Chapter Six

“Whoever you are—or whatever you are—you’re severely hindering my efforts to rid the world of one its most deviant miscreants.” The old woman lurched out of the forest, this time without her pail and sack. She slashed the air with her two knives, preparing herself. “I suggest you step out where I can see you. That’s my prize in the castle, and I’ll be damned if some, some, I don’t know, werewolf is going to claim him.”

“Werewolf?” Deep laughter came from the other side of the forest, and what the old lady had first mistaken for twisted tree branches—long, jagged animal horns—rose from a bramble patch, followed by the eight-foot-tall hairy beast from which they jutted.

“Do you see a full moon? I don’t,” the thing said. “And since when do werewolves run around on hooves?” The creature, holding its chain and club, lifted one of its hooves to show the woman.

“Ah, I’ve indeed heard of you,” the woman said. “At least I think you’re Saint Nicholas’s errand boy.”

“Nice to meet you, Frau Perchta.” The beast exaggeratedly bowed. “The master knows this is your territory and your time of year.”

The thing dropped its chain, but not its club, to let its massive barrel slip off its back. It used one hoof to push the barrel off the road while simultaneously stooping to retrieve the long chain. The hag and the beast assessed each other as they began circling clockwise, twenty feet separating them.

“Then what on earth are you doing here now?” Perchta said. “You and the saint had your day last month. I’m on my twelfth and final one, and this particular brat is proving a lot more troublesome than I’d anticipated.”

“You cannot seriously believe that I can snatch everybody that my master assigns me in one day? Especially when the mark is out of town. Even I need to eat breakfast, lunch and dinner. And the occasional deer snack. And I’m not immune to when nature calls. I suppose I could wait until next year, but some of the wretches do not deserve the luxury of time to commit more of their misdeeds. That’s why I’m here, now, with the mark in that castle.”

“That’s my mark,” Perchta said in a raised voice, and shook one of her knives at the monster. “I’ve distributed the coins I planned on giving today, and took care of one of the two brats who deserved it. One more to go—or two. I’ve yet to decide.”

“No. I’ve been eyeing this kid for months. And I’m not about to let some withered shrew screw it up.”

“Withered? Shrew?” She let the insult linger and looked at her feet, appearing hurt. Then she sprang toward the monster, spinning like a cyclone, her two blades slashing deep gashes into the surprised creature’s belly. She landed and kicked the monster onto its back.

The thing whipped its chain around Perchta’s right wrist and yanked. Bones cracked and she released the dagger, which twirled into the woods. She shrieked and doubled over in pain as the monster pushed itself off the ground and charged the woman.

Perchta stooped and scurried under the horrendously smelling archway created by the monster’s wide stance and used her remaining knife to slash the monster’s Achilles tendons.

It howled and fell to its knees just as the woman scooted from beneath it. She rammed her blade into the creature’s belly, but it was like skewering rock. She saw her two previous slice marks had begun to congeal and heal. She went to overhand stab the monster, but the thing countered by whipping the chain to divert the knife, and then smacked the woman back with its club.

Perchta withdrew and held the blade tip toward her foe.

“What are you?” she said. “How can you heal so quickly?”

It strained to stand on one wobbly leg and then the next.

“You mean how can I heal just as quickly as your wrist?” It nodded at Perchta’s right hand, which otherwise looked straight and healthy, not twisted and broken.

“I know that the people we hunt cannot comprehend what they’re up against once confronted,” she said. “So allow me to finally understand what that truly feels like.”

“I feel pain, as you do,” it said. “But nobody’s come close to ever stopping or eluding me. And I guarantee you that will never happen. I hear like an owl and have a hawk’s vision. My eyesight will never fail me.”

“Very well. I suppose we can fight in circles here while daylight wastes, or we can focus on what we both came here to do.” She tucked the blade into her belt and took a neutral stance.

The thing responded by tossing its club and chain near its barrel on the roadside.

“And how do we do that?”

“Simple,” she said. “You’re up for a good fight, obviously. You enjoy competition. So here’s the fairest way to settle it. First one who grabs the mark gets to punish him. I’ve got an entire sackful of straw that’s destined for that kid’s stomach.”

The thing tilted its head, ruminating over the proposition. “The master has given me freedom to do what I wish with the creeps. That is enough motivation for me to snag him first. What are the parameters?”

“Do either of us look like we follow rules?” Perchta said.

“I tend to think I adhere to a personal code of conduct and—”

“Listen, genius, if you think I’m going to let you just waltz into the castle, you’re insane. If I see you climbing a wall, you better expect me to throw something to stop you. You’ve got your chain over there. Do you think for a second I’d hesitate to use that against you?”

The creature went to answer but—

“No!” she continued. “I fully expect you to whip that thing at me if you see I’m about to be on the boy.”

“I thought we weren’t going to fight each other,” it said.

“That’s right, we’re not. The front of the castle is off-limits. That’s a rule I can adhere to. You take your side of the castle and I’ll take mine. We’ll be too busy trying to scale the walls than to worry about foiling each other.”

“Fair enough. But what about the castle’s rear?”

“We split the castle in two—and not literally, genius. You have your side that will wrap halfway around to the castle’s rear.”

“And you’ll have yours.”

“Riiiiiight.” She drew it out like it had two syllables, enjoying how to plot and win the game of wits and strength ahead of them. “I expect the last thing we want to do is meet in the middle behind the castle.”

“Deal.” The monster nodded, also feeling enlivened by the challenge. “We avoid each other, stay off each other’s side. But once we’re inside, anything goes.”

“Agreed.” She held out her claw-like right and the monster did likewise. She grabbed the tip of its kielbasa-sized finger and shook. “But don’t you go anywhere yet. I need to find my knife.”

“Yeah, my legs need to heal a little more too.” It arched its back to look behind at its calf muscles to see the Achilles wounds mending by themselves.

“You and your hawk eyes could help me look for my knife, you know. It would speed things up considerably.” She stepped one foot into the forest to begin her search. “By the way, what do I call you?”

It walked into the forest, eyeing her, and grunted, “Krampus.”