I wake up to the smells of coffee and sugar. I follow it down to the kitchen and find a bowl of sweet porridge waiting for me. A disappointment falls on me as I see it is not accompanied by a demon.. Remme was likely already dragging Aloysius out of some women’s embrace so they could get to the council meeting. Once again, I can’t suppress the humor I find in the fact that Aloysius and Remme are siblings. The little I know about their relationship reminds me of my two brothers.

I spend the rest of the morning reading and knitting by the fire. Being as lazy as possible, I find a way I can prop a book on the couch in front me and knit at the same time. I think I can live like this forever. Even the flannel nightgowns are growing on me. I do not have a pattern for the sweater so I just knit in the round after making a bottom cuff.

For lunch, I find some rolls, meats, and mustards in the pantry. I take it to the large porch and sit in the sunshine while looking at the tree farm below. Hundreds of trees in a grid, all covered in snow, far below me. A small furry thing scampers between the trees, too far away for me to identify it. The stillness of the early afternoon is beautiful.

As I am putting away the provisions I took out for lunch, I find a bottle of wine. I hope Remme does not mind and I open it up. A rich red smoothly falls into a tumbler, the earthy and sweet scent of roses follows. As much as I thought I would love having endless time without responsibilities, I am already getting restless. I decide to wander the house, taking the bottle of wine with me for company.

The first room on the lower level is full of sleds and sleighs in all state of repairs. I can see, from light filtering in from windows on the double barn doors, that some are half taken apart and others so damaged they must be here for scraps. Looking at the one closest to me, I see there is no motor or wiring. My mother, an engineer, would stop the tour right here to spend hours to figure out how they would work.

Next to the sleigh room is a cellar. There are all sorts of pickled and preserved foods, but most importantly, racks and racks of wine.

I walk across the hall into a large armory. Except to be shocked by the large amount of weapons one person could own, I find nothing of interest to me in this room. As I turn to leave, I catch the shape of a large target on the far end of the room. I had been meaning to see if I can create ice knives again, without the embarrassment of Remme watching. I walk up to the target and put down the wine bottle. I take a few deep breaths and steady myself. Think about a knife made of ice I tell myself. I wait a very long time and nothing happens. I spy a collection of knives on a shelf so I take a small one in my hand and feel it. I place it in one palm and try to replicate it, in ice, in the other. Still nothing.

I put my hands towards the target and see if thinking of moving ice would help. It does not. Frustration clouds my mind as I don’t know what to do next. I feel less traction under my feet and find myself standing on ice. All these years I thought I was clumsy, always slipping on things, and it was just me doing it to myself. I want to laugh at this but I’m too frustrated about not understanding when I can do this. When? I think. When I’m frustrated or rushing is when I slip. The more intentional knives and healing of last night, those were associated with desperation. When I think I am out of options, out of time, out of hope.

“Ok, let’s pretend we are being attacked by the alps,” I say to myself out loud. Maybe it will make it more real. I think about the lair, the chains, the blood. Still nothing. Remme would probably be laughing at me by now. I hope Remme is ok, a silent thought comes from the back of my mind. I look down and find splinters of ice in my hand. I let them fall out of my hand to the floor in disgust. I am ok admitting I am physically attracted to him, but it can’t be more. I have to leave in two weeks, return to a world where he doesn’t exist.

I walk back to the wine bottle and take a long drink.

The last room I walk into is opposite the sleigh garage and faces towards the valley of the tree farm. It is full of agricultural equipment and gardening tools, things that must be for the farm. Light streams in from the large windows from an attached greenhouse. I weave a path through the machinery to find a room full of tiny bonsai pines. Dozens of them.

He knits and tends to finicky, delicate plants. I don’t want to think of this gentle side of the alp-killing demon. I run my hands over the sharp needles and I think of my grandfather. He kept dozens of tropical plants, mainly orchids, from his homeland when I was little. He somehow smuggled them all into the US when friends and family came to visit. My grandmother refused to return to Bolivia after leaving, also leaving much of her culture behind, but it was harder for my grandfather. It was his little way to stay connected to his home.

I find I already only have a half bottle of wine left as I walk back up the stairs to the main floor. I am done exploring dark secrets today but need a better book that the ones I have found in my bedroom. I head down a hallway I have and find an open door to an office space. Most of the books here seem to be ledgers or in a language I can not read.

Across from it there are double doors I open into a large library. I pause at the threshold to take in the thousands of books before me, rising high above my head on two-story bookshelves.

I stand in awe for a while, the sun sinking down behind peaks out the window in front of me. Smelling in the scent of old paper and leather, touching their spines. I occasionally pick up one that intrigues me on cover alone, which is totally against the honor code upheld by true book lovers, but there is nothing else I can go by as I do not recognize a single title. I eventually pick out ten books, about as many as I can carry, and bring them back to the sitting room.

I raid the pantry, finding cheese, a fresh pretzel, and dried apricots, and head back to the fire. I am ready now to lose myself in a book.

The bottle of wine is about empty and the sun has set, when I finally hear a noise aside my own heartbeat and crackling from the fireplace. Remme has returned. I hear him open a door and stamp snow off his boots. Not wanting to appear I have been anticipating his return all day, I stay silent for a bit.

Then I call out, “Hallo, Mr. Disappearing Lord of the Castle.”

But there is no response.

My feet are hanging over the back of the couch as I have been lounging upside down. My view is hidden by the coffee table in front of me but I can hear him come in the sitting area.

Something doesn't feel right. I don't feel the softness of a new snowfall but rather a cold, deep, old snow. Like the feeling of a glacier, an unmovable glacier. I lift my head up to better see and find myself looking at a very gray and wrinkled Krampus. Horns and claws out. I swing myself upright as quickly and gracefully as I can currently manage, which was actually neither. Thankfully, I didn't knock over the bottle of wine.

Stolen story; please report.

I try to lay flat the wrinkles in the flannel nightgown, but now feel horribly underdressed.

His tired eyes flash gold in the firelight with amusement, then disappointment as he raises an eyebrow then wrinkles his forehead at me.

“Hello. May I help you?” I say as I stand up. I wonder if he even knows English. He looks very old. “Feel free to take a seat if you would like.” I gesture to the armchair close to him

“You are not exactly who I was expecting, but I presume you are Isa?” His voice is soft yet a deep cracking, like the movement of glaciers. Fitting. Also flat, as if I bore him.

I am not sure what he knows about me or what he expects, so I stay silent and nod. As he sits down, I fall back onto the couch, gravity too much for me at this moment.

“Its a pleasure to meet you. I see you are enjoying your visit here.” He looks at the books and wine.

“Yes, Remme has been a gracious host.”

He doesn't say anything but keeps looking at the wine.

“Would you care for some wine?” I hope this is an appropriate offering to a Krampus.

“I see you have opened up a vintage produced by Aloysius. He’s never been so kind as to gift me a bottle so I'd love to try it.” I try not to read into this too much and take it as a yes, I walk to the kitchen to find another tumbler. How can a man who knits have no wine glasses?

As I pour him some wine, he stays silent. Is he waiting for me to stab him with ice?

“I didn't know Aloysius made wine,” trying to strike up a casual conversation. “In fact, I had no idea grapes even grew in this region.”

For whatever reason, he engages and explains how Aloysius gets grapes sent to him from a friend and then completes the process from that point. He continues about how Aloysius is a better brewer but brags more about his wine, convinced that aging wine at altitude is critical for the unique flavor profile he is known for. He seems proud of Aloysius, whatever relation he is to him. I also notice as he has been subtly talking deep breaths through his nose. So that’s the real reason for this visit. To smell me, to understand my abilities.

“What is your profession, Mr... I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”

“Vitus. I used to be a baker, specializing in rye breads” I can not imagine this man making bread. Likely very dense breads, as he seems to have none of the patience to let bread rise properly. “I now focus more on my role with the council.”

Which is? I was getting tired trying to figure out why he was here.

“As one of the council elders, I am in charge of border control. As you might know,” he looks at me severely, “this winter has been especially difficult with managing alps, especially in this region.

“I have been pondering the next best course of action. There are many nuances to consider with how open or closed we keep the borders. In addition to protecting humans, we also protect mythical lands from humans. It is becoming increasingly hard to keep humans from learning about us. Nosy ones. And if they learned even about one alp or Krampus, the consequences could be disastrous. Not just for us but for all magical lands.”

This catches my attention. I didn’t think about if there were more than just the Krampus and alps. That potentially many fairy tales are real, just hidden.

“Just wondering if we should just give you back to the alps and let them sacrifice you, be done with this nonsense.”

My heart skips a beat. I was not expecting that.

“Remme offered to just close off the borders in this area, which would be a nice compromise. It would be easy since this little area of our lands is more of an island, not contiguous with the rest of our lands. But it would also give Remme much more control over an area than I'd like.” His eyes narrow at me, “I’m sure you have seen his abilities? They are much stronger than most of us, only comparable to the elders. And frankly, this threatens the council.”

I don’t know the politics of this land, but I am aware of where Remme stand. His passionate anger about needing change. I want to tell Vitus that Remme is too kind to want to take over the council but realize all I can advocate as that he has been kind to me. To the council, he’s outspoken, it seems. Always the first to any conflict with the alps, that he enjoys the bloodshed. His broody and dark persona, his well stocked armory. That likely I am the only one that has seen this gentle side. I try to push back any thought that maybe what he is showing me is a falsehood.

“It’s interesting his brashness has only amplified since you appeared.”

“Vitus!“ Remme’s voice rumbles from the lower level and tells me Vitus is not a welcome guest. He takes the steps two at a time but halts as he sees us both comfortably sitting on couches. His eyes show relief. Probably not the scene he was expecting.

“Your very interesting houseguest was offering me some of Aloysius's wine. Care for a glass?”

I take that as my cue to leave. I’m not interested in being in the middle of this fight.

As I take a very long time to find a tumbler, I can hear a conversation that is not exactly pleasant. I become desperate as I am not being handed back to the alps. I wonder how successful I would be if I left the house now. I’d need boots, a coat, lights, and I’d probably end up back in the clutches of an alp.

Resigning I can not escape, I’m going to have to fight. Thankfully, I’m usually pretty good with vocal attacks. I set my shoulders back and also enter the room when I hear Vitus’s words.

“I know there is more to this than the honor of getting her back to human civilization safely. I can see you are attracted to that little thing.” Little thing - as if I'm not worth anything to them. “But let me remind you that has never worked out for any of your brethren. She is now not only compromising our society but magical communities hidden throughout the world.”

“Do I not have a say over my future?” I try to keep my voice steady as I walk into the room. I walk to the coffee table, pick up the bottle of wine, pour the last drops into the tumbler and hand it to Remme.

“No, you don’t. You are illegally in our lands, and from my perspective and following the rules set forth by our kind, you have no say in any matter on if you remain or are forced to leave.”

“I did not ask to be here. You can thank the alps for that inconvenience.”

“And to them you shall return, if you are saying you should be subject to their rules. Though, you know their rules very well, and I would surmise they are not of your best interest.” Then turning to Remme, “She is brought back to humans tomorrow. If not you, then by me.”

“What if she has the right to be here?” Remme has moves so that he is in between Vitus and I.

“And what do you mean by that?

“What if she has lineage?”

Vitus pauses. “What exactly do you mean by that?” He looks at me in a different way now.

“What if she is part Krampus?”

“Half of Bavaria is thanks to your father.”

“But if I enact Article 41…”

“Then she has 14 days to prove her heritage, as you know.”

Remme had mentioned he thought my abilities might be similar enough to those of Krampus but I assumed that comment was a joke. If only he knew it was very unlikely that I had a drop of German blood in me.

“I could prove my heritage right now, if needed. An ice blade into both of your throats.” A lie, with some possibility of truth with my anger right now. My anger from being backed into a corner.

Vitus ignores me. “You know this could have significant consequences. And if she is, then she has to fulfill the required time in the academy.”

“I will not be going to some academy full of horny Krampus.” Remme chokes back a laugh.

“I'm sorry, but you do not have any say in this. Only a council member can enact Article 41, which both Reinmar and I are. So?” He turns to Remme.

Remme turns to me, eyes pleading forgiveness. Hoping that he is more to me than a physical temptation.

There is a high likelihood I would die tomorrow if I leave, both Remme and Vitus have said as much. It is the only choice I can make, otherwise I am leaving my fate to a man I hardly know. I have been hurt so many times by letting others make decisions for me, people I trusted. I feel a jagged piece of ice appear in my hand. Or I can decide to be my icy, indifferent self.

“Sure. Whatever your rules are.” I say as I slide down into the couch, trying to act as impudent as possible. I cross my feet up on the armrest.