“Ah-ha!” Calliope’s joyouscryfills me withtrue hope, only before I canhear what she found, I feel myself slipping.
The only thing I can make out asI’mpulled once again into the dark abyss is Simone’s sarcastic comment. “Welp, that solves that problem.”
Chapter Four
THEO
I’mstartled awake by what sounds like an earth-shattering bang.I’mmomentarily at a loss as to what made the noise as my focus is onmaking sureI’mfully tethered to this realm. I pull my consciousness to the forefront of my mind and manifest in the front room of my family’s home. The noise sounds again, and I realizeit’ssimply a knock at my door. I float toward the foyer to see who it is,remainingin my ghostly form.
Through the shaggy and moth-ridden curtains, Ispytwo figures standing on my porch wearing thick layers dusted with snow.There’sa woman Idon’trecognize, but the man beside her is my vampire-friend,Aidan Ward.
I turn the handle and hover behind the door, inviting my visitors inside.
“Theodore?” Aidan calls into the house as he leans over the threshold.
I shift from behind the door as he steps across the crumbling, wooden floorboards and answer hoarsely, not having used my voice in several weeks. “I’m here.”
Aidan’s eyes meet mine, and his face softens into that familiar expression one shares with old friends.
He kicks his boots against the doorframe to remove the layer of snowthat’scaked to the bottom of them while the femaleremainstucked behind his tall frame.
“Might this be a friendly visit?” I ask, turning away from the door andfloatingback intothesalon at thefront of the house. My legs flicker in and out of their spirit form as I shift my focus more on projecting the upper half of my body.
Aidan groans guiltily under his breath. “Ihavebeen meaning to come by.”
I settle in front of the unlit hearthcontainingashes more than a decade old. “A dubious one then,” I respond with teasing cadence and a smirk.
His companion lingers in the foyer, unsure ifshe’struly been invited in. Her light brown hair reflects subtle strands of honey in the setting sunlight that cascades through the hazy windows.
“And who have you brought with you?” I ask, gesturing to the female.
She squares her shoulders and looks directly at me for the first time. Aidan guides her to stand beside him by placing a hand at thesmallof her back. “Theo, this is my mate, Joanna.”
My eyebrows lift. “Mate? Color me surprised.”
Though it does surprise me to finally see Aidan with a significant other, their status is confirmed by thetaut, silvery stringstrung between them, connecting their souls—one of the interesting benefitsI’vereceived by being connected to the spirit realm.I reach out, wishing to touch it, but think better of it.
Joanna frowns, unsure whether or not I’ve just insulted or complimented their relationship, but Aidan’s chuckle relaxes her.
“I know it’s a shock, watching me go from being alone for over one hundred years to beingmated.”
“It’s most certainly not something I had on my bingo card this year,” I say with a tilt of my head.
Joanna snorts.
“Where did you learn that phrase?” Aidan asks, barely keeping back a laugh himself.
I float closer to the window. “You’dbe surprised by the jargon Ipickup from listening to passersby. But that one I learned from you.”
I hear Aidan’s chuckle from behind me as I gaze into the trees beyond the glass. The forest that surrounds me is home to many—the werewolf pack is not far past the nearest cluster of trees, and during certain moon phases, witches trek the dirt trails to find ingredients and bless their spell-work.
I hear Joannamutteringas she leans into her mate. “Just wait ’til he spends time with the witches.”
This gets my attention.
A gust of wind blows the front door open, sending a shiver through Joanna’s frame. It slams noisily against the wall, and Aidan rushes to close it firmly in place.
Quiet settles throughout the house, the door having created a barrier between us and the loud whip of winter winds outside. There was a time, when I was alive, that I loved the snow—I appreciated the way it blanketed ugly things and made them beautiful—but things like frozen ice crystals falling from the sky start to mean less once you’ve been dead for one hundred and eight years.
