On a normal weekend, the Canterlot Mall bustled with activity. During the holidays, it bustled to the point of bursting. Shoppers scoured the stores, alone or in packs, desperately searching for that one perfect gift. Or, when that one perfect gift was unavailable, the shoppers often settled for several almost-perfect ones, hoping quantity could make up for quality. This at least meant good business for Cozy Cashmere’s Novelty Sock Emporium.
Harried shopkeepers did their best to keep their shelves stocked, only for the next wave of shoppers to clean them out like a horde of credit-card carrying locusts. A holiday village of plastic and plaster, complete with a professional photographer and a small cast of underpaid actors in cheap costuming, had been set up beside the food court.
At the other end of the mall, a string quartet had set up in front of the Rutherford’s. They cycled through a repertoire of holiday standards, along with a few more classical compositions. The gentle strings weren’t quite enough to hold back the holiday chaos, but they at least lent a vague air of refinement.
The bow-tied musicians wound down their rendition of Neighdn’s No. 76, to polite applause. And to some less-than-polite applause, as well, given the enthusiastic clapping and hollered “woo!” from one particular girl in blue-tinted sunglasses on the upper level of the mall.
The cellist winced a bit, but the other members of the ensemble just smiled.
“Take twenty, everybody.” Noteworthy said. The viola player (and unofficial leader of the quartet) laid his instrument into its case. “I could use something to eat-- and I bet Octavia would love the chance to talk to her friend.”
“I’ll at least ask her not to cause such a ruckus.” Octavia neatly eased her cello onto its holding stand, and hung her bow from the hook on the back.
Noteworthy grinned. “I dunno. I kinda like it. Makes me feel like a rock star.”
“If you wanted to be a rock star, you wouldn’t have learned to play viola.” Octavia noted.
“Got me there. See you in twenty!” He called out before stepping off of their small stage to disappear into the crowd.
Octavia nodded, then braved the roiling masses herself. She made her way up to the second floor, where the girl in sunglasses waited, smiling. Once she saw Octavia, she bounded over and swept her into a playful hug. “Killer set!”
“Thank you, Vinyl. I appreciate your enthusiasm. Though you don’t have to be quite as … uninhibited about it.”
“So no panty throwing, got it.”
“Vinyl!” Octavia gasped. “You wouldn’t--”
“Kidding!” Vinyl Scratch laughed, and patted her friend on the shoulder. “It’s too cold to go commando anyway.”
“You’re incorrigible.”
“Yep!” Vinyl beamed. “Now do you want to do presents now, or wait ‘til we get food? I know the guy who’s working the pretzel stand. He can hook us up with extra butter. Or, uh, they say it’s butter, even though I can believe it’s not. Butter, that is. Still tasty, though!”
“How decadent.” Octavia’s voice was deadpan, but her stomach gave a growl at the prospect of baked, extra-butter-coated goodness. “But, ah, I suppose now’s a good a time as any. Might as well exchange gifts before we get our hands coated with this extra butter ration.”
Octavia reached into her pocket at produced a small box, bound in red ribbon.
Vinyl Scratch peered at Octavia over the rim of her sunglasses. “Don’t you think we’re a little young to get married?”
“It’s not-- I didn’t-- I--” Octavia sputtered, then proceeded to push the box into Vinyl’s hands. “Just open it, alright?”
Vinyl did so, lifting the lid from the box to reveal its contents. “A … USB drive? How practical. Thanks?”
“It's not just the drive, it's what's on it.” Octavia held up a finger. “And no, it’s not anything … scandalous. It’s just … well, I remembered you mentioning you needed more audio to sample, something beyond just computer noises and old movie dialogue, so I spent a few days recording. That USB’s got everything from basic scale exercises to a brief overview of the classical canon. And even a few more … modernist pieces I thought you’d like.”
Octavia paused for a moment, looking down at the box. “You … do like it, don’t you?”
“It’s perfect.” Vinyl beamed. “And here I just got you some boring cello strings. Oh, uh-- sorry to ruin the surprise. Wanna unwrap them anyway?”
“I suppose so.” Octavia took the small package Vinyl foisted on her and pulled back the wrapping-- only to gasp as she saw the label within. “Silvercores? You shouldn’t have-- do you know how much these cost?”
“I mean, I bought ‘em.” Vinyl said. “Seriously, though. I can afford it. That’s just, like, one less subwoofer on my car’s stereo.”
“You’re sure?” Octavia ran her fingers over the cello strings, coiled neatly in plastic packaging.
“If you get too worked up about it, just tell everyone that I gave you your favorite G-String.”
Octavia rolled her eyes. “How long have you been waiting to make that joke?”
“Ages.” Vinyl said.
The two stared at each other for a long moment, then broke into bubbly laughter. Octavia shook her head. “Let’s get something to eat before you make an even worse pun.”
“Was that a challenge?”
“Please, no.”
It was a short walk to the food court, though the crowds made the walk longer. But soon enough, Octavia and Vinyl Scratch acquired large, warm pretzels, along with an unhealthy volume of yellowish butter-adjacent-substance to dip them in. Even with her bow-tied propriety, Octavia’s inner teenager shone through as she dug into the soft baked treat.
Vinyl tore off a piece of her own pretzel, but it didn’t make it to her lips. “Octavia. Look.”
“Hm?” Octavia blinked, then dabbed at her mouth with a napkin. “Something on my face?”
“No. Look.” Vinyl nodded to something over Octavia’s shoulder. “But, like, be sneaky about it.”
“What are you--”
“Just look!” Vinyl hissed.
Octavia blinked, then turned around as subtly as she could. “That’s just the holiday village.”
“And look who’s inside!” Vinyl said.
“You’re not one of those people who’s afraid of guys in Santa Claus costumes, are you?” Octavia said.
“Not the fat guy-- the elf!” Vinyl said.
Octavia chanced another look over her shoulder. Sure enough, a young woman with a blue ponytail pranced about in an elf costume (the candy-striped stockings and jingle-bell hat kind of elf, not the longbows and mithril sort). She herded children one by one to Santa’s throne, per mall ritual.
“What about her?” Octavia tuned back to Vinyl, confused.
“It’s Sonata Dusk!”
“Who?”
“Don’t you remember? She was one of those magic demon horse girls from another dimension who tried to mind control the entire school?”
“You mean Sunset Shimmer? I thought she was good now?”
“No, the other magic demon horse girl from another dimension who tried to mind control the entire school.” Vinyl Scratch rubbed at her chin. “Kinda weird that I have to qualify that. But that’s beside the point!”
“Then what is the point?” Octavia snuck in another bite of warm pretzel.
“If Sonata Dusk is here, that means she’s up to something.” Vinyl Scratch said.
Octavia turned around again. “It doesn’t look like she’s up to something.”
“Of course it doesn’t! That’s her being all sneaky and stuff.”
“Even if she is being sneaky, it’s none of our business. I’m sure that if anything truly catastrophic happens, Sunset and Pinkie Pie and the rest will do that thing where they hold hands and glow and fix everything somehow.” Octavia blinked as the words left her mouth. “… though it’s rather odd that such a thing is a regular occurrence.”
“Right? I’ll just get ahold of the Rainbooms and tell them what’s up.” She pulled out her phone and started typing out a text with teenager-quick thumbs. Vinyl’s phone blooped with the ‘sent’ sound, and she grinned as she set it back on the table. “Now, all we have to do is wait until Rainbow Dash and her friends show up start shooting friendship lasers or whatever.”
“That doesn’t seem like a sustainable way of solving problems.”
“Do you have any better ideas?”
“Point.” Octavia finished her pretzel, and Vinyl’s phone chimed again. Vinyl scooped up her phone to read the text-- then took off her sunglasses as she read it again. Octavia canted her head to the side. “What’s wrong?”
“Uh. Looks like the Rainbooms aren’t gonna be able to handle this one.”
“And why is that?”
“They’re at the north pole.” Vinyl turned her phone around, showing Octavia a picture of the seven most magical (read: weirdest) girls at Canterlot High, clad in heavy hooded parkas and clustered together for a selfie.
“Why would they go to the north pole?”
“To, uh, save Santa, I think.”
“You’re kidding.” Octavia let the words hang in the air for a moment as she took in her friend’s serious expression. “You’re not kidding.”
“Wish I was.” Vinyl slid her sunglasses back into place. “But do you know what this means?”
“What?” Octavia said.
“We’re going to have to deal with it ourselves!”
“And how, pray tell, are we going to do that?” Octavia turned around again so she could make a quick survey of the holiday village. “Presuming, of course, that Miss Dusk is actually up to anything nefarious in the first place. Right now it looks like the only crime she’s guilty of is wearing too short a skirt than is seasonally appropriate.”
“That’s the first thing you noticed?” Vinyl Scratch said. “Maybe she’s already hypnotized you!”
“I assure you, I am not hypnotized.” Octavia sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Now, are you done? I need to get back to Rutherford’s. They can’t start without me, and then we’ll never get paid.”
“Right, right.” Vinyl Scratch said. “How long are you scheduled to play, anyway?”
“Until closing time.”
“Perfect!” Vinyl snapped her fingers. “You’re on recon. When you’re done with your gig, hang around and see what’s up at the holiday village. While you’re doing that, I’ll gear up.”
“Gear up? With what?”
“I dunno. Rope? Flashlights? Oh! And what are those creepy magic books called?” Vinyl scratch snapped her fingers. “Tomes! That’s it. We need some tomes.”
“Tomes.” Octavia said, deadpan. “Do you really think you can get your hands on a genuine magical manuscript within the next couple of hours?”
Vinyl pursed her lips, thinking. “Okay, just rope and flashlights.”
Octavia returned to her quartet in front of Rutherford’s, and they wasted little time into launching into their next set. By the time the mall closed, their carols were more akin to battlefield elegies, echoing over the ransacked clearance bins and racks, while store clerks set about to their closing tasks with thousand-yard stares.
The quartet wrapped up their set, and Noteworthy thanked them all for their hard work, then handed each of the other musicians an envelope containing their compensation. Octavia slipped her envelope into the inside pocket of her vest, then stowed her cello in its case. She bid her goodbyes to her colleagues, slung the strap of her cello case across her chest, then set out across the mall. As she passed by, stores lowered their shutters like medieval portcullises, exhausted workers eager to close up and get home. Even the pretzel stand was locked up, Octavia noted with mild chagrin.
She figured she’d give the holiday village a cursory once-over, verify there wasn’t anything nefarious going on, and then she could tell Vinyl she’d gotten herself worked up over nothing. After all, even alleged magical monsters from another dimension needed extra cash around the end of the year.
Didn’t they?
Octavia rolled the thought over in her head. What would magical monsters even need money for, anyway? Did they pay rent? Eat food? Or did they live underneath a bridge and subsist on angry feelings or some other such magical nonsense? Then again, Octavia was fairly certain she’d seen Sunset shimmer eat in the school cafeteria, so it was logical to presume Sonata Dusk and her ilk had roughly the same dietary requirements. Honestly, Octavia concluded, that this so-called-siren had a job at all was a good sign. After all, if Sonata Dusk really was as evil as Vinyl thought, she’d never put up with herding kids to mall-Santa for money. She’d just steal whatever it was she wanted. That’s what villains did, wasn’t it? That’s what she would do if she were some kind of evil mesmerist. Which, thankfully, she wasn’t.
It was as Octavia was considering just how she could use theoretical mind-control powers for good when she bumped into Sonata Dusk. Which was something of an accomplishment in and of itself, given how empty the mall was getting. A tower of packages toppled to the floor, but at least Octavia managed to keep a hold on her cello case. Octavia glanced around for a moment, realizing she was standing in an empty hallway branching off from the food court.
“Oh! Sorry!” The theoretical villain still had her elf costume on, which Octavia wasn’t sure was a good or bad sign. Sonata peered at Octavia with a curious look, which the cellist did take as a bad sign. “Saaaaay, have we met?”
“I don’t believe so?” Octavia lied. Badly.
“Wait, we have met!” Sonata Dusk snapped her fingers. “You go to Canterlot High, right? Home of the Wondercolts?”
“Er, yes?”
“We were in the same battle of the bands!” Sonata Dusk squeaked. She clapped her hands, and then crouched down to start picking up her discarded packages. “Not that, y’know, just one girl with a cello is really a band. You were still pretty good, though!”
“Thank you?” By reflex, Octavia crouched down and started helping Sonata Dusk gather up her things. One of her bags had fallen open, revealing several thick yellow candles and a cloth-wrapped book far too old to be on the shelves of any modern bookstore. A snarling goat’s head was embossed on the cover, as if warning the reader away. Octavia reached for the book, then pulled her hand away at the last moment as a sinking feeling twisted through her stomach.
“It’s a tome.” Octavia said.
“So that’s what they’re called!Good eye!” Sonata Dusk beamed-- then paused. “Oh, shoot. You weren’t supposed to see that. But that’s okay! I can fix this with just one question!”
“You can?” Octavia blinked.
“Yep!” Sonata Dusk pulled something from behind her back. “Does this smell like chloroform to you?”
Octavia woke up in the holiday village. Most of the mall’s lights were turned off, leaving the plastic and plaster enclosure only lit by the faint glow of hundreds of green and red lights. Octavia sat up, quickly-- then frantically started looking around as she realized a familiar weight on her shoulder was missing.
“Where’s my cello?” She blurted into the darkness.
“I knocked you out and tied you up, and that's what you're worried about?” Sonata Dusk, still in her ridiculous elf outfit, crouched down in front of Octavia.
“I have my priorities.” Octavia looked down at her wrists, which were indeed cinched together with a strap of black nylon webbing.
“Look, it’s like, fine, okay? I had to bring it with me ‘cause it’d look suspicious if someone left an instrument case just lying around.” Sonata Dusk pointed, and Octavia let out a relieved breath as she saw her cello case propped up against a dog-sized toy reindeer.
“Why did you tie me up?” Octavia said. She tested her bonds again, then frowned as she realized she’d been tied up with the shoulder strap to her own cello. Better than the strings, at least.
“Isn’t it obvious?” Sonata Dusk stood up. “It’s so you can’t stop my eeeeeeevil plan! Mwa ha ha!” She flicked her ponytail back with her melodramatic cackle.
Octavia groaned, letting her head loll forward onto her knees. “Vinyl’s never going to let me hear the end of this.”
“Oh, come ooooon.” Sonata Dusk whined. “You’re supposed to say something dumb and heroic like ‘you won’t get away with this!’ Haven’t you done this before?”
“No, I haven’t.” Octavia sighed. “And by the way you’re going on, neither have you.”
“You take that back!” Sonata Dusk’s voice hitched as she pointed an accusatory finger at Octavia. “Just because Adagio and Aria aren’t here doesn’t mean I can’t still be evil and stuff! Once they see just how evil I am, they’ll have to let me back into the gang! I bet they’ll even put me in charge of the gang! Then they’ll be sorry! Then everyone will be sorry!”
Octavia stared.
Sonata Dusk sniffed, wiped her nose on the back of her striped sleeve, then composed herself once again. “But enough about that! It’s time for the ritual!” She bounded to the Santa-throne in the middle of the holiday village. She took a small bag out of her elf costume and poured out some kind of black sand in a circle around the gilded chair. She set out the candles, next, lighting them with a disposable lighter. She pulled out her tome once more, and then started to read from it.
“With coal dust! With candle! With cant!” Sonata’s voice took on an otherworldly timbre. “For chicanery! For calamity! For chaos! I summon thee--”
Baleful green flame swirled around the plastic throne, flaring higher with each of Sonata’s words, then exploded outward in a fountain of magical energy as she finished the incantation with no small degree of relish.
“Krampus!”
Something stirred.
A hulking ogre, ram-horned and cloven-hooved, unfolded itself from where it had suddenly appeared on Santa’s throne. Its goat-head matched the cover of Sonata’s tome, though it was even uglier in horrid person. Incongruously sharp fangs jutted from the Krampus’ maw, with small columns of drool dripping down to the floor. It clutched a large burlap sack in one clawed hand, and thick chains crisscrossing the Krampus’ broad chest clinked with each step.
Sonata looked up at the beast and gave a delighted laugh.
“It worked! It worked!” She clapped her hands. “I’ve been working this stupid job since Thanksgiving, just so I could sort out the good kids from the naughty ones!”
“NAUGHTY.” The Krampus growled.
“That’s right! I’ve got the list right here!” Sonata Dusk pulled a wrinkled handful of papers out of her pocket and presented it to the Krampus with a flourish. “Names and addresses! Now you can go and stick them in your sack there and hit them with a stick or whatever, and the holiday will be ruined!”
“NAUGHTY.” The Krampus repeated, and loomed over Sonata Dusk.
The gears within Sonata’s head turned (if slowly), and her smile faded. “Wait wait wait hold on-- I’ve got the book! I summoned you! You’re supposed to do what I saaaaay--”
The siren’s complaint trailed off into a plaintive whine as the Krampus grabbed her by the arm, yanked her effortlessly off of the ground, and stuffed her into its canvas bag. The bells at the toes of Sonata’s pointy-toed elf shoes jingled as she kicked her legs, struggling vainly against the Krampus’ supernatural strength. Muffled curses came from within the sack as the Krampus slung it over one couch-sized shoulder.
Octavia got her feet underneath herself, thankful that Sonata hadn’t thought to tie her legs together. She took off at a run, biting down on the inside of her cheek to keep herself from screaming and getting the Krampus’ attention. She hoped that Sonata Dusk could keep it distracted-- she certainly fit the ‘naughty’ criteria. But what was the Krampus’ definition of ‘naughty?’ Would something like jaywalking be enough to warrant being stuffed into a smelly bag? Being late for class? Getting a double-serving of fake butter from the pretzel stand?
Octavia ran faster.
Her footsteps echoed through the darkened mall as Octavia ran from one closed storefront to the next. She searched for a way out-- or, barring that, someplace to hide, but the mall had been locked up thoroughly. Behind her, the Krampus’ snarl boomed.
“NAUGHTY.”
Octavia winced, then renewed her blind flight-- only to slam into another body in the darkness. She choked back a gasp-- then blinked as she settled her eyes on a familiar pair of sunglasses. Vinyl had swapped her usual white for a dark grey hoodie, and wore a coil of nylon rope across her chest like a bandoleer.
“Octavia!” She said. “Are you alright? What’s going on?”
“You were right.” Octavia forced herself to keep her voice low. She grabbed the front of Vinyl’s hoodie and dragged her into the doorway of Cozy Cashmere’s Novelty Sock Emporium. “Sonata Dusk summoned a monster. Something called a Krampus.”
“The horned devil-man from Germanic folklore that’s sent to punish naughty children?” Vinyl Scratch said.
Octavia blinked. “How do you know that?”
“Horror movies.” Vinyl Scratch cracked a grin.
“Do those movies tell you anything about how to stop a Krampus?” With her earlier retreat taken care of, Octavia breathed in deeply, forcing herself to calm down, to look at the matter rationally. Or at least as rationally as matters could be with a giant goat monster stomping around and stuffing people into a bag.
Vinyl furrowed her brow, thoughtful. “Usually there’s like, a magic book or something.”
“A tome.” Octavia rubbed at her face with both hands. “Of course.”
“Whoa, you’re tied up? Here, let me help you.” Vinyl took a multi-tool out of her pocket, unfolded a blade, and neatly cut the straps holding Octavia’s wrists.
“You brought a knife?” Octavia said.
“I mean, yeah?” Vinyl shrugged. “I always carry it with me. Use the pliers more than anything, honestly.”
Octavia rubbed at her wrists, then risked a peek around a pillar to make sure the Krampus hadn’t crept up on them. “We need to go back.” She finally concluded. “Sonata Dusk has the tome, and Krampus has Sonata Dusk in its bag.”
“Oh man, are you saying we’re going to save the holidays? This is so cool!” Vinyl Scratch folded her multitool back up and put it away.
“I suppose so.” Octavia admitted. “Also, I need to get my cello back.”
“So what’s the plan?” Vinyl Scratch said.
“You brought rope.” Octavia tugged at a coil of line slung across Octavia’s chest. “What about a flashlight?”
It was, Octavia had to admit, a stupid plan.
Then again, it was also her plan, which meant she only had herself to blame. It also meant she needed play the most dangerous part in it. Not that Vinyl’s job was much safer, but … still.
She cradled the heavy flashlight in her hands, thumb hovering above its on button. Crouching low, Octavia crept through the holiday village until she could hear the rattling jangle of the Krampus’ chains. She breathed in deeply, and then stood.
“Ahem,” said Octavia.
The Krampus turned around, sack still over its shoulder. Octavia noted that the burlap bulged and shifted occasionally-- Sonata must have still been conscious. Likely not very comfortable, but conscious. Good.
“I would like you to know,” Octavia began, “that I have done … bad … things, recently.” She nodded. “For one, I recently downloaded the new PostCrush album from a torrent site. On school wi-fi, no less.”
The Krampus stared Octavia for a long, perplexed moment. “… NAUGHTY?”
“I assure you, it was.”
“NAUGHTY.” The Krampus concluded, and began to lumber towards Octavia. The far smaller girl fought down her instinct to run-- and instead brought up the flashlight, training it right onto the Krampus’ beady eyes. She hit the button, and a hundred thousand lumens of LED flared to life. The Krampus snarled, holding a clawed hand up against the glare.
And that was Vinyl’s cue.
Dark rope streamed down from the mall’s second level, behind the Krampus. A moment later Vinyl followed, rappelling downward with her multitool clenched between her teeth, like some sort of particularly handy pirate. She landed neatly, then unclipped the cararabiner connecting her to the line. Between her sunglasses and the Krampus’ shadow, Vinyl was protected from the searing glare of the overpowered flashlight. Ninja sneaky, Vinyl crept up behind the blinded Krampus and took the knife out of her mouth. The short blade was far too small to hurt something as big as the Krampus-- but it was sharp enough to cut through the canvas of his bag.
Sonata Dusk tumbled out, coughing and swearing. Vinyl shushed her, then grabbed the siren by the wrist, dragging her away from the Krampus.
Even blinded, the Krampus felt the sudden lack of weight in its child-stealing-sack, and snarled in frustration.
“NAUGHTY!”
With a dismayed yelp, Vinyl ducked beneath the blind swipe of a clawed hand. She fled, tugging Sonata Dusk along behind her.
Octavia threw the flashlight at the Krampus, and the holiday village was briefly enveloped in bizarre strobing light as the still-lit tumbled end over end. It bonked into the Krampus’ head and bounced off. Even the metal of the industrial flashlight couldn’t phase the Krampus’ thick skull, but it served as a good enough distraction. Octavia sprinted across the holiday village, grabbing her cello case by the handle as she fled. It was awkward to carry without a shoulder strap, but desperation lent strength to Octavia’s grip. Behind her, the blinded Krampus rampaged, smashing plastic décor and kicking up clouds of fake snow with each stomping step.
Octavia sprinted across the mall to the rendezvous point, the small stage set up in front of Rutherford’s that she performed on in simpler times, mere hours before. Vinyl Scratch and Sonata Dusk caught up with her a few moments later, panting.
“You saved me!” Sonata Dusk wrapped her arms around Vinyl Scratch in a cheery hug. “Thank you!”
“It was her idea.” Vinyl Scratch said, and shot Octavia a playful grin. “Didn’t know you had it in you, Octavia.”
“Ahem.” Octavia pushed dark hair out of her eyes, trying to make herself look presentable again. “You should know, I didn’t save you out of the goodness of my heart. I’d say that tome is compensation enough for saving your life.”
Sonata Dusk blinked guilelessly at Octavia. “The-- oh! The magic book thingie!” She patted herself down, then pulled the cloth-bound volume out of a pocket in her elf-costume. “Whatcha want this thing for?”
“To stop the Krampus.” Octavia looked across the dark mall.
“Is that all? That’s easy!” Sonata Dusk said. “All you need is the sound of silver, and that’ll send the Krampus back to … wherever Krampuses live, I guess! Too bad I didn’t think of that before that big jerk stuck me in his bag. I mean, who would’ve thought that summoning a goat monster to terrorize children counted as naughty?”
“Indeed.” Octavia said, deadpan.
“The sound of silver? What’s that even mean?” Vinyl scratch said. “I mean, we might be able to find some literal silver bells somewhere around here, but--”
Octavia opened up her cello case. “I think I have a better idea.”
They took refuge in Rutherford’s proper. Sonata Dusk produced a set of lockpicks from beneath her pointy elf hat and picked the lock holding the steel shutters closed. The metal clattered as they pushed it upward, echoing through the empty mall.
“NAUGHTY,” came the Krampus’ reply, and it started stomping its way towards Rutherfords.
Octavia crouched behind a shoe display, cello draped over her lap. She’d never strung her instrument so quickly, turning the tuning pegs to stretch the silvercore strings taut. She forced herself to be careful-- where a broken string was normally an inconvenience, here, it could prove deadly. At Octavia’s desperate insistence, Vinyl and Sonata Dusk had hidden elsewhere in the store. If the plan worked, they could come out. And if it didn’t--
The tread of the Krampus’ hooves, the jangle of its chains, the rasp of its breath all grew louder and louder as the holiday ogre stalked through the department store. Octavia watched the Krampus’s reflection in a display mirror.
The hulking ogre pounced on a mannequin, lifting it up by one leg so he could stuff it into its sack-- only for the plastic figure to tumble to pieces in his grip. The Krampus stared down at the pile of stiff limbs, then sighed, shoulder slumping in disappointment. It kicked away the dismembered mannequin, then turned its beady eyes about, searching for new quarry.
Which is when Octavia locked eyes with the Krampus’ reflection.
A slow smile spread across the Krampus’ fanged maw as it bore down on Octavia’s hiding spot. “NAUGHTY.”
Octavia bit her lip to keep her teeth from rattling with each of the Krampus’ heavy footsteps. She knew she couldn’t run from the Krampus, much less fight it, or even think of a better plan that would have kept her far away from the mythical monster in the first place.
What she could do was play.
Octavia got out of her hiding spot and sat on a stool behind the counter-- it was a little shorter than what she typically preferred, but it would have to do. Calloused fingertips slid over the neck of her instrument, and Octavia dragged her bow across the fresh, silver wrapped strings. The clear chord echoed through Rutherford’s, and the Krampus stopped in its tracks.
Heart pounding, palms sweating, Octavia forced herself to keep playing. She cycled through a novelty album’s worth of holiday classics. They were simple songs, far easier than a lot of the compositions she preferred to play, but easy enough to remember, not to mention thematically appropriate.
Octavia had expected the Krampus to scream, to curse, to cringe away from the sound of the music like a vampire fleeing a cross in one of those old horror movies Vinyl loved so much. Instead, the Krampus’s just … sat down. Watching. Listening.
She didn’t know how long she played, or how many songs she cycled through-- but by the time Octavia’s fingers began to ache from fingering the metal strings, the Krampus stood up again. Octavia gasped, bow falling from her nervous fingers as she braced herself to be stuffed into a smelly bag. Instead, the Krampus just clapped its clawed hands, and smiled down at Octavia in an ostensibly friendly manner.
And with that, the Krampus dissolved into tiny specks of dark coal-dust, carried away by an impossibly convenient breeze. Within moments, all that was left of the Krampus was its gravely, guttural voice echoing through the air.
“NICE.”
“That was so cool!” Sonata Dusk plowed into Octavia, wrapping her up in an eager hug. It was all Octavia could do to make sure the other girl’s enthusiasm didn’t damage her cello.
“Keep this up, and you’ll get to hang out with Sunset Shimmer and her weird glowy friendship club.” Vinyl Scratch smirked, and clapped her friend on the shoulder.
“I didn’t, did I?” Octavia wriggled away from Sonata Dusk, and set about putting her cello away. “Glow, that is.”
“Nope!” Sonata Dusk said. “It was just you and the Krampus! And I totally thought he was gonna eat you there for a sec. But it turns out he just wanted to get into the holiday spirit! Who knew?”
“You, presumably.” Octavia said, dryly. “You were the one with the tome, at least.”
“Oh sure, but it’s not like I read the thing. Or, uh, not all of it. I just wanted the part where I could summon the Krampus so I could--” The squeaky hamster-wheel of Sonata’s stream of consciousness suddenly stopped. “Oh. Oh no!” She broke down into sudden, prolific sobs.
“What? What is it? Is the Krampus coming back?” Vinyl said.
“He isn’t! And that’s the problem! I didn’t ruin the holiday after all and now I’ll never get back into the gaaaaaang!” She trailed off into a mournful wail, then blew her nose on the hood of Vinyl’s sweatshirt.
“Perhaps that’s a good thing?” Octavia ventured.
Sonata’s sobs immediately stopped. “You’re right! I don’t need to join Adagio and Aria’s stupid gang anymore!”
Octavia sighed in relief. “That’s the first sensible thing you’ve said all--”
“I can join your gang instead!” Sonata declared, triumphantly. “Oh man, we were such a good team back there, too!”
“But we’re not--” Octavia sputtered.
“Just let her have this.” Vinyl patted Octavia on the shoulder.
“Thanks you guys!” Sonata pulled Octavia and Vinyl into another friendly hug. “And now, as the newest member of the gang, I suggest that we get out of here before the cops show up.”
Octavia blinked, looking around at the trail of destruction the Krampus had left in its wake. “That’s … not a bad idea.” She picked up her cello case and held it close to her chest.
“I parked over this way.” Vinyl Scratch said, leading out of Rutherford’s. “You guys hungry? We could get, like, tacos or something on the way home.”
Sonata Dusk just squealed in delight. “Oh man, you guys are gonna be the best gang ever!”
Octavia rolled her eyes, but smiled anyway. “Happy holidays, you two.”
