Yuletide (Matilda Kavanagh Novels Book 3) by Shauna Granger Page A

wasn’t fast enough. Krampus scooped her up and shook his head, making his lolling tongue waggle suggestively. The crowd cheered and Santa let out a booming laugh as Krampus jostled the poor woman.
    Power snapped at my fingers as anger and embarrassment went through me on the woman’s behalf.
    Joey put her hand on my shoulder to keep me in place. “Let’s just get inside before he comes back.”
    She nudged me forward, but I couldn’t move until I saw him put the woman down, unharmed. She was flushed with embarrassment and surprise, but managed to smile when Krampus gave her an awkward thumbs-up. I didn’t really think she was okay, but it would only embarrass her more if I went after the actor or checked on her, so I released the pent-up power and let Joey lead me inside. Joey took a candy cane offered by Santa as we passed, but I ignored him, knowing I would just want to cram the stick in his eye after he’d laughed at that spectacle.
    The entrance to the Krampus exhibit was impressive, with massive snowy mountains covered in pine trees, all decorated with glass ornaments and lights. They’d started with blue decorations and progressed to purple, to red, to yellow, to green, as though we were moving through a rainbow. The mountain-scape came closer and closer together until we were walking through a tunnel. The temperature dropped degree by degree, and finally we came to the entrance of a dark cave.
    In glittering red letters over the mouth of the cave was the word Krampus . We stepped through, and the darkness swallowed us whole. Joey glowed, giving off her own light, and I called power to my eyes so that when I blinked, I could see clearly.
    Once we moved away from the entrance, the “cave” looked like any other museum exhibit. Paintings hung from wires on the walls, ranging in size from portrait to massive. Glass boxes were placed around the room, protecting the items inside and giving the illusion that those things were real and not reproductions. In the corners were statues of Krampus, looking much like the costumes the Krampus revelers wore at the club the other night. People stood close to them, as close as the ropes would allow, and took pictures with them.
    “Whoa,” Joey said as she stepped forward.
    The lighting was dim, but we could see, so she allowed her glow to fade and I blinked the light out of my eyes. She flitted away from me, going to the biggest portrait of Krampus in the room. It stood about ten feet high and possibly seven feet wide. I wasn’t sure how the wires were holding it up.
    I didn’t need to see another leering rendition of Krampus, so I moved to the first case in the room. In it were dead birch branches and a thick bundle of switches. The plaque stated they were the original tools of discipline used by the Christmas Devil, the right hand of Santa Claus. I rolled my eyes and turned away, facing a glass case raised on a wooded block.
    It stopped me in my tracks.
    Inside the glass box was a faded black sack. It was laid out and propped open so that we could look into the black depths of the bag. A chill ran up my back as I stepped forward. People paused in front of it and moved on, looking bored. With a lump in my throat, I stepped up to the case and held out my hands. Heat pressed against my palms as the power of the bag answered my seeking power.
    It was real.
    It was Krampus’s bag.
    They had found Krampus’s lair.
    Krampus was awake again.
    “Mattie?”
    I nearly jumped out of my skin when Joey’s hand landed on my shoulder. The yelp that came out of me sounded like a wounded cat’s.
    “Take it easy,” a docent said from the side of the room, giving us a disapproving look.
    Joey had to stuff her knuckles in her mouth to stop her giggling. “That’s the same noise Smert makes when you step on his tail.”
    “Thanks,” I said, running my hands through my hair and tucking it behind my ears.
    “So what’s the matter?”
    “What do you mean?”
    “You were looking at