Chapter 17
He doesn’t look like an evil wizard, I thought. Just an evil businessman.
Grinchly’s gaze swept the shop, dismissing the joyful chaos with a disdainful curl of his lip. His gaze settled on me like a hawk spotting a mouse.
“Miss Green.”
“Mr. Grinchly.” I pasted on my brightest smile. “I’m afraid we’re getting ready to close soon.”
He ignored me.
“I came to discuss our last conversation. My offer still stands, but time is running out, Noelle. The deadline for payment is the twenty-fourth. Christmas Eve.” He said the date with a smug satisfaction that made me want to pour hot cocoa on his expensive shoes.
“I’m aware of the date,” I said, my smile feeling brittle. “And I’m aware of your offer. I’ll still be declining it.”
His smile vanished. “I hear your little ‘Good Deeds’ proposal was approved.”
The news had traveled fast. “It was. The committee was very supportive.”
“A desperate gambit.” He set the snow globe down with a thud that made me flinch. “Throwing away inventory to bring in a few bargain-hunters. A temporary fix to a permanent problem.”
The urge to throw a ceramic Santa at his head was nearly overwhelming.
“I prefer to think of it as community building.”
“Whatever helps you sleep at night.” He walked towards the counter, leaning against it with an air of casual ownership. “I have to say, I’m impressed. Most people would have given up by now.”
“I’m not most people.”
“No.” His gaze drifted from my face to something over my shoulder, and a look of genuine confusion flickered across his features. “What… is that?”
I followed his gaze. Bastian had stepped out from the back room. He stood by the door to the stockroom, arms crossed, watching Grinchly with an unnerving stillness. The air in the shop, which had been merely tense, suddenly felt frigid.
“This is Bastian,” I said.
Grinchly cleared his throat nervously, then turned back to me.
He pulled a business card from his suit pocket, holding it out like he was doing me a favor.
“My final offer stands. Seventy thousand for the property. It’s more than generous, considering the state of the building and the…
shall we say, challenged nature of your business model. ”
Seventy thousand. For a building in this neighborhood, with prime street frontage and an apartment included, it was insulting.
“I’m not selling.” I didn’t take the card.
“Miss Green.” His voice dropped, taking on a paternal tone that made my skin crawl.
“Be reasonable. You’re a young woman running a seasonal business in a difficult market.
Even if this little surge of customers brings a temporary reprieve, how long can you really maintain this?
Another month? Two? Why not take the money now, while it’s on the table, and move on to something more… appropriate.”
Appropriate. Like I was a child playing shopkeeper. Bastian shifted beside me. Just a small movement, but suddenly he seemed larger. More present. The temperature around us dropped several degrees.
“The lady said no.” His voice was pleasant. Conversational. And absolutely terrifying.
Grinchly’s eyes snapped to Bastian, really seeing him for the first time. I watched the calculation flicker across his face as he took in Bastian’s size, his imposing presence, the way he stood slightly in front of me like a barrier.
“And you are?”
“Someone who doesn’t appreciate your tone.” Bastian’s smile was all teeth. “Or your presence.”
Something in his eyes, some ancient predatory gleam, made Grinchly take an involuntary step back.
“I wasn’t aware Miss Green had… hired security.”
“She hasn’t.” Bastian’s hand slid from my back to my hip, proprietary and unmistakable. “I’m here in a more personal capacity.”
Heat flooded my cheeks. The casual claim, the possessive touch, the implication hanging in the air between us—it shouldn’t have thrilled me as much as it did.
Grinchly’s expression soured. “I see. Well, regardless of your… relationship… the business facts remain unchanged. This shop is failing.”
“Is it?” I found my voice again, emboldened by Bastian’s solid presence beside me. “Because our numbers suggest otherwise. In fact, we’ve had our best week in six months.”
“One good week doesn’t constitute a trend.”
“Neither does one bad quarter.” I lifted my chin. “I’m not selling, Mr. Grinchly. Not to you, not ever. This shop is my home. It’s my community. And I’ll fight to keep it.”
His eyes narrowed. “You’re making a mistake.”
“That’s my prerogative.”
A low sound rumbled from Bastian’s chest. Not quite a growl, but close enough that Grinchly’s eyes widened and he took another step back.
“I think,” Bastian said pleasantly, “you should leave now.”
“I have every right to—”
“You have the right to exit through that door.” Bastian gestured towards the entrance. “Before I decide you’ve overstayed your welcome in a more… significant way.”
The threat was subtle but unmistakable. Grinchly clutched his briefcase tighter, his knuckles going white.
“This isn’t over, Miss Green.” He backed towards the door. “You’re going to regret this stubbornness. Mark my words.”
“Noted. Goodbye, Mr. Grinchly.”
He practically fled, the door slamming behind him hard enough to make the bells jangle frantically. Silence fell over the shop. The customers who’d been browsing nearby had gone very quiet, trying to pretend they hadn’t witnessed the entire confrontation. I turned to them with an apologetic smile.
“Sorry about that, folks. Some people just can’t take no for an answer. Please, let me know if you need help with anything.”
They nodded, returning to their shopping with slightly nervous glances at Bastian.
I waited until they’d moved to the far corner of the shop before I sagged against the counter, adrenaline draining away and leaving me shaky.
“God. I hate that man.”
“He’s vile.” Bastian’s hand was still on my hip, grounding me. “And he threatened you.”
“He threatens everyone. It’s his whole personality.”
“That doesn’t make it acceptable.”
I looked up at him. His jaw was clenched tight, his eyes still carrying that dangerous gleam. Protective fury rolled off him in waves.
“You were ready to hurt him,” I said softly. “Really hurt him.”
“Yes.”
No hesitation. No apology.
“Bastian—”
“He came into your shop, your home, and tried to intimidate you.” His other hand came up to cup my face, tilting it so I had to meet his eyes. “He spoke to you with disrespect and tried to make you feel small. He threatened your livelihood.”
“It’s just business to him.”
“I don’t care what it is to him. He made you upset. He made you afraid.”
“I wasn’t afraid—”
“You’re shaking.”
I was. Damn it.
“That’s just adrenaline. He rattled me, but I handled it.”
“You did.” Pride flickered across his face. “You stood your ground beautifully. But that doesn’t change the fact that I wanted to throw him through your window for daring to threaten you.”
Oh.
The raw protectiveness in his voice, the barely contained violence thrumming beneath his skin—it should have frightened me.
Should have made me take a step back and reevaluate this whole situation.
Instead it made me feel safe. This ancient, powerful being had chosen to stand beside me.
He’d claimed me in front of a threat and made it clear that anyone who wanted to hurt me would have to go through him first.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
“For what?”
“For being here. For having my back. For being so intimidating that Grinchly practically wet himself.”
A smile tugged at his mouth. “I barely did anything.”
“You did everything.” I covered his hand with mine, pressing it more firmly against my cheek. “I’ve been dealing with him alone for months. Having someone in my corner, someone who…” I trailed off, unsure how to finish.
“Someone who what?”
Someone who cares. Someone who sees me as worth protecting. Someone who makes me feel like I matter.
“Someone who believes in me,” I said finally.
His expression softened. “Of course I believe in you. You’re extraordinary, little light.
You’ve maintained your kindness and optimism despite endless challenges.
You’ve created a space where people feel welcome and cherished.
” His thumb stroked along my cheekbone. “And you’ve somehow managed to make a jaded demon remember what joy feels like.
If that’s not extraordinary, I don’t know what is. ”
My throat closed up. Tears pricked the corners of my eyes.
“Stop,” I said, voice breaking. “You’re going to make me cry in front of customers.”
“They’ve already left.”
I glanced towards the back of the shop. Empty. While we’d been having our moment, the browsers had apparently made their purchases with Jingle Bells—who I now noticed sitting primly by the register, looking smugly pleased with himself—and slipped out.
“Your cat is an excellent salesman,” Bastian observed.
“He’s very entrepreneurial.” I swiped at my eyes. “God, what a day.”
“I do not wish to add to your concerns, but…”
Something in his voice immediately caught my attention, and I looked up to find him staring out down the street in the direction Grinchly had taken.
“But what?”
“Remember my suspicions about Grinchly’s powers?”
“Yes, but I just can’t believe he’s some evil wizard.’
He nodded. “I agree. However he carries the air of tainted magic.”
“You really think he’s behind this? The whole town’s Christmas malaise?”
“I think he is connected to it. Whether as architect or accomplice remains unclear.”
I tried to process this. Grinchly—slimy, conventional, greedy Grinchly—involved in a magical theft of festive energy? It seemed absurd.
Except it also made perfect sense.
“He’s been trying to buy up properties all year,” I said slowly. “But after he bought the antique shop in September, it seemed as if more businesses began to struggle. He wants all of the buildings on this street and we’re all having a hard time.”
“It is a suspicious pattern.”
“But how could he do it? I can’t believe he understands anything more than spreadsheets.”
“He does not need to understand magic to utilize it.” His tail lashed once, sharp and angry. “He may not ever know what he carries, but evil attracts evil.”
I shuddered.
“Can we stop him?”
“The binding limits what I can do. I cannot act without your command,” he said. “You could send me after him.”
He was asking for permission. I could set him loose. I could point him at Grinchly and say, go. The temptation was a bitter, intoxicating thing. To see that smug, cruel man brought to heel, to see the fear in his eyes. It would be so easy, so satisfying.
But then I remembered the book. Beware their aid comes with a price, and they are not gentle. And I remembered the look on Bastian’s face when he’d said I am not a monster.
“No. Not yet.” I gestured around us, at the shop that suddenly felt like a fortress. “I have a plan now. The Good Deeds Extravaganza. I’ll save my shop with joy, not with fear.”
“Joy is a fragile weapon, little light, especially against dark forces.”
“It’s the only one I have.”
“Not quite the only one you have.” His tail lightly touched my waist. “But perhaps we should seek proof of his misdeeds.”
My mind scrambled for a plan.
“All of his transactions would be a matter of public record. I just don’t know if that would help.”
The thought of another mission, another complication, made my head ache. Between Grinchly, the storm, and whatever was happening between me and Bastian, I was stretched to my limit.
“You have a list,” he observed, “and this is not on it.”
“My list is ‘sell enough ornaments so as not to lose my shop.’ Magical research was not part of the business plan.”
He studied my face for a moment.
“Very well, little light. We will take tonight to rest.”