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“Oh my god, and then what happened?” she asks, hanging on my every word.

“And then he made me drink water and kicked me out.”

“I’m sorry … what? That is so not where I thought that was going.” She laughs.

“Yeah. He couldn’t resist me a second longer. So, naturally, he kicked me out.”

“Is that so?” she asks, not convinced.

“Yep. But then, I asked him to help with something the other day, and he actually came,” I say, leaving out the details.

“Do tell,” she says.

“Lo, the tension between us was palpable. It was absolutely magnetic. We’ve got this whole playful, back-and-forth thing going, and it’s so much better than the books. He’s so moody all the damn time, but I think he’s warming up to me,” I say, smiling.

“Hell yes,” Sloane says, laughing. “It’s giving grumpy-sunshine, and I’m so here for it. I knew you’d be the one to break him, Lyd.”

“Yes, exactly! That’s the kind of energy I needed. See, this is why I called you. You always know how to caress my delusions.”

“You know I’m always here for you and your delusions,” she starts. “Hey, I wanted to ask … what are your birthday plans? You’re turning thirty. We have to throw a party. I mean, you only turn thirty once.”

Ah, my birthday, which is in exactly two weeks on August 8th. I haven’t given much thought to it, honestly. Birthdays growing up weren’t exactly big in my family. In fact, they were sort of grim—a constant reminder of my “coming of age.” My mother’s words echo in my mind, sending a shiver down my spine.

“Um, yeah. I don’t know, Lo. Maybe something small? You know how I feel about birthdays.” I sigh. I instantly feel bad for dismissing her offer, knowing that she means well. “No, you’re right. Let’s definitely plan something. But … small, okay? Nothing crazy.”

“I promise, Lyd. Let me do this for you. You deserve to be celebrated. We’ll flip the script and rewrite history. Let’s show the past that it holds nothing over you. I’ll plan everything. You sit back and relax, and focus your attention on Mr. Sunshine,” she says, laughing.

“Okay,” I say, the idea of reattaching positive memories to my birthday warming my soul, if only a small amount. “But seriously, Sloane. Keep it small.”

My laughter comes to a halt when I feel the energy in the room shift. Cool air brushes against my skin, silence settling in around me. Glancing over at my pillar candle, I see that the flame has been extinguished.

“Lyd?” Sloane asks, sensing my unease across the receiver.

“Um, I … gotta go, Lo. I’ll call you back later, okay?” I say, hanging up on her muffled response.

I set my coffee mug down on the wooden, half-moon table in front of me and stand. I’m not sure what I’m searching for as I glance around the space. Instead, I train my senses on what I can feel. The air is heavy with quiet tension as I slowly walk around the room, focusing on the cooler areas. Stopping near the stair banister, I close my eyes and listen for anything amiss. My breathing slows and lengthens as I visualize the veil thinning. As I’m seeking out wayward visitors, I hear a jingle that sends my eyes flying wide open.

“AHH!” I scream, jumping when Nyx pounces through the banister like she didn’t just scare the living daylights out of me.

“Come here, girl,” I say, relaxing as I scoop her up and nuzzle my head against hers.

She purrs, and I set her back down. Glancing around the room once more, I notice the shift. The energy in the room is somewhat brighter, less haunting than it was moments ago. I walk over to the bookshelf lining the back wall of my living room and grab the bundle of white sage from a shelf near the middle.

“I’d better cleanse the room anyway, just to be safe,” I say to myself, to Nyx, and to whatever spirit might still be lurking about.

I set down the sage to strike a match, lifting it to light the end. The dried leaves catch fire and self-extinguish seconds later. I lightly blow on the end until it glows a bright orange, and the smoky scent fills the air.

Walking around the perimeter of the room, I begin quietly humming the tune of “Euclid” by Sleep Token as I wave the bundle of sage up in lazy strokes, pausing to relight the candle on my altar table. I’m about to head upstairs when there’s a knock on my front door. I slowly rotate my head in the direction of the sound, thinking how odd it is that a soul would knock.

“Come in,” I call out, pivoting into my kitchen instead.

I walk over to the small window overlooking my kitchen sink and open it up until a small crack appears. When the door opens behind me, I turn and glance over my shoulder, nearly dropping the sage where I stand.

“Callum?” I ask, pausing a moment to take him in.

I tilt my head, confusion overwhelming me. As he closes the door behind him, my eyes roam up and down his large figure. He nearly takes up the entire door frame.

“What are you doing?” he asks, ignoring the fact that he’s standing in my living room right now, of his own free will. Shouldn’t I be asking the same question?