“What?” My gaze snaps back to the screen.
As the dark figure stalks toward my bed with the gait of a predator, I say, “Aggie, don’t tell me you can’t see him.”
She grabs the phone. “Who?”
“The fucking Boogie Man.”
Aggie places a hand on my temple. “Are you alright?”
“Why is he invisible to you?”
She falls silent. Any other time, I’d become paranoid and demand to know what she’s thinking, but I’m transfixed by the strange man in my room. He’s human-shaped but looks six-and-a-half feet tall, with black tattoos covering his skin. A curtain of black hair falls halfway down his back and covers his face, but I’m imagining glowing eyes and a maw of sharp teeth.
As soon as he extends a hand, I know this is the bastard who’s been trashing my room. Even with my night light providing faint illumination, I can tell that the tips of his fingers are black. What’s most worrying is that they each end in sharp claws.
My breath turns shallow as those wicked fingers drift toward my exposed thighs, only to stop in mid-air as he hits the locket’s barrier.
Was he trying to cop a feel?
“Anyway,” Aggie says, breaking me out of my thoughts. “I’ll be going now.”
“Hold on.” I grab her arm but still fix my gaze on the screen.
The Boogie Man steps back, takes a running jump, and flings himself on the bed.
“Wait a fucking minute,” I say.
“I’m still here.”
“Not you.”
Onscreen, the Boogie Man bounces off the barrier, throws his head back, and roars.
“Can you hear that?” I ask Aggie.
“Your snoring?”
“Shit.”
He rushes around the room, tearing up everything he can in a murderous rage. Aggie’s jaw drops, and she grabs the hand holding the camera.
“You’re doing that all in your sleep,” she says, her voice breathy with awe.
“I’m not.”
“Wow.”
I grind my teeth. No amount of protesting will ever get through to my cousin. The ward around my house is supposed to keep out intruders, and the Boogie Man has made himself selectively invisible.
“Ali, I knew you’d be powerful once your magic manifested,” she says.
The Boogie Man rushes toward the camera before it goes black. I rewind the recording a few seconds and press pause.
“Fuck.”
“Fuck, indeed,” Aggie says. “If you’re wielding this level of kinetic magic unconsciously, then you’ll end up even more powerful than Grandma.”
Whatever she says next fades into the background as the camera stills on an exquisitely beautiful face. Granted, it’s twisted in a rictus of rage, but there’s no mistaking those chiseled features. His eyes are a vivid shade of green, framed by thick black lashes and arched eyebrows.