Page 55 of Haunt Me, Maybe

Something is here.

I glanced around the room; nothing felt out of the ordinary.

Not here here, Fenn snapped. I mean, in Amber Grove.

“I think it’s Gideon.” Aven exhaled, hard. “Or his reach. I won’t know until I check the sites.” She paused, glancing at me before quickly looking away. “Some of them will have to be at night if access is restricted.”

“No,” I said. It wasn’t even a thought.

She turned. “Wes⁠—”

“No. It’s too dangerous.”

You act as if she would be going alone, Fenn grumbled, beyond annoyed with me.

Well, too fucking bad. He did a lot of good when it came to protecting her, but even his hoard of power wasn’t enough to keep her safe. Otherwise, why were they on the run in the first place?

“No offense.” I glared. “But your protection won’t be enough to save her if you poke around and find Gideon at one of these sites.” He opened his mouth to argue, but I turned my back on him and pleaded with Aven instead. “Please wait for a time when I can go with you.”

She stared at me for a long moment, then nodded as if she’d decided something. Moving across the room, she lifted a wooden box off the shelf above the desk. It was one of her most prized possessions, and I knew she kept a lot of important things in there. Strong witchy things.

“…I can make you a witch’s anchor.”

Fenn croaked in outrage, and I phased next to her before she could blink. Something told me a witch’s anchor was no small thing…and it wasn’t only because the toad was losing his mind. It sounded otherworldly.

“What does this anchor do?”

She tilted her head back so she could look at me straight on. “It ties your essence to an object…with the help of my energy. So you can leave after sunset.”

The air went still, and I swore the entire inn held its breath.

I stepped closer and cupped her face. She wasn’t trying to hide from me, but it felt better to touch her anyway. “That doesn’t sound like small magic.”

“It’s not.” She leaned into my palm, and I felt the slight tremble that wracked her body.

She was terrified. But determination raged in her gaze. If this was the only way for me to go with her, to escape this curse and protect her…Then I guess we were both about to face our fears. Hers was born from a lifetime of being hunted, and mine was a leftover echo of my death.

Her wards, talismans, and illusions were nerve-wracking until I’d gotten used to them. Nothing she’d attempted so far was what she considered strong magic. This definitely would be—had to be—to counter a curse such as mine.

We’d do it together, as we had everything else. I dipped my chin in one slow, solid nod.

“Show me what you need to do.”

I didn’t like rituals.

There were too many candles, too many promises. Too many people saying, “Trust me,” right before something inevitably went wrong. So, when Aven spread her supplies across the attic floor, I didn’t hide the tension curling through my limbs. I sat on the edge of the bed instead, arms crossed, and watched her every movement. She noticed my hovering, of course, but made no attempt to hide what she was doing.

I appreciated that more than she realized.

“You can ask,” she said, gently. Her family journal was spread out before her, and she carefully flipped through the old pages. “I know you don’t like surprises.”

Understatement. But she had my full attention.

“I don’t like being lied to,” I corrected.

She nodded in acceptance and reached into that wooden box of hers. With a tender grip, she pulled out a narrow silk ribbon, worn and soft with age and the color of storm clouds.

“That’s it?”