Yuletide Immortal (The Immortal Chronicles Book 4) by Gene Doucette Read Free Book Online Page A

he was wrong to suggest this; I do go mad now and then.
    “How exactly will we know when your guess is officially incorrect?  I’d like to get some rest or I’ll fall asleep on my throne tomorrow.”
    “You can sleep after Christmas.  The bar turns off the light when everyone’s out, that’s how we’ll know I’m wrong.”
    “How do you know that? ”
    “I fell asleep back here one night,” I said.  This wasn’t really true, but it sounded good.
    “But how…”
    “Shh!”
    The back door, which was mostly left open during business hours, had been closed since the bar shut down.  But now someone inside had opened it, and a few seconds later that someone was revealed as little Davey.
    Santa gasped.
    The kid looked more or less the same as he’d appeared in the store.  Different clothing, but clearly the same child.  And definitely corporeal, unless we also believe ghosts cast shadows.
    The kid looked down along both ends of the alley—failing to spot us—then reached inside and turned the light off.  As our eyes adjusted we could hear the door being closed and latched.  The next time I was able to see him it was in the faint light coming from the street lamp at the far corner of the alley.  He was walking away from us.
    Santa was ready to leap forward and probably embrace Davey.  I was more inclined toward strangulation, myself.  But neither of us much moved because it turned out another man was in the alley, on the other side of the Dumpster, who was also there to intercept the boy.
    The ensuing conversation between them didn’t look friendly.  We couldn’t hear what was being discussed, but when the guy grabbed Davey by the shoulder in a way that looked painful, it was clear this was no social chat.
    Santa toddled down the alley, not in any way sober at the time or formidable on any occasion, but also not about to let someone beat up a child in front of him.
    “Here now, what are you doing with that boy?”
    Startled, the man turned, but didn’t let go of the kid.  “This is none of your business, go on.”
    I expected to recognize him from the bar, only because at this time of the night the only people lingering in the area were patrons.  But I had never seen him before.  He was large and sloop-shouldered, but in the light there wasn’t much more to see.  I couldn’t tell how he was dressed or anything useful like that.
    “I’ll do just that the moment you unhand the child,” Santa said.
    “Walk away, mister.”
    I stepped into the light.  “How about if you walk away instead?” I said.
    The man held onto Davey for another beat or two, possibly considering whether it was worth his trouble to deal with two full-sized people in addition to the half-sized one already in his grip.  Then he let go, his palms in the air.
    “All right, fellas, he’s all yours.”  To Davey, he said, “Me and you, we aren’t finished.”
    He walked out of the alley in a direction that didn’t require also walking past us. 
    As soon as he was gone, Davey turned to look at his rescuers for the first time, and the thanks that was sure to follow died on his lips.
    “Aw, geez, you guys?   This night just gets better and better.”
    *   *   *
    The all-night diner may be the greatest invention of the Twentieth century.  I realize the list of inventions to choose from is very long indeed, and I may be overstating my point somewhat, but it’s a reasonable conclusion to draw if one happens to be awake at one in the morning and in need of food and a place that’s warm and dry.  This is especially true for someone who only occasionally has a place to call home.
    The ready availability of unspoiled food is really something taken for granted by most people nowadays, at least in the West.  I don’t mean that as a commentary on First World vs. Third World economics at all, only that it’s incredibly difficult to grasp how much of one’s day has to be devoted to obtaining food when the option of