Things That Should Stay Buried - Casey L. Bond Page 0,23

at the entry in case someone came over. She wanted our house to smell nice, to make a good first impression despite my sweat-soaked running gear slung behind the door.

I clung to the scent, trying to commit it to memory. Eventually the batteries would run out and it wouldn’t smell the way she liked anymore. But this wasn’t our home now, it was just another house unless we were in it. The thought broke my heart.

I flicked the light switch and surprisingly, the lamp on the foyer table illuminated. I made a quick circuit through the living room, kitchen, and hallway, turning on all the lights I came across.

“Your dwelling is comfortable,” he mused, looking around at the furniture, the throw blankets tossed over the back of the couch, and teetering stacks of books and fashion magazines on every table. He stared at the television, then looked into the sliver of kitchen that could be seen from the living room.

“Whose area is this?” I asked Aries, standing in my foyer. “Which Zodia?”

“This is Gemini’s territory.”

Gemini. Twins, right? “And should we be expecting Gemini since we’re standing in her territory? Or is it his territory? Their territory?”

“Hers,” he grimaced. “We can’t linger, but we should have enough time if you would like to show me your home.”

He was antsy but trying to make this fractionally less painful, and that meant a lot to me. As did the fact that he was willing to enter another Zodia’s territory so I could get the things I loved. But if Gemini made him nervous, I did not want to meet her.

He flicked the light switch in the foyer up and down turning the light on and off, on and off, a question in his eyes as to how it worked. I quickly showed him the power poles outside and explained how factories produced energy that fed to power stations and substations, which then trickled down to us via the power lines and we accessed with switches that turned on the lights. I showed him a bulb in the lamp on the living room end table, and in case he was interested, I showed him the small bathroom downstairs, explaining the magic of indoor plumbing as best I could. I was certainly no expert, but people would appreciate plumbing, hot water, and electricity if he felt inclined to provide it.

He seemed perplexed by the intricacy of it all, so I didn’t get my hopes up that we would have it back at his castle. But that wasn’t the reason I was here. I was here to grab my stuff.

“Will you show me the other rooms?” he asked.

I nodded and led him into the kitchen, showing and explaining the appliances as he peeked inside every cabinet, scanning their contents. “It’s kind of a mess,” I warned.

Mom had recently angry-cleaned the house from top to bottom, which was only slightly less terrifying than when she took up the cross-stitch needle, but despite her work, we lived here and it was cluttered.

He examined the faucet at the sink, jumping backward when the water came on, spraying into the basin. I laughed, unable to stop myself, then turned the handle so the water turned off. “It’s just water. It won’t hurt you,” I explained.

“It startled me. I’m not afraid,” he said, straightening his back.

Aries was at least six inches taller than me. I had to look up a little to see his eyes, but unlike Kes said, I was not short. Not by a long shot. I was five-seven.

“I wouldn’t imagine you’re afraid of much,” I said, leaning a hip against the counter and crossing my arms.

He took in my position and mirrored it, his eyes playfully narrowing. “You don’t seem frightened of me,” he challenged.

“Should I be?”

He gave a saucy grin and stepped closer. “Perhaps.”

Was he flirting? Butterflies took flight in my stomach before I cleared my throat and pointed toward the closed door over his shoulder. “That’s the laundry room.”

“Laundry room?” he asked confusedly, glancing over his shoulder.

I moved past him, opened the door, and let him peek inside. I pointed out the washer and dryer and then walked down the hall to the staircase that led upstairs. He lingered, looking in every closet. He even examined the brooms and mops. “We use those to clean the floor,” I explained, holding onto the banister. We had a closet under the stairs for storage. I thought about telling him Harry Potter lived there, but he would never get