Page 16

Chapter 16

Rowan gnawed on the inside of his cheek. He looked at his watch, then swallowed, watching the stairs like a hawk. It had been an eternity since Callum went upstairs with Aster and Dahlia and the silence was killing him.

Rosemary had gone to their shop, to pack the merchandise and spread word of their new location. Dahlia on the other hand had run home, returning with a huge box of old odds and ends from Krampusnachts past, whisking Callum up the stairs, Aster in tow, to dress him like their own personal horned Ken doll. Callum seemed only mildly anxious, not scared out of his gourd. A good sign but that didn’t ease Rowan’s worry.

Every crappy scenario ran through Rowan’s head as he stared as his watch. What if Callum had a meltdown in town? What if this made his trauma worse? What if he never forgives me for suggesting this in the first place?

“Let Auntie Lia and Azzie work their magic,” Ivy reassured him. “They’ve only been up there for twenty minutes.”

“That’s enough time to have a panic attack,” Rowan grumbled. Gods, Callum could be curled up on the floor somewhere.

“I should just go up there.” He surged forward only to be stopped by Finn, stomping in his boots like a cat wearing socks.

“Fear not, Rowan. My brother is a stubborn beast,” Finn led him back to Ivy. “When he makes up his mind, not even his fear will stand in his way.”

The fanfare of someone imitating a trumpet with pursed lips made Rowan run to the bottom of the staircase. Aster descended, her smile all teeth. “Witches and satyrs, may I present…Krampus!”

The slow, ominous clacking of hooves was followed by the deafening rattle of sleigh bells. Callum strode in like a king-god of winter. A thick leather belt covered in sleigh bells was slung around his waist and a blood red cloak blanketed his broad shoulders.

Rowan gawked, forgetting his earlier worry. Dear Gods, his strength, the pure animalistic energy that prowled through that huge body.

Callum beelined to Rowan, looking ready to wrap him in all that red velvet and spirit him away. And he wanted nothing more. Rowan held is breath as the satyr swirled his cloak, dipping into a low, courtly bow. “My Witch-boy.”

No brain power. No words. Nothing but the blood rushing to Rowan’s groin and a single thought. I have a Krampus fetish. Oh yeah, fuck the festival. He was going to stay in today and destroy this magnificent male.

Rowan replied with an eloquent, “Uh…oooh…Oooh heeeeeey.” Unable to look away from Callum’s glorious body. A fine sheen of oil coated the hard hewn muscle of Callum’s chest, twinkling like starlight. “Are you sparkly?”

Aster puffed proudly. “The glitter body oil was my idea.”

“Isn’t he magnificent?!” Dahlia crowed. Her sudden arrival almost broke Callum’s sexual spell. Almost. She swooped in, giving both of their cheeks an affectionate pinch. “It was sheer luck that we saved parts of your old Krampus costume, Rowan. I’m surprised we didn’t just burn it after all the bad energy that it attracted.”

Rowan rubbed his temples. “Okay! We established that I’m a horrible Krampus!”

Finn’s sweater flew over their heads, landing on the banister. “If you are going natural brother, I’ll join you in solidarity!”

“Loincloth on or we’re staying home!” Ivy shoved him towards the stairs. “Sorry! We’ll meet you there!” she cried over her shoulder as Finn’s pants sailed across the room. “Can you not share your ass with my entire family?!”

I’ll see you both at the shop!” Dahlia said. “Oh Hecate, this night will be fabulous!” She twirled on her fur lined ebony coat and out the door she blew, like the hurricane she was.

The scar on Callum’s lips twisted as he flashed a wicked grin. “You like.” It wasn’t a question.

Rowan’s voice pitched high. “I like?!” he coughed, the eyes of his sister on him like a sniper scope. “Well, I…I like…I like the costume. It”s…” Hot as hell? Making me horny as fuck? “Impressive.” Sexy. “Really well done.” So fucking sexy. “Aster and Auntie Lia did a great job.” Yup, I have a Krampus kink.

Callum’s mouth was at his ear, his whisper scorching him. “I’ll wear this tonight while I fuck you, Witch-boy.”

Oh, fuck fuck fuck, yeeeeeeees. Rowan draped his arms over his shoulder, ready to devour that delectable mouth of his when Aster’s gentle “Awwww” broke the moment. Oh yeah, she was still in the room.

She clasped her hands to her chest. “There better be lots of pics of you two. I want them all!”

Callum’s ears flicked, attention turning to Aster while still resting in Rowan’s embrace. “You’re not going?”

Aster tugged on the sleeves of her baggy sweater. “I’m…I’m not as ready as you are to face the world yet.” She wiped the melancholy from her face with a smile. “But I want you to have all the fun for me. And Cal. Don’t forget what I told you.”

Callum nodded, pressing a solemn fist to his heart. “I will not.” He bowed his head to Rowan. “Lead the way Witch-boy.”

Rowan’s heart did a little backflip. “What did she tell you?” he asked as they walked outside.

Callum’s fangs glinted. “That anytime the fear becomes unbearable, I should kiss you.”

Rowan jittered. “Good plan,” he squeaked.

Broderick met them at Rowan’s car, snorting as he tapped the snow with his hoof. Rowan patted his head. “Just heading into town with Cal. Watch the house for me? Keep Aster safe?” Broderick shook his antlers then pranced back to the porch, standing sentinel in front of the door.

Callum clenched his jaw, staring at Rowan’s car. There was no mistaking the fear there despite his squared shoulders. “You can do this. Even if it”s just for a minute or two I’ll be proud of you.”

Callum closed his eyes, a long exhale loosening the death grip he had on Rowan’s hand. “As long as you stay by my side, I can do this.”

He cupped the back of Callum’s neck, drawing him down to touch his forehead to his. “You’re stuck with me all day.”

***

Rowan led Callum through the streets, hand tight around his, their breaths fogging the morning air. Humans were everywhere that chilly morning. Callum could smell the spice of their hot beverages, could hear snippets of the conversations; laughter, tutting, bickering. None noticed the blur of air hovering beside the fetching witch-boy.

The squeal of a child made Callum jolt, his claws digging into Rowan’s sleeve. His sweet witch-boy turned a smile in his direction, murmuring “I’ve got you.” The reassurance relaxed him. He has me. He’ll protect me. Trust him.

They headed into a quaint shop, a gilded sign reading Witch Way perched on its roof, flourished with moons, stars and arrows. A bell chimed as Rowan pushed open the door, a warm gust brushing Callum’s cheek. The unsettling noise of the strangers outside vanished in tranquil plucks of Celtic harp music. The space was far bigger than he anticipated. “Here we are. Home base,” Rowan said.

The comforting scent of Lavender, sage and smoke, filled Callum with calm. Everything was so bright, and cheerful; the herbs and dried flowers hanging from the ceiling, the displays of sparkling crystals, the wood floors polished to a high gloss. This didn’t feel like the den of horrible witches. It felt like home.

“Aunt Rosie! We’re here!” Rowan called. “Just um…tread slowly okay?”

Callum reappeared with a pop, gawking in wonder. This wasn’t a shop; it was a treasure trove. So many shinies, so many baubles and bottles and… “By the Goddess’s tits!” He released Rowan’s hand, hurrying to the sparkling pendants and necklaces hanging from a metal fixture. Blues, and purples, and reds all glittered under the bright lights, each one on a delicate golden chain. His mouth watered at the radiant curtain of beauty. “Sooo shiny!”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Rowan grabbed Callum’s hands before he could begin adorning his horns. “That’s merchandise they sell!”

The loud groan of moving furniture broke the peace. Rosemary was shoving a shelf three times her size across the floor, making very little progress. She peeked around it. “Oh, its fine, if he wishes to play dress up tonight. The expensive ones are locked away already.”

“Aunt Rosie, are you sure?” Rowan asked. “Because this is stuff you sell-ahhh never mind, he’s already started.”

Callum wrapped the chains about his horns and into his hair, saving the ones with the bigger crystals to drape around his neck to accent the talisman he still wore. After arranging them just so, he gazed at his reflection in the small mirror beside the display. “Yes. This completes the costume.”

“Yeah, it does,” Rowan laughed. The crystals hummed with a soothing energy that seeped into his bones. He hmmed, fingering a large amethyst at his throat “We’ve cleansed and charged each one. Between this and the sigil, you’ll be unstoppable tonight,” Rowan explained, straightening the jewels that dangled from his horns.

The touch of Rowan’s soft fingers on his horns made his skin tighten. Did he even know how sensitive his horns were in the hands of a lover? Well. Tonight he’d make sure Rowan found out. Oh yes, that would be a brilliant idea. Rowan blushed at the growing bulge under his loincloth. “Ah, well, you’ve got a lot of garnet hanging from your horns so that explains that.”

“It’s not the stone that ignites me Witch-boy.” Callum purred. And Rowan turned even pinker. That shade was becoming Callum’s favorite color.

“Oh Callum, love!” Rosemary called. “Sorry to interrupt your seduction but I’m not strong enough to move these shelves. Can you, please?” It only took seconds to carry each shelf to the back. And only one was damaged before Rowan warned him not to throw them.

Ivy and Finn arrived shortly after and they all worked together, the witches decorating with garlands of pine and holly, while he and Finn hoisted the furniture over their shoulders and cleared the space. All the while, Rowan gave him instructions on how the night would go. The people would come, then there would be a march of Krampus with others in costume in the street. Then the chasing of the children, but not to frighten them. Rowan mentioned that part with a roll of his eyes. After that would be a feast and reveling. By Dionysus’s Balls can I do this?!

Soon, the shop was aglow with flickering pillar candles and twinkling electric lights. Red and green brightened the walls. The crisp scent of pine mingled with the warm savory aromas of roasted meats and root vegetables as the aunts brought tray after tray of warm food out to long tables covered in red silk. It was like the winter festivals of old, when Callum and Finn were young and free of their grief. When their herd had been whole. When he reveled with no burden. Gods to feel that again. Could he feel that tonight?

The sun set and the doors opened wide, welcoming throngs of people to the sound of bells and horns. Males, females, and those in between. Grown ones and little ones, by the Gods, so many little ones! They chatted and laughed, greeting the aunts with hugs and cheers. Sweat dripped down the back of Callum’s neck as he stared at them all. He jumped as Rowan squeezed his hand, forgetting he had been standing right beside him.

“The Krampus march is going to start soon, and I’ll be right beside you.” Rowan gave his knuckles a pat. “But if you can’t do this, I have an escape route planned.”

His sweet Witch-boy, always ready. Callum couldn’t love him any more than at that moment. Love? He looked at their interlocked fingers. So many nights he’d dreamed of seeing them connected like this, of experiencing the wonderful ease of his nearness. Rowan with his beautiful smile and gentle words. His selflessness and bravery. Callum’s throat thickened, swelling with joy. Gods, I do love him. I love him with my entire being.

Something tugged at his cape. Callum gasped, finding a tiny dark-skinned female, her black hair pulled into two curly pigtails. Her puffy violet coat was so full she could barely put her arms down, a matching pair of earmuffs crowning her head. She stared at him with countless silent questions. Callum froze under her gaze. She showed no signs of leaving, damn her.

Rowan cleared his throat, jerking his head towards the girl, mouthing, “Talk to her.”

“What do you want?” Callum snapped. Rowan sighed and Callum forced a smile, which appeared more like a fang filled grimace. “Please, what do you want.”

“Are you Krampus?” she asked, unperturbed at his sharpness. Her two front teeth were missing, adding a little lisp to her words.

“Yes, he is,” Rowan answered.

The little girl gave a skeptical frown. “You sure?”

Callum’s nostrils flared with a nervous inhale, mind running in tight circles before slamming right onto Aster’s advice. He snared Rowan, dipping him back to press a firm kiss to his lips. Courage returned and he released the witch to wobble on dizzy feet. “I am he. The Krampus,” Callum replied. “And what are you? A little witch?”

The girl beamed. She took a deep breath, releasing it in a wild stream. “Yup! My mama said I’m a hedge witch, but I don’t really know what that means yet. But she said I’ll find out more when I’m older but that’s gonna be a long time. Like when I’m sixteen or something. My name is Hazel, what’s yours?”

“I told you. Krampus.” Callum didn’t even consider that witches could even be so young, so small, so…cute. And she was indeed cute with her round cheeks and doe brown eyes.

“Uh-uh!” Hazel shook her head, pigtails bouncing. “I don’t think you’re Krampus. You’re not very scary. Krampus is scary. My brother said that when he was little Krampus was super scary. He had claws and made this scary face and went raaaoooowwwr!” Hazel wrinkled her nose, baring her flat teeth as if she had fangs. She roared again, the sound akin to an unruly kitten. Then she smiled. “He cried for two days.” Rowan covered his blushing face and Callum burst out into laughter. Hazel wagged her finger at him. “Krampus doesn’t laugh. He roars.”

“Oh, you mean like this?” Callum extended his claws, lips curling back from his fangs. He let out a roar akin to hers, wiggling his fingers for effect. Hazel squealed and took off, crawling under one of the food tables. For a moment, he feared he went too far, but Hazel poked her head out from the tablecloth with a delighted giggle.

Callum raised his chin, suddenly standing taller than he had before. He looked at Rowan, jerking his thumb towards hazel. “That’s how you do it,” he said.

Rowan smirked. “I bow to your Krampus superiority.”

It was only a breath before Hazel returned with several of her friends and soon, he and Rowan were surrounded, Hazel telling everyone “This is really Krampus!” She pointed to Rowan. “And that’s Krampus’s boyfriend.” She turned to Callum with a bright, toothless smile. “Show them your roar!”

Callum exchanged confused looks with Rowan who just shrugged. “Don’t look at me. They ran screaming when I did it.”

Callum cleared his throat. Once again, he flared his claws, releasing his mighty but not so mighty howl. The swarm scattered, laughing, and running about, exclaiming how Hazel was right, he was indeed the real Krampus. Callum looked back to Rowan, cocking a brow. “Aren’t they supposed to be frightened?”

“Witch kids are weird,” Rowan replied.

Dahlia stood on a chair, beating on a flat drum with a flourish. “The march begins!” She announced. There was a great cheer, and everyone filed outside. Hazel grabbed Callum’s arms. “Come on Krampus! You have to lead!” The other children pushed him to the door and outside. Rowan kept their hands locked as they were led to the streets where a mob of costumed people gathered.

Drums pounded and bells rattled as the children placed Callum at the head of the mob. They walked Callum through the march, cuing him when to roar and lunge. And so, he did, chasing the giggling children who circled him with merry chants, the comforting presence of Rowan never leaving his side.

The gaggle of costumed Krampusses hissed and growled their way through the parade rattling their baskets and bells. One in their cluster made his way to the front waving his arms with an overdramatic shriek at the little ones that surrounded Callum.

“Run children! Or I’ll take you away in my basket!” His voice was pinched, muffled by the rubber mask he wore.

The kids stared at him blankly until Hazel stepped forward. “That sucked,” she declared. The children agreed, a chorus of “Boo!”, “You’re not scary!”, and “We like this one better!” filled the air, their little bodies surrounding Callum and Rowan in solidarity.

The man laughed, shaking his head in defeat as he lifted his mask. “I won’t encroach on your fan-club.” He handed Callum his fake whip giving him a thumbs up. “Killer costume, man!”

Callum held up the whip then looked at Rowan with a devilish grin. “Oh, the things I could do with this.” Rowan clutched his chest with a sharp breath and Callum chuckled. “Ah, you like that idea, do you Witch-boy? Did I unlock an unknown desire?”

“I’m not answering that while we’re surrounded by kids,” Rowan muttered. But the scarlet of his cheeks told Callum the truth. He held his tongue for now, but this topic would be breached eventually. Breached and perhaps lashed.

The sweat on Callum’s forehead dried. The tremors faded. Here he was surrounded by humans—by witches!—with no fear of their laughter or their touch. He paused, letting the children run ahead, staring at his hands.

“Cal?” Rowan asked. “Everything okay? Do we need to go back? We can go back.”

Callum held out his hands. “Take them.” The crease between Rowan’s eyes deepened with questions. But he obeyed clutching them tight. “They’re not shaking.” Callum threw his head back with a laugh. “They’re not shaking!”

A grin split Rowan’s mouth. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “That’s because you’re a tough bastard.”

“That I am.” And for the first time in ages, he felt it. And while the courage may be fleeting, he was going to cling to it. He wrapped an arm around Rowan’s shoulders, raising his false whip high and strode back to the head of the march with a roar that no doubt Orlaith could hear from beyond the veil. He’d done it; he’d taken his first step to regaining his old self. No, not his old self. This was a new Callum, one wiser and braver. And with his amazing witch-boy by his side, he would indeed be unstoppable.