I rolled over the ice to escape Krampus's clicking claws, his drooling, snapping jaw, his forked tongue that wriggled dangerously close to my cheek. Swear to god, if he licked me, game over. He was dead. Same if he ate me.

Surging to my feet, I lashed out with my seraph knife, aiming right for his wandering tongue. He dodged. I missed. He swung a claw-tipped arm, and didn't miss. Mother fucker. I went flying, then crashed to the icy street and slid about half a block away. Good thing ...