Chapter 8 THE FIRST ASSIGNMENT
Amara’s POV
I grabbed my coat and stepped back.
"Wait," I said. "You are telling me people are watching us, and now you want to leave my apartment?"
Noelle turned from the door. His face was calm again, but his eyes were alert. Focused.
"Yes," he said. "Because staying here is worse."
"Worse how?"
He did not answer right away. Instead, he looked at the bracelet on my wrist. It pulsed softly, like it was alive.
"You agreed to the job," he said. "This is the first task."
"I did not agree to anything yet," I snapped.
"You took my hand," he replied gently. "That was the agreement."
My chest tightened. "That is not fair."
"No," he said. "But it is necessary."
I crossed my arms. "What exactly is this job?"
He paused, like he was choosing each word carefully.
"I need help visiting Christmas places around the city," he said. "I am researching modern Christmas traditions for an important project."
I stared at him. "That sounds fake."
"It is not."
"You expect me to believe you walked into my life, saved me, offered me money, healed me with your touch, and now want to walk around Christmas markets?"
"When you say it like that," he said, "it does sound strange."
I laughed sharply. "Strange is one word."
He met my eyes. "Union Square Christmas Market. Today. Christmas Day."
"I am not going to some happy place full of lights and smiling people," I said. "You know I hate Christmas."
"I know," he replied. "That is why I need you."
"That makes no sense."
"You see what others miss," he said. "You feel what others hide. That matters."
I shook my head. "I cannot do this."
The bracelet warmed suddenly.
My phone buzzed on the table.
I picked it up. A message from my landlord glared back at me.
Final notice. December 26.
My stomach dropped.
Noelle watched my face change. He did not smile. He did not push.
"You need the money," he said softly.
I hated that he was right.
"Fine," I muttered. "But if this is some kind of trick, I walk away."
"You can walk away anytime," he said.
I did not believe him.
I changed quickly while he waited by the door. When I stepped back out, he was standing exactly where I left him. Calm. Still.
"Are you not cold?" I asked.
"It takes more than winter to bother me," he replied.
We stepped outside together.
The city was alive. Snow covered the streets. People laughed. Bells rang. Music drifted through the air.
I pulled my coat tighter.
We walked side by side. Noelle did not rush. He matched my pace easily.
Something strange happened as we passed people. Faces softened. Smiles appeared. A woman stopped crying as we walked by. A man laughed for no reason.
"Do you see that?" I asked quietly.
"See what?"
"People," I said. "They look happier."
Noelle glanced around. "Christmas does that."
"No," I said. "This feels different."
He did not answer.
The closer we got to Union Square, the louder the sounds became. Laughter. Music. Joy.
My chest tightened.
"I should not be here," I whispered.
Noelle slowed. "You can hold my arm."
I hesitated. Then I did.
Warmth spread through me again. Not overwhelming. Steady.
"You are safe," he said.
Union Square opened before us.
Lights glowed. Stalls lined the path. The smell of food filled the air.
I felt out of place. Like I was watching life from the outside.
Suddenly, something small slammed into Noelle’s legs.
He looked down.
A little girl stood there, staring up at him with wide eyes. She could not have been more than six.
Her mouth dropped open.
"Mommy," she shouted, tugging on her mother’s coat. "Look. It is one of Santa’s helpers."
I froze.
The mother laughed. "Sweetheart, do not bother the man."
"But Mommy," the girl insisted. "His eyes glow. Just like in my dream."
My heart skipped.
I looked at Noelle.
He was already kneeling. His smile was gentle. Warm.
"Hello," he said to the girl. "Did you have a good dream?"
She nodded hard. "You told me not to be scared."
"I am glad you remembered," he said softly.
The mother frowned slightly. "I am so sorry. She has been saying strange things all morning."
"Dreams can feel very real," Noelle replied kindly.
The girl leaned closer. "Are you here to help Christmas?"
Noelle placed a finger to his lips. "That is a secret."
She giggled.
The mother smiled, embarrassed. "Come on, sweetheart."
As they walked away, the girl turned back once more.
His eyes glowed.
Just for a second.
Blue. Bright. Alive.
My breath caught.
Noelle stood quickly, turning away from me.
"You saw that," I whispered.
He did not answer.
"Your eyes," I said. "They glowed."
He faced me slowly. His expression was tight. Guarded.
"Sometimes," he said, "children see what adults forget."
My heart pounded.
"You are not normal," I said.
"No," he agreed.
The bracelet on my wrist pulsed again. Stronger this time.
Noelle looked around sharply. His jaw clenched.
"We need to move," he said.
"Why?"
"Because others might notice."
"Who?"
He took my hand. The warmth flared bright.
"People who do not want Christmas protected."
Fear rushed through me.
"What does that mean?"
Before he could answer, the lights around the square flickered.
Just once.
Then again.
Noelle pulled me close.
"Stay with me," he said.
My bracelet blazed gold.
And somewhere in the crowd, I felt eyes watching us.