. . . you might still be able to play that old guitar of yours.”
For the first time in his life Jesse didn’t care if he could play guitar or not, the only thing he could think about was Abigail being alone in that house with Dillard. Jesse pulled himself to his feet and stumbled out of the bay to his truck. He yanked the door open and got in.
“Hey, Jesse.” Chet walked up to the truck carrying the bag of game consoles. “You forgot something.” Chet pulled a box out. “Mind if I keep one? My nephew’s been begging for one of these all year.”
Jesse ignored him, trying to dig his keys out of his pocket with his left hand.
“Jesse, just so we’re clear. Nobody’s let you off the hook for that pickup tonight.”
Jesse glared at him.
“At the school . . . round back as usual. Say seven o’clock. Don’t leave us hanging. Oh, and do yourself a favor . . . listen up to what the General was saying and don’t do nothing stupid.”
Jesse sneered.
“Look, dipshit, I ain’t telling you for your benefit. I’m telling you ’cause I happen to like Linda and Abigail, and would sure hate for anything bad to happen to either one of ’em. I mean that. Hell, y’know, there was a time I wouldn’t have paid half a mind to the General’s wild rants neither. But Jesse, after what I’ve seen lately, I wouldn’t push the man. If he threatens to put your little girl in a box, you better take him serious. Face it, he’s got your ass coming and going. So just save us all some trouble and play nice. All right?”
Jesse didn’t answer him, didn’t even nod. He turned the ignition, ignoring the sharp pain in his hand as he put the truck in gear and backed out of the alley, leaving Chet standing there holding the sack of toys.
Chapter Four
Devil Men
S anta Claus glanced back over his shoulder. The two boys on their BMX bicycles were still tailing him. Santa had found a string of power lines late in the morning, had been following the trail west. That had taken him past a double-wide mobile home; the two boys had been out jumping on a trampoline when he’d marched by. They’d stared at him until he was out of sight. Now, a couple miles later, here they were, peeking around a thicket, watching his every move.
They will need a little discouragement. Would not do to have children watch dear old Santa hack Krampus and his abominations to death, after all.
A distant screech came to Santa’s ear, a most welcome sound. He searched the sky, found only heavy clouds. He plucked the horn from his belt and gave it one short blast. A second later he was rewarded with another cry and the sight of two dark shapes flying down out of the clouds toward him.
They alighted upon the twisted branch of a fallen oak—the two great ravens, Huginn and Muninn. The magnificent birds were as large as any eagle, their black feathers sleek and shining. They peered at Santa with curious, ageless eyes.
“You remember Krampus? Yes, I know you do. It seems he did not die in darkness as he should have. Somehow he has crawled out from beneath his rock to make mischief, and mischief he has indeed made. Now my Christmas sack is lost—is somewhere out there amongst the near town.”
The two great birds cocked their heads, questioning.
“Search for his beasts, his abominations, the Belsnickels. For they will be on the hunt as well. When you find them, stay with them like a dark omen, lead me to them with your cry . . . for my sword thirsts for their blood.”
The ravens squawked and nodded, nodded as any person might.
“Go my pets, make haste. Find them and show me the way.”
The giant ravens leapt into the air, the wake of their great wings kicking up the frozen leaves as they flew away down the hill.
Santa heard a clink, turned, found that the boys had dared venture closer, much closer than was wise, sitting on their bikes and staring at him. Santa walked up to them. The younger boy looked about to flee; he glanced
For the first time in his life Jesse didn’t care if he could play guitar or not, the only thing he could think about was Abigail being alone in that house with Dillard. Jesse pulled himself to his feet and stumbled out of the bay to his truck. He yanked the door open and got in.
“Hey, Jesse.” Chet walked up to the truck carrying the bag of game consoles. “You forgot something.” Chet pulled a box out. “Mind if I keep one? My nephew’s been begging for one of these all year.”
Jesse ignored him, trying to dig his keys out of his pocket with his left hand.
“Jesse, just so we’re clear. Nobody’s let you off the hook for that pickup tonight.”
Jesse glared at him.
“At the school . . . round back as usual. Say seven o’clock. Don’t leave us hanging. Oh, and do yourself a favor . . . listen up to what the General was saying and don’t do nothing stupid.”
Jesse sneered.
“Look, dipshit, I ain’t telling you for your benefit. I’m telling you ’cause I happen to like Linda and Abigail, and would sure hate for anything bad to happen to either one of ’em. I mean that. Hell, y’know, there was a time I wouldn’t have paid half a mind to the General’s wild rants neither. But Jesse, after what I’ve seen lately, I wouldn’t push the man. If he threatens to put your little girl in a box, you better take him serious. Face it, he’s got your ass coming and going. So just save us all some trouble and play nice. All right?”
Jesse didn’t answer him, didn’t even nod. He turned the ignition, ignoring the sharp pain in his hand as he put the truck in gear and backed out of the alley, leaving Chet standing there holding the sack of toys.
Chapter Four
Devil Men
S anta Claus glanced back over his shoulder. The two boys on their BMX bicycles were still tailing him. Santa had found a string of power lines late in the morning, had been following the trail west. That had taken him past a double-wide mobile home; the two boys had been out jumping on a trampoline when he’d marched by. They’d stared at him until he was out of sight. Now, a couple miles later, here they were, peeking around a thicket, watching his every move.
They will need a little discouragement. Would not do to have children watch dear old Santa hack Krampus and his abominations to death, after all.
A distant screech came to Santa’s ear, a most welcome sound. He searched the sky, found only heavy clouds. He plucked the horn from his belt and gave it one short blast. A second later he was rewarded with another cry and the sight of two dark shapes flying down out of the clouds toward him.
They alighted upon the twisted branch of a fallen oak—the two great ravens, Huginn and Muninn. The magnificent birds were as large as any eagle, their black feathers sleek and shining. They peered at Santa with curious, ageless eyes.
“You remember Krampus? Yes, I know you do. It seems he did not die in darkness as he should have. Somehow he has crawled out from beneath his rock to make mischief, and mischief he has indeed made. Now my Christmas sack is lost—is somewhere out there amongst the near town.”
The two great birds cocked their heads, questioning.
“Search for his beasts, his abominations, the Belsnickels. For they will be on the hunt as well. When you find them, stay with them like a dark omen, lead me to them with your cry . . . for my sword thirsts for their blood.”
The ravens squawked and nodded, nodded as any person might.
“Go my pets, make haste. Find them and show me the way.”
The giant ravens leapt into the air, the wake of their great wings kicking up the frozen leaves as they flew away down the hill.
Santa heard a clink, turned, found that the boys had dared venture closer, much closer than was wise, sitting on their bikes and staring at him. Santa walked up to them. The younger boy looked about to flee; he glanced
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