"Bernard, we have the new numbers this month," said Judy, a resigned expression in her comely face. Bernard took the datapad; it only took a short glance to confirm what he feared.

"What is the matter with people nowadays, Judy? Do you ever remember seeing a trend like this? It's bad enough that the ratio of naughty to nice has slipped into negative territory, but so many kids have slipped from naughty into downright wicked."

"No, you're right. And that's accounting for things like war and natural disasters where we tend to give them even more benefit of the doubt. Like you said, some of these kids are flirting with outright evil. We've, we have to tell Scott about this before it's too late."

"Santa," corrected Bernard.

Judy smiled. "Every so often he likes hearing the name he was born with, Bernard. Shall I show him this? No, you'll do it? Okay."


"How long has it been trending like this, Bernie?"

"It's been going on for six or seven years at the very least, Santa."

"Are we doing anything wrong that you can tell? I know I've been asked to drop a lot more carbon in recent years, I'd hoped that might be enough of a message."

"Right, that was how it would usually work: Naughty Dick and Jane get a lump of coal in their stockings, they cry, they feel guilty, they improve, problem solved. But we've been seeing a lot more recidivism. I mean a lot more. We're talking a twenty to thirty percent increase over last year alone."

"Are we doing anything wrong that you can tell," repeated Scott. Bernard rested his chin on steepled fingers.

"When...you first came in Scott...twenty-two years ago...I thought you might be a disaster. And yeah, we did have some hiccups." He looked up with a warm smile at the snow wafting down on the crystal roof. "Charlie on the naughty list...the fight with Jack...but hey, at least you got a lovely wife out of the deal..." He looked at Santa seriously. "But, Scott Calvin, you have been one of the best Santa Claus's I've had the pleasure to work with over my many many years. So no, I don't think we're doing anything wrong..."

"But..." continued Santa.

"But I don't think we are making full use of our capabilities. Are you familiar with the Krampus?"

Santa nodded. "He's more of an independent agent, isn't he? Sure we are both active around Christmas, but he doesn't answer to me, right?"

Bernard thought, drumming (bar-um-pum-pum-pum) his fingers on the table. "If Santa Claus is the Navy guess you could say he's like the Marines or the Coast Guard. Krampus is independent, but in time of need, you can direct him if you so desire."

Santa scanned the datapad presented. "Do you think maybe Krampus has been slacking off over the past few years?"

Bernard stood up, and grabbed his winter coat, motioning to his boss. "I guess there's only one way to find out."


Krampus lived in the vicinity of the North Pole, but the Eisenhochburg was still a few hours away by foot, a sleigh made it much quicker.

"Not a very welcoming place is it," asked Scott as he looked at the foreboding iron keep.

"No, it is not" agreed Bernard, "but it performs a necessary function. Or at least its master should be performing one."

Santa Claus lifted the heavy knocker and let it fall. A solid clang echoed both in Santa's ears and for miles around. They waited.

"This might take a while," said Bernard. And he was right; it was minutes before they heard a loud thud, then a shuffle, then another thud echoing on metal."

Then the most guttural voice Santa had ever heard spoke: "Wer klopft !? Wer wagt sich diesem Ort zu nähern?"

"German?" whispered Scott. Bernard nodded and answered the voice: "Es ist Bernard der Elf und der Weihnachtsmann!"

"…Bernard? Santa!?" The iron door opened with an echoing screech, and Santa Claus, not wanting to cause offense, made every effort to not show his horror at the creature before him.

Thick curved horns a foot and a half long. A wild mane of shaggy grizzled fur on its head with a widow's peak pointing to demonic red eyes. Only the furred nose looked marginally human and below that was a broad mouth filled with sharp fangs, a long red tongue lolling out of it. Its obviously muscular body was covered with the same shaggy fur as the head. The legs were those of a beast, digitrade, with one foot a cloven hoof and the other a clawed paw of a carnivore.

"Velcome!" said Krampus. His voice was guttural and German-accented. "Come in! Come in!"

Santa's eyes widened as he entered the iron keep. Though cold, it was well lighted from torches and braziers, and the floor was covered by a layer of rugs and carpets from all over the world. Krampus brought them into his parlor, with an ancient overstuffed chair and two sofas placed around a large fireplace. He sat, being careful to ensure that his furred, pointed tail slid through the opening.

"Sit, sit!" he demanded and the elf and Santa took seats on the sofa. Krampus grabbed a two-foot long bell and shook it three times. "Kafe? Kocoa? Kookiez?"

"Coffee for me, please."

"I'll have cocoa," said Bernard.

Krampus chuckled, grunting his approval. "A fine choice, yes, my 'children' do both very well." He looked over his two guests. "Bernard, dear friend, it is good to see you again." Bernard smiled. "And you are Scott Calvin, heh, the new Santa Claus. Eh, baht you have held ze office for over two decades. I am…happy to finally meet you."

"I am sorry," said Santa. "I feel I should have met you sooner."

"Ach! No need to apologize. I am no fool." He ran his clawed paws over his grey-furred body; curiosity mixed with disgust, and sighed. "Nearly fifteen hundred years I have lived in this form," he said slowly. "I know it is horrifying to most souls. Look, a mouth like this, what else would it be?" He leaned forward. But it is necessary to do my job…to save souls."

"M-master Krampus?"

"Ah yes, our treats are here! Komm her, Leo! Meet our guests, ja?

A wide-eyed child of about eight came bringing a tray of drinks, cookies and small sandwiches. Scott took his coffee, Bernard his cocoa, and Krampus took a mug of what appeared to be hot tea. Krampus motioned to an empty chair.

"Sit down, Leo, sit down." The boy's eyes widened and a small smile quickly flashed across his face. He sat down.

"Leo Aubertin…" said Krampus. "Introduce yourself, boy!"

"My name is Leo Aubertin. I am eight years old and am from the town of Nyons in France." As if by magic, for magic it was, Leo's file flashed through Santa's mind. He was indeed, or at least he had been a naughty boy. No worse, he had been mean and cruel as cats and dogs and younger children would have surely testified.

"Leo was taken on Krampusnacht 2014. He was cruel, so yes, I gave him cruelty in return. Do you remember those months, little one?"

Leo swallowed and nodded. "Yes, Master Krampus."

"I collect the souls on Krampusnacht, the fifth of December. Those who have learned their lesson, I return on Boxing Day. Leo, heh, he could be a handful, but he still learned.

Santa took a long sip of coffee. "What kind of cruelty are we talking about?"

Krampus nodded to the boy. "Leo?"

"I was kept in a cold cell. I was beaten several times with Master's birch. I was made to work. But I was never really injured. After a few months I began to regret my disobedience and he began to teach me lessons."

"Lessons?" Santa asked.

Leo shrugged. "I knew very little English…or German…when I came here. I am quite competent now, Père Noël!"

Santa Claus laughed, giving the boy a hug and tousling his black hair. "Very good, Leo. Very good!"

Krampus laughed a barking howl himself. "Very good indeed, Leo. You may return to your duties." The boy bowed and departed, and Krampus sipped his tea.

"I do not know what Leo's future may hold for him. But he has learned discipline and he has learned practical skills. When he wakes the day after Christmas, he will remember nothing of the pain he suffered…but he will remember the lesson. We work for the betterment of mankind, ja?" Scott and Bernard nodded their agreement. "So, my friends, what else may I do for you?"

Scott withdrew the datapad. "Master Krampus, we have been noticing a disturbing trend for almost a decade now." He handed it to Krampus. "What do you make of these numbers?"

Krampus looked over the pad carefully, squinting, and then…growling.

"These numbers are unacceptable!" he said with a snarl. You have given out much coal, yes!?"

"Yes, quite a lot."

"Well, too much, I say! Santa Claus, these boys and girls, these lower thirty percent at least, right now they are heading for an eternity of being kindling in Hell! They need to be referred to me!" Krampus' shoulders sagged. "At least, heh, at least that is what I would have told you a hundred years ago."

Santa was taken aback. "Why not now?"

Krampus shook his shaggy head. "I am old, Santa, I had meant to forfeit this office some time ago, and now I think the time has come." He raised a paw. "Yet I think I have one more Krampusnacht in me. One…big one! And then I am done forever at last. May I ask you for that, Scott Calvin?"

Scott was stunned. "Um. I don't know. Bernard, can he do that?"

Bernard took a deep breath. "Krampus is obligated to serve for five hundred years. Santa, he has more than fulfilled that obligation. Yes, Santa, you may accept his resignation."

Santa nodded, smiling. "So be it, then. December 6th, 2016 will be your final day as Krampus. Bernard, can we give our friend the retirement party he deserves?"

Bernard nodded enthusiastically. "We are ahead of schedule, Santa. I'll start the planning as soon as we return."

Krampus sighed in relief. "To once again see the face of Ernst Müller, heh, I wonder how it will look." He stretched and shrugged. "And I wonder who will replace me."