Page 5

“What happened to you?”

“I had a fight with one like me.”

She tilted her head, frowning. “Is… that common? For demons to fight between themselves?”

“Depends. Not usually this violently, though.” He scratched around one of the bandages, and he didn’t miss her curious eyes following the motion, fixating again on the bloodied fabric. “The one that attacked had some pent up frustrations about me.”

An understatement, really, but he wasn’t able to provide a better explanation. He was lost, too.

She kept fidgeting in her seat, her eyes wandering around the room as she purposely tried not to focus on him. It looked like she was holding herself back from something. Eventually, she sighed in defeat.

“Can I ask you what you do? I don’t know much about krampuses,” she said, her voice hesitant but full of curiosity.

“We punish bad people.”

She scooted forward in her seat, gaze curious. “People in general? The stories about you always talk about children.”

“People in general,” he confirmed. “We find all types of people, of all ages, and depending on the offense, we hurt them, kill them, or bring them to Hell.”

Again, he said the wrong thing. She stiffened at the word “kill” and completely froze at “Hell”, curiosity draining from her face. Were all humans this easily impressionable or was it just her?

He was already bad at interactions in his own world, but figuring out how to speak to a human was a new level of difficult. Over the years, he had managed to learn the social rules of demons—albeit barely—but he would have to improvise here…. one of his least favorite things.

He had met many humans, but it wasn’t like he ever had an actual conversation with them. Every conversation was just him reciting a list of their bad deeds, and all they did in return was scream or plead for mercy.

That realization made him stiffen, too. In all his centuries as a krampus, had he truly never spoken to a human in a normal manner? How could he have not changed even a little bit in all these years? Was he truly so comfortable in his ways that he never altered his habits—even accidentally?

“Why were you around this area?” she quietly asked, concerned. “There’s no other people here.”

She wanted to know whether he had come for her, he realized.

“There is no target here,” he assured her. “We just ended up here by accident during the fight.”

Her body visibly relaxed, and a corner of his lip tugged upwards. He frowned, turning his face back to the fire. She was a curious human, this woman…

“Can I take a look at your injuries?”

He shook his head, not looking away from the flames. “There’s no need.”

“Are you sure? I know you said you heal faster than humans, but you did lose a lot of blood. Your bandages are bloodied again, too.”

It was almost funny, seeing such a tiny and defenseless creature worried about his well-being. But she was a human, and it made sense that she wasn’t aware how strong his kind could be.

“I will be fine. The wounds have almost closed completely. There is no need to worry, human.”

“Naomi,” she corrected him on instinct.

“No need to worry, Naomi.”

Saying her name out loud felt odd, intimate. He wasn’t used to names, to this type of familiarity. Something moved inside his chest, like a parasite, and his whole body tensed. He stood up, heading to the front door.

“Once I fully recover my strength, I will have enough magic to go back to Hell.”

From the corner of his eye, he saw her jump up from her seat.

“You want to recover outside?” Naomi asked, confused. “It’s cold out. And you’re still covered in blood and dirt.”

“I’ll be okay. I don’t feel the cold.”