Chapter 4

Gerhard

“No regrets?” Liselotte’s eyes shine with unshed tears, at odds with the anticipatory smile pulling her cheeks. In the light of day, she’s stunning. Thick, mahogany curls the girth of my wrist hang under coiled horns. Her cold walk from wherever she appeared in my realm has blushed her cheeks and reddened her perky little nose. It’s strange to see her in something other than her traditional woolen Christmas dress, but the two-piece bodysuit molded to her curves leaves little to my imagination. My fiancée is a knockout—outclassing my shabby living room by half. No wonder her bullying peers changed their tune when they discovered sex and sought her hand.

“Can’t go back now,” I tease with a kiss to her temple. “I cashed out my mutual funds to pay off the mortgage and filed the paperwork to transfer the house title to Dirk. With the excess cash, he’ll have enough for his first two years of college—my half. No returns, and no refunds. You’re stuck with me.”

“Did Dirk have to sign the papers? How did that go?” She clutches my hands in sympathy. Sparks jump between us. I was excited to start over when she first proposed, but the three days apart have increased my attraction to her to borderline obsession.

“Yeah, it was good to see him one last time face-to-face. Poor kid shouldn’t have to live out his life with stay out of my life as his last words before his father disappeared.”

“Oh Gerhard, that’s twisted and horrible, but at the same time, it’s lovely of you to fix it. I don’t know what to say.” I use her compassion as an excuse to pull her arms around my waist for a hug while pressing her cheek against my chest. I just love how her tiny frame fits in my embrace.

“Anything you say will be better than what he did. I told him about the house and asked for a hug goodbye. His last words to me were: a hug after you destroyed our family? Get a life. Before you say I should’ve stood up for myself and told Dirk why we divorced, he’ll find out when he discovers the playroom. I left the door open.”

“Pardon me if I’m overstepping, but how does the playroom explain your divorce? I thought you built the playroom for your wife.”

“Not overstepping since we’re engaged to be married. It’s actually good that you bring it up before I officially cross realms.” I put her at arm’s length to show her the sincerity and seriousness of what I’m about to ask of her. The rush of cold air over my heart is from losing her body heat…not the release of my past, right?

“Kathleen wasn’t satisfied with the playroom…or me in the end. She wanted the thrill of public scenes. I tried going to the dungeons with her—thinking she was experimenting with exhibitionism…and was wrong about her. Then I tried participating in the orgies at the dungeons—thinking I was happy just being a part of her world…and was wrong about me.”

“There are no dungeons in Krampus Village. In fact, a playroom will be our scandalous secret,” she replies with a small giggle that extinguishes when my glower doesn’t lighten.

“I need exclusivity.”

“Okay, we’ll create a closed marriage, tight as a vault.”

“Your promise is what I needed most before we left, and here is my promise,” I say as I lower myself to one knee. Her expression is comical. How bizarre our Earth custom of kneeling to propose must look to an outsider! But here I am, kneeling in my atrium, and she has no idea why. “Liselotte Krampus, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

“Yes, but here?! I thought you agreed—”

“Shh, shh, I’m leaving with you today. See, everything I want, I packed in these three duffle bags.” Custom be damned, I raise to stand and take her in my arms. There’s no need to confuse her more. I slip the modest diamond ring I bought at an after-Christmas clearance sale onto her finger.

Honestly, the most difficult item I packed doesn’t weigh an ounce. Liselotte’s request to breed her broke something in me. How many times did I regret not filling my home with children? I’ve obsessed over filling Liselotte with seed and watching her belly grow round with pregnancy. My fantasies of her breastfeeding our baby motivated me to purchase three sperm count kits of three different brands. Each time I tested in the normal range for healthy, viable swimmers, I ran a victory lap around my house.

“I was worried you didn’t pack enough until I lifted this! What did you pack?” She lifts the nearest bag a foot off the ground before dropping it with a thud.

“Mostly treats I will miss, like a bag of pink salt, my complete works of Shakespeare, and baseball hats—no more than two outfits like you requested. However, I did bring a suit to burst out of at the conversion. I’ve always wanted to hulk out of a suit like a television wrestler.” Why did I confess that out loud? With my face on fire in mortification, I sling the bags onto my elbows.

“Are you sure you want this?” She twirls her hair at the base of her left horn.

“Do you keep asking because you’re unsure? If you are having buyer’s remorse without witnessing my hair products taking over your bathroom, we should back out of this—”

“No! Please, I’ll carry your thousand-pound duffle bag of hair products through the portal if it means you will come with me. Don’t tease me about abandoning me. I’m placing my life in your hands.”

She clings to me in a childlike way that melts my heart. Liselotte isn’t just tired of working, she’s tired of fighting for survival alone. I should ask more questions about our foes in Christmas Town, but I’d rather follow her lead and allow her to show me what conflicts await us in her realm. I’m no stranger to office politics, bullies, bitter underlings, or hostile work environments—I taught high school PE, which held all of the above.

“There, there, I won’t tease. Your master will be behind you—carrying his own bags—to give you all the support you need. We’ll navigate the setup of our lives in Krampus Village together. I promise I’m all in.”

After a sweet little sniffle, she disengages from my embrace and grinds her fists into her eye sockets to clear the tears. When she’s satisfied, she waves at waist height like a Matre’d showing us to our table. When her hand completes a circle, a swirling pool of green appears. Bells chime and laughter rings from within the smoky abyss.

“Laughter, that’s not a good sign,” she murmurs. “Oh well, it’s best he meets them right away.”

While I’m formulating what I must ask to understand her murmurings, she loops her arm through mine and jumps into the whirlpool. I tumble to the side, trip, and sail into the void knees first. At least I chose black track pants instead of shorts. Is portal burn a thing?

Ugh, my organs feel as if they’re rearranging under my ribs. This is worse than the Tilt-a-Whirl at the Ohio State Fair. I’m tossed end over end, clinging to Liselotte, as my duffle bags batter us. No wonder she said to pack light. My lady will need a soothing salt bath and massage to ease her bruising.

After an eon or as short as a few seconds at the same time passes, we’re dumped onto the snow like sacks of potatoes. A ring of pine trees, some decorated and some plain, enclose us in a meadow of sorts. Are they giggling? The trees are too wide to see beyond them, but I can hear the hustle and bustle of a village or city in the distance. Over the treetops is a cloudless, grey sky.

Once my head stops swimming, I investigate the powder on the ground, marveling at the warm temperature. How is this snow not composed of frozen water? It messes with my mind that the powder should feel cold but doesn’t. It won’t melt on my hands but sticks between my fingers. I sit among my bags, sifting the white stuff through my fingers while Liselotte giggles.

“It’s closer to what you call powdered sugar than what you call snow. We don’t have weather in this realm. All the white stuff on the ground is tree pollen—”

Her words end in a scream. One of the decorated trees scoops her off the ground with four spiky limbs. Ruby baubles spin to reveal clusters of eyes below the waving top. Branches part and a gaping mouth, studded with what I thought were benign Christmas lights as teeth. Oh my God, it wants to eat her! The monster brings Liselotte close to its mouth until she kicks it in the eye.

“How can I help?” I yell from a safe distance away from the beast. I don’t care if this is one of those moments where I must let her assert her independence. I won’t let a deranged Christmas tree eat my fiancée. Bending over, I dig through the powder for a stick to poke the tree. Maybe if the tree beast chases me, it will drop her.

“I need a branch from another tree—a plain tree—not a decorated tree! Stay away from the decorated trees!”

All five decorated trees are awake now. They wave decorated arms in a macabre dance, jingling the bells and ornaments on their branches. Luckily there is a stand of four plain trees on the opposing side of the circle from Liselotte. I hate leaving her in the clutches of a demonic tree, but I must trust her to defend herself while I arm her. Bobbing and weaving around needles—who knows what horrors a needle prick could induce—I find a two-foot-long switch with minimal branching. When I twist the base where it connects to the tree, the connection pulls like taffy. The scent of chocolate blooms in the air.

Possessed Christmas trees made of candy?

No wonder Liselotte doesn’t like sweets.

“No, keep the needles,” Liselotte yells when I return to her side. She’s propped her hooves over the monster’s closed eyes to hold herself from his mouth. “Give me a big, bushy one!”

I relinquish my switch to her outstretched hand. My jaw hits the powdered sugar when she chucks the stick into the monster’s mouth. The base busts a tooth, spraying chocolate shrapnel over the ground. As its wails of pain fill the air, I sprint to the plain trees. Knowing the branches aren’t secured as tightly as Earth’s trees, I rip off two branches using both hands. The four-foot bushels leave tracks behind me as I drag them to my girl.

“Yes! Feed the beast!” Her legs tremble with exertion. This has to work, but I can’t pause to ask how feeding the demonic tree will destroy it.

I force the thickest part of my branch into the monster's mouth. Bulb teeth fly out. Every possessed tree screams in agony as I feed the one holding Liselotte. Will she lose consciousness from the force which the tree waves her around? Why won’t he drop her? He’s eaten the first branch. I plunge the second branch’s base into his mouth. Why aren’t there plain trees closer?

The monster tree’s limbs extend outward, rigid, tripling its width.

I jump out of the way at the last minute before it juts a star-adorned limb my way. Two ticks, and I’m back in the fray, shoving needle-covered sticks through the bark lips of the monster tree.

Liselotte stops screaming and fighting. Blood trickles from her waist. Did I lose my fiancée in my first minutes in her realm? The tree spins. Faster and faster, it whirls until the ornaments are a blur. Branches slap my arms as I reach inside the flailing limbs to retrieve Liselotte. Her hoof slips through my hands, along with my hopes of starting over.

The tree snaps from the base and falls to the side with a thud. Its colors bleed onto the powder, so the remaining husk is shades of grey.

“Liselotte!” I yell as I scramble to the opposite side of the tree. It disintegrates into ash when I lift the mass off her. I drop to my knees to press her to my chest, mindful of the needles poking out of my polyester track jacket. “Lisel! Oh, my kleine dame , please open your eyes!”

“You got’em. You got’em,” she murmurs, shaking her head. “You defeated the most dangerous hazard of using portals to return to Christmas Island—possessed trees.”

“Are you hurt? Do you fight trees often? Why didn’t you tell me we could be under attack upon arrival? What the hell was that? Are we still in danger?”

“Possessed trees are the easiest to avoid. They’re rooted to the ground and easy to kill. Help me sit up. My injuries will knit themselves back together as we walk. We can’t rest outside the city limits.” She groans and rolls her shoulders as I lift us to standing. Once on her feet, she staggers to the stand of plain trees where I stole the branches. My steps detour to collect my bags and sling them onto my back. I clasp her hand as she slips between the mesh of needles. She ups the ante by wrapping her arm around my elbow so we’re pressed hip to hip.

“Will we be safe in the city?”

“No, but the Krampuses will work together to foil the elf assassins…it’s the only time we do. Otherwise, my peers will try to kill you to breed me.” Her whisper is slightly louder than the crunch of powder under our feet and the rasp of needles against my canvas bags.

“I know you are special, beautiful, and intelligent, but aren’t there other female Krampuses?” My lips kiss the top of her ear because my lady has sensitive ears. Her shiver in delight warms my heart. Despite her desperation for a human mate to breed her, she chose me out of attraction…maybe even the level of affection I feel for her.

“I’m the Ms. Krampus—the only female in the top caste. I have an ability that few others possess. Santa would eat his reindeer to get his hands on me.” The words are spoken at a breath above a whisper. She glances over her shoulders to be certain nobody heard her in the deserted forest.

Ah, that’s why she landed us in a grove of monsters; they’re the lesser of two evils—no, three. An invisible fist squeezes my heart as I imagine an exhausted Liselotte attacked by trees, elves, or male Krampuses after a long night on Earth. Years of endangering her. I shouldn’t have kept her so late, but I didn’t know. What did she risk to play poker and watch a movie with me?

“So, being yours means battling demon-possessed Christmas trees, elf assassins, and the big man himself? Why didn’t you tell me? Have you lived on the run for over one hundred years?”

Concern drips from my voice as we emerge from the pine trees and I get my first glimpse of Christmas Town. Instead of the festive, colorful buildings I anticipated, stark, pollution-stained high rises blend with the smog and grey sky. Creepy gargoyles and spires give more of a Halloween vibe than Christmas. Where did the children’s stories of this realm originate?

“Oh Gerhard, I couldn’t tell you because I couldn’t risk our spot in Krampus Village. The inhabitants of the neighborhood are the most protected class of Krampuses. It’s what we all work to achieve. I’m sorry I left you in the dark…but I didn’t think you would choose me if you knew.”

“Oh, Kleine dame , I can’t wait to punish you for leaving out the best parts.”

Her teary expression contorts into a smirk that I can’t help but kiss from her lips.