does that make you feel?
“Who was that male?”
I screamed again, startled.
Goddammit!
The voice was muffled, but gruff and velvety. I knew exactly who it was but... how?
“You can hear me?”
“Yes.”
“How?” Panic spiked my blood. If he could hear me while he was in the cube, and I could hear him, what exactly had he heard? Did he hear me talking to Fiona?
No... he couldn’t have. Multiple walls and doors had separated us.
“For a berchta, you seem clueless.”
My eyes bugged and I stared accusingly at my satchel. “Excuse me?”
“About my prison.” He sighed. “Didn’t the last witch tell you anything?”
He still thinks I’m a witch.
“I’m not a witch.”
He snorted.
“I heard that.”
The static in the air grew when I sat down at my desk and, in the next blink, the furry alien was suddenly standing on the other side, staring at me.
Words escaped me. My eyes widened so much they watered.
“It’s incredibly boring in my prison,” he stated, settling his clawed hands on my desk and leaning forward, casting me in his shadow. He was so close I could feel his icy breath fan my face when he said, “As much as I loathe spending this time of year with a berchta, it beats a frozen desert.”
“You found pants.”
That’s all I said. It was like my brain forgot everything else and only registered that the alien was wearing pants that rested nicely on his narrow hips.
I really am bonkers.
“Yes. I wear clothes sometimes, like you.” His bottom canines jutted up over his top lip, even when he spoke, giving this creature a unique way of speech. “Would you like me to take them off?”
There went my skin, flaming hot red. My nose grew warm, and my cheeks followed suit. Even my chin felt a temperature shift. I probably looked like a shiny tomato.
“Is your name really Holly?” He smirked, and somehow that stole all my attention. His face transformed with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Seems ironic for someone who keeps all her Christmas decorations in storage bins.”
“You went through my stuff?”
“You locked me in a closet.”
“So what?” I gritted my teeth. “You had no right.”
“Says the one who keeps me imprisoned.”
“I told you, I’m not a wi—”
Someone knocked on the door, interrupting.
“Holly?” George swung the door open, peeking his head in. “Are you alr— Uh...”
I abruptly stood, my chair squeaking, as if I’d been caught doing something naughty. “Principle Huckle, can I help you?”
“I thought I heard you scream...” His face wrinkled with confusion and his eyes warily took in the burly, otherworldly beast that was still leaning on my desk, eyelevel with my tits now.
Why did I think of that?
I laughed, and even to my own ears it sounded too loud and too long, before I cleared my throat and straightened my soft sweater. “Nope. No screaming here.”
“Is this a... visitor?”
“Oh, this is... this is...” I gestured to the convict, whose name I should’ve probably learned, “my new Krampus!”
Fuck.
Why did I say that?
The alien threw me a pointed, surly glare that I was thankful George couldn’t see. At that very moment, I hoped he saw the urgency in my eyes.
Please go along with this, I silently begged.
Was it just me or did George seem disappointed? “Oh,” he said.
“Name’s Kye,” the alien offered, standing to his full height, which put him a head or two above both of us humans.
“Principle Huckle,” George replied, straightening, as if trying to be as tall as Kye.
Kye.
It pained me to admit I liked how it rolled through my mind.
“I offered to fill in for the Krampus role, but it seems Holly had other plans.” He tightly smiled.
Kye stroked his neck fur. “Seems the better Krampus won, eh?”
I choked on my own saliva and profusely coughed.
Kye pat me on the back, firm but gentle, surprising me. “You okay, Holly?”
“Fine—I’m fine. Thank you.” I cleared my throat for a final time.
George, his cheek ticking—which definitely meant he was irritated—checked his watch. “I better go. Kids will be arriving soon.” Just before he closed the door he said, “Oh, Holly? Try to do non-school related business during your personal time, would you?”
The door shut before I could reply.
“I don’t like that guy,” Kye bluntly stated.
“He’s not all bad.” Yeah right, why am I even defending him?
“You don’t like him.”
“I don’t?” Of course I didn’t.
“Your spine goes ramrod straight, you clench your jaw, and your tone drops a chilling degree when he’s around. It happened earlier, and it happened just now.”
“Maybe that’s how I act around everyone. You don’t