Good Intentions

[Content Warning: dark supernatural themes, some physical violence]

Beth blew warm air over her fingers but didn’t drop her gaze. She absently rubbed her hands together, willing her fingers to stay loose and limber as she watched the store across from the alley she had taken refuge in. As much as she craved gloves in that moment, experience had quickly taught her that her bare hands worked best for this sort of thing.

A sharp wind ghosted by, stirring up a fine mist of snow off the tops of the parked cars lining the street and temporarily distracting her from her target. It was a night like this that it had all begun, wasn’t it? Cold but not bitter, the air tinged with the scent of freshly fallen snow, sky clear and peppered with starlight – and The Queen and Swindler was empty. Again.

Beth remembered watching the barroom from the top of the steps, not unlike she was watching the store then. Her workers couldn’t see her, and she was too far to hear what they were whispering about, but she knew, could feel it in her taut gut that they were lamenting the arrival of yet another gaunt holiday season. Her fingers had tightened around the bannister in a mixture of shame and anguish; she knew what meagre paychecks they subsisted on – she signed them, after all – but could do nothing. She remembered how handing out their fortnightly envelopes with a lopsided grin had turned into sliding the envelopes across the desk with downcast eyes and a tight-lipped grimace, which eventually became the one-on-one hand-off of personal checks because she couldn’t even afford to buy the envelopes anymore.

She couldn’t bring herself to lay any of them off, and they seemed to know that. They quietly accepted the cut hours and IOUs and extended unpaid vacations, if only that meant the staff was protected. Last year, Marge, her bartender, sat them all down at the empty bar to pour them each a stiff one before the inn shut down for the holidays. Beth didn’t have the heart to mention that she probably couldn’t afford to comp them the drinks. Besides, it was almost like Marge had known that would probably be the last time she got to serve anyone there again.

And then the visitor had come.

Beth was shaken from her musings by the lights in the store across the street flickering off. She stood up from the wall and stamped her feet to get some feeling back in them. Shoving her hands in her pockets, she glanced left and right down the street before crossing in the middle and approaching the store. It sat in the middle of a small strip, nestled between the dry cleaner’s and a deli. The man who owned it actually lived two towns away and began selling his wares for want of something to do amid retirement, especially after his wife died. They’d had no children, making him perfect for this sort of thing.

Beth tested the knob on the storefront, anticipating it giving to let her in. She had studied the old man’s patterns – though she refused to learn his name, it had only ever held her back in the past – and knew he wouldn’t lock the door until he was done tidying up in the back and about to leave. Locking the door behind her, she silently strode through the store, taking care to avoid the various holiday-themed displays and aisles. The first time she had been inside, she had taken the time to admire the handcrafted ornaments and knick-knacks; it’d been no wonder that the man’s shop had managed to attract a steady flow of customers throughout the season. Just a few years ago, Beth would have envied the man, but she had her solution now.

The man was pacing his back office now. Beth peeked in from the hallway and saw him organizing papers and locking file cabinets, his back to the door. No time to waste, then; she grabbed the heaviest object in the vicinity – a fire extinguisher mounted on the wall beside her – and stole into the office. With a small grunt, she lifted the extinguisher and brought it down over the man’s head. He made a brief yelp as he crumpled to the floor unconscious, and Beth quickly took the roll of duct tape out of her pocket to restrain the man’s wrists and ankles.

The moment she touched the man, a warmth spread through her. She remembered the first time she had done this and the joy it had reintroduced into her life. Looking back at it, the mysterious visitor hadn’t needed long to convince her. One look at the gleaming brooch and a few whispered promises were all it took to persuade her to at least try the ritual. Well, perhaps it was more apt to say that all it took was for Beth to remember the piles of invoices and the inn’s empty halls for her to realize that she was desperate.

Her first sacrifice was a repo man, which Beth first thought was ironic and fitting. The ensuing investigation and media coverage reassured her that it was not, and she resolved to be more careful in the future. Nonetheless, when the inn reopened in the new year, it was to a flood of new customers. Within a few weeks, Beth was able to pay down her debts, expand her employees’ hours, and keep collectors and repo men at bay. By the end of the month, the police had dropped the investigation and the news outlets found some other sensation to occupy them. For the first time in too long, Beth could breathe again. She had even smiled more then, the more so at the thought that the ritual worked.

Beth returned to the present to prepare herself for the task at hand. Once she was satisfied that the shopkeeper was restrained, she walked through the store to clear a path to the back entrance. Glancing outside, she saw that the snowfall had picked up a bit, which meant few people, if anyone, would be around, and they certainly wouldn’t linger if they saw anything out of the ordinary. Beth rolled the man onto his own rug and dragged him out the back of the store, then carefully stuffed him in the back of her car, on the floor where other drivers couldn’t see him. Though the Queen and Swindler wasn’t far from the town center, she knew it’d take a while to get back. She would have to drive slow with all the snow and to avoid drawing attention to herself. This part of the job she didn’t relish – the constant peeks in the rearview mirror to make sure her target hadn’t awakened too soon, the way her grip tightened on the steering wheel as she tried to hurry and slow down at the same time, the quick and constant glances over her shoulder to make sure no one was following her.

Finally, Beth made it back to the Queen, and she hauled the shopkeeper out of her car and into the inn’s cellar. She locked the doors and took in a deep breath; finally, she could get on with this year’s ritual. As she lit the candles and incense, she caught herself humming a nameless tune, no doubt inspired by the carolers who had arrived on the inn’s doorstep earlier, and her chest ached again with that homey tingle that came only with the holidays. Soon, her debt and payment would be paid in full, and another year of prosperity would – well, she was getting ahead of herself again, now, wasn’t she?

Beth sighed and drew the ritual markings on the stone floors and walls, the shapes coming readily from memory and practice. This thought made her laugh; she remembered the first few times of fumbling through the writing. She hadn’t even been sure she had done it right that first time when nothing happened after she finished chanting the words. She had just stared down at her blood-soaked hands wondering how she had messed it up and whether she’d have to find another target to sacrifice. Present-day Beth chuckled; she knew better now.

She walked around the ritual circle a few times, waiting for the shopkeeper to stir. Her benefactor preferred them live, after all. Once she saw the old man blink blearily a few times, she knew it was time to begin. Taking the knife off the altar, she walked over so that she was standing behind him and yanked him up by the shoulder. Ignoring the man’s pleas and whimpers, she placed the knife at his throat and uttered the ritual’s chant.

“O Shadow of Kringle, I offer you this gift, that you may fulfill my Yuletide wish.” Beth began to press the knife into the man’s flesh, and as she sliced, she spoke, “I summon thee, Krampus.”

She felt the man’s warm blood spill over her fingers, but she ignored the sensation in favor of watching the candles on the altar snuff out, except the one in the center. She dropped the dying man’s body and waited in the stillness for the telltale slinking in the darkness, just beyond the veil of candlelight, alerting her to the demon’s arrival. The hair on her arms stood up before she heard the slithering of the beast’s tale against stone, and she turned to face the darkness, unable to see it but knowing it was watching her, awaiting her instruction.

“The same as usual,” she said. “I wish good tidings for the Queens and Swindler.”

The demon made a sound lighter than breath, acknowledging her wish, before retreating. After a few moments, the air warmed and the candles re-lit, and Beth released the tension in her shoulders. The nervous anticipation in her chest settled in her belly as giddy excitement, and she rushed to clean up so that she could celebrate.

---

“Cheers!” the Queen staff sang together. They clinked their flutes and turned to laugh and wish each other well. Beth smirked over the rim of her glass before gulping a healthy bit of champagne.

             “I think it’s time for a speech!” Marge said, slinging an arm around Beth’s shoulders with a grin.

             The others shouted their agreement, and Beth cast an anxious glance around the room, wondering if their raucous merry making was disturbing the patrons. They all seemed too absorbed in their own celebrating to pay much attention to the staff, so Beth turned back to the others and cleared her throats. “Well, I didn’t prepare anything in advance, but since you all so graciously asked, I’ll say a few words.” Nick, her concierge, whistled in encouragement, causing the others to laugh and applaud gently. “I want to thank each and every one of you for your service and dedication to the Queen and Swindler. Even though this inn was left to me by my grandmother, the founder, I feel that this is just as much your place as it is mine. We’ve been through some tough times –”

             “Yeah, we have,” Lee, the custodial supervisor murmured good-naturedly, eliciting more chuckles.”

             “—but you stuck by me and the Queen for them all. And now that we’re enjoying a period of growth and fortune, I wanted to just remind you that everything I do, I do for you all.” Beth smiled and rose her glass. “To you, and to the Queen.”

             “To the Queen!” they chorused, and they drank together. Beth finished her drink, enjoying the sear of the liquid down her throat and the warmth radiating from her.