Chapter 10

Gerhard

“I’ll be glad to sprout fur so my skin doesn’t feel so sticky. Every kid’s dream is to live surrounded by sugar, but it’s a nightmare for humans,” I say to the other Krampuses reflected in the mirror.

They look like they are on their way to a funeral, not a wedding. I understand. I’m the one who asked to hide in the bathroom while Liselotte performed her offering ritual. How was I to know they were assigned as my bodyguards? Until I’m a Krampus, everywhere I go, they go—even when I try to lose them by ducking into a bathroom. If I need bodyguards in the same building as the Chancellor and Vice-Chancellor Krampus, then someone has overestimated my worth.

Krampuses swarm the lobby, upstairs offices of Krampus Industries, and stairwells. Hoofbeats create a dull roar in the background that pulses behind my eyes with the promise of a migraine. While I’m grateful the Vice Chancellor squeezed us into the Oracle’s schedule, did we have to wed on Oracle Renewal Day? I swear every Krampus in Christmas Town is wandering around this building, looking for the fountain where they leave their offerings.

The sooner we’re locked in the Chancellor’s office—and away from the crowds—the happier I’ll be. I loved the hustle and bustle of teaching high school, but I don’t miss the uneasy feeling when a large group congregates. It only takes one mischief-maker to start a riot.

“Well, not everyone is born a Krampus,” says the blond-furred Krampus with the horns that stick straight up like radar antennae.

“Get over it, Percival,” Eugene sneers. “Liselotte made her choice and is pleased as punch.”

“Thanks, man,” I say, splashing water on my face one last time. It cleanses the sugar film, except I must use a wafer paper towel to dry off. “We’re committed to one another one hundred percent. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of our girl.”

“If you can,” grouses a black-furred Krampus, a head smaller than the other four. “The Chancellor will be the judge of you. If he finds your heart inferior, he’ll send you back to Earth—”

“He can’t,” Percival says with a wiggle and smirk as if he can’t contain himself. “He’s not one of the three who can make portals outside Christmas Eve. He’d have to call upon one of us. Don’t worry, Gerry, if he asks me, I won’t do it.”

“It’s Gerhard, and let’s hope it doesn’t—”

“What are you, eighty? Stop acting like such a child. Everyone knows you don’t have the balls to stand up to the Chancellor—no Krampus does. Besides, you aren’t supposed to brag about your abilities, Percy,” Eugene barks.

The four males fight amongst themselves while I hang back to get a read on them. Percival is an ass, but he’s also a happily married neighbor in Krampus Village…who acts like a pompous ass. Cliff, the little shit-stirrer, will be a neighbor in Krampus Village, but they already made fun of him for his house by the gates. He must be on the edge of Liselotte’s caste. Then there’s Byron, who works in the registrar’s office. He claims it’s because he’s two years younger and will be our neighbor when he selects a mate, but Eugene gestured that he’s full of shit.

Once I’m a Krampus, I’d love to invite them over to play ball and share whatever sweet concoction passes for beer in this realm.

Bang!

“What was that?” I ask the question because my bickering hosts are frozen.

Bang! Bang!

Screams and a stampede of hooves resonate on the other side of the door.

“You should go defend us, Eugene and Byron. It’s your job to defend the residents of Krampus Village,” Percival quavers.

“That’s bullshit,” Byron whispers. “Why don’t you prove you’re worth your spot? You came off active duty days ago, not decades.”

“Only Krampus I have to defend is the puny human—”

“Thanks?” I whirl around to analyze our room. No weapons but my friends’ horns and claws. I’m not sticking around until whoever ambushed the Krampuses decides to clear the bathrooms. There are no windows. One door leads out into chaos. The closet is big enough for Byron and me, but not the bigger males.

“I don’t know who I fear more, the Chancellor or Liselotte if I lose you. Do me a favor. Stick by my side and don’t die,” Eugene says, pointing his finger at me.

“Do you think going out there is our best bet?” I ask, grabbing Byron’s elbow before he can open the door. My heart pounds loud enough to pulse in my ears. I bet my blood pressure is through the roof.

“Yes, we’re four males in our prime. It’s probably two or three puny elves. Everyone’s gone soft. Those of us who visit Earth regularly will kick ass for two minutes—three tops—by then, I’ll have locked your ass in Krampus Village.”

Another round of bangs, and Byron goes down like a sack of potatoes. Whatever they shot through the door is strong enough to rip flesh. I’ve seen enough. Percival, Cliff, and Eugene charge the door armed with nothing but their claws, leaving me in the bathroom. Their snarls escalate to roars before blending into the general din of screams and gunfire.

“Charging head-on isn’t my style,” I whisper as I ease the panel off the protective casing that holds the water pipes.

For years, I told my students that part of surviving a dodgeball game is knowing when to strike and when to hang back—same with life. My lesson comes back to haunt me as I realize waiting in the ducting around the pipes is my best course of action. I’m not a mystical creature, magical being, or ferocious beast. I’m a regular guy who will put his pride aside to live another day.

“It’s not air ducts, but I can climb through here to find Liselotte.” The metal ducting is cold and slimy with condensation. Thank goodness they are thick enough to keep the cold moisture from the sugar structure of the building—it makes them closer to bulletproof.

Oh, come on, you piece of shit. I took this panel out of the hole. It’s got to fit back in. I can’t slam, kick, or punch it because I’m on the inside, yanking the damn vent with my fingertips. Taking way too much time—and making a cacophony loud enough to hear on Earth—I finally secure my hiding spot.

My shoes haven’t the tread to climb to the second floor, nor am I three feet tall, so I’m forced to crawl. Water instantly soaks through the thin linen of my tux pants. My fingertips prune with the exposure to the cold water. When I chance a peek from beneath the watering fountain, I see Krampuses sitting in rows in the lobby. All that crawling, and I didn’t even make it to the stairwell?! This is much harder than it looked in my favorite movie.

Focus!

I have a narrow peephole around the inlet pipe of the lobby’s watering fountain. Two rows of Krampuses, with Cliff sitting in the back row. Everyone has their hands tied behind them—ten, eleven, twelve Krampuses in each row. Phew, Liselotte isn’t among the captured Krampuses. More guards could stash her somewhere, but with any luck, she’s in the Chancellor’s panic room or magical equivalent.

Great, there’s Percival and Eugene…so much for my bodyguards.

No, no, no! Eugene scans the wall. His stare focuses on the watering fountain. That damn bracelet! He senses I’m at the watering fountain through the magical link. Ironically, the link that was supposed to keep me safe may end up killing me. His brows bounce on his furry forehead as he tries to find me. The longer he stares, the more likely the infiltrators will wonder what’s up with the watering fountain. Who are the captors anyway?

You’ve got to be joking… Two elves enter the lobby. Four trail behind, each carrying one of Byron’s limbs. He’s thrashing like a balloon caught in a windstorm, so he mustn’t be too hurt, but he’s dripping blood. How much blood does a Krampus male hold? Do they have super speedy healing abilities? For Byron’s sake, I hope so. Four more elves bring up the rear, carrying what looks like machine guns, but they can’t be….can they? Byron would testify they are, but I have trouble believing Santa’s elves arm themselves with more than candy canes and marshmallow shooters.

Must be the same PR company Christmas Town used.

Dammit, Eugene! Find something else to occupy your mind besides finding me. How about freeing yourself? He could always use Percival’s special ability to fuck these guys up. Then again, with the bait-and-switch going on in Christmas Town, I wouldn’t be surprised if Percival’s ability was something like flower arranging or sugar sculpting.

“You,” an elf in a red hat says to a wailing female Krampus. “You want to live? You will tell me which three Krampuses can summon portals at will. Santa wants these three Krampuses, so I don’t care if the rest of you live or die.”

“Those Krampuses are miles above my caste,” she says between sobs and hiccups. Black curls bob beneath her tiny horns as her shoulders shake. Tears soak her purple blouse, forming black blobs. “Even if I knew their names, I couldn’t point them out to you.”

“Then you aren’t worth the air circulating in this building,” Red Hat Elf replies and shoots her in the back of the head. The crowd of Krampuses gasps. The bell on the toe of the elf’s pointy, red shoes jingles as he kicks her body aside. She slumps against the male Krampus sitting beside her. He seethes through clenched jaws, fire burning in his eyes.

“What the hell are you doing, Sprinkles?” A second elf with a yellow hat runs into my field of view with shoes jangling in alarm. “What if she was one of the three and lying? If you just shot one-third of our objective, the Big Guy will shoot us!”

I don’t know what’s the most ironic—their squeaky voices, their tiny stature compared to the guns, or why such fierce beasts like Krampuses kneel to them. If one of them was armed—and knew how to fire a gun—the odds wouldn’t favor the elves so heavily. But who will rise to the challenge of disarming an elf with dozens of gun barrels pointed at them?

I can’t stick around to find out because Eugene stares at the wall again!

“She told the truth,” Sprinkles says, leaning over to snatch something off the female Krampus corpse. Her companion snaps his teeth at the elf but doesn’t have the balls to take a bite. “Receptionist badge says Janet here is happy to help. If you remember the briefing so well, you remember these assholes don’t make their elite work. An ability you are born with is enough to guarantee a cushy life. Meanwhile, working stiffs like Janet will slave away for hundreds of years—unless she escapes through death. Sweet salvation, Janet,” He drops the badge on her shoulder and walks away.

“Brilliant Sprinkles,” says Yellow Hat Elf. “Check them for badges. Question and shoot anyone with a badge on their person.”

I wait for the struggle, the protests, the mele, but it doesn’t come. Krampuses don’t do more than growl when elf-handled. I can’t watch elves execute these proud creatures—not with Eugene outing me with his eyes. What do the Krampuses know about the elves that I don’t? Once I find Liselotte, we’re running. She can portal us to Ohio…

Oh shit .

My sweet, beautiful, hard-working, submissive Ms. Krampus carries her ego like a personal cooling device…because she was born with the ability to create portals at will. She’s one of the three targets for the elves. Percival is number two, but he has no hope as long as he cowers in the lobby like a yellow-bellied piece of furniture.

My intuition says Eugene isn’t one of the three. Ugh, he’s still looking for me…what’s Percival looking—oh. The little blonde Krampus huddled behind the Vice-Chancellor’s lectern must be his new bride. She drops her chin to peek in his direction each time an elf speaks. If he portals out, he must grab her or leave her behind. I hope he’s working his wrists to worm his claw free.

Time to go. It’s a matter of time before they go upstairs to the offices and find the Chancellor. My knees scream for mercy as I release my body from the awkward crouch around the watering fountain’s pipes. I pose my best downward-facing-dog to release my hamstrings. My shoes creak on the slippery, metal floor.

I pause. When the jingle bells of elf shoes don’t increase in volume, I assume nobody approaches the watering fountain to investigate. Not trusting my shoes’ stealth, I army crawl the room's length to the vertical shaft along the stairwell.

Hold on, Liselotte, I’m coming to save you.