Chapter 2

But Jason noticed the minute response, and he smiled as he licked his thumb again and ran it over Killian’s other cheek.

“You’re not answering me,” Jason had said softly, but Killian couldn’t remember the question. Jason had the most beautiful brown eyes he’d ever seen.

Jason’s words had pushed Killian to come back to his hometown after ten years away. He needed to show Jason something new if he wanted to get a budget to keep making his show, and the first thing he’d thought of when Jason said that was proof.

He needed to show Jason proof. He needed more than shadows and whispers and EMF spikes to interest that guy. He needed a gimmick, Jason had said, so Killian had a heck of an adventure patched together for tonight.

Now, if the fucking rain would stop, it’d be perfect.

“Is she here yet?” he asked, and bit his lip as he waited for Helen to answer.

“Not yet.”

“Damn it. I told her to get here early.”

Helen’s voice reached him from the end of the hall. “Your idea of early isn’t the same as everyone else’s, Killian.”

He glanced over his shoulder, scowling. His filming partner and tech guru, Helen Green, was nearly fifty, with sun-browned skin and the wrinkles to go along with it, but a wide, easy-going smile dropped at least a decade off her appearance. She was lean, tall, blonde, and far more interested in composition and white balance than in any of the suitors who came her way. He admired her, and his web series never would have made it out the door without her filming genius.

“If this lady rolls up five minutes before we’re set to go live, I’m going to dock her pay.”

Helen chuckled and stepped in to help him set up the last camera. A flash of lightning outlined the trees outside, and the following roar of thunder rattled the ancient window in its frame.

“In this weather, I wouldn’t be shocked if she calls the whole thing off,” Helen said. Killian looked up at her, wide-eyed.

“She can’t. I already paid her goddamn deposit.”

His partner shrugged. “Just saying, I wouldn’t blame her. This weather’s crap. Where was she driving from, anyway?”

This time, Killian shrugged. “The website had a list of places she’d go, and this was one of them. I confirmed before paying. I confirmed again this morning. She’ll be here.”

They finished setting up the camera and headed for the spiral staircase that would sweep them down into the grand entryway. It was a truly beautiful house, even with decades of disrepair. Killian tried to imagine the family who must have lived here. Four massive bedrooms would allow for parents and at least six kids if they shared. He shuddered at the thought. Maybe a butler. Dial back the kid count by two and give one of the bedrooms to a butler. Slightly better. As an only child, Killian couldn’t imagine growing up in a house full of other kids, but he guessed it would be loud. Children galloping through the hallways. Butler politely dodging them as he brushed a feather duster across every surface and tested its cleanliness with a white gloved finger.

And then one day, someone breaking into the house at night, fleeing from the law. Holding the family hostage. If rumor was to be believed, dying right here in the entryway. Killian stopped at the bottom of the stairs and pursed his lips, visions of police shootouts dancing in his head.

“About time to get the pre-show uploaded,” Helen said. They’d filmed a clip in advance during full daylight, a tour of the house with a bit of history. At 8:00, they would go live, streaming all camera feeds, including the one that would be strapped to Killian’s head as he spent the night in this haunted house. And Jason Eversole would be watching.

Live ghost hunting wasn’t a brand-new brilliant idea, but Killian had assured Jason there would be some surprises. Killian had never seen anyone employ a witch during their live streams. Jason said he needed a gimmick—as far as Killian was concerned, that gimmick could be magic. Summoning. A séance.

The witch, a mystery woman named Ivana, had arranged everything in advance. Killian had spoken to an assistant, which seemed promising. If the lady had an assistant, surely her business wasn’t hanging together by threadbare shawls and lies. The footage on her site had been impressive, and testimonials swore that Lady Ivana was the real deal.

Helen popped open an umbrella as they stepped out onto the porch and held it over Killian and herself. The walkway from the house to the edge of the property was cracked and overgrown, and they both focused on not tripping over weeds and brambles as they splattered through puddles to get back to their van.