While You Were Creeping - Poppy Rhys Page 0,8
thing?”
“Whoa, whoa.” I held up a hand to stop him. The pointed tips of his ears were growing pink and his sharp fangs were bared. Not only could he gore someone with his tusks but also shred them with his teeth. “I don’t know if you’re yanking my chain...” I returned to my perch on the arm of the couch, “or if you’re serious right now.”
Clearly this giant didn’t like my paperweight. He watched it closely as I turned it over in my hands. It wasn’t anything special. Just a glass cube.
He growled lowly, “I’m very serious.”
That tone simultaneously made the fine hairs on my arms stand up and my nape tingle. In a good way.
Which was messed up. I blamed it on lack of sleep.
“Let me get this straight.” I took a deep breath, stringing together what he’d said. “You think I’m a witch, you think this cube is a prison—your prison—and you think my witchy relatives banished you—giant you—to this tiny paperweight?”
“I don’t think it—I know it,” he snapped. “I’ve been trapped there for over one-hundred winter solstices.”
It was my turn to narrow my eyes. That would make him pretty old. While I understood different species aged at different rates, my bullshit bell was dinging.
But I’d play along...
“If this is your prison, how are you in my living room?”
“It’s December.”
“Yes...?”
His ears twitched and I could see suspicion creeping into his gaze. “I’m cursed to spend this time of year with the berchta who possesses my prison.”
“Who is berchta?”
“You. You’re a berchta. A witch.” Now he was looking at me like I was the one whose cheese slid off her cracker. “How did you do it by the way? It’s unnerving when they don’t glow.”
“When what doesn’t glow?”
“Your eyes. Every berchta has green eyes that glow. It’s a telltale sign of a witch. And it’s damned spooky that you’re hiding it somehow.”
“Okay, I’m hopping off this crazy train.” I stood up and gestured toward the door. “Come on, I’ll show you out the back. It’s time for you to leave.”
And in the morning, I’m calling the security company to give them a piece of my mind.
With a heavy sigh, the giant—whose name I didn’t catch—slowly disappeared from my lounger right before my eyes.
Gone.
Poof.
The cube in my hand glowed and grew warm for a hot second before it was cold again.
I dropped it, stunned. It thumped against the rug and I jumped back.
My mind raced a million revolutions a second and went blank all at once until the silence grew heavy.
Holy shit...
I whispered aloud to the empty room, “He wasn’t crazy.”
SIX
“Hey Fiona, I have a weird question.” I held my comm in my hand as I paced my bedroom early the next morning.
Even though I’d locked the cube in the storage room and then locked myself and Skully in my bedroom, I’d tossed and turned all night. I’d resorted to calling the school’s office admin as soon as I could.
“Do you happen to have any idea how I can contact the elves? Did they leave any information for gift returns?”
Fiona laughed.
When I didn’t say anything, or join in, her laughter petered out.
“Oh, you’re serious.” Her tone sounded worried now. “Did something happen? Was the gift offensive? The elves have always been so good about—”
“No, no, it’s nothing like that.”
Actually yes, it was. But how did I relay, without sounding crazy, that the paperweight the elves gave me was actually a prison, and the convict inhabiting that prison took a stroll about my living room last night?
I couldn’t. I couldn’t say any of that without sounding like a looney bin escapee.
“It’s just that I... I don’t need the gift and figured the elves could find another recipient.” Even I cringed at how dumb that sounded. “Someone who’d get use out of it.”
“Can’t you just regift it?”
Dammit, Fiona!
“Yes, I suppose I could.” The thought of regifting an alien convict sounded like something that would fuck my karma for life. “Are you sure the elves didn’t leave any contact info?”
“I’m sorry Holly, I’m not seeing anything. Come to think of it, I’m not even sure what company the elves work for. It’s been such a long-standing tradition in Tinsel, I never thought of it before.”
“Alright well—”
“You know, Principle Huckle might have contact in—”
“No really, that’s okay. Thank you so much Fiona. See you later.”
I quickly disconnected.
Last thing I wanted was to talk to George or explain why I needed to speak to the elves.
Ugh!
And now I was thinking about my loathe of George.