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“And you are that man?” I ask.
“If I could drop all of this right now and go with you, I would. I want you to know that.”
He’s right, I do know that. I don’t want to sour our evening with a chat about a life we know we cannot have.
“So why Krampus?” I ask, changing the subject.
He gives me a deep laugh before explaining. “Dad didn’t like the stunt I pulled on Halloween. Disappearing and having other people cover for me. So he came up with the Holiday Haunt and put me in the lead role that he usually plays. By doing that, I have no choice but to be where I’m needed.”
He stands, and I watch as he slides on his furry coat, snapping it into place to hide the human man beneath.
“So if I pull this off, I’ll be back in line to take over.” His voice is empty, sad.
“Is that bad?” If he didn’t want to be here, working, why would he have stayed on Halloween?
“I grew up in this world. My parents met when they were both working as scare actors in their teenage years. Shortly after they got married, I came along. They were working on opening Hell’s Gates, so they had to work their butts off, new baby or not.” He’s pacing the small room. “So I became part of my mother’s costume until I could wear one of my own. Now we are here, and my father wants to pass the torch and retire.”
“Is that what you want to do? Take over?” Seeing how stressed and empty he seems tells me that’s a big, fat no.
“I don’t know. I always thought that this was just how it was. Since this is how it’s been for me for so long, I didn’t know any better. But after Halloween, the haunt didn’t have the same appeal.” He turns back to me, catching me off guard with his Krampus makeup. “Spending that time with you, saying goodbye, it was all too much. I’ve had flings before, but we were different. I couldn’t get it all out of my head. It made me crave something…more. Something serious and permanent.”
Is he trying to tell me he wants us to be serious?
Before I can ask, a bell chimes loudly just outside, and I nearly jump out of my skin.
“Fuck, that’s my cue. I have to go back out there, but meet me back here in an hour. I want to spend as much time with you as I can.” He grabs my face in his hands, planting a quick kiss on my lips before he gathers his discarded cane from the ground and giving me a mischievous wink before leading us out into the darkness.
Lucas
Istart my round of the haunt’s grounds, taking eerily slow steps as I snap my head toward a person here and there. But the whole time, my eyes always come back to her. I watch as she stands in line at the food cart.
She doesn’t hurry to pull out her phone or run off to catch up with her friends. She is like a whole different woman this time. She has her moments of fear, but overall she’s brave and comfortable.
It has me wanting to bend her over the closest cafe table and fuck her into oblivion. Not giving a fuck who’s watching, not caring if my dad disowns me.
She ismine, and I would gladly let everyone know as she comes around my cock, calling out for God as her monster gets her off again and again.
My dick is hard, and a smile is taking over my face. I fix it immediately. I have to stay in character. I need to get my dad off my fucking back and give a performance the people deserve.
I sulk through crowds of people, staring down the obviously frightened ones. Smacking the ground randomly with my stick and making them jump.
In Krampus lore, it’s said he is a half goat, half demon monster that punished the bad kids next to St. Nicholas. In some forms of the legends, it’s believed he’s the son of the Norse God Hel of the Underworld. On the night of December fifth, Krampus would go out and beat the bad children with branches and sticks. But in the really bad cases, he’d take them back to the Underworld with him.
But I’m not after kids, and the only person I can even fathom bringing into my darkness, dragging into my lair, is Alexis.
* * *
I enjoythe last bit of my walk, making sure to pick at every fear-faced patron on my way. The small black shed tucked into the dark shadows set off to the side of my throne is like a lighthouse in a storm.
A sign that I’ve almost made it home.
I make a loud smack with my stick next to a middle-aged woman who nearly jumps out of her own skin.
“You better behave,” I say with a growl.
Her eyes are like saucers as she backs away from me.
That truly never gets old.
