I only realized I’d fallen asleep when I woke to a bright light shining in my eyes. The first thing I noticed was the smell of chocolate, and I immediately found the source – a plate of cookies and a hot chocolate with whipped cream sitting on the nightstand by my bed.

  I sat up abruptly. Someone had been in my room, and I’d been too out of it to even wake up. I’d missed another chance to interrogate someone.

  Worse than missing the delivery of food, the room had been put to rights. The objects I’d piled up on the floor had been replaced on the shelves, along with a photo frame I definitely hadn’t seen before.

  I snatched it up, taking it to the large leather couch to inspect it. The scene pictured the Krampus, Santa, and what I supposed must be Krampina, all standing next to a large outdoor Christmas tree. They looked almost happy – as much as the Krampus could look happy, with his gnarled face. Krampina looked sort-of like the picture James had drawn, but also different. Her face was bone white, but not made of bone. Her face was smooth where the Krampus’ was wrinkled, and her fur looked softer and more supple. She had curves where the Krampus had muscle, and she was bedecked in gold jewellery. She wore rings on every finger, and had golden chains wrapped loosely around her neck, nestled in her well-groomed fur.

  Santa looked more smug than jolly, and held what looked like a candy-cane-striped pimp stick cane, topped with a large golden ball, which his hand rested on casually. He, too, wore golden accessories and I even thought perhaps there was a glint of gold coming from his smiling teeth.

  He wasn’t at all how I pictured the generous Santa of Earth folklore, but perhaps he suited the image of a greedy Santa that fitted the context of this capitalist dystopian Christmas where wealth was the greatest measure of value.

  A knock startled me, and I dropped the picture and turned to see a goblin entering my room. I couldn’t tell if it was the same one as yesterday or not, they all looked so similar with their drooping ears and malevolent faces.

  “You have been summoned,” the goblin croaked at me. “It is time to receive your first gift.”

  I didn’t stand. The goblin gestured impatiently for me to get moving.

  “What gift?” I asked. “From who?”

  “From your betrothed,” the goblin glared at me. “Do not keep him waiting.”

  I stood then, remembering how terrifying the Krampus had been. How swiftly he’d beaten the ‘ungiving’ out of existence.

  “Do I need to give him a gift too?” I asked hesitantly. I only had what was available in this room, but I didn’t want to show up empty handed only to be beaten to death for my lack of generosity. I snatched a snow globe off the shelf. “Would he like this?”

  The goblin gave me a scandalized look. “You can’t regift things that have been given to you! Especially to the one who provided them for you in the first place!”

  “So, this is… for me?” I looked around at the stuff. I realized suddenly that I’d spent a night here already, and to my knowledge the Krampus hadn’t come to me. “Is this my room?”

  “Of course,” the goblin glowered.

  “And the Krampus has a separate room?”

  At the goblin’s nod of confirmation, relief swept through me.

  “So, what are the gifts today for? Can you tell me what to expect here?”

  “If you must ask questions, ask them as you walk,” the goblin snapped at me. “We are late already!”

  I hopped to my feet and followed him out the door at a quick pace, repeating my question.

  “You are to receive the first of your betrothal gifts today. You will receive one each day for the twelve days until the day of your bonding. You will not be required to provide gifts in return until the bonding ceremony, where you will give the gift of yourself – an oath of loyalty will suffice.”

  I felt a wave of repulsion. I knew a little about bonding, the Newtopian equivalent to a marriage, but I’d never wanted to bond to anyone, even when my boyfriends had offered. After seeing the mess my own mother had made out of her four marriages, I felt like they were tainted. A cage, rather than a commitment, and a thing that kept you trapped rather than with your partner out of choice. If I hadn’t felt the need to bond with Nightfall, Brick, Bruiser, Bastion, or Jackal, I knew I definitely wouldn’t be bonding to the Krampus no matter what kind of gifts he bestowed upon me.

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  Quite suddenly, we were outside. The hallways of doors gave way to a large courtyard centred around a tree. The Krampus’ tall form was facing away from me, staring at the tree with his arms folded. His bag draped from the harness he wore across his shoulders, and his club fell from a loop on his belt, hanging by his side like a threat.

  I froze, my feet stuck to the pavement and unable to move forwards. The goblin shoved me roughly, and I fell, my legs failing me.

  “Useless piece of trash,” the goblin muttered. But he was the last of my concerns. The Krampus’ hooves were suddenly inches from my face.

  I scrambled backwards, the snow seeping through my clothes as I scooted back on my bottom.

  “Do not manhandle my guest,” the Krampus growled at the goblin. “You will treat her with the respect due my wife.”

  “Yes, your malevolence,” the goblin saluted him, but I saw the sour shift in its expression when the Krampus turned his back on him.

  “Emma,” the Krampus rolled my name across his tongue like he was trying it out, tasting it. “Come. Receive your gift.”

  He held his hand out to me, and I hesitantly took it, unable to smother the feeling of fear and disgust as his long nails scraped against my skin when his large hand enclosed mine.

  He didn’t let my hand go when I stood but held it as he escorted me forwards. We approached the tree, and he pushed me forwards, finally releasing me to stand in front of it. A dark shadow hung from the tree like a bag on a string.

  No, it wasn’t a bag – it was a bird. A dead bird, like a large quail, hanging with a rope around its neck.

  I stared at it in disgust.

  “Do you like it?” The Krampus demanded.

  “What… Why?” I asked, turning to the Krampus in shock.

  “The usual response to receiving a gift is ‘thank you’,” the Krampus’ expression shifted, his brows furrowing on his twisted face.

  “I’m not thanking you for a dead bird!” I snapped at him. “What the hell?”

  “It was the only way it would stay in the pear tree,” the Krampus said through gritted teeth, like he was explaining a basic fact to a toddler.

  I blinked, something connecting in my brain. I looked back at the bird.

  “A partridge in a pear tree.”

  Like the song. I closed my eyes in frustration.

  “Exactly,” the Krampus said, sounding pleased I had finally cottoned on.

  “It’s not supposed to be dead,” I said, frowning at him. “But thank you, I suppose.”

  He nodded, accepting my thanks as though the exchange had been satisfactory despite my lack of enthusiasm.

  If I was to receive twelve days of ridiculous presents before the Krampus expected a bonding, it gave me time. That was a positive, I supposed. But I’d need to find out how to sort things out before the final day.

  “Can I ask you something?” I asked, staring up at the huge beast.

  The Krampus looked at me with intelligent eyes and gestured for me to go ahead. He seemed sentient, the way he acted and spoke. Sentient creatures could shift outside of their programming. Perhaps I could convince him that he didn’t want to marry me, but first I’d need more information.

  “What happened to your last wife?” I asked.

  A shadow of darkness fell across his face and a growl rumbled in his chest.

  “Do not speak of her,” he said, his eyes darting away from mine to look instead at the partridge hanging in the tree. “She is gone. That is all that is relevant.”

  I paused, suddenly a whole lot more questions running through my mind. Did she leave? Did she die? Did the Krampus kill her?

  All of those questions felt pretty relevant to me, especially if I was doomed for a similar fate.

  “Is there any chance of her coming back though?” I pushed. Maybe she’d respawn somewhere. It was possible, if she had died while not gaining sentience.

  “She will not return.” The Krampus’ voice sounded bitter, angry. Perhaps she wasn’t dead, but they’d just hit a relationship breaking point. “Even if she did, I would not accept her.”

  “Touchy subject, huh?” I said, chewing on my lip. “I’ll drop it for now, but it might help to talk about it later. Especially if you think anything is going to be happening here.”

  I gestured between us doubtfully, but his eyebrows rose, and he looked back to me with what might have been curiosity.

  “Can you give me a tour around this place?” I asked. “The layout doesn’t make much sense to me.”

  It reminded me a bit of the university in the Citadel, which was beautiful on the outside, but a twisted mess of architecture when you tried to actually navigate it. I’d spent a good two months working out a functional floorplan that we’d patched in after temporarily evacuating the residents. It had employed all the experience I’d accrued from years of playing the Sims, but had the added pressure of being an actual place where real people would live.

  The Krampus’ home felt like it needed similar attention.

  “You will not be without an escort, so you should not need to navigate the halls.”

  “Am I to be a prisoner here then?” I asked, thinking of the locked doors in my room.

  “You are serving your debt,” the Krampus said evenly, and I felt his intense gaze was searching for something in me, some kind of reaction though I wasn’t sure what.

  “If this is to be my home, I still want to know where everything is. And who is coming and going. Can you show me around? Please?”

  He seemed surprised to hear that last word – please - and I wondered how many times he had heard it. Did he have any friends? The goblins bowed to his authority but seemed to loathe him. Was Santa his friend? The three of them had stood close in the photo I’d seen that morning. Had Krampina been his friend? Did he miss her, wherever she was?

  “I will show you,” he said, straightening his shoulders. “But then you return to your rooms.”

  My ears twitched at the word. Rooms? Plural? I’d only seen the one large room, but was hesitant to prompt him with further questions lest it hasten my return there. The more time I spent outside of my room, the more chances I had to unravel what was going on here.

  “Lead on,” I said with a smile, turning my back on the hanging dead bird.