The Curse of Redwood (Ivy Grove #2) - Jaclyn Osborn Page 0,78

hanging beads of the archway.

“Guess we get special privileges after all.” I looked at the both of them before stepping after Callum.

“Did you see the shirt he’s wearing?” Taylor whispered in my ear, as he walked behind me. “I went brain-dead just looking at him.”

“I noticed. I think the whole store did too.”

Taylor pushed against my back and called me an asshole.

People grumbled about us cutting in line, but we didn’t head for the same room everyone else was waiting to go into. Callum opened a door for us, revealing a set of stairs going up. We followed him up the stairwell to another door at the top.

“I normally don’t invite people into my home, but this is a special set of circumstances.” Callum unlocked the door and pushed it open.

“You live above the shop?” Taylor asked, entering the loft behind him.

“I do.” Callum closed the door once we were all inside. He immediately went to the kitchen and grabbed a box from the pantry. “I’ll put us on some tea. I hope you all like Earl Grey.”

“Never had it,” I said. “It always sounded too fancy.”

“I’m not picky,” Taylor answered. “I’ll drink anything.”

“Not anything, I hope,” Callum responded. “If so, it would be much too easy to poison you.”

Taylor’s throat worked as he swallowed noisily.

Callum snickered and filled a kettle with water. I got the sense he liked teasing my friend.

I took the opportunity to look around. The flat wasn’t too big, though it was spacious enough to have a full kitchen and living room, along with two closed doors. Plants of all types hung around the place and even more were outside on the balcony. The walls were a deep red, and I observed the weird décor. It reminded me of what you’d find in a gothic mansion: small statues of gargoyles and other strange creatures, as well as ornate picture frames with black and white photos of creepy looking places inside them.

“Who’s doing the readings downstairs?” Taylor asked, leaning against the counter as he watched Callum put the kettle on the stove and set out teacups.

“My mother,” he answered. “She is much better at it than me. I only do the readings during the week.”

“You were pretty awesome when you did mine,” Taylor said, flashing a flirty smile.

“I struggle with the theatrics and commercialism of it,” Callum responded, turning to us. He motioned to the four-seater table. “Please, sit.” After we were all seated, he added, “Fortune telling is more than having the gift of sight. At least when it comes to customers who seek the magic of the experience. My mother plays into their wishes and puts on a show. I’m much too serious. An omen of doom is what Mother calls me. It scares the customers away. She believes they should leave with hope in their heart, as opposed to fear.”

“So, she wants you to lie?” Ben asked. “That doesn’t seem right.”

“Not lie, exactly.” Callum rested a hand on the arm of his chair. It was one of those fancy dinner sets with high cushioned backs. “Just… focus more on the good rather than the bad. It’s where we differ, I suppose. And speaking of bad,” he looked at me, “you are surrounded in negative energy. It’s suffocating.”

“Is that why you brought us up here?”

“Yes. The sooner we begin, the better. Where is the necklace I gave you?”

“I, uh, threw it off me last night because it burned my skin.”

Callum rested a hand at the corner of his mouth. It was really hard not to stare at him. He was inhumanly beautiful—not as attractive as Zeke, but he was close. “When we first met, I sensed a dark presence attached to you. I hoped the stone would offer you protection against it, but it seems you were farther in its grasp than I realized.”

So that explained the fear in his eyes when he’d touched me.

“Is it possible for a ghost to possess someone?” I asked in a voice so quiet I hoped he could hear me. Because I didn’t know if I could say it any louder. I was too afraid of his answer.

“Yes,” he said automatically, confirming my fears. “There are many forms of possession. Demon is the most common, and the most horrifying, yet a spirit can attach to someone as well. It might take longer, but it’s possible and can be just as intense. Give me your hand.”

Shaking like a leaf about to fall from a branch, I reached a hand toward