Page 38 of Seer
A door opened at the far end of the hall, and a loud frat-bro voice shouted, “Put it on pause! I’ll be right back!”
A college-age football player-type wearing shiny basketball shorts and a tight University of Texas t-shirt slammed the apartment door shut before jogging down the hall toward us.The floor vibrated with every step he took. I stepped to the side so he could pass. He sneered at Greg, who gave him an unsmiling nod. Huh, Greg probably wasn’t the most easy-going neighbor. But the guy didn’t even look at me, so I should probably withhold judgment.
Greg led me to the apartment immediately next to the one the guy had come out of. He didn’t bother pulling out his keys; he just opened the door. Uncle Edgar must’ve unlocked it.
Greg waved for me to follow him inside. The apartment appeared to be a standard two-bedroom, two bath setup with basic white walls and crappy beige carpet. But, surprisingly, Greg had turned it into a soothing oasis. A home.
Colorful rugs in bright blues and greens were scattered over the carpet, with large, comfortable-looking furniture upholstered in darker shades of the same colors. The fabrics were textured and begged to be touched. Tables and bookcases were simple, showcasing the wood they were made from rather than being intricately carved. And the walls featured abstract paintings, most of only a few colors on white backgrounds, which counterbalanced the color overload from the furniture and rugs.
I felt instantly at home, which pissed me off considering Greg’s decidedly unwelcoming reactions to me.
“Uncle Edgar?” Greg called out as I pulled the door shut behind me.
“In the kitchen,” a man’s voice replied. He walked around the corner holding an open bag of potato chips.
Uncle Edgar was probably in his sixties, but a definite silver fox. He wore tight jeans and a silky long-sleeved sun protection t-shirt. He sported a full head of brown and silver hair, and he was tan, with well-defined laugh lines around the same light grey eyes Greg had been gifted with. In fact, Gregwould probably grow to look like Edgar in twenty or so more years.
And Edgar had the same faint aura of sparkles that Greg did.
“Oh! Are you Cal?” Edgar said to me. He patted Greg on the shoulder as he passed him, then stuck his hand out for me to shake. At least Edgar wasn’t afraid to touch me.
He had a firm grip. Because of my size, lots of guys tried to crush my hand. Edgar didn’t go overboard though.
“Wow, aren’t you a magical powerhouse?” he said. He leaned back, still holding my hand in his, while his other hand held the bag of chips aloft like some sort of Olympic torch. He scanned the area around my body, then he grinned and looked at my face. “Welcome to the campaign!”
He dropped my hand and clapped me on the shoulder. “Come in and sit down. Do you want a drink or a snack? Pickings are pretty slim, but I found these chips, and there are some crackers and a block of cheese.”
“Sorry, I didn’t know you’d be visiting. Again,” Greg sniped.
I sat at the kitchen table, which was made of a beautiful red-brown wood with lots of swirls in the grain. I opened my backpack, wanting to get started on researching fog monsters.
“And yet,” Edgar countered. “You wanted to speak to me today anyway.”
I wanted to ask Edgar what kind of vision he’d had, but we had more important topics to discuss.
Greg’s body sagged. “Yeah. Go sit down. We need to get Mom on the phone too.”
Edgar dropped the bag of chips in the center of the table, then he snagged a beer off the kitchen counter along with a plateof crackers and cheese slices. He set the plate next to the chips.
“We just ate,” I told him.
Edgar heaved a sigh of relief and dragged the plate in front of himself. “Great. I’m starving.”
“Cal, you want a beer or water?” Greg asked.
“Water, please.”
I thanked him when he slid a glass of ice water on a coaster next to my laptop. He tossed another coaster and a stack of paper napkins next to Edgar’s plate. Edgar moved his beer to the coaster without comment, and he tucked a couple of the napkins on his lap.
“Edgar,” I said. “Do you know?—”
“Wait,” Greg interrupted. “It’ll be more efficient if we talk to my mom at the same time.”
He unlocked his phone, dialed, and slid it to the center of the table as it rang.
Greg didn’t sit down. He rubbed his chest, an odd expression on his face.
Delphia’s voice echoed through the room. “How’s my Greggy-boy today?”
