I glared at ghost boy as I hopped out of the tub and threw on one of my silk robes, wishing nothing more than to be able to kick his ghost balls.

I wrapped it securely around me and tied off the sash.

“Wait, wait, wait! Where are you going? You can fucking see me!” Ghost boy called after me when he saw me stomping out of the bathroom.

“Yeah, I fucking can!” I shouted over my shoulder. “But since you have done nothing but piss me off the last couple of weeks, then have the nerve to call me a porn star, I think it’s time I get rid of you.”

He trailed after, gliding across the floor as I headed into my room to change clothes.

“Oh really?” He asked sarcastically, stopping at the door to my room and placing his hands on his hips. “And how do you suppose you’ll do that? I’ve watched you and heard you muttering to yourself several times about how you suck as a witch.” He prattled on. “Which by the way, is the most truthful thing that’s probably ever come out of your mouth. I mean come on! What kinda witch can’t do something as simple as levitating a book?”

I let out an exaggerated groan and tossed one of my shoes at him. Obviously, it just went right through him. I felt better at least.

“Really?” He asked blandly, then continued watching me as I angrily got dressed and slipped on my boots.

I grabbed my phone and dialed the only person I could think of that could help me. When he didn’t answer, I groaned. Guess I’d have to go to him myself. I shot off a quick text to Turk, letting him know I was leaving in case he came home and saw I was gone.

I plowed through ghost boy’s translucent form into the hallway, shivering at the chilled sensation that he caused. I shook it off and made my way downstairs into the shop, swiftly going around the counter to retrieve the Labradorite stone this asshole had conjured up out of.

“Seriously,” he said, bored tone still in full throttle. “I’m not scared. You can try all you want, but I doubt you’ll get me back in that thing.”

I’d just snagged my car keys, but then stopped at his snide remark. A crooked smile stretched my face and I turned to him, holding the stone up for him to see.

“I may not be able to put you back in, but I sure as hell know someone quite prolific in magic who can.” His bored expression quickly turned to panic. “Saddle up, ghost boy, cause you’re going down.” Then I turned on my heel and walked out of the shop.

“Wait, wait, wait!” He shouted after me, following me towards my 67’ Impala SS parked on the side of the building.

I smiled at my baby, excited to finally have a reason to drive her. Her iridescent, violet colors shimmered a bit under the street light shining from above.

I didn’t normally need to drive anywhere. My shop was located in a relatively busy downtown area. Most places I needed to go were within walking distance. But who I needed to see, required the drive.

I slipped into the black leather seat and cranked the engine. Just as I was about to pull out into the street, ghost boy flew through the windshield and planted himself in the passenger’s seat.

“You’re not going anywhere until you help me!” He growled; his arms folded together over his chest as he hovered over the seat.

I chuckled and shifted the gear. “Let’s see you try and stop me, ghost boy.” I slammed my foot on the gas and rocketed out into the street. The sudden movement had him flying through the back of the car and out into the street.

I grinned when I noticed he wasn’t following me and gunned it. Thankfully, it was after one a.m. and the town was pretty much asleep. We didn’t have many human cops around, so I wasn’t too worried about getting pulled over.

He would be asleep as well, and probably would be mad when I woke him up. But he was the only warlock I trusted to help me. I actually couldn’t wait to see the look on his face when I showed up. It was always him coming to me when I was in trouble, not the other way around.

Milo James, I hope you don’t mind some company.

It wasn’t just the old magic that seemed to linger in the ground and in the air of Salem that made me want to be here. But also, it was the architecture and seasons. Most of the buildings and houses in this city were a mixture of many different older styles. From Victorian Gothic, to Colonial, and even a little bit of Greek Revival. There was at least one mansion on every street and a lot of the roads were paved in red brick. Since it was early autumn, the foliage was in all ranges of red, yellow and orange colors. The leaves littered the ground and swooped into the air as I drove past.

My shop was only a few streets away from the old Salem Witch Museum, which actually looked more like a cross between a small castle and a church. The irony of that wasn’t lost to me. Humans believed the witches during the time of the witch trials were all satanic worshippers and violent murderers. Which wasn’t true. Not only were those women not witches, but our magic wasn’t aligned with the devil. That was all demon territory. We all actually had different Goddesses we worshipped, none of which were dark and evil. Unless you practiced black magic of course. Gaia, goddess of the earth. Luna, goddess of the moon. Voluptas, goddess of pleasure; these were just some of the many. I only worshipped Hecate, goddess of witchcraft and the harvest moon. To me, she embodied all magic.

Anyway, back to my story.

The women that had been killed during the Salem witch trials that occurred between 1692 and 1693, were simply Wiccan. They believed in the magic of the Goddesses, but they had no real power. At least, not until the humans burned them at the stake. That’s where it all began, or so the myth goes.

Hell hath no fury like a witch scorned. I know I switched up the words for that, but hey, it was true.

When those innocent women were tortured and killed, the Goddesses above were outraged at what was happening to their believers. They heard the dying cries of the women who could never be shaken from the foundation of their belief, and used that to turn the tides, creating exactly what humans thought they were extinguishing. Real, honest to goddess witches. All who were wronged during the trials, were reborn and given extraordinary powers.

As the centuries past, the powers began to dilute through marriage and procreation, creating many different lines and levels of witches. Mother claims we’re descended from one of the first twelve who were killed. Witch lore claims they were the strongest since they suffered the worst. To this day, I was still not sure how much of the stories I believed.

I pulled onto East Collins Street and made my way into Milo’s neighborhood.

He lived in his old family home, left to him by his mother after she passed away. It was an old Victorian that had a bit more wear on it than the last time I’d been here as a kid. It was amazing how he lived so close to me now, yet I’d never really come by. Even before I lived here, I’d grown up only about thirty minutes southwest in Stoneham, Massachusetts, though, I’d only ever been there a few times. His father would normally just come to us and had Milo tag along occasionally. Sounded about like our dynamics now.

I parked my car on the street and hopped out, looking around to make sure ghost boy hadn’t followed me. When I figured the coast was clear, I made my way along the leaf covered path that led to his house and walked up the few, creaking white steps to the porch.

There was a light on in the living room area from what I could see through the windows, but I wasn’t sure if he was awake. The floorboards creaked under me feet as I walked up to the door and banged as loud as I could.

At first, there was no noise. I shivered as a cold, fall breeze whipped my hair across my face. I immediately regretted not grabbing a jacket. This long sleeve tunic shirt was no match for autumn nights in Salem. I banged on the door again. Louder and harder.

Footsteps came rushing down some stairs, and before I could blink, the door was thrown open and a green, glowing blade was pressed to my throat.

I let out a little squeak in surprise. Who the fuck answers their door like this?

Milo stood there in nothing more than a pair of striped, sleep pants. His lean, muscular torso was on display, and his hair was stuck up all over the place.

His eyes flashed in surprise and he lowered the blade quickly; the glow extinguished around the blade. “Goddess, you scared the shit out of me, Christi.” He rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

“You were scared? I was about to become a shishka-witch! Do you normally answer the door like that? If so, I’d suggest trying it without the blade next time. It’ll be less frightening.” I couldn’t stop my eyes from going back and forth between his under dressed state and his face. I hadn’t really been scared, but he didn’t need to know that. I’d rather him assume I was, than notice I was too busy checking him out to be scared in the first place.

“No, I don’t. But no one ever comes to my house, let alone after one a.m. With my job, you never know who will come knocking.” His eyes raked over my shivering body and crossed arms. “Shit, what are you doing wearing that in the middle of the night? It’s fucking cold outside, Christi. Get inside and tell me what the hell is going on.”

He moved out of the way and I stepped in, sighing at the warmth of his home thawing out my chilled arms and hands.

As much as I loved my cozy little apartment, I wouldn’t mind living in a house like this. The vibe of the entire place had a very homey feel. It smelled sweet and musty all at once. The walls had a vintage floral wallpaper and the floors were a dark, cherry wood. A large grandfather clock sat against the wall at the end of the stairs directly in front of me.

He walked into the living room and gestured to the grey, suede couch for me to sit. His living room had an old fireplace made of cobble stone with a chair and the couch facing each other on either side. A long, dark wood coffee table sat between the two. His car keys and Warden badge rested in a bowl in the middle. He didn’t have a TV in there, which surprised me. He always seemed like the kind of guy who would come home and watch the news.

I sat and crossed my legs, still gazing around the room as he sat in the chair opposite of me.

“So, you going to tell me why you decided to bang on my door in the middle of the night?” He asked through a yawn.

I brought my attention back to him and tried desperately to keep eye contact. He just looked so much sexier shirtless than I imagined. He was always in coats or thick sweaters, even in the summer. So, I’d never really seen him so dressed down. Well, barely dressed at all. And honestly, the way he maneuvered that blade so quick and so close to my skin without even nicking me, kinda turned me on.

I cleared my throat. “I have a poltergeist problem I need help fixing.”

He leaned his elbows on his knees and raised a brow. “Really? A poltergeist? This couldn’t wait until tomorrow?”

I shook my head. “Not when he wouldn’t shut up! The guy is an asshole. He’s been wrecking my shop the last two weeks and decided to insult me while I was in the middle of taking a bath. I cannot go back there with him. I won’t. I can’t do the magic to seal his ass back into the stone, so I need you to.”

He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Okay. Hold on. He talked to you? Stone? What stone? Fuck.” He opened his eyes fully and sat up. “I have a feeling I’m going to need a drink for this.” He walked over to a large cabinet filled with an array of alcohol and looked to me as he grabbed a bottle filled with light amber liquid. “Want any?”

I knew he meant the alcohol, but damn it if my eyes didn’t immediately travel back down to his naked torso. Yes. Yes, I do. I quickly looked back up at him, only to see a cocky smirk on his face.

“I guess I should put a shirt on as well.” He was laughing at me.

“No. I mean, yes. Yes, I’d like some.” You are such a fucking idiot, Craft.

He threw his head back and laughed before standing. “Coming right up,” was all he said before walking back to the stairs and climbing up.

I tilted my head back on the couch to look at the ceiling and groaned. “Have you lost your mind? He treats you like a sister. You sure as hell aren’t going to get any with this kind of attitude.” I probably looked like an idiot quietly berating myself. I mean, I’d pretty much resigned myself to being in the friend (sister?) zone the rest of my life. Why did I have to go screwing that up too by running my mouth?

Although, he didn’t seem to mind you ogling his body, I said to myself. Oh, shut up, you pathetic wench. It’s never going to happen. Even if he did, he’s too nice for your abrasiveness. Well, I did have a point there. But did you see the way he handled that blade? I about came right there on his fucking porch!

Oh my Goddess. I really was crazy.

I shut off my inner argument as his footsteps came back down the stairs. Now, he had a white shirt on and a sweater in his hands. When he reached the landing, he walked over and draped the sweater across my shoulders.

“It’s not much, but it’ll help keep you warm. The house gets kind of drafty, even with the heater on. You can at least wear it home when you leave, so I won’t have to worry about you getting sick.”

Damn. Nice guys are yummy. I stared wide eyed at him for a minute, completely clueless on how to really respond to a man being a gentleman. How fucked up was I that I could come up with a witty comeback or talk dirty to someone who was as abrasive as me. But the second a guy who was genuinely nice did something kind for me, I got fucking nada.

“T-thank you,” I stuttered out to his retreating back. Though, I’d said it so softly, I doubt he’d even heard it. You may as well get comfy in the friend/sister zone, Craft.

I followed him to the kitchen and stopped in the doorway, watching as he went about grabbing two glasses from a cabinet. He filled them each about a fourth of the way, then handed one to me.

I took the glass and sipped as I continued my perusal of the kitchen. The only part of this house that had gotten a modernized renovation since I was last here, was the kitchen.

It had white cabinets now, instead of the old, dark cherry ones that I remembered. The counters were a grey and black granite, and the top cabinet doors were now frosted glass. Stainless steel appliances gleamed under the soft lighting of the room.

I looked over at the dining area that was surrounded by large bay windows overlooking some of the back yard. He’d changed everything except his mother’s old, dining table and chairs.

“So, you have a spirit invading your home. You’ve talked to him. And he came out of a stone. That about right so far?” He asked as he leaned his back against the counter and crossed his arms.

“And I could see him. He had a full form. Looked just as detailed as you and me, only he was colorless and translucent. I’m more than positive he was fae too. He kind of glided across the floor rather than walked too. As far as the stone,” I reached into my back pocket and pulled out the Labradorite. “Turk accepted this stone in a cluster of gems from someone a few weeks ago. Most of it was just expensive jewelry and gems without settings. But this was amongst the stash. I accidentally knocked over the display case while cleaning, and when I went to touch it, I felt this insane burst of power shoot out of it.”

He held out his hand, so I walked over and placed it in his palm. He turned it over a few times and rubbed his thumb along the surface.

“Fae huh? That’s odd. As far as I know, fae don’t normally place their spirits within stones. It’s hard to say though, since not many of them are left in this world to ask and most are in hiding. I can sense the magic that was attached to it, but it’s too faint for me to tell you what kind. Binding spell, maybe?” His intense dark eyes looked up at mine as he handed it back.

I shrugged. “I honestly didn’t have a clue. I can’t feel or sense anything off this stupid rock. But do you think you could help me figure out how to get rid of the guy who came out of the stone? Because I’m honestly lost on what the hell to do about him.”

He nodded. “I can look into different ways to push a spirit out. He doesn’t seem like a normal spirit though if he’s got a full corporeal form, not to mention he’s fae. Our usual methods may not be of use.”

I sighed and slipped it back into my pocket, then looked up to see him just staring at me with a contemplative look on his face.

The grandfather clock by the stairs chimed, jarring him out of whatever he was thinking. He gestured to the table, and we both walked towards it. But as he sat, I stopped. Something caught my eye by the door leading to the backyard.

I stepped over to it and squatted down. There on the edge of the door frame, was a scorch mark I remembered well. I ran my fingers over it, feeling the grooves that the wayward spell had indented into it.

“I can’t believe you didn’t fix this when you fixed the kitchen,” I told him over my shoulder.

He smiled over his glass as he took a sip, then stood to come casually lean against the other side of the doorway, slipping one hand in his striped pants pocket.

“It was a good memory. Why erase it?”

I raised a brow at him when I stood. “You remember that day?”

He grinned, displaying his perfect white teeth. I kinda loved his smile.

“I don’t think I could forget it. You had come over with your mom and barged into my room, demanding I play with you. You were so cute when you stomped your heel after I said no.” He chuckled lightly. My heart fluttered a little that he thought that.

No. Stop. He meant ‘kid’ you was cute. Not ‘now’ you

I sipped my drink to hide my blushing cheeks.

“I still don’t know what I said or did to make you so mad,” he continued. “-but I remember you were so furious, your little cheeks turned red,” he teased.

I scoffed. “You told me girls were stupid and to go play with my dolls. I hated dolls. At least, ones that weren’t like those cute, little, voodoo dolls my mother collected.”

He threw his head back and laughed. “That’s right! Then you grabbed my Millennium Falcon lego model and rushed out my door like a bat out of hell. I chased after you, horrified at the thought of what you might do to it.”

I chuckled, remembering that quite clearly. “Yep! I thought if I grabbed one of your toys, you’d be forced to play with me. But then you did this.” I pointed to the scorch mark.

He gave me an affronted look. “Okay, A, that wasn’t a toy! I spent days putting that thing together. Without using magic, might I add. And B, I was still learning and wasn’t really trying to hurt you. Just slow you down.”

My jaw dropped. “You threw a fire ball at me! Your dad was so pissed at you for ruining the door frame.”

Milo looked down at his glass as he swirled the amber liquid, a smirk lighting his face. “Yeah, he was. You took off out the back door while he berated me.” His gaze flicked back to me. “I never did get that model back. What’d you do with it?”

I bit my lip to hide the smile and looked guiltily at him. “I buried it.”

He just looked at me wide eyed for a minute, then busted out into laughter once again. “Oh, my Goddess, you were such a brat! Did you leave it there?”

I looked out the window in the back door, my eyes zeroing in on the massive, white willow tree that sat in the furthest corner of the property. I pointed at it with a smile. “I buried it under that tree. I planned to dig it back up, but my mother never brought us back. She broke it off with your dad a few days later.”

We stood in silence after I replied. Just looking out at that tree and sipping our drinks as the memory washed over us.

He smacked his lips. “We should dig it up,” he said, breaking the silence.

“What? Now? It’s like two a.m.”

He shrugged and stepped closer, making me hold my breath. “So? Have you lost your sense of adventure, Christi?” He almost whispered. His hand reached out and pushed a few strands of my hair behind my ear. The small caress sent tingles through my body. I shivered a little at the contact. He smiled knowingly, then walked out of the kitchen.

I hated to admit it but being like this with Milo was nice. I sat down at the table and spun my cup in my hands as my mind and heart raced in tandem. He’d gotten so damn close to me. I just wanted him to keep touching me. And what was up with the tingling sensation I got every time he touched me? Touching was another new thing with him. We didn’t do that.

We didn’t even really talk either. Usually when he’d come by the shop, it was just to hand me a citation or a fine, or even just a stern lecture on not harming the humans. Chatter was at a minimum and his smiles were always just polite. This Milo reminded me of the gangly, nerdy kid I’d crushed on when I was little – a hotter, manlier version though. He was only two years older than me, but most ten-year olds weren’t really interested in eight-year-old girls back then.

But this grown up Milo, had me acting like a different person that wanted different things. I loved that any of my intimate relationships only stayed strictly in the bedroom. But ever since Orrin announced he wanted more, I’d been considering that maybe the way I liked things, wasn’t that great anymore. Now, being so laid back and laughing with Milo, it made it even harder to deny it. I was twenty-seven-years-old, and I’d never had a serious relationship. Ever. Was that a bad thing?

However, even if I did change my tune and decided I wanted to legit date someone, who would I go to? Orrin, who I shared many of the same interests with, and also fit well with him on an intense, sexual level? Or Milo, who I’d known for so long and secretly adored from afar, yet believed he still thought of me as a sister. Though, that touch earlier had been anything but brotherly.

Why couldn’t I be my mother and just say, “Fuck it. Why choose?”

“Hey!” Milo shouted from the doorway into the kitchen, jolting me from my inner thoughts. “You coming?” He asked. He had put on a jacket and held a small shovel in one hand and the bottle of alcohol in the other.

Oh, I’d like to be. I didn’t say that out loud, of course. Instead, I threw my hands up and stood. “What the hell. Why not? I’m not doing anything else tonight anyway.” Like getting laid. I snagged the bottle from his hand and poured a little more into my cup as we made our way outside.

He waved his hand, igniting it in a bright, green glow that lit our path across the uneven ground.

Damn it. Why can’t I do that kind of shit?

I stumbled a little when a dizzy spell hit me, completely confused why I already had a slight buzz after only finishing one small drink. “What in the wendigo did you put in this? Actually, what is this?” I held the bottle up but didn’t recognize the label. Couldn’t really read it either. Is that a different language or am I just that fucked up?

He smirked at me. “It’s scotch, and I didn’t put anything in it. Just take it easy drinking it. It’s stronger than your average scotch.”

I scoffed. “No shit. I had what? Five sips?”

He quirked a brow at me. “What? Can’t hang, Crafty?” He snagged the bottle from me and threw it back, taking a large swig of it, then handed it back to me with a smile.

“Pfft, I can,” I argued. “Just fair warning though, I may forget where exactly I buried your toy by the time we get to the tree.”

“Again, not a toy. And I guess we’ll see then, won’t we?”

Cocky bastard.