Page 34 of Big Witch Energy

“Sorry, Edison,” Caroline groaned. “I know you were looking forward to your own office here at the house.”

“Eh, this just means I get to spend more time cataloguing the books before they’re reshelved,” Edison said. “And you know I love that.”

“When you eventually go back to work, can you take that empty Tupperware back to Margaret? I left it by the front door, next to Plover’s tray,” Caroline said. “It’s clean and everything. Tell her I said thank you for the soup.”

Plover. There was that name again. And he had his own tray at Shaddow House? What did that mean? Did Plover live here?

“You said the soup tasted like sneeze and kale,” Riley noted.

“Don’t mention that part,” Caroline told Edison.

“I will tell her it was an unforgettable taste experience,” Edison agreed, nodding to Ben. He kissed Riley goodbye. “Be careful.”

Interesting.

After Edison left, Riley turned to Ben. “If this is an official medical visit, why don’t you two go into my office, where you’ll have a little more privacy? Caroline doesn’t need to strip in a glass room.”

“No such thing as privacy in this house,” Caroline muttered as Riley helped her hobble into the office. He noted that Riley shoved several papers and books into her large ornate wooden desk and then locked the drawers, which seemed…excessive. What exactly was it that Riley did for a living again?

Riley seated Caroline on a not-exactly-comfortable-looking blue leather sofa across from an intricately carved white marble fireplace. A fire was already burning merrily in the grate, which would help because the room felt colder than it should. It was the nature of living in one of these drafty historical houses, Ben told himself. Gray Fern felt like living in a wind tunnel sometimes.

Ben knelt in front of the couch as he examined Caroline as clinically as he could manage. Considering her mishap, she was in pretty spectacular shape. The contusions were in the right stage of reduction. Her road rash was healing. Her ankle was roughly ankle-sized. The bruises were in the yellow-green “dying grass” color phase, which was a good sign.

“The bruising kind of looks like a Monet painting,” Caroline said as he helped her sit up and slip back into her shirt. “I don’t hate it.”

“Just keep doing what you’re doing, the not working and the sitting part,” he told her. “Over-the-counter pain meds as needed. Don’t let your brothers talk you into moving furniture or deep-cleaning their houses or something.”

“I would say that’s silly, but you’ve met them,” Caroline nodded. “And does that end the doctoring part of this appointment?”

“Sure,” Ben said, nodding.

“Good,” she huffed, grabbing his shirt with her good hand and pulling him closer. He sort of squeaked—in a manly fashion, obviously—as she dragged him from his kneeling position and practically into her lap. Her mouth closed over his, and she seemed to inhale him. Ben’s hands planted themselves on either side of her hips, and somehow, they slipped under her butt. It was a terrible and immature thing to think…but it felt just the same.

Oh, he was going to hell, if for nothing else than this massive violation of…all of the doctor oaths.

He moaned at the taste of her—Earl Grey tea and some sweet pastry—as her tongue flicked across his lips. Her good leg wrapped around his waist, pulling him even closer. Her fingers slid down the front of his jeans, and his whole body screamed yes as he went aching and hard under her hand. His hips bucked as she tugged at his zipper. Her grin was downright intimidating as his weight shifted against her, pinning her against the couch. She squealed and it was not a good sound.

“Sorry!” he cried. “Sorry!”

He leaned his forehead against hers. “Oh, man, I’m so sorry. Believe me, but we can’t. I can’t,” Ben said, pressing his lips to her cheek as he nuzzled against her. “It’s too fast, too much, too soon.”

She nodded as he pulled away, and he prayed he wouldn’t see hurt on her face, but instead it was…fear? Oh, no, was she afraid of him now? He shouldn’t have kissed her, but she was just so close and she smelled so good and she felt just like she used to and he never stopped lov— What the hell was she looking at?

He turned his head to see a black, oily shape sliding along the office ceiling like a larger-than-life amoeba. Caroline was shaking and her hands wrapped around Ben’s shoulders as she tried to force him behind her.

The oil sort of oozed down from the ceiling directly above them, almost to eye level with Caroline when Riley came running in with a silver bowl. “Caroline!”

Caroline’s arm darted to a side table and grabbed a dish full of rose petals and…salt? In unison, they threw salt at the black oily mass. Riley made a hand gesture that looked like drawing a closed hand across her heart and then mimed shoving the mass away. Caroline could only manage the shoving motion.

The salt sizzled against the surface of the…apparition? It let loose an animal shriek and withdrew into the ceiling, and—thank God—away from them. Ben whimpered, his head whipping back and forth, trying to figure out what just happened. His knees seemed to go out, and he sank to the floor.

“I told you keeping salty potpourri dishes around was a good idea,” Riley panted as if this was a completely normal thing to happen in the middle of the morning. “It doesn’t bind them or enclose them anywhere, but the hostile ones certainly get the point. No trespassing, you ceiling-crawling dick!”

“Oh, I’m glad you’re here because I don’t think I would have been able to pull off that hand gesture,” Caroline huffed, flopping back on the couch. “Ow.”

“Not strong enough to get rid of the bastard, but I don’t think he—or she, let’s be progressive here—is gonna try to get that close again,” Riley said. “Oh, jeez, Ben. You OK?”

Ben was not OK. His eyes kept darting back and forth between Riley and Caroline, and then back at the ceiling because, what if that thing came back? Also his pants were partially unzipped, and that was a problem.

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