Jingle Hells Read Free Page A

both started talking at the same time,
Samson’s voice booming in the tiny office and overriding Delilah’s,
even though she kept raising hers. There was something about
marriage and filthy Philistines and seven locks of hair, but my
ears hurt so bad from the front stage center position, most of it
got lost in the echoes. All I knew for sure was Delilah’s face grew
more and more tormented with every accusation Samson made. I knew
that look. I’d had a similar one on my face when Luc denied hexing
it up with Emilia.
    I raised my hands and did the time out sign,
but neither seemed to understand. Well, duh, of course they didn’t.
Finally I stuck my index and pinky fingers in the corners of my
mouth and gave a shrill whistle. All talking ceased, their features
motionless in a shocked tableau.
    “Delilah.” I gave her a woman-to-woman I’ve
got your back smile. “Would you step outside and ask the gal with
the beads in her hair to get you a scoop of Java Brownie ice
cream?”
    She started to object, then moved her lips
as she repeated, “Java Brownie ice cream?”
    The best break-up version of ice cream ever
created. She was going to feel a lot better after a dose of that.
“Yes, tell her you need two scoops. I’ll talk to you as soon as I’m
done with Goliath, here, I promise.”
    “Samson,” he corrected, his large forehead
wrinkling in a frown as his loud voice sent shock waves across the
desk at me. “Samson, the Nazarite. Dedicated from birth.”
    As the door shut behind Delilah, I leaned
back in my chair and sized him up. “Okay, Samson the Nazarite,
what’s your story?”
    As Samson raged on for the next fifteen
minutes, I tried to take a few notes, but my mind was still reeling
with the fact that someone—and I was certainly curious who—had
dumped another religious mess at my feet for clean up. A few months
ago, I’d been Lucifer’s main squeeze. Now all of a sudden I was
Heaven’s.
    After Samson finished his story, I made no
promises and ushered him out to Keisha’s willing hands before
bringing Delilah back in.
    While Samson’s account had been cut and dry,
Delilah put a different spin on the whole betrayal-by-hair story.
The authors of biblical times apparently left out of a few
pertinent facts, especially concerning Delilah’s involvement.
    “They tricked me,” she claimed. “The
Philistines threatened my family. Said if I didn’t help them
discover the essence of Samson’s strength, they would kill my
father and force my mother and little sister to be slaves.
    “Do you know what that means? They would
have beaten and raped them and…” Again her voice broke and her
lower lip quivered. “Worse.”
    I’d seen some show stoppers in the drama
department. In fact, I grew up with one. But Delilah’s soap opera
theatrics were based in real emotion. I didn’t need my magic to
tell me that. Sending her a mental hug across the desk, I probed
for the rest of the story. “So you quizzed Samson until he finally
told you the truth about his hair.”
    Her eyes widened. “The first few times, yes,
but it wasn’t me who tricked him into divulging the truth about his
hair. By that time, I’d convinced my family to leave their home and
run away.”
    “But he claims he told you, and that you’re
the one who cut his hair.”
    She shook her head. “It wasn’t me.”
    “Then who was it?”
    She leaned forward as if to share a secret.
I found myself meeting her halfway. Before she spilled the beans,
she slewed her gaze to the left and then to the right. The only
other being in the office was the calico who had gladly returned to
wrap around Delilah’s leg. The cat stopped cleaning her face to
stare up at Delilah.
    Scooting forward another inch, Dee whispered
in my ear, “The Erelim.”
    While the name didn’t ring any bells in my
brain, all the hair on my arms stood up. Delilah’s eyes were wide
as she scanned my face for my reaction, but the seeping frostbite
in my bones wasn’t visible