Page 10 of Heart, Haunt, Havoc
“Both,” Bishop said, shrugging. “Not well, but enough. Why?”
“I wouldn’t call themlightreading.”
“I took an astrology class a year ago. Learned about star guides and natal charts. Figured out why I have terrible taste in men,” they teased, snorting. “Being a Geminirisingis the culprit, I guess. Go figure. Anyway, I bought the combined paperback after the Zoom conference. It was one of the host bookstore’s ‘recommended reads’ for anyone interested in neo-pagan bullshit.” They flashed a sarcastic grin and leveled a narrow-eyed look at Colin over the edge of their sunglasses. “Why? You worried I’m in bed with Mister Crowley? Think I’m sleazing around with a famous occultist?”
“I don’t know who you crawl into bed with,” Colin said, and put his sunglasses on, tipping his head against the seat to peer at Bishop’s strong nose and pretty teeth, their sweeping eyelashes and lying smile. “But I get the feelingknowingmight help me clean your house.”
Bishop turned the key in the ignition. A thumb-sized mirror dangled from their keychain, sending muted sunlight bouncing around the truck-cab. “Don’t worry, Colin. I’m not fucking any magicians.”
“You just know the local witch and live in a haunted house?”
“Is that what we’re dealing with? A haunting? I like that much better thanpeculiarity.”
“I wish I could confidently sayyes, but I don’t know. I have a feeling what’s happening in your house, to you, around you, has reverberated from a secret.” He met Bishop’s eyes, then turned toward the window. “And I can’t help youoryour house until I know what you’re hiding.”
Laughter bloomed in their throat. They yanked the truck into drive and hit the gas. “Ask away, exorcist.”
“You’re a little young to be retired,” Colin said.
“That’s not a question.”
“What do you do for work?”
“No one’s too young to be retired military. Especially when retirement is polite lingo for honorabledischargewhich is evenworselingo for traumatic injury and PTSD. So, nothin’ right now. Working on the house, taking weird Zoom classes, being a stay-at-home plant parent.”
They sighed, flicking the blinker, and Colin knew they were lying. Again.
“Injury, huh?”
“Training exercise. Broke two ribs, punctured a lung. Psych deemed meunfitfor duty.”
“Sorry,” Colin said.
“Don’t be.”
“Who’d you apologize to last night?”
Bishop’s breath halted. “I was dreaming—”
“About?”
“I don’t know, honestly.”
“Honestly?”
Bishop stomped the brake pedal at a red light. “I hired you to dig into my house, not to interrogate my goddamn personal life.”
“So, itispersonal,” he said, breath gusting from him on an exhausted sigh. “Mind telling mehowpersonal?”
“I was dreaming about my husband,” they snapped.
Silence snaked through the truck cab, broken by tires rolling across concrete, brakes squeaking in the driveway, Bishop shoving the gear shift into park. They gnawed their lip, facing forward in the driver’s seat. Their thumbs crossed at the bottom of the steering wheel.
“My ex-husband,” they clarified, quietly. “That’s all.”
Colin swallowed. Heat filled his cheeks, but he tipped his chin and remembered the words written in steam on the guest bedroom window.I do I do I do. How tenderly the wolf-headed creature held them, how gently and fully they’d fallen into its arms.
He inhaled a long, deep breath. “You said you didn’t have a partner.”
