Puffs of smoke wafted in the air as she breathed. Nothing around her seemed out of place, nothing stirred, but this wasn't normal.
Hazel went from a cooing chicken to wings flapping and raised, squawking as if something had just poked her. The box Hazel roosted in for the night suddenly overturned. She flap-hopped out of the way onto the bed.
"Come here, girl." What the hell?
She pulled the blankets closer and tried to catch a glimpse of something, anything. Her skin dotted in goosebumps as inhuman giggles floated through the room.
Great. The ghost. A small orb twinkled around the chicken and then disappeared.
The room warmed marginally, Marci's breath no longer a cloud in front of her.
First, the house needed to get fixed. Her bank account sat squarely at the front of her mind and the fact her savings wouldn't last long. Next time she had a life crisis and panicked, she should probably ask a few more questions.
Flopping back onto the pillows, the itch of magic bubbled deep within her. She was supposed to be here. Now she just needed to make it all work.
Several moments passed. Hazel happily pecked at the floor, shavings scattered everywhere. The ghost moved on, for now.
"Right. House first. Ghost second. No. Heat first."
Her feet prickled with the chill of the floor as she made a beeline to the box that lit up like a beacon in her mind.
The doorbell rang and she jumped. Hazel fluttered and squawked, running in a circle - again. This damn chicken might have a heart attack.
"I need to get her a house outside.
Ripping open the box, she grabbed out her boots sitting on top. She dropped her blanket and shoved her feet into the boots. Pushing a few more items around, she found a cardigan and hat. Pants would have been nice, but the doorbell rang again.
Well, for crap sake. Her sleep shorts weren't much, but anyone dumb enough to come over at this hour didn't deserve pants. Feeling out who was at the door, her senses said it was Caleb. Her eyes widened at the truth.
Why? Why would I want to know about him?
A shiver ran up her spine - right, she'd want him to fix the heater.
Her boots clunked with each step. She reached for the doorknob and turned; nothing happened. The door groaned in protest. She yanked again. Momentum had her backpedaling as her eyes fixed on the object in her hand.
Doorknob. Hand. Crap.
She did a double take. First at the door and then at her hand. "Seriously? Did this just happen?"
"Marci? Hello?"
The familiar sound of Caleb's voice muffled through the thick wood. She scrambled to her feet and started banging on the door. The creak of stairs answered.
"In here. I'm in here. I'm locked in my own bedroom." She closed her eyes and thunked her head against the door. Laughter spilled out, beating her tears to the punch.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
"What's not to be okay about?" She took a few steps back and flopped onto her bed, the laughter slowly dissipating. Breathing in deeply, she slumped.
"Marci? Stand back."
She shrugged. "Sure. I'm back."
With a quick crack, the door flung open. Caleb filled the frame, a dark shadow in the hall. As he stood there, she got a glimpse of the bear shifter he claimed to be.
"Are you okay?" He ran his hands along the grain of the wood on the door frame. "The door sticks, but that's never happened before."
She shrugged. "Probably the ghost."
Entering, he walked the perimeter of the room. "It's like forty degrees in here. It might be warmer outside."
"Yup. I noticed the cold already. Again. Probably the ghost."
He finally stopped and looked at her. "Was the ghost here? Are you okay?"
"Yeah. I suppose so. Except for the freezing cold. I thought we turned on the furnace before you left last night?"
His eyes raked over her, causing a shiver entirely different from before.
"What are you wearing?"
She couldn't stop herself from watching his lips move. A shiver independent of the cold racked her. The heat of his kiss, a memory she'd never forget. Of course, his bossy attitude would also be something she wouldn't soon forget.
Her breathing grew shallow as she fought the sensation to follow her instincts and go to him. It wasn't real though. Was it? Annie's words haunted her. Spell. The knowledge that someone had further meddled in her life salted her open wounds.
"I'll uh, go look at the thermostat and maybe you can put some more layers on." He started to walk across the room, stepping over her.
"What? I'm wearing shorts and a cardigan. I was too tired to bother finding anything else. Why does it bother you? I don't match or something? I'm not sure I like your tone. Where are you going?"
His eyes grew wide. "Look. I don't need a fight. I just figured you'd be less cold if you were wearing more than that though. Heading to the thermostat ..."
She tilted her feet back and forth admiring the boots -- anything to pull her focus away from the confusion in her head.
"Yeah. Sure. Heat would be good. Sorry. I'm just trying to work everything out."
"Like what? The heat? I'll get it figured out."
She looked up. "No. Did you hear Annie say that spells were unpredictable? What did that mean?"
He chewed his bottom lip for a second. "Yeah. I heard her. I don't know what to think of it.
Shaking his head, he moved to a small box on the wall. "The rooms each have a baseboard heater, not a furnace. It's a little pricey, so you'll rely on the fireplaces when possible. I turned it on last night, but I guess I didn't exactly tell you what I was doing." He tapped the dial. "You didn't turn it off last night though, so who did?
Marci got up and walked over to him. "I know I didn't.
