It’s Christmas Day! Or Yule for the nonbelievers, myself included. But something makes me pause. There’s a weight in the bed next to me. And I fee... breathing on my neck. As I comprehend this fact, my blood runs cold and I freeze. The person is unmoving. The breathing is deep and even, relaxed. Who is it? The horror stories I’ve listened to come to mind, bringing with it images of Skinwalkers. Taking a deep, quiet breath and reasoning with myself that if it’s a Skinwalker, I’m already dead, I. His brown hair only went down to the top of his neck, and his piercing olive-green eyes betrayed uncertainty. He wore a loose-fitting green T-shirt and baggy brown jeans held up by a black belt buckled on its innermost notch. His brown loafers looked a little scruffy, like they needed to be polished. Virgil walked up to the counter, staring at the short old man wearing a worn-out bathrobe."Don't worry, Virgil. I can help you. Even though we specialize in magic, I can deal with your weight. More

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