Read Online The Saint by Melanie Jackson - Free Book Online Page B

blinding
.
    â€œFine. But please hurry, before I change my mind,” Adora muttered. At Kris’s concerned look, she added: “I just know that this is a mistake for both of us.”
    He chuckled at her complaint and she smiled, but it wasn’t really a joke. Adora had the clearest feeling that she was making a decision with huge future consequences, all of which were presently unknown. Still, what did she have to lose—except her house and professional credibility and credit rating?
    Kris leaned toward her. “Now, how about something to drink? Iced tea perhaps? Or coffee?”
    â€œI’m fine, really. I . . .” Adora stopped speaking and stared into Kris’s eyes, lost for a time and rescued only when another man appeared and laid a set of contracts and a thick file folder in front of her. The spell broken, she looked down and tried to make sense of the documents before her.
    It was difficult, because what she really wanted to do was open the file beneath and find out some details about Mr. Bishop S. Nicholas, aka Kris Kringle of the stunning eyes.
    â€œI’ll leave you to read over the contracts,” her employer said, rising. “Please feel free to request anything you need or want from Pennywyse. There’s a fax machine on the desk, and a computer.”
    Adora forced herself to look up and focus on the dark, slender man who stood in the shadows of the room and looked quite content there. He smiled slightly.
    â€œI’ll be back this afternoon,” Kris said, drawing her attention. “We can have dinner and talk about the material in the folder then. I’m certain you’ll have questions.”
    â€œWithout a doubt,” Adora agreed. Briskly, she began searching under the desk for her sandals, her sore toes questing after the runaway shoes. She looked slightly to the left of Kris, not wanting to get lost in his gaze again.
    â€œThat’s all right—don’t get up,” he said, as though guessing what she was doing. “Please be comfortable. I want you to be happy here. That’s very important to me.”
    And Adora was certain that he meant it.
    Santa Claus,
she thought as he left the room, taking the warmth with him. . . . Well, she’d researched more obscure beings. And since he claimed to be Saint Nicholas himself, she wouldn’t have to worry about him calling in psychics to raise ghosts. That was a relief. She didn’t like psychics and didn’t need them to tell her about the dead. She had books should Kris’s memory—or imagination—fail them when it came to period details.
    Books
. She was glad he had a library here. Looking at titles was her favorite way to know the minds of others.
    Then Adora had a minor revelation. Those odd books she had seen—they must be written in lutin. Of course! But they probably belonged to the hotel instead of Kris. It would have occurred to her sooner, but she’d never been inside a hotel with an actual library before. Still, the books could likely tell her about goblins. Which would be a less scary way to find things out. She loved books. They were how she would talk to future generations, since having children now seemed unlikely.

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    Some Men traveled to foreign lands and, seeing many treasures there, opened their hearts to envy. They knew discontent and wandered even farther from their homes, and soon they became truly separated from Gaia. Thus the Sons of Man became two tribes and were divided on Earth, some as Celebrants who were with Gaia; and some as Worshippers, who gathered in groups and made images of other gods who looked like Man and bore weapons. The Worshippers feared and were jealous of the Celebrants, who could see Gaia’s love everywhere and carried it with them in their hearts. And though the shaman was with them still, bearing Light in the dark of every year, the Worshippers turned from him and his teachings. The shaman did not the