Starfire (Grim Gate 2)

“You have a spell to repel ghosts,” Ethan stays with his mouthful. “You should cast it.”

The events of the last night weren’t because of a ghost. “Yeah.” I bob my head up and down. “I should. After breakfast?”

“Of course,” he says, taking another bite of his food. “And if I can help, let me know.”

“The spell is on the simpler side,” I tell him. It wasn’t the first time I cast it, and I can recall most of it by memory by now.

“Is everything good with your dad?” I dip my toast in syrup.

“Yeah, and things have been pretty calm in Syracuse.”

“That’s always a good thing.”

“Right? Sam is visiting a friend in South Bend. Would you mind if she stopped by here on the way back to New York?”

“No, not at all. She’s family.” I take a bite of my toast, not caring if Sam came here. She is family, though she’s not my biggest fan. Like Ethan, she doesn’t let herself get close to people for fear of something happening to them, which is likely given their line of work.

But there’s something else, something unsaid between all of Ethan’s family that I can’t put my finger on.

“We can finally decorate the guest room,” he says eagerly, knowing that I’ve been looking forward to it.

Mouth full, I just nod. Normally, I’d be all over this, happy to have an excuse to go all out for a room that will only be used a few times a year at best. But the thought of leaving the house scares me. What if I freak out again? See something no one else can see in the middle of Target?

“When will she be here?”

“The end of the week. I’m going to take a wild guess and say the Order is going to send her out on a job.” He rolls his eyes. “Can’t even visit a fucking friend without them trying to get something out of it.”

“Have you ever thought about leaving the Order?”

“Many times.” He eats the last of his bacon.

“Why didn’t you?”

“It would reflect against my dad.”

“Really?” I ask though it doesn’t surprise me. “What if you didn’t want to be in the Order?”

He lets out a snort of laughter. “Like I had a choice.”

“What about your kids?” I fold my last piece of toast in half. Our relationship moved fast with us moving in together and we’re happy, yet not in a rush. I love Ethan and I’d marry him tomorrow if he asked, but, as for thinking about having our own kids…not anytime soon. Hell, I can barely manage my own life right now.

“I haven’t put much thought into it,” he admits. “But I wouldn’t want them to grow up the same way I did.”

“Would you tell them about demons?” I ask carefully.

“Yeah,” he replies with no hesitation. “Not knowing gives you a false sense of security. It’s dangerous.”

“I agree. I can’t imagine not knowing now that I do know.” I push my toast around in a pool of syrup. I’m still so rattled from yesterday that I’m not very hungry. “Were you hoping to go into town and buy stuff for the guest room today?”

“Yeah, if you want to.” He smiles but I can see the concern in his eyes. “We can go to that decor store you like in Thorne Hill, and Newport isn’t that far either if you want to look at anything there.”

Newport is a nearby town, much bigger than Thorne Hill. “That’s a good idea. I need to work the horses but want to wait until the afternoon when it warms up to a balmy twenty-six degrees.” I make a face. “I really miss my heated barn and indoor arena right now.”

Ethan laughs. “We’ll get one eventually.”

We finish breakfast and then get ready for the day. I let my guard down and start to relax only to jump at the smallest thing again. Every shadow makes me do a double-take. Am I imagining it or is it really there?

The little decor boutique in Thorne Hill has a ton of great stuff, and we leave with the back of Ethan’s Jeep full of throw pillows, wall art, and the prettiest cream-colored bedspread. I’m feeling just about normal again and I tell Ethan I want to swing into Novel Grounds, an indie bookstore on Main Street.

The blonde woman named Kristy isn’t working today, and I shouldn’t be as disappointed as I am. She’s bound to notice me staring at her sooner or later and I really don’t want to come off as a creep. But there’s something vaguely familiar about her, and I have a memory of the black-haired lady talking to a young blonde child named Kristy.

If she’s the same Kristy, then she could tell me everything.

“Did you find everything okay?” an employee named Betty asks when I bring my stack of books to the counter.