Krampus The Yule Lord by Gerald Brom

Author:Gerald Brom [Brom, Gerald]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Legends & Mythology, Contemporary, Fairy Tales, folk tales, Fantasy, Horror
ISBN: 9780062095671
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2012-10-30T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

In the Bones

A song . . . far away . . . “Achy Breaky Heart.” Jesse decided he must’ve ended up in Hell, because there was no way they’d play that god-awful song in Heaven. He opened his eyes. Hell looked a lot like the crew cab of a truck. Jesse sat up fast, too fast, and the world began to spin. He braced himself against the seat and let out a moan.

“You will feel better soon.”

Jesse found Krampus sitting next to him, a mischievous grin upon his face. “Fuck,” Jesse said, trying to focus his eyes. “You’re still here.” He tried not to swoon, thought maybe he was still a bit drunk, noticed the sack and spear across the Yule Lord’s lap. “You’re not wearing your seat belt.”

“Seat belt?”

“Where are we going?”

“To kill Baldr. Your friends have decided to join us.”

Jesse blinked, rubbed his eyes, and saw Chet driving. Only Chet wasn’t exactly Chet. Chet was a Belsnickel, or well on his way to being one, at least, as his skin was spotted charcoal gray. Someone, Jesse wasn’t sure who, was riding shotgun. The man looked back at Jesse and Jesse realized it was the General, his skin changing also, his eyes orange. He looked terrified.

“Too bad for you, motherfucker,” Jesse said and laughed.

Krampus laughed, too. “Found the short one peeping out from beneath a dead man. He looked lost and scared, so I brought him along. What do you say, little peeper? How about you and Chet sing me a song?”

The General didn’t answer, just stared at Krampus with haunted eyes, like a man who wanted to wake up from a bad dream but couldn’t.

“General, I command you and Chet to sing me ‘Jingle Bells’ . . . soft and sweet please. On the count of three: one, and a two, and a three . . .”

They both began to sing, a sad mumbling chorus, out of synch and out of tune.

Jesse laughed again and felt a deep discomfort in his back and chest. He fell quiet. I was stabbed. And through the haze of the mead it came back to him. He touched his stomach, his leg. The nails, they were gone, as was the pain, most of it anyway. I’m still alive! He slowly tugged up his sleeve, afraid to look, knowing too well what he’d find. His skin, it was speckled gray and black. “No,” he said. “No, you didn’t!” He glared at Krampus. Krampus nodded, smiling. Jesse pulled up the front of his shirt, exposing his stomach. He could see where the nails had been, the wounds were still there, not oozing blood, as they should’ve been, but well on the mend.

“I have granted you a life,” Krampus said.

“You’ve turned me into a monster.”

“Of sorts.”

Jesse held up his hands, wiggled his fingers, and winced. They were stiff and sore, but he could hardly tell they’d been broken. “How . . . can this be?”

“My blood will do that,” Krampus said with obvious pride.

“This is wonderful.

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