“Go ahead,” Ethan says, looking at his phone. “I’m staying with Anora.”
“You just got off probation,” Sam huffs. “You want to get back on it?”
“What’s going on?” I ask, pulling the dagger out of the cooked chicken.
“The Order summoned us,” Ethan replies, jaw tensing. “I doubt it’s anything serious. They do dramatic shit like this all the time. They want to say jump just to see who responds with how high?”
“You don’t know it’s not serious,” Sam counters. “For all we know, they could have found out you’re—”
“Enough,” David interrupts. “Ethan, I advise you come with us, but I cannot force you.”
“Go,” I urge, not sure what exactly is going on. “I’ll be fine. I’m going to go to that new-age store and then the barn, but not in the woods. I’ll be around people the whole time, and if it makes you feel better, I’ll bring Hunter.”
“And say he’s your service dog?” Ethan asks.
“I think he could pass for one,” I say with a nod. “But the new age store had a “leashed pets welcome” sign on their door.”
“That would make me feel better,” Ethan says.
“I’m capable,” I remind him, wiping the dagger with a napkin before putting it back in its sheath.
“I know you are,” he tells me, coming over and taking me in his arms, not caring that his entire family is in the room with us. “But that doesn’t stop me from worrying about you.”
“I worry about me too,” I admit, hooking my arms around his shoulders. “But I’ll be fine.”
“Take my Jeep,” he says since we drove together. “And I’ll meet you back at your house later.”
“Okay,” I tell him.
“And call me if anything feels off. Anything.”
“I will,” I promise, aware that everyone is staring at us. “And let me know the same too?”
Sam scoffs, but Ethan ignores her and puts his lips to mine in a quick kiss. “I’ll walk you out.”
I drop several armloads of brown bags in the passenger seat of Ethan’s Jeep, having just left the new age store in downtown Syracuse. Hunter waits patiently and gets in the back when I open the door for him. He lies down on the backseat and I pull the seatbelt through his harness, buckling him in.
I call Ethan as I head to the barn, not expecting him to answer.
“Hey, babe,” he says, voice low.
“Oh, hey. I wasn’t sure if you’d be able to talk or not.”
“Eh, I’m talking, one way or another.”
“Is everything okay in Order-land?” I ask and slowly pull out of the parking spot. I parallel parked and am so damn proud of myself it’s almost a shame to leave this space.
“Yeah. Like I said, they’re dramatic for no reason. There’s a haunted apartment complex in Rochester the Order has been hired out to handle.”
“Hired out?” I echo. The more I learn about the Order the more confused I get as well. The whole ignorance is bliss phrase is really starting to make sense now.
“The real estate tycoon who bought the complex is willing to pay a lot. Don’t worry, though, I’m not leaving you, Anora.”
It hits me then that’s how Ethan and his family are able to get by since demon hunting is their literal job. The Order is hired by anyone with a supernatural problem, and hunters are sent to take care of it. And like any good MLM, I assume the higher-ups at the Order take a big cut of the money and pay what’s left over to the hunters who do the dirty work.
“If you have to work a job, then work a job. I’ll be fine,” I insist, though I feel like I’m lying. “Or I could come with. Ghosts are kind of my specialty.”
“You would make it easy, though this sounds like a routine haunting. Two construction teams were spooked off the property after they heard strange noises and had their equipment moved around.”
“Like you said before, it’s too bad you don’t know a medium.”
“Right? It’s a damn shame.” He sighs. “Are you going to the barn now?”
“Yep. I might have purchased half the store, but I think I have all the basics a witch needs now.”
“Good. I think you should cast that protective spell and banish all spirits until we get things under control,” he insists, and that guilty feeling takes over. This time, it comes with a weird sense of warning.
“I have the stuff to do it,” I reply. “When do you think you’ll be back in town?”
“Not until the evening. I’ll pick something up to make for dinner.”
“Make?” I smile. “You mean, we’re not ordering junk food?”
“Sorry to disappoint,” he laughs. “What kind of wine do you like? I’ll find something that pairs with dinner.”
“Ohhh, look at you, Mr. Fancy Pants,” I say with a laugh. “And Pinot Grigio is always good. Though a sweeter red is never a bad choice. I’m not picky or snooty when it comes to wine, really, and as long as the bottle has a cool looking label, I’m good.”