I noticed Elroy lingering by the door after the children left.
"Is there something you want to say?" I asked.
"Not yet. Let me close the door first."
I went back to my seat as he shut it. When he returned, I gestured to a chair by the wall. He dragged it in front of my desk and sat.
"I'm sorry for wasting your time. But I came to make a suggestion," he said. "Why don't you try taking it easy on the kids? I mean, Kyra only acts this way because--"
"I can't take it easy after sensing her energy fluctuate last night." I cut him off. Kyra didn't understand what survival required. She was too relaxed—releasing energy on humans, even if only for a moment.
"Don't you think we should stop being on edge? Nothing's gone wrong in seven years," he tried convincing me again.
"I already lost my... I'm not losing the rest of you just because they're dormant." I said, exhaling. "This conversation is over."
He opened his mouth to say something, then froze—as if he'd left reality, and shifted on his seat. He turned to me, distressed.
Something was wrong.
"Do you sense something?" I asked.
He hesitated, then spoke anyway, "Yeah… two people. Strong, too."
My eyes widened in response. They were finally here… the people we'd been evading. "Where exactly?"
"I can't make that out. Sorry," he said, straightening his posture. "But they aren't that tough, I think we can take them."
"No, that would cause panic."
"Then what? Do you suggest we keep running?"
I nodded.
His expression changed. He wanted to show frustration, but stopped himself and lowered his head.
"Brother," I said.
He looked up and listened.
"Put your safety above your feelings."
He said hesitantly, "I understand."
With that, I stood and headed for the door.
"Wait," he called out. "Where are we going?"
As expected, he knew I was heading for the airport.
"I'll handle that," I said.
"What if they get to us first?"
"We proceed with your approach."
Before he could say anything, I turned the door knob and walked out.
Outside, I paused at the main door and looked around. Trees lined the sidewalk. Children played. A neighbor washing his car waved. "Pastor Kincaid."
I returned the gesture.
"Daddy, are you okay?"
I turned, startled. Behind me stood my youngest, Tasha. I had no idea where she'd come from, or how I'd missed her.
I closed my eyes, adjusted my glasses, and said, "Yes, I'm okay."
When I opened them, she was gone. A flash of dread hit me. I shook it off. She hadn't been there.