When I turn around, Wilder is sprinkling some kind of powder around the room.
“What are you doing?”
He startles as he looks up, as if he forgot I was here. “Protection.”
“From?”
“Anything. Promise me, no summoning spirits while you’re here.”
I feel my cheeks burn from embarrassment. “Promise.”
“Good. Get settled in as best you can while I start the laundry. I’ll call the cleaning service to come attend to the room tomorrow.”
“That’s not necessary. I can clean it.”
“You’ll be too busy. We have work to do.”
“Right.” I nod. “Is there a bathroom?”
“Hallway to your right.”
“Thanks.” Bending down, I open my gym bag and dig out my toothpaste, hair gel, and deodorant. When I stand up again, Wilder is gone. Dang, he’s stealthy.
I find my way to the bathroom; a small room with a pedestal sink, a toilet next to it, and a claw foot tub with a showerhead in the middle and a curtain that circles it. Very New England. It’s clean though, so that’s a plus.
I open the medicine cabinet above the sink and place my things inside, then splash a bit of water on my face before making my way back to the bedroom. There’s a dresser against one wall so I guess I can put my clothes in there since nothing I brought is worthy of hanging in the closet. There’s nowhere to set up my laptop, so I’ll have to ask Wilder where I can work while I’m here.
Movement from the window catches my eye, so I walk over to peer outside. In the tree next to the window there’s a bunch of crows hanging out. I think they’re crows. I get confused between crows and ravens.
Resting my hands on the windowsill, I lean forward until my forehead is pressed against the screen. The largest of the birds turns its head in my direction, seemingly making eye contact as it twists its head back and forth. Then it flaps its wings and leaves the tree, landing on the windowsill right in front of me. The bird is large. Ravens are bigger than crows, right? I think so.
“Hey, little guy. Or big guy, actually.”
The bird continues twisting its head back and forth, looking at me with one eye then the other, before it ruffles its feathers and croaks a high pitched but guttural sound.
“I hope it’s okay that I’m here. You’re not used to seeing someone in this window, huh?”
The bird looks at me from the side, blinking its hazel eyes, then makes another noise, lower in register, almost like a human would grunt. Am I communing with nature? That’s pretty cool. I wonder if I can offer it something and make friends. Maybe Wilder has some fruit or nuts.
The bird squawks again, and then several more birds join it, crowding the windowsill, all looking into the room. Um, okay, maybe we’re not making friends?
I back away slowly, then gasp as Wilder rushes past me to the window. He presses his hand to the screen and the birds flutter and squawk wildly. Wilder nods, as if there was some communication between them I didn’t hear.
When he turns around, he looks a bit pale.
“Is everything okay?” I ask.
Wilder nods, but given the tension in his features, I’m not sure I believe him. “Yes. The birds are messengers, if you will.”
“Messengers? How do you hear them?”
“I just do. Perk of the job, I suppose.”
I nod, wrapping my arms around myself. “Was it a bad message?”
“No, not exactly.” His brow creases as he glances at the birds, now silent but eerily watching us. “Have you ever been told you have an interesting connection to the spiritual world?”
“No. What kind of connection?”
