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“What do you mean you saw me?” she asks.

“It was mainly flashes of you. You lying on the ground unconscious, you screaming for help, you covered in blood,” I say, tensing as I recall the images in my mind.

“That’s … comforting,” she says, scrunching up her nose in disgust. “Should I be worried? What if the things you are seeing are like premonitions or something? Oh my god, what if you’re psychic?”

Why does she look excited about this? This is fucking terrifying. I raise a single brow and purse my lips at the ridiculous accusation. And when I speak, I don’t mean for the words to sound as jarring as they do.

“That’s ridiculous, Lydia. You do realize that this is real life, right?”

She frowns, sitting back on her heels. “Yes, Callum, I understand fully. But do you have a better explanation?”

“I think that someone is fucking with us. I think that whatever frequency was integrated into that music box is fucking with us,” I say plainly. “Just like the Eden Frequency, but somehow worse.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she says. “I’m sure you’re right. We should continue living our lives as usual. You can keep having your psychic visions and flashbacks of the past, and I’m sure that nothing bad will happen to either of us.” I don’t miss the sarcasm in her tone or the smirk on her face. I double back.

“That’s not—” I pause. “Ugh.”

I drag a hand over the back of my neck, releasing a slow breath. When words don’t come, I tip my head back and let my eyes slide shut. For once, I don’t know how the fuck to approach any of this. I always have the answers. I always know what to do next. The lack of control is infuriating.

As I’m trying to think, I hear a jingle. Am I hallucinating again? I train my ears, and the sound gets closer. When I open my eyes, a black cat is trotting toward me. It jumps onto the sofa and climbs right into my fucking lap.

“What the fuck?” I ask, staring down at the creature.

Lydia laughs, her eyes wide in amazement as she studies the cat. “Don’t tell me you’ve never seen a cat, Callum.”

“I’ve obviously seen a fucking cat before, love. But why the fuck is it on me?” I ask, bracing the back of the sofa with one hand while the other balls into a fist. To make matters astronomically worse, the damn thing starts vibrating while staring up at me with big orange eyes. I grimace.

“Aww.” Lydia sighs, staring longingly at the cat in my lap. “Nyx likes you.”

“Nyx, the goddess of the night,” I say, more to myself than to Lydia. I immediately wish that I hadn’t opened my damn mouth, because now Lydia is staring at me longingly. Shit. This situation could not get any worse.

“Yes! Exactly.” She pauses. “Are you a closet geek, Callum?”

“No,” I grumble.

It’s a flat-out lie. I definitely am a bit of a closet geek. Especially when it comes to Greek mythology. I don’t know why, but it’s always fascinated me. I’m rusty on my details, but I do remember some things.

“Mhm, sure, sure,” she says, smiling while nodding sarcastically. Nyx hops off of me and trots over toward Lydia. I instantly relax.

“Hey there, girl,” Lydia sings, petting Nyx and leaning down to kiss her furry head. The cat leans into Lydia’s touch, purring loud enough that I can still hear her from my end of the sofa.

“You know, cats are an excellent judge of character,” Lydia says, pulling the cat into her lap and lying back against the sofa arm.

“Is that so?” I ask, watching as the cat gets comfortable. “Did the cat tell you that?” I fight a smirk. She scoffs, rolling her eyes.

“Maybe she did.” She pauses, tilting her head. “You need to learn to relax, take the universe as it comes. You don’t always have to be so serious and broody.”

I roll my eyes. “I’ll relax when your life is no longer in danger,” I say, berating myself once again for blurting things out that I never intended for her to hear.

She raises a brow at that, assessing me like she can’t quite figure me out. “And are you going to be my valiant protector?” she asks, averting her gaze down to the cat as she mumbles, “You do look the part. I’ll give you that.”

“No, I’m not,” I say, because I can’t protect her from this.

I can’t even protect myself from whatever this is. She frowns, narrowing her eyes at me and crossing her arms over her chest again. The cat stirs in Lydia’s lap before sleep claims the little goddess once more.

“Your emotional U-turns are exhausting, Callum,” she states, her emotions flipping as she glares at me. She’s angry. Good. I can use it.

“Yeah, well. I’ll make things easier for you and leave you alone. We both know this won’t work,” I say, pointing between the two of us.