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No matter how many times I move house, how many protective devices the family installs to put my mind at ease, he always returns.
One morning the following week, a charge crackles through the air the way it does each time he visits.
Bright light seeps through my eyelids. My eyes snap open, and I bolt upright. The dresser where I’d left the phone lies smashed in dozens of pieces. Strewn over it are pieces of the laundry basket that once contained my dirty underwear.
Excitement thrums in my chest, tempered with a touch of trepidation. I have no idea what to expect.
A depraved-looking creature with teeth as long as my fingers and claws as sharp as blades? A monster with lamplight eyes and the body of a desiccated corpse? A phantom who looks like he’s crawled out of a well with beetle-black eyes and hair streaming down like pondweed? Or will he be a malevolent wisp of shadow?
Someone knocks on the door, and my heart skips.
I rush out of bed, trip over a broken chair, and stumble into the hallway.
My cousin, Aggie, stands at the doorstep with her hands folded over her chest. She wears black, as usual, even in the middle of summer. She’s dyed both her hair and her protective locket the shade of her outfit, with the only pop of color coming from her oxblood lipstick.
My heart sinks. Is Aggie even capable of repairing my phone?
“Hey Ali, you activated your locket.” She raises a painted brow.
“Come in and see for yourself.” I step aside and sweep an arm toward the bedroom.
Aggie strides in with a cloud of foxglove perfume that makes my eyes water. My cousin and I are both twenty-one and used to be rivals until the day we got our magic unbound. She emerged from the ritual a fully formed witch, while I couldn’t so much as produce a spark.
She’s too good a person to mock me for my arrested development, and I don’t begrudge her magic. It just seems strange that the Boogie Man started harassing me the day after they unlocked my power, and I need answers. Answers I will get once she repairs my phone.
I gaze down at my feet as she fixes my room. When she exhales a frustrated breath, my head snaps up.
“Anything the matter?” I ask.
“Phones are a bastard to fix,” she mutters as she pieces its circuit boards together. “I’ll bet you’ll be glad when you grow out of your sleeping disorder.”
My throat tightens, but I clench my teeth, not wanting to distract her with a protest she won’t believe. The whole coven thinks I’m in denial about what’s happening at night. I was even starting to doubt myself until I noticed my underwear was missing.
“Here you go,” she says.
The mended phone floats across the room and into the hallway before landing in my waiting hand.
A breath catches in the back of my throat. “Thank you.”
She walks up to my side. “Give it a try. If it doesn’t work, you’ll have to take it to Grandma.”
I turn on my phone and navigate to the video app I set up every night to detect and record motion. The first video clip is just me rolling onto my back, and in the second, I’m kicking off the covers.
Aggie pats me on the shoulder. “Looks like it’s working okay.”
“Wait a second. I want to show you something.” I skip forward to a video that’s all black and press play.
Anxiety ripples down my spine, tightening the flock of goosebumps that migrate across my skin. What if it’s something I can’t handle?
Darkness shrouds the camera for several seconds before it takes the shape of a tall, broad-shouldered figure folding membranous black wings behind his back.
My heart skips a beat, and I suck in a sharp breath through my teeth.
“What am I looking at?” she says.
“Can’t you see?” I turn to her and frown.
“You’ve kicked off your covers, and your nightgown’s riding up to show your ass,” she says with a snort.
