. Well… I suppose you could, but I don’t think that would be right.”

She’s out of her mind. Violently jealous. Most humans would keep her at arm’s length after seeing this new side of her character .

But I am a child of the Unseelie, raised by trolls, steeped in the poison of vengeance. I understand her more deeply in this moment than ever before.

She did this because she desires me with a ferocious longing much darker and deeper than I gave her credit for. I can still hear her soft plea from the other night: I want you . She’ll never know how much it cost me to repel her after she said those words.

All I have craved, in my long, long life, is to be wanted. And she wants me so violently that she injured another living thing out of willful passion. I’m wildly thrilled by it, and yet I can’t let her know that I’m pleased. I can’t let her believe that this is acceptable behavior among normal humans.

First I set down the wine and glasses on a side table. Then I check Midrael’s pulse and sniff deeply of her scent to reassure myself that the wound is not mortal and caused no deeper damage.

With that done, I shut the door and grasp the back of Feather’s neck. She cringes a little, her eyes widening, as I drag her past Midrael’s body, toward the bed.

“I need sex, because of what I am,” I grit out. “It fuels my vitality and keeps me sane. Yet you took away my chance to enjoy it. Worse still, you harmed this beautiful woman. Why?”

She won’t answer. She’s trembling.

“Look at what you’ve done.” I point to Midrael. “Why did you hurt her?”

“You didn’t hear what she said to me,” Feather whispers. “She despises me. She thinks I’m worthless.”

I release her neck and seize her shoulders instead, forcing her to face me. “You can’t knock someone unconscious because they despise or insult you.”

She stares at me with tormented eyes.

My heart clenches at the hurt, anger, and confusion in her gaze. When I found her, she had bruises on her body from the man who called himself her brother. He beat and killed dozens of women. He punished Feather in the name of false love, out of cruelty and selfishness, and he fractured her psyche, perhaps beyond repair. The darkness in her came from him. I must tread carefully here, so as not to damage her any further.

“This isn’t how humans behave,” I say, more gently. “You know that, don’t you?”

Her lips tighten. No answer.

“God-stars, Feather.” I vent a rueful laugh. “We were just playing in the snow. I thought you were this soft, harmless creature—”

“Well, I’m not,” she snaps. “Not when you crack me open and look deep inside. I’m a thing of blades and iron. That’s how I found the strength to pretend I was weak, for so long. That’s why the monsters in your house like me, you see.” Her smile is agonized, beautiful. “They can sense it. They know that I’m a monster, too.”

“But you weren’t born one,” I tell her. “You were made into one, by him . And he’s gone. He has no more power in your life. Which gives you the freedom to transform yourself into something wholly new.”

She wrenches her shoulders out of my grasp. “And you think you can teach me how to do that?”

I touch my chest, thinking of all the things I have been… a bargaining chip, a slave to trolls, a friend to one solitary human boy, a mass murderer, a careless member of the High Fae in the Seelie capital, and a servant of the Wild Hunt.

If anyone knows how to exchange one existence for another, it’s me.

Perhaps the god-stars are at work in this. Perhaps I am not so unfit to help her as I first thought. She has awakened me, roused me from a doleful, endless existence. Can I sacrifice myself, subdue my own lust, and instead be the teacher she needs, her guardian and guide until she is ready to live with her own kind ?

“Yes,” I say aloud. “I can teach you. I may be the only one who can.”

At my reply, something fractures in her gaze. “I’m sorry. I got so angry… I couldn’t stop myself.”

“I’m not the one who deserves your apology.” I stride over to Midrael, pick her up carefully, and lay her on the bed. There’s a lump on the side of her head, but no blood, and she’s already beginning to stir.

“She will be alright,” I tell Feather. “But we should leave. Quickly.”

We hurry out of the room and head downstairs to gather our things from the coatroom. Once we’re outside, in the shadow of the barn, I draw the geistfyre circle around us, and the cold night disappears. In the blink of an eye, we’re safely embraced by the gray walls of the house, far from any stories Midrael might tell or any vengeance she might seek.

“I can never go back there.” I dispel the chains and sit down heavily. “That was one of my favorite pubs.”

“I’m sorry.” Feather places the packages on the floor near me, then walks with measured steps toward the stairway that leads Below.

“What are you doing?” I exclaim.

“That’s where you punish people, right? I deserve to be punished for what I did. I ruined the night. We didn’t get to eat or drink, and you didn’t get your… your sex. Because of me, you can’t sleep with Midrael again, or return to the pub.” She descends a few steps, then looks back. “I need you to punish me. It’s the only way I’ll learn.”

The spirit of the Krampus inside me agrees with her, rises up eagerly at the idea of punishing her tender flesh. But I resist the urge.

“I’m not the man from the cabin,” I say. “I won’t hurt you.”

“Then the beast will.” She descends lower .

I leap up, springing over to the stairway. “Don’t be self-destructive. Get back up here.”

“You don’t understand.” Her voice is wrecked, pleading. “I need you to hurt me. I’ve done things… terrible things. I should pay for them.”

I hesitate, drawing a long breath.

Tonight she showed me that she isn’t the pure, innocent young woman I thought she was. Her soul has a cruel streak, a darkness that screams to my own tenebrous heart. She’s no less worthy because of it. In fact, I respect her more—her strength, her pain, her beauty.

Right now, she’s weighed down by the realization of what she did tonight and by the shadow of some past sin that haunts her soul. Guilt is a beast with venomous teeth, and she’s been taught that violence is the only way to purge the poison. If I’m too gentle, if I flat-out refuse her the punishment she’s accustomed to receiving, she’ll rebel and fling herself into the tentacles of the Meerwunder, either right now or sometime when I’m not watching. I have to walk this line carefully.

“One day, when you’re ready to tell me everything you’ve done, I will punish you in the way you deserve,” I tell her. “But for tonight, will you come to bed?”

I hold out my hand.

She hesitates, poised to spring away from me into the yawning black throat of the stairway. If I’m not present, the Meerwunder will devour her the moment her feet touch the floor of the torture room.

Desperate, I speak a word that I haven’t voiced in years. “Please.”

The volatile anguish in her gaze softens. She bites her lip, then places her fingers in mine and lets me draw her out of the dark.

Silently, we retrieve our packages. Back in my room, she puts away her new clothes while I head to the kitchen to fetch a few scraps of food—bread, butter, cheese, the end of a ham, and two apples, only slightly shriveled. We eat quietly and companionably before the fire, and then we take our own sides of the bed. She doesn’t approach me, and though I lie awake a long time, I resist the temptation to touch her.

I’m called away shortly before dawn. A pair of toddlers this time, subjected to the cruelty of selfish parents. There’s no sign of a trap, and when I arrive, one of the boys is still holding the sleigh bell he found in the yard. Both children are grubby, bruised, and malnourished. I enter the cabin, wrestle the parents into my sack, and drag them away, out of the cottage and across a field. In a thicket of trees nearby, I wait a few minutes until I see the familiar glow of Mother Holle approaching on her white reindeer.

I’ve grown to believe that all humans have the capacity for great wickedness. Some do wicked things because of a cruel upbringing, or because grief, rage, or desperation drive them beyond reason. Others have a sickness of the mind that limits or confuses their capacity for empathy and kindness. But there is another group with a deeper malady—a rot of the soul that makes them truly evil. They are born with malice inside them, a diseased root so deep that neither a physician of the mind nor a healer of the body can offer aid.

I have judged all three kinds, meting out torture, death, or both, depending on the will of the god-stars. The parents screaming and thrashing in the sack I carry are the worst kind—they take a sick, selfish pleasure in abusing their own children. I transport them back to the house and set them loose for the monsters to hunt. As I head back to my room, a shrill, gibbering howl tells me that Wolpertinger has already caught their scent.

“I wish you joy of the meal,” I mutter, shoving open my bedroom door.

My Krampus form has not yet faded, so my hooves clop loudly on the floor when I enter. Feather startles out of a deep sleep, hastily yanking all the pillows against her chest in a protective wall, then blinking groggily at me.

“I did not mean to wake you.” I dispel the goat-skull mask and the cape. “There. Better?”

“Not really.” She’s staring at my lower half, including the long, thick strands of fur that mostly conceal my cock in this form.

“I’ll revert to my usual shape in a moment,” I assure her.

“Did I hear something howl? Or was that in my dream?”

“Wolpertinger,” I explain. “I’ve just given him a snack. I’m going to the market today to purchase food and firewood. Would you like to come? When we return, we’ll begin practicing what you’ll need to know for the Mayor’s party.”

She seems relieved when I don’t mention Midrael. “I think you should go out alone,” she says. “I’ll need to clean up whatever Wolpertinger leaves behind.”

“Very well.” Even as I’m speaking, my bulging muscles shrink and the veins disappear as I revert to my usual lean, toned form. I’m utterly naked, but Feather doesn’t look away, and I don’t attempt to hide anything. I saunter over to the bureau, select some clothing, and pull on my pants slowly, taking my time as I fasten them.

“Promise you won’t do anything rash while I’m out?” I ask.

“I won’t.” She winces. “I’m sorry about… everything. I feel much better now. I think I was just tired.”

Of course. You knocked out the woman I was going to fuck because you were tired. How perfectly normal and reasonable .

Maybe Feather suspects what I’m thinking, because she says, “I’m also sorry for asking you to punish me. That was strange and wrong. I won’t ever say such things again.”

“Very well. But remember, I made you a promise, and I’m willing to keep it if you should ever crave… punishment.” On the last word, I cast her a significant glance, and she flushes rose-red .

“I’ll remember,” she says faintly.

“Be ready for lessons when I return.”

“Alright. And you be careful,” she adds as I’m buttoning my vest and heading for the door. “Watch out for iron.”

“Of course.” I hesitate, turning back. “There is something you could do for me while I’m gone, after you’re done cleaning. In this house there’s an artifact that could help me withstand touching iron for a short time if I need to, without visible effects. It’s designed to conceal the energy signature of glamours as well. I haven’t used it in ages. I think I left it in the library. It’s a necklace with an amulet bearing the sign of a half-closed eye within a crescent moon. If you happen to find it, I would be grateful.”

“I would be happy to look for it, but the house hasn’t let me into the library yet,” she admits.

“Ah. Interesting, but not surprising. The library is home to the Nexus, the soul of the house—the source of all its magic and some of mine. The Nexus sustains the monsters who live here, and it also binds them so they can’t run amok through worlds.”

Feather hugs the pillows tighter to her chest. “What does the Nexus look like?”

“I couldn’t tell you. It often takes on new shapes, especially when revealing itself to someone new. If you do gain access to the library, be cautious. The Nexus can be unpredictable.”

“So can I,” she says quietly.

She’s avoiding my gaze again, looking small and withdrawn behind her mound of pillows. I hesitate in the doorway, wondering what a normal human or Fae might do in this situation. A comforting hug, I think. But I never hug anyone unless I’m out in the world playing the role of the genial Lord Brandt, and even then I only embrace potential lovers in a seductive context. Comfort isn’t something I know how to offer. God-stars know I never received any myself, except from the first human I ever befriended .

And he ended up in the refuse pile.

Turning my back on the girl in my bed, I leave the room and close the door behind me.