I shrug. “I believe some people think they’re witches, but, like, magic isn’t real, right?”
He tilts his head and raises an eyebrow. “After everything you’ve seen in the last twenty-four hours, you don’t believe magic is real?”
“Well, I mean…” I pause. “Okay, you have a point.”
“Calliope is very helpful. She created several of the spells I use, as did her grandmother before her, and given what happened last night, I want to make sure we have the strongest protection in place so that you’re safe here. I need to be able to go to your house to deal with what’s going on over there and know that you’re fine.”
“You’re going to do it by yourself?”
He nods. “It’s my job.”
“You don't need me to help?”
“You can’t help.”
He stands, and my eyes follow the movement, taking him in from his bare feet to his chest to his gorgeous face. I clear my throat when I realize I’m staring at him, only to find him smiling.
“Listen, Keagan, you don’t have to worry. This is what I do. I’ve had difficult situations to deal with in the past, and I always handle them.”
“I’m not worried, not really. I guess I just thought I’d be with you for all of this. It’s my house, and my dad.”
“Given the circumstances, I think it would be safer if I kept you separated.”
“The circumstances?”
“You attract spirits, remember? Do you recall what happened last night?”
“I do. My thoughts are hazy, but there was this crazy feeling of being pinned down to the couch. Like, I couldn’t move at all, but I couldn’t see anything either. I was calling for you, but my voice wouldn’t come out. It was the strangest thing I’ve ever felt.”
Wilder nods. “Unfortunately, you really did have a spirit attacking you.”
My eyes go wide. “So it wasn’t my imagination playing tricks on me?”
“I’m afraid not. It was a low-level spirit, too. It shouldn’t have even been able to get through any portals. The only thing I can assume is that maybe it attached itself to another higher-level spirit and followed. I’ve never known them to be so sentient, wanting to get out of the underworld, but I suppose it isn’t impossible.”
It takes me a few seconds to process that. “What happened after that?”
“I sent it back.” His tone is casual, as if this sort of thing happens all the time.
“This is all really normal for you, isn’t it?”
Wilder nods, chuckling softly. “Very normal. Let’s go get that coffee, huh?”
“Sure.”
I follow Wilder down the stairs and into the kitchen, where I sit at a small table and watch him putz around the kitchen making coffee. His kitchen is nice, but it feels old fashioned compared to the rest of the house. Old fashioned in the sense that it hasn’t been remodeled since, I don’t know, maybe the nineties.
“Who takes care of your house for you?” I ask.
Wilder turns and looks at me. “What do you mean?”
“You mentioned a cleaning company, I think, but who maintains it?”
“I do.”
“This is a really big house. You take care of it all by yourself?”
“I do. I’m capable of it.”
