Not once in his four hundred and forty-seven years of life had Juniper ever left Santa’s Workshop.  Normally, he never strayed far from his desk, tucked away in an obscure corner of HR, unless it was to grab a cup of cocoa with a colleague.  His official title was Director of Recruitment and Talent Retention, but since elves were notoriously long-lived and both Santa and the Reindeer were hereditary titles, his role primarily involved wrangling the small hoard of magicals who worked on contract for Santa.  Up until a few days ago, a rough day had involved convincing the Snowmen they did not want to vacation in Cancun.  But then Santa decided he wanted Krampus back, and now he was sitting in a New Orleans bar melting.  He was perched on a stool at the end of the bar next to the door, and every time it whooshed open, a blast of superheated July air assaulted him.  Outside, people wearing as little clothing as they could get away with trooped past, mopping up the sweat and fanning themselves futilely with gaudy plastic fans.  

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“What’s your pleasure, love?” The bartender had a smoky-smooth lilt in her voice that added something dark and magical to her Louisiana drawl.

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“I’m waiting on someone.” Juniper replied.

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“Too hot to not drink, darlin’.” The waitress leaned on the bar with a sigh.

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“Anything with ice.” Juniper told her.

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“I got just the thing, bébé.” She twirled away down the bar, collecting orders with practiced ease.

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An hour and two Hurricanes later, Juniper still had still not laid eyes on Krampus.  The bartender had laughingly told him he’d been ditched and Juniper had told her he wasn’t surprised.  She had felt sorry for him and brought him a bowl of gumbo from the kitchen.

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“Gumbo makes everything better, darlin’.” She told him, winking.

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Juniper wasn’t sure soup was going to help with his Krampus problem, but if he drank anymore alcohol on an empty stomach he’d be face-down on the bar.

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He sucked on an ice cube to calm down.  He tried to distract himself with the soundless football game on the screen over the bar, but he knew nothing of the sport, and trying to make sense of it from the captions was making his head hurt. Santa had assured him this was going to be a quick, in-and-out job.  Re-hire Krampus and head back home, 24 hours, max.  Instead, he’d been down here in this inferno for nearly a week, staking out every bar, juke joint, and strip club in the quarter, and still no sign of the asshole.  Juniper was homesick.

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While the bartender mixed up another frozen concoction, he took the opportunity to call Santa and apprise him of the situation.

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After three rings on the direct line, Santa answered with a gruff and happy, “Hullo!” before yelling off phone, “Loxley, roll you soft boy!  Roll!” Juniper could hear cheers and brays of Reindeer Games in the background and experienced a sharp pang of ennui.  He heard Santa slapping his knees.  “Hoho!  Another for Blitzen’s stable!  Always roll.  Always roll!  Good thing I didn’t lose any peppermints on you!  Come lads, bring out Ulrich the Rose-Clad.”  A door creaked shut, and then the chair at Santa’s desk squealed.  “How is it going Juniper?  Are you and Krampus on your way back?” 

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“No I’m not heading back!  I have yet to lay eyes on him! It’s almost like he’s avoiding me.” Juniper couldn’t help the whine that crept into his voice. “You told me he would be here!  In-n-out, those are words right out of your mouth.”  Santa cleared his throat, a gruff and authoritative noise.  “Sorry.” Juniper sighed.  “It’s just really, really hot here.”  He took a gulp of his drink to cool off.

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“Krampus will show.  Give him time.  New Orleans is often… unpredictable.”

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Juniper lowered his voice.  “He is a demon,” he said pointedly. 

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Santa balked.  “Have you tried a strip club yet?”

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“I’ve tried all the strip clubs.”

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“Don’t be so glum.  I know Krampus.  He’s playing his games.  He’ll show up.”

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“You said you talked to him and he had already agreed to come back.  Why is he being difficult about it now?”

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Santa cleared his throat.  “Well, ahem… ‘agreed’ might have been putting it a bit optimistically.”

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“I see.”  Juniper closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose.  “What do you expect me to do sir?  After the Tobias Moser debacle, do we really want to trust him again?”  He clinched his fist on the bar.  “I feel like I am dying in this heat, and I’m missing the Reindeer Games!”

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“You’ll be back before the big matches start.”

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Juniper thought Santa’s chuckle sounded forced.

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“I better be.  And you didn’t answer my question about trusting Krampus.”

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Santa sighed.  “It has been almost ninety years Juniper.  People, even demons, can change in that time.  I have spoken to him privately at various times during his self-exile.  He’s been taking anger management classes and even volunteered as a Big Brother!”  Juniper rubbed a hand across his face, frustrated, but he understood where Santa was coming from.  Santa suddenly gave a genuine belly laugh.  “Enjoy The Big Easy! You elves need to go on a real vacation occasionally and see the real world.”

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“True.  Maybe Norway, or Canada… or the South Pole.”

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“Ha!  You should try a Jamaican beach with a Pina Colada and sunscreen-drenched, bikini-clad Mrs. Clause…”

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“I’ll try Bourbon Street again.”  Juniper interrupted.  A bikini-clad Mrs. Clause was not something he wanted to hear about.

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“That’s the spirit!  Get yourself a lap dance! Nothing attracts Krampus more than naughty elves!”

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Juniper chuckled.  “Are you giving me permission to use company funds for illicit entertainment?”

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“Good god, man, yes!  I encourage, no, I implore you to indulge in some illicit entertainment!  Get naughty.  Cheat at a game of pool.  Roll a drunk tourist.  Climb a lamp post wearing nothing but your elf hat.  In fact Juniper, if you don’t come back with at least a citation for public indecency, I’ll…” Santa’s roar suddenly collapsed into laughter. “No, no I just can’t threaten an elf.  I’m sorry.  But cut loose a bit, for the love of gumdrops!  Laissez les bon temps rouler!”

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“Merci Monsieur…” Juniper realized he was talking to an empty line.  Santa had returned to the Games.

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Juniper morosely eyed the bar and considered how many more drinks it would take for him to consider dancing on it fully dressed, never mind en flagrante delecto with some stripper.  He was drunk enough to ask the bartender for some ideas.  Deep into his conversation with Santa, he didn’t even realize she had come back to give him the glass of ice.  She was not behind the bar so he turned around to search for her in the crowd.  She was dancing to a song about “getting low” and “shaking it” as she poured shots of tequila for a group of young men in the corner.  Finally, she made it back to the bar and noticed him watching. She sashayed over with a gleam in her eye.

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“What can I do for you, love?”  She leaned forward and he caught the scent of jasmine, moonlight, and desire.

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Juniper sat up straighter.  He hadn’t really paid attention to the bartender before, but now he looked more carefully.  He hadn’t had much contact with humans apart from the Clauses and had never considered them more than background noise.  Juniper cleared his throat and decided to go all in.

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“So what time do you get off?” He asked.  He hoped she wouldn’t notice how squeaky he sounded.

She smiled and swayed to the bar music.  Something seemed off, though.  She didn’t seem to quite bend the right way when she moved her hips.  Juniper considered if he was just too drunk, or maybe something was wrong with her back?  But then there was the thick, furry, pointed tail coming out the back of her pants and a hairy, clawed hand reaching across the bar.  Juniper gulped as she smiled at him with eyes the color of burning coal. 

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“Nippy the Nipples!  How the heck are you!” Krampus morphed into his true shape and clapped Juniper on the shoulder.  The bartender glamour he had used to mask his true form now shifted to make him unnoticeable to the other humans.  “Let’s catch up, shall we?”  He came around the bar and swept Juniper towards the door.  “Let’s find someplace we can talk.”

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He shepherded the bemused Juniper to the hot street and then turned sharply down a dark crack between two buildings that opened up into a cool, shady courtyard.  Tropical foliage ran riot, overgrowing the stone walls on all sides, and crowding close to a central fountain.  It was still ungodly hot, but the shade and water were pleasant.  Krampus popped open a small fridge tucked under the stairwell and came back with a couple of dark bottles.

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“Here.  A little something they brew up for me down on Tchopitoulas.” 

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Juniper took a sip and grinned as the sharp taste of cinnamon flooded his mouth.  “Just like home.”

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“Yep.  My one indulgence.”  Krampus sat backwards on his chair and took a deep pull on his own bottle.

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“So, you are coming back.  I have been authorized to offer you a salary at the top of the tier and we have upgraded our benefits and retirement package…”

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“Are you happy, Nipples?” Krampus interrupted him.

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“First of all, my name is not Nipples.  I have not been Nipples since school.”  Juniper tried to keep an even tone. “My friends call me June.  You can call me Juniper.”  The last bit sounded a little petty, but Juniper did not have fond memories of school.

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“June?”  Krampus through back his head and laughed.  “You’re still single, aren’t you?”

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“That is none of your concern.” Juniper snapped.  “Can we discuss the contract so we can be on our way?  If we leave within a few hours we can still catch most of the Reindeer games.”

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“Reindeer games! I’d almost forgotten about them.”  Krampus leaned back and stared up at the dappled sky above.  “Are you happy Juniper?”  He asked again.

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“I fail to see how my happiness has any bearing on this.”  Juniper was confused.  “Are you happy?”

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Krampus was silent for a long moment, still staring up into the leafy branches above him.  Juniper set his beer down in front of him.  “What happened with Tobias Moser?”

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Krampus sighed and leaned forward to look straight at Juniper.  “I punished evil.  For centuries, The St. Nicholas and I walked together.  He walked in the light and rewarded the good, and I came out of the blackness and meted out justice. I was good at it, too.  I was feared.  There were occasional lapses into madness- the dark days of the Black Death, the Hundred Year’s War.  The Atlantic Slave Trade… I didn’t do enough about that.  But in the grand scheme of it, good balanced evil, and I did my part to keep it that way.

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“But then things changed.  A new St. Nicholas took on the mantle and turned into Santa.  That Clement guy started writing poems about flying reindeer and fat, jolly elves.  Soft drinks started running adds with a rosy-cheeked grandpa surrounded by adoring little children, and he bought into the hype.  The toy companies were paying royalties to hype their latest crap, and he had a doppelganger in every department store, ho-ho-hoeing it up.  The brand was too soft and fuzzy for my kind.  I was reduced to lumps of coal in children’s stockings, and then I was written out of the story all together.”

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“I remember.”  Juniper had been conflicted about the growing commercialism and corporate influence, but he had enjoyed the perks, like everyone else in the North Pole.  It had been easy to block out the dissenting voices as tradition-bound obstructionists. 

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“I was furious.  I told St. Nick he was making a mistake.  He didn’t listen.  He thought the world was changing.  He thought we needed to change along with it.  He thought we needed a kinder, softer approach. He said that punishing the wicked was an outdated idea, and we had to evolve with the new century. I didn’t agree, so I set out to prove him wrong.”

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Tobias was a low-level thug running moonshine between Chicago and St. Luis… a good candidate for my brand of justice.  I can own that now.  I took it too far.”

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“And?”

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“Ask someone else.” Krampus said with finality.  Juniper nodded, holding up his hands.  He did not want to press further with the demon.  Krampus picked at the label on his beer in silence for a moment.  “When I went back to the North Pole, St. Nick was livid.  We argued.  Things were said.  I left.

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“I was lost for a long time.  I only punish the bad, Nipper, and I found plenty of bad.  I was never out of work.  But they kept getting worse.  I couldn’t find a solution and it was never ending.  I don’t remember the moment I stopped.  Just, one day…  One day I landed in this city and heard a dive musician blow a horn that cut through my soul.  I never left. I started jamming with a few musicians, and then jazz was a thing, and I never looked back.”

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“And here you are.”

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“And here I am.” His tail languidly wrapped around the legs of his chair and he idly scratched his head between the huge black horns.

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“Changed man then, are you?”

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“Are you happy Nipper?” 

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“Why do you keep asking me?” 

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“It’s an important question.”

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“Is it?”

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“If you were truly happy curiosity would not have gotten the better of you.  Why do you think you’re here?  Do not answer with, ‘Santa told me.’  Just don’t.”

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Juniper scoffed.  “What?”

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He fell silent.  It may have been the heat, or the liquor, or something else he was not ready to face.  He felt nauseous as the question rolled around in his head.  Are you happy Nipper?  Well, are you?  There were parties in HR every month to celebrate, what, another successful month?  At this point they were more like meetings with a little champagne.  He saw the same people every day in the halls on his hot cocoa breaks.  In the night after a long day he looked out and saw stars, with the only variation being the occasional aurora borealis.  Juniper attended every Reindeer Game since 1850.  Did it make him happy?  He could have said no to Santa’s request to pick up Krampus.  Many of his coworkers had said no immediately.  Juniper avoided the question as Krampus eyed him with emotionless patience.  He drank more.  For seven days he had been drinking and enjoying the taller, human, female form from a distance.  For seven days he had felt… What did he feel? 

 

“You were never coming back with me, were you?” 

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Krampus shrugged.  “Santa admitted he was wrong to fire me.  He sees the greed and corruption for what it is now, but he can’t do anything about it.  He’s in too deep now.  I could go back and we could pretend we’re making a difference, but honestly Nipper, I don’t see it.”  Krampus downed the last of his bottle.  “Corruption!  Now he’s worried about Corruption in the bloody North Pole!” Krampus slammed his bottle on the table and shook his head. 

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“You’re the best at punishment next to Satan himself!  You could make a difference.  You can’t just walk away!”

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Krampus shrugged again with a frown on his goat lips.  “There’s nothing I can do at the North Pole.”

“Bullcrap.  You’re a demon.  The king of punishers!”  The look on Krampus’s face shut him down. 

“Oh no.  You’re not walking away at all,” Juniper said quietly. 

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“What would you have me do?” Krampus asked.  Juniper no longer felt the muggy, oppressive air.  He felt cold again, but it was all wrong.  They sat for a few minutes, listening to the orchestra of New Orleans.  He could not answer the question.  “How long until the next flight?”

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“A few hours.”

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Krampus reached into the fridge for two more beers.  “Are you happy Nipper?”

 

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