We wander through the jovial groups of Krampus, masks now cocked back on foreheads or held in hands. Despite the turn in the mood, I still can’t shake this chill off me. I can't tell if I have had too much mulled wine or not enough.
Gabe puts his arm around me, “Are you ok? It looks like those Krampus really got to you. I thought you liked macabre men.” He snickers.
“I like men, not monsters, in my bed.” I try to joke.
“Come on, let’s go join the festivities. The parents are in charge of the kids tonight.” I appreciate all the detailed planning Gabe puts into this trip so we are not on supervision on nights like this. We wave to the parents as they head back to the hotel with the student while Gabe, Oliver, and I move towards the thrum at the center of town.
We find a group of welcoming Krampus passing out shots. They had built a bonfire directly on the cobblestones of the town square. Townies who know what they can get away with since they know the town leaders I surmise. I grew up in a town like that. I lean close to the warmth in attempts to shake off this chill that lingers from that stare. I breathe in the smokiness of the fire and start to feel a little better.
Oliver is already in conversation with the Krampus and learns half of them are teachers at the local high school. They all love volunteering as Krampus largely to scare their students, especially ones that annoy them the most. This fact alone makes me declare Krampusnacht is my favorite holiday. As the night gets colder and the bonfire dwindles, we follow them to their favorite bar.
Oliver is already becoming a mess as he tries to speak in German to the Krampus once we get to the bar. We are in an old wooden building with decorative gables near the ceiling similar to what is on the exterior of buildings in town. The lightning is just enough to see your drink but not enough to see faces across the long wooden table we are sitting along. I decide to sit at the far end from Oliver, hoping to hide in the shadows, but he ends up finding Gabe and I after he has embarrassed himself thoroughly with his poor attempt at speaking German.
“Oliver, would you mind getting the first round of beers?” My request sends him sprinting to the bar.
“Gabe, we have got to drop him back off at the hotel. He’s no better than the teenagers.”
“Let’s have a little fun with him first. You should hit on one of the Krampus, make him jealous. Hopefully he will realize he's not your type as you cozy up to a hairy monster." I laughed at the suggestion. Might be a fun game. There are a few cute ones from the group we are sitting with but they have started in on a drinking song.
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“What about that one over there?” Gabe gestures to a dark figure sitting alone at the corner of the bar. I didn’t even notice him earlier as he is hidden in the shadows of the room. “He was just looking over here. Maybe he’s interested.”
“Seriously?” I roll my eyes at his choice but I never say no to a challenge that Gabe poses. Especially when we are out at bars. His dares often lead to the best hookups. “He was probably throwing daggers from his eyes at the chorus at the far end of our table.”
So I saunter over and lean against the bar in a way that ensures my bosom leads my body as I feign an attempt to order a beer. The Krampus slowly turns his head towards me but I do not take my eyes off the bartender.
“Ein bier, bitte!” Butchering the few German words I know loud enough for the Krampus to hear but not enough to get the bartender’s attention.
I turned partially towards the Krampus with my breast leading the turn. Hoping he speaks English, I lament “I don't think he can see me, do you mind trying to get his attention?”.
The Krampus does not respond to my request.
The alcohol rising to my brain, I feel spicy. “Krampus, I am such a naughty girl, aren’t you supposed to do bad things to me?” The words come out in a sultry voice, in jest, to see if I could get a rise from him. I slowly looked up to see if he is even registering that I am talking to him when I end up looking into the deepest black eyes. That same coldness I felt earlier. He does not blink. Gone are the horns and the claws but otherwise it is the same maskless Krampus from the parade. The sassiness I was just feeling from the wine and the dare disappears.
I take in his scarred face in the darkness of the bar, afraid to even breathe. He has a deep gash that travels through one eyebrow down along the curve of his cheekbones to his jaw. The scar shines white against his skin. His clenched jaw has a few day’s worth of stubble. As a light from the bar flashed across his narrowed eyes, they seemed to shine specks of gold within the black.
“Sorry. That was a bad joke.” As I hurry to leave. But I am still transfixed on those cold eyes as he moves his head forward and takes a deep inhale through his nose. His eyes narrow even further at me as if trying to understand something deeper inside me. Was he just smelling me? He pauses then gives me a slight smile as he turns back to his beer, his face now expressionless.
As I walk back to the table that holds the mess of singing Krampus and one very drunk American teacher, I can not get the look out of my mind. He was frightening but also there is a beauty to his features, almost unworldly. I sit down next to Gabe who I can tell is ready to leave. “How did you fail to charm the dark broody Krampus?” I never fail.
“He didn't say anything so I guess he doesn’t understand English,” I shrug.
“Well you walking over there was enough for Oliver to decide to chug both the beer he got himself and you in the few minutes you were at the bar. That guy looks creepy. Like he dresses up like this every day not just for Krampusnacht. Also, did he smell you?” I couldn’t even try to respond to this. “I didn't realize he was so morose-looking until he turned to look at you. I didn’t mean to get you tangled up with anyone interested in bondage.”
I chuckle at this. “Seriously, stop. Yes, he looks like he should be in a biker bar but I can handle my own. You forget we live in the city and deal with scum at bars all the time. He’s just a surly small town boy.”