5. Mel

CHAPTER 5

MEL

T he zipper on Sam's Frozen suitcase whines as I yank it closed. My hands shake so bad I can barely grip the handle.

"Where should I pack Mr. Snuggles?" Sam clutches her ratty teddy bear.

"Just keep him with you, sweetie." I toss random clothes into my own bag. Socks. Underwear. That hideous Christmas sweater Mom sent last year.

Sam bounces on her heels.

"Are we going to Grandma's?" Sam asks.

My fingers freeze on a half-folded shirt. Grandma's. The lake house. Aunt Sarah's. Every possible refuge flashes through my mind, each one crossed out just as fast. Gregor knows where all my family lives. He has access to my personnel file.

The shirt drops from my numb fingers. Where can we possibly go that's safe? A hotel? He'd track the credit card charges.

"Mom?" Sam's voice wavers.

I wrap my arm around her small shoulders, pulling her close. The familiar scent of her strawberry shampoo fills my nose. Her teddy bear's worn fur tickles my chin.

"Change of plans, baby." My free hand fumbles for my phone. Time to stop running. Time to face this head-on.

"But you said we were going on an adventure!"

My thumb hovers over the keypad. Who do I even call? The police? The FBI? The Men in Black?

'Hello, 911? My boss is an alien and there's a horned monster in my yard. No, I haven't been drinking.'

But what choice do I have? My daughter's safety comes first. Always.

I take a deep breath and start to dial.

My thumb stabs 9-1-1, but nothing happens. The keypad freezes. No signal? But the bars are full.

"Come on, come on." I switch to WiFi calling. Same result. The screen stays dead.

A blast of static makes me jump. The phone's screen flickers, pixelating into a kaleidoscope of colors. My stomach drops as the image resolves into... oh God.

The phone slips in my sweaty grip. Gray, mottled skin. Bulbous black eyes. A lipless mouth full of needle-sharp teeth.

"Is that the Green Goblin?" Sam peers at my screen, fascinated rather than terrified. Of course - she thinks it's just another Marvel movie villain.

"Hello, Melanie." Mr. Gregor's voice emanates from my phone, but his mouth doesn't sync with the words quite right. Like a badly dubbed movie. "I'm sorry to call so late. Can we talk?"

My arm tightens around Sam. The other hand clutches my useless phone, knuckles white. The alien that's been masquerading as my boss for the past year stares at me through the screen, waiting for an answer.

"Sam, honey." My voice comes out steady despite the terror coursing through my veins. "Go get Mr. Snuggles ready for our trip."

"But Mom-"

"Now, please."

She huffs but trudges toward her room. I wait until her door clicks shut before bringing the phone closer to my face.

"Listen." My throat feels like sandpaper. "I don't want any trouble. I'll just forget what I saw."

Gregor's alien features twist into what might be a smile. Hard to tell with those teeth.

"I have another solution. You continue to work for the Ayl Lean corporation, and I expand your duties...and your salary."

The phone trembles in my grip.

"My duties?" A hysterical laugh bubbles up. "What, you want me to help you conquer the world?"

"No, no, Melanie." His voice softens to that same patronizing tone he uses during performance reviews. "We want to save your world, not destroy it. In fact, I have wonderful news for you. For everyone on Planet Earth."

The static crackles as he leans closer to whatever camera he's using. Those black eyes reflect my terrified face back at me.

"Have you ever heard of our Lady of the Flame, the Goddess Ataxia?"

Oh perfect. My shoulders slump. Here I thought this night couldn't get any worse. First aliens, then demons, and now this.

Space Jehovah's Witnesses.

"Her divine flames will cleanse all wickedness from the cosmos." Gregor's alien features glow with religious fervor through my phone screen. "The Lady of Flame appeared to us, emerging from a supernova like a phoenix."

I bite my tongue to keep from laughing. This has to be some elaborate prank. Any second now, Ashton Kutcher's going to jump out and tell me I've been Punk'd.

"The Trident Alliance seeks to maintain their grip on power through corruption and deceit," Gregor continues. "They feared Ataxia's message of purification. They hunted her faithful across the stars."

My eyes dart to Sam's closed door. How long can I keep her in there while my boss preaches about his space goddess?

"That's fascinating, but what does it have to do with-"

"We came back." Gregor's black eyes gleam. "Through the quantum breach. To this pivotal moment in Earth's history."

The phone nearly slips from my sweating palm.

"You're from the future?"

"December 2024 is when it all begins. Humanity's first step toward enlightenment... or damnation." His lipless mouth stretches wider. "That's why we need loyal converts like you, Melanie. To help shepherd your species toward Ataxia's light."

I press my back against the wall, trying to ground myself in something solid and real. Time-traveling alien cultists. Sure. Why not? It's not like this night could get any more surreal.

"And if I refuse to help 'shepherd' humanity?"

"Then you've already chosen damnation." The static intensifies, warping his features. "For yourself and your daughter."

My blood turns to ice. The threat in his voice is unmistakable.

"You leave Sam out of this you wannabe Grinch," I growl.

Gregor's face splits into that nightmare grin again. His teeth glint like needles in the phone's glow.

"I'm sorry, Melanie. I've been letting you think you actually had a choice in this matter. Some of my associates are on their way to collect you and your daughter. We have ways of adjusting your point of view that are most effective."

The screen blinks to black. My fingers stab at the power button, but nothing happens. The phone's completely dead.

I lunge for the landline on the kitchen counter. The dial tone mocks me with silence.

Gravel crunches under tires outside. My heart stops.

"Sam!" I whisper-shout, already moving. "Sam, come here right now!"

She appears in her doorway, clutching Mr. Snuggles. "What's wrong, Mommy?"

I scoop her up, one hand pressed to her mouth before she can ask more questions. The pantry door creaks as I edge it open with my foot. We squeeze past the shelves of canned goods and cereal boxes, pressing ourselves into the darkest corner behind the vacuum cleaner.

Sam trembles against my chest. I pull her closer, burying my face in her hair. The strawberry scent of her shampoo mingles with the musty smell of old flour and forgotten spices.

Car doors slam outside. Heavy footsteps crunch up our walkway.

Please don't let them find us. Please don't let them find us. Please don't let them find us.

The front door handle jiggles. A metallic scraping sound follows - they're picking the lock.

Sam's tiny fingers dig into my arm. I press my lips to her ear, breathing the quietest whisper I can manage:

"Not a sound, baby. Not one sound."

My heart pounds against my ribs so hard I swear it echoes through the pantry. Sam's breath comes in tiny puffs against my collarbone. The darkness presses close, thick with the scent of cinnamon and nutmeg. Christmas spices. What a joke.

Dear God, if you're listening... I'll take back every bad thing I ever said about the holidays. I'll sing carols until New Year's. I'll bake cookies for the whole neighborhood. Just please, please keep my baby safe.

Footsteps thud above us. Drawers slam in the bedrooms. They're searching methodically, room by room. Getting closer.

The kitchen floorboards creak. Sam burrows deeper into my arms, Mr. Snuggles squished between us. I count the steps. Three by the sink. Two at the fridge. One by the-

The pantry doorknob rattles.

I squeeze my eyes shut. Maybe if I wish hard enough, we'll disappear. Like magic. Like a Christmas miracle.

The knob turns with a metallic squeal.

A thunderous crash rocks the entire house. The pantry shelves rattle, sending a box of pasta tumbling past my head. Sam yelps against my palm.

"Dashing through the bones," a gravelly voice sings from the kitchen. "In a bloody, gory spray, killing as I go, laughing all the way HO HO HO."

My breath freezes in my lungs. That voice. It can't be...

Shrieks of agony pierce the air, followed by the unmistakable crunch of bones. The Grolgath beg for mercy between gurgles and gasps.

"Please, no!" one wails. "We surrender!"

Krampus's laughter booms through the house, drowning out their pleas. He's enjoying this. Relishing every scream, every crunch, every splatter.

I clamp my hand tighter over Sam's mouth. She whimpers against my palm, tears soaking into my skin. I squeeze my eyes shut, willing this to be just another nightmare.

But the screams... the wet ripping sounds... Krampus's deranged laughter... it's all too real.

One final shriek rends the air, raw with terror and pain. Then silence falls like a shroud.

I don't move. I don't breathe. Sam shakes in my arms, her tiny heart fluttering against my chest like a caged bird.

Footsteps creak across the kitchen floor. Slow. Methodical. Like a predator seeking its next meal.

I press my lips to Sam's ear.

"Stay here baby," I breathe. "No matter what happens, stay quiet. Stay hidden."

She nods, eyes wide and glassy with fear. I kiss her forehead, breathing in her sweetness one last time.

Then I'm moving, unfolding myself from our hiding spot. The pantry door looms before me, the knob slick with my sweat.

This is insane. I should grab Sam and run. But run where?

I think of the bodies in my kitchen. The monsters who came for my daughter. At least out there, I have a chance of leading him away from her. In here, we're just rats in a trap.

I swallow hard and wrap my fingers around the knob. The metal burns cold against my skin.

I twist the knob and throw the door open.

The scene before me defies reality. My kitchen looks like Santa's workshop collided with a slasher film. Krampus lounges against my counter, taking another bite of what I recognize as the turkey I'd been saving for Christmas dinner. He's eating it raw!

His massive blue-furred frame dwarfs my modest kitchen space.

The golden garland - the same one Sam and I hung on our tree last weekend - now serves as a makeshift noose for one of my would-be kidnappers. The alien spins lazily on my ceiling fan, his gray skin catching the fluorescent light with each rotation.

My gaze drifts to the sink. Two gray feet stick straight up like macabre kitchen utensils. The garbage disposal growls, apparently still working on... I clamp down on that thought before it can fully form.

"You put him down the garbage disposal?" The words squeak out before I can stop them.

Krampus nods, tearing another chunk of meat from the drumstick.

"Yes. You humans are most intelligent, keeping a useful deathtrap like that in your dwelling."

I stare at the sink, then at the massive alien body somehow crammed into it. The math doesn't add up.

"But... that doesn't even seem possible." My voice sounds distant, detached. "I mean, his body is three feet wide, and the hole in the sink-"

"I'm very clever." Krampus grins, showing off rows of razor-sharp teeth still flecked with turkey.

My heart hammers against my ribs as I force the words out.

"What do you want? Are you here to kill me?"

"What? Kill you?" His laugh booms through the kitchen, making the remaining Christmas ornaments rattle. He crunches through the rest of my turkey drumstick - bones and all - then wipes his mouth with the back of his massive paw. "No."

My legs wobble, but I force myself to stay upright.

"Then why did you come here?"

His eyes flash, and suddenly I see the weight of the cosmos in his gaze. This being isn't just huge and powerful…he's ancient. A literal force of nature on two legs.

"At first, I thought only to repay the debt I owe you for freeing me." His golden eyes gleam in the fluorescent light. "But after having seen your fierce bravery, and met your impressive offspring, I have other plans for you."

My gaze drifts to the half-eaten turkey on my counter, then to the alien remains still being processed by my garbage disposal. The grinding sounds take on a whole new level of horror. I swallow hard, my throat clicking.

"Are you going to... going to eat me?"

Before I can blink, he moves. For something so massive, he's terrifyingly fast. His arm snakes around my waist, pulling me flush against his fur-covered chest. The heat of him burns through my thin pajama top. His hand spans my entire lower back, claws pricking gently through the fabric.

"In a manner of speaking." His voice rumbles through me like distant thunder. "I'm going to make you my mate."

"What?" My voice comes out as an embarrassing squeak. Of all the things I expected him to say, that wasn't even on the list.

"My mate." His chest rumbles against mine with each word. "My bride, I believe you humans would say."

The arm around my waist tightens, pulling me closer. When was the last time anyone held me like this? Jake certainly never made me feel so... protected. Desired.

My hands press against Krampus's chest, meaning to push away, but instead they sink into impossibly soft fur. Like touching living velvet. Nothing like the coarse bear pelt I expected. Beneath that plush exterior, his muscles feel like steel cables wrapped in silk.

His scent fills my nose - wild and primal, like a forest after a thunderstorm. The kind of smell that bypasses your brain and goes straight to more... primitive places. My heart races, and not entirely from fear anymore.

Oh God. No. This isn't happening. I cannot be attracted to the seven-foot-tall alien monster who just stuffed someone down my garbage disposal. The grinding sounds from the sink drive the point home with horrible clarity.

What kind of person gets turned on while there's literally a body being disposed of ten feet away? This is not normal. This is not sane. This is definitely not how I pictured spending the holidays.

"Perhaps you require some persuasion." His breath fans hot against my cheek.

"What do you mean, persua?—"

His lips capture mine, cutting off my words. The kiss starts gentle, almost tentative - surprising from someone who just turned my kitchen into a crime scene. His fur tickles my chin, softer than silk.

I should push him away. I should run screaming into the night. I should definitely not be melting against him like ice cream on a hot sidewalk.

But my body has other ideas. My arms slide around his neck of their own accord, fingers burying themselves in that impossibly soft fur. He tastes wild and sweet, like winter berries and midnight storms.

His claws trace delicate patterns on my back, the deadly tips never breaking skin. The contrast between his raw power and careful touch sets my nerves on fire.

A small voice breaks through our heated embrace.

"Is he your boyfriend now?" Sam asks from the pantry doorway. "Is that why he keeps coming over?"

I jump back like I've been electrocuted, my face burning. Krampus looks equally startled, his golden eyes wide. The fearsome demon who just decimated three aliens is rendered speechless by a six-year-old's question.

The garbage disposal gives one final grinding gurgle, as if providing commentary on the situation.