While You Were Creeping - Poppy Rhys Page 0,4

about something.”

Ugh. Please go away.

I couldn’t look at his stupid dimple anymore. I didn’t want him leaning on my desk. I didn’t want to smell his overpowering woodsy cologne.

I wanted him gone.

Yet a fractured shard of me wanted him to stay.

I’d never felt so ridiculous. Flushing toilets was better than this.

“Perry—” his fiancée, “told me your Krampus can’t make it to the Kringle Parade this year. I just wanted to let you know I’d be happy to fill in for him.”

“What?” This was news to me.

George cocked his head. “You didn’t know?”

Thanks for telling me, Perry, you twat.

“Err, n-no.”

Fuck my life.

Shit.

The Kringle Parade was only a week away. The Krampus float was the highlight for every adult woman in Tinsel. They loved flirting with Krampus and getting playful spanks from his bundle of branches.

This parade was my Evergreen Queen responsibility. I couldn’t let it suck. I only had two more winters on my contract and I would not be known as the queen who screwed up the Kringle Parade.

Evergreen Queen was a winter solstice pageant in Tinsel. Every little girl hoped to be an Evergreen Queen one day—including me, so long ago. It was just a thing in this town.

I’d won it when I was twenty. I’d been so damn happy that year. I’d worn my crown and evergreen sash every year during the parade, as it was another caveat of the contract—a contract that lasted fifteen years.

Fifteen years of Evergreen Queen service was required after winning. This committee of queens had their fingers in every winter solstice event that took place in Tinsel.

“Well, don’t worry, Holls,” George said, patting my shoulder and pulling me out of my head. “You always did improvise like a pro. Let me know if I can help.”

My shoulder instantly itched and tingled like I’d worn a sweater that was too scratchy and before I could tell him to go away, he turned and left.

“Ms. Zax?”

My gaze darted to the elf waiting in front of my desk in her fur-trimmed dress. Her jolly green skin, pointed ears, and galaxy eyes were immediate indications that this person wasn’t human, but an alien.

It seemed every folklore story in human history had seeds of truth and ties to non-human species.

“Yes?”

“I’m Nankino, the elvshkin, but you can call me Nan,” she grinned, her flat teeth human-like. “We have a gift for you this year!”

“I—no, thank you.” I looked around the room, watching my students play with their gifts and chatter to each other in the animated ways kids often do.

“But I insist,” she urged, holding out a palm-sized cube wrapped in red paper. “You must take it. I can’t return without an empty gift bag.” She held up her small striped sack, similar to the ones all the other elves carried.

I frowned, not wanting to participate in any of this. And George was still taking up space in my brain. Like I’d ever want him to play Krampus for the Kringle Parade. Bah!

“You can’t give it to someone else?”

“It’s special, for you.” Again, Nan held out the cube, her pretty, star-filled eyes pleading.

Begrudgingly, I took it. Whatever it was, it wasn’t light, but had some substance and weight to it. I placed it in my desk drawer.

“Thank you.” Nan smiled and skipped away, the rest of the elves shortly following.

“Alright class, put your toys away. This quiz isn’t going to finish itself.”

I sat back, ignoring the disgruntled groans of my students as my head swam.

What the hell was I going to do about this year’s parade?

FOUR

KYE

Everything was black.

I felt the cold, I felt my physical existence, but this waking was different. I was blinded by darkness.

My prison had never been dark before. Cold, yes. The snow crunched beneath my hooves even now. Darkness, no.

A new punishment cooked up by the witch?

I could hear voices, far away. Muffled. My concept of time was limited in this prison.

If I were awake, it was the last stretch of the year. My people had many names for it, but a solstice was what the berchta preferred—the witches who imprisoned me.

A cruel purgatory. Put in stasis, I didn’t age, I didn’t feel time, I didn’t dream.

Only once a year was I conscious, and at the most torturous time. Torturous since I had to spend it alone or in the presence of a berchta during a season when my people would celebrate with feasts, gift giving, and merriment.

And then, when it was all over and the new year was ushered in, I’d be sucked back