Elfin by Quinn Loftis

revolving glass door of the tall building that housed the realty company Lorsan had chosen to deal with. They had finally found land that would be compatible with the soil from their realm, soil that was needed in order to grow the Almare plants.
    Lorsan had asked the realty company to find five hundred acres of the richest and deepest soil in the United States , and so they had—San Joaquin Valley, located in Southern California. The valley is among the richest soil in the world, perfect for what they needed. Very little of the land was actually for sale, but that did not deter Lorsan. When he set his eyes on something, there was nothing that could stand in his way. The agents had found some six hundred acres that was owned by a couple of winemakers, currently being used as a large vineyard. Lorsan had offered a sick amount of money and the owners had finally caved.
    Trik stood in the quiet elevator, riding up to the fifteenth floor. He wore his human guise once again , allowing himself to be seen by humans. When the elevator opened a woman was standing, waiting for her turn to get on. She froze as he stepped out, her eyes filling with desire. He was used to the effect that he had on women and usually he would have toyed a bit with her, but he hardly noticed her as he passed. His heart was spoken for, his mind forever captivated by a single thought—Cassie.
    He didn’t bother to stop at the reception desk , but walked right past her and opened the door to the realtor’s office. He stepped in and shut it behind him.
    “ Trik,” a disheveled man in his early forties stood, abruptly dumping the papers that had been in his lap into the floor. His cheeks were flushed, but not for any reason other than it was the way his skin was always colored, as if there was something in his life forever embarrassing him and he was convinced the world knew about it. He was going bald, and not gracefully so. His eyes appeared beady behind his thick, coke bottle glasses. His ears stuck out too far on his large head and his lips stayed in a puckered state as if he was sucking on a lemon.
    The man wore a suit that looked as if it had been picked up off the floor and hastily thrown on. As he stepped around his desk , Trik noticed that his pants were an inch too short and he was wearing white socks with his brown, wrinkled suit. The man held his hand out to Trik. Though it was a human tradition to shake hands when meeting, Trik looked at the man’s hand and then back up into his beady eyes. When he realized that Trik had no intention of taking his offered hand, the man quickly dropped it to his side.
    “Hello , Leon,” Trik said finally after having made the poor man twitch nervously under his scrutinizing stare. “I have come to sign the papers and finalize the sale.”
    “Yes, yes, of course,” Leon seemed to gather himself and rushed around his desk, searching through the mess. He finally found the papers he was looking for and handed them to Trik.
    “Just sign wherever the lines are highlighted.” Leon told him as he held out a pen.
    Trik reluctantly took the pen from the realtor , not bothering to hide his repulsion at having to touch it.
    He quickly read through the documents and signed at the appropriate locations. He handed the papers back to Leon.
    “So, are we done ?” Trik asked.
    “Yes, Lorsan has already transferred the money to the sellers. The land is now yours to take possession of,” Leon answered.
    As Trik turned to leave and his hand reached for the door handle, Leon spoke again.
    “You don’t seem like the vineyard owning type , Mr. Trik,” Leon said nervously. “Why did you want this land so badly, if you don’t mind me asking?”
    Trik turned the door handle and pushed the door open. “I do mind you a sking. Consider yourself warned,” he told the realtor. Trik turned towards him as he began to shut the door. Trik narrowed his eyes and let just a little of his power loose. “Do not dig into my business