Page 4 of Scrooged for the Holidays
I’ll head back. Give me an hour. In the meantime, take care of Sam, get him out of his head.
KAI:
Our broody boy is already being taken care of *winky face emoji* *eggplant emoji*
A small smile plants itself on my face as I imagine them together. Knowing them, they’re not in the bedroom. They’ll be at the kitchen table or maybe even at the retro bar Kai runs in town when we have guests.
I can see it in my mind’s eye. One of them is on their knees, and I’m going to guess it’s Sam by Kai’s text. Our broody lover is often a dominant being like me, but when he loses himself, he needs our help to ground him, to bring light into his darkness. In those times, he lets go and gives one or both of us his submission.
ME:
Good, see you soon.
I put my phone back in my pocket and glance down at my nearly finished meal. Like sleep, Nephilim don’t need much food to sustain us. I’ve gone weeks without, but I’ll eat dinner with Kai and Sam. It’s a routine we like to keep, one that connects us each day and often turns into more than just a meal made of food.
I drink the last of the cheap red wine I got with my steak and move to get my wallet just as the chime above the door rings. The restless itch in my stomach flips like a boulder tumbling down a hill, and my skin prickles. Goosebumps spread over my arms as my hair rises up on its end.
“Excuse me, I’m looking for Holly or Bob Gibson.”
My pulse picks up at the clear sound of the husky feminine tone, and my eyes find the source of it. The woman is at theold hostess stand not far from me, facing a wide-eyed Holly. The human is tall and voluptuous, like an hourglass, and her persimmon-colored hair framed by white-blonde highlights hits her mid back and is curled to perfection. Snowflakes melt on the long tresses and her form-fitting red peacoat. She’s incredibly stunning.
“I’m Holly.”
There aren’t many people here, so her voice is easy to make out even without my enhanced hearing. I observe the curvy form of the stranger before I bounce my gaze to Holly. She looks…fearful. I sit up straighter in my seat, wiping my mouth with the napkin that had been on my lap before placing it on the table.
The woman before her looks around. She scrutinizes the restaurant with a near scowl on her round face before meeting Holly’s gaze again and holding out her free hand, the other gripping what looks to be a tablet.
“My name is Greer Mallory. I’m with Northlight Capital, the owners of this building.”
Holly snatches her hand back from the woman I now know as Greer, quicker than a bolt of lightning. Her shoulders pop back, and the fear on her face turns into a sneer. “I know who the owners of this building are. What are you doing here? Nobody said you were coming.”
“I emailed this morning and tried to call, but I didn’t get an answer. I left messages.”
“You need to give more notice than that.”
“I would have, if the timing weren’t so tight.” Greer keeps her tone calm, measured. “With the holidays and end-of-year reviews, we’re trying to get ahead of our site visits.”
Holly crosses her arms. “So you just show up unannounced to what? Kick us out into a snowstorm? We’ve been at this location for over twenty years.”
I itch to go to Holly, to comfort her in some way. But it’s not my place, and Holly’s life isn’t mine to interfere with. If sherequires my help, Elysian Pines would draw her to our borders, and I don’t believe that’s going to be the case. I feel that in my gut.
“I understand that, and I’m not here to kick you out—”
“—yet,” Holly interrupts.
“This property is under review. I’m here to evaluate the current condition and discuss the lease moving forward.”
“Must we do this now? It’s nearly Christmas.”
My attention shifts to Greer, who doesn’t look at all phased by Holly’s distress or her words. She looks detached.
“I’m here now, and I drove two hours to get here in this storm,” she responds coolly. “It won’t take long.”
While the women continue to converse, I sit back in my booth, inhaling a quiet breath and tapping into my power, my grace. It runs through my being like an energetic current—it’s what makes us the beings we are. Grace is the angelic part of us bestowed by our angel fathers upon creation.
Nephilim are rare—less than a thousand of us are on earth—but for those of us who exist, our grace is the same yet different. We share certain abilities like our long life and enhanced hearing and sight, but we also develop individual gifts as well. One of my abilities is to see and read auras, the soft field of energy that surrounds every living being—a quiet glow that reflects a person’s body, heart, mind, and spirit. Sam and Kai can see them, too, but my sight runs deeper, giving me a more in-depth read on a soul. My ability to do so is rivaled only by Sam.
I take a small sip of wine, putting all my focus on Greer. My grace buzzes under my skin, and her aura reveals itself to me, appearing around her like a fog. Anger is the first emotion I read, followed by an intense feeling ofnothing. My already slow heart rate, another trait of the Nephilim, becomes almost nothing as I close my eyes to focus. I dig further into her energy field to see if I can uncover more.
