Page 96 of Scrooged for the Holidays
“No, I mean, is she here?”
“She’s long gone.”
Greer’s quiet for a moment. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
Warmth hums in my chest. I don’t know if the Greer that arrived here would have said that to me so readily. It would have been too vulnerable for her to show the empathetic side of herself she’s buried for years.
“No need to feel sorry for me. I don’t remember her well, but from what I do, she was afraid of what I am.”
“You may be broody, but you don’t seem like someone to be afraid of.”
A chuckle leaks from my chest, my aura pulsing out. Greer may not be able to see it, but her body responds to it—she leans forward in her chair, her even breaths turning shorter. It’s an interesting response, especially for a human. Most would lean away, not toward. It makes her comment about not being afraid ring true.
Greer isn’t like most,Kai sneaks in.
No, she isn’t. And I’m starting to realize it more and more. But I have to wonder: Will she feel the same once I’ve shown her the future? If she knows more of what I am?
“You don’t know me enough to make the deduction,” I say.
She sets the book down on the table in front of her, her elbows leaning on her knees. “Then let me get to know you. Tell me more about you, Kai, and Remi. How did you meet andend up in this place? And what is this place exactly? I think I’m right in assuming there’s a reason I’d never heard of it before I arrived?”
“You would be correct.” I don’t hesitate in answering her, because at the end of the day, she won’t remember it once she’s gone. Even if she did, Elysian Pines has to let her find it. It’s never let the same human cross its borders twice in all the years we’ve been here.
This is what I’ve tried to warn Remi and Kai about, but I’m doing my best to get to know Greer. And I’d be lying to myself if I said I don’t want to, even if it’s just for a short time. A part of me feels like I must. Maybe it’s the human part of me, the one that will always crave connection and trust more than my angelic side does.
Greer stares, waiting for me to continue. She asked me multiple questions that thankfully have simple answers. Or at least, mostly simple.
“We’ve been alive for a long time—”
“How long?”
“Centuries.”
“Are we talking, like, five hundred?”
“Do you think I look five hundred?”
“Is someone sensitive about their age?” she teases.
I can hear Kai wanting to answer that I am, but I’m not. At least, not really. It’s only when I’m questioning the downsides of long life that I feel the weight of death evading me. I see the end for the humans that we help, but Nephilim are different.
“No, are you?” I ask.
She shrugs. “I’m in a society that values women’s youth and beauty. I won’t lie and say that I haven’t had sensitivities over it. Thankfully, I’ve learned to embrace myself for who I am, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t gotten a bit of Botox.” She points to the middle of her forehead.
“It’s your body; you should do whatever you’d like with it.”
“No spiel about how I’m perfect the way God made me?”
“Every being,human or not, isn’t perfect, not even those of us with angelic grace. I’d argue that makes us less than perfect.”
“How so?”
“That book, among other texts, enjoys calling us ‘bastards of heaven.’ We were never meant to exist—angels were not supposed to breed with humans. Many angels consider us abominations, and humans tend to be afraid of what we are and our power. We don’t live in heaven nor do heaven’s bidding, and living strictly among humans is hard for us.”
“Because people are afraid of you?”
“That, and because we live longer, age slower. We stick out if we settle in one place for too long. We’re different, and different is hard for beings to embrace. Neither humans nor angels truly understand us or what we are.”
