Book Two, Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Sixteen

Mari Lwyd peered out of the culvert, watching the sun sink below the horizon. A raspy breath escaped her mouth, sending little plumes of smoke spiraling in the air in front of her. It was almost time. Just a few more minutes. They would feel like an eternity, she knew, but once the last dwindling rays of daylight disappeared, she would be free to feed again.

She had felt so strong that morning. Two meals over two nights had done much to restore the strength she had lost after her last defeat. How long ago had that been? Long enough for the world to become all but unrecognizable, but not long enough for the people in it to change. Their hearts were still so full of sin. Sweet, life-giving sin. And life it had given her, only to be leached away by Lord Krampus. She didn’t resent him for it. Her loyalty was his, and his alone. Having been the Dark Lord’s own shadow before being brought to life, who else could she have possibly given her loyalty to? Nothing would make her happier than to see him restored to his full power, and she was thrilled—no, honored—to be his chosen vessel in that endeavor. But that didn’t stop her from wishing she could retain just a tad bit more power from the hearts she devoured.

No matter, she reassured herself. It wouldn’t be much longer before Lord Krampus was back to his full strength. Then he would stop drawing on the strength she collected, and she would be allowed to eat as much as she desired and keep it all for herself.

Still, this morning had been what the humans would call a “wake up moment” for her. She had felt so confident after devouring only two hearts. It had never occurred to her that it only felt substantial because of how long she spent starving in the void. And then SHE had appeared. The one who had banished her from this world last time. The one who wielded that vile green light.

Vixen.

Mari Lwyd had almost been destroyed then and there. Only by fleeing into the daylight had she managed to escape. The sun had burned away much of what Vixen hadn’t already managed to, but that had been preferable to the oblivion that would have awaited her had she stayed. In a way, she supposed she should thank Vixen. That repulsive reindeer had shown her just how weak she truly was. Mari Lwyd had been reckless, and that had nearly cost her everything. But now she knew. Now she would proceed cautiously. Build her strength up slowly but surely. The monotony of such a hunt would grate on her, but eventually her patience would be rewarded. Lord Krampus would be restored, he would snuff out all the lights that burned her so, and usher in an age of wonderful, eternal Darkness.

But merely killing Vixen wouldn’t be enough. Mari Lwyd would devour her heart and add the wretched beast to her collection. Vixen’s soul would spend eternity watching through Mari Lwyd’s eyes as she performed her duty for Lord Krampus. How many decades…how many centuries…would Vixen last before she broke? They always broke. Mari Lwyd could feel many of them writhing within her shadowy form even now.

Pleeeease, the one who had been named Shane Dawson begged from inside the lightless void that was Mari Lwyd. Stop this! Let me go!

He was joined by a chorus of other voices, a few of them echoing his pleas, most of them mocking him. They had all resisted, some for longer than others, but they came around sooner or later. Many of them had been good people. Now they hungered for the pain of others, just as she did.

At last, the sun vanished behind the horizon, and Mari Lwyd began to bleed out of the skull. The skull was merely a shell, a vessel within which she could retreat when it was necessary, like a hermit crab or a snail. The “smoke,” as others called it, was her true self. That was why it caused her so much pain when it was burned away. It was a feeling not unlike having your flesh dissolved by acid. She was always producing more, but if all of it were to be burned away at once…she let out a hateful, raspy hiss. That was how she had been banished last time. She could not truly be killed, but she could be sent to the void that existed just beyond the living world. From there, she couldn’t be brought back without outside help. There, she would starve for all eternity, never dying, always growing hungrier even when she should have reached the farthest reaches of famine. She wouldn’t go back there. Not tonight. Not ever.

With smoke billowing out of her skull, Mari Lwyd emerged from the culvert and swept across the grassy pasture like a low hanging cloud. There were some cattle lethargically grazing under the moonlight, but they all bolted in a burst of frantic energy when she came within fifty feet of them. Stupid beasts, unable to tell right from wrong and as such unable to sin. They were beneath Mari Lwyd’s notice. In the distance, twinkling lights marked her destination. She could feel it pulling on her, the same way birds felt the instinctive need to fly south every winter. Seventy Two Faulkner Road. The meaning of those words didn’t truly register in her mind. All she knew was that there would be food there. Hearts full of sin. Fuel for Lord Krampus.

She felt Frank Harrison squirming inside her, positively, deliciously, horrified by what she was going to do to his granddaughter.

The house became visible as she drew nearer. The lights in its windows shone brightly in the darkness, but that was no matter. As soon as she gained entry, her mere presence would be enough to snuff them all out.

Like a nightmare lurking on the edge of an otherwise sweet dream, she drifted up to the front door and pressed the doorbell. DING DONNNNNG! The sound dragged an almost childlike giggle from her throat. What a wonderful little invention. The last time she had been free, she had been forced to form fists out of her smoke and rap them against each and every one of her victims’ doors. Now she could summon the occupants with the press of a button—and with a delightful little noise, too! Perhaps once Lord Krampus had been revived, she would begin collecting them.

The door opened a crack, held shut by a chain.

“Who’s there?” a timid voice asked from inside.

“It is I, come for you, unless you play my game,” she answered, then waited in eager anticipation for the reply.

There was a pause, then the voice replied, “I don’t know who you are, so please tell me your name.”

If Mari Lwyd had had lips, she would have smiled. The games had been so boring since she had been freed. Humans were dull minded creatures by nature, and had only grown duller in her long absence. She had been forgotten, and nobody knew the rules to her game anymore. That left them short. Unsatisfying. The chance to sate her overwhelming hunger had curbed the disappointment somewhat, but she was growing restless. She needed a challenge—and the shiver that ran through her smoky form told her she might just get it tonight.

“A rhyme! Praise be! Our game can keep on going!”

Five rhymes. Her victims had to match wits with her for five rhymes. Those were the rules she was forced to abide by. She didn’t understand where they came from, and neither did she care. All that mattered to her was that they were the rules, and they were what stood between her and her prospective meals. If they won, she would leave and be forced to seek out a new victim the following night. Only a few people had ever beaten her, and rather than resent them for it, Mari Lwyd respected them. They had earned their right to keep their pathetic little lives.

“Don’t bite off more than you can chew,” came the answer. “You must reap what you are sowing.”

Yessss! Mari Lwyd thought, being careful not to speak the words out loud. This obviously wasn’t the little girl she had seen in the photograph. No human that age would use a word like sowing. Could this be her father? It didn’t matter to her one way or another. A heart was a heart. Young or old, their sin would taste equally as delicious. Still, whoever this was, Mari Lwyd was thankful that they were being such a good sport.

A flicker of motion appeared behind her. She spun around, but there was nothing there except the empty Iowa night.

“Cease this prattle and let me in, the night outside is cold!” she sang, turning back to the door.

“I don’t think I will,” said the voice within, “and this shtick is getting old.”

Three rhymes. Whether they knew it or not, they had just passed the halfway point. Two more, and they would go free. That meant it was time for Mari Lwyd to start playing for keeps.

“You have fair rhymes,” she admitted, “but you lack a certain rhythm.”

She cackled quietly to herself. In all her years of playing this game, nobody had ever come up with a rhyme for—

“A man can be taught to rhyme, but rhythm comes from within him.”

Mari Lwyd froze. Within him? WITHIN HIM? That was cheating! Losing, she could live with. But cheating?

She threw herself against the door—and was promptly rebuffed by an invisible wave of force. Fury exploded inside of her, whipping her black smoky form into a whirlwind of shadows with her skull in the exact center of the cyclone. If she couldn’t get in, that meant the conditions of the game hadn’t been met. That meant that the rhyme had been accepted. She opened her mouth to let out a shriek of rage, but stopped herself. That would count as her final verse, and she didn’t want to lose the game when her opponent thought of a rhyme for AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!

“Pathetic mortal!” she roared. “You think this pitiful door can hold me?”

There was a pause, and the only sound was the rush of wind created by her frantic spinning. She glared at the door, all the fun of the contest sucked away by this…this cheater’s insolence! As soon as he lost, she would break down his door, throw him to the floor, and rip his heart out with her teeth as slowly as she possibly could. He was going to suffer!

“That reminds me of something that SOME—”

The door blasted open, banging loudly against the side of the house to reveal a dark furred reindeer buck standing just behind it.

“—BODY ONCE TOLD ME!”

Mari Lwyd recoiled in surprise, only for two more sharp clacks to come from behind her. She spun to find the two reindeer she had fought earlier that day landing on the sidewalk leading to the door, Riders on their backs. In their hands, they held some sort of green-ish white rods.

And between them, in her ridiculous wheeled chair, sat Vixen.