“I’ll text you. Meanwhile, take good care of your ass.” I slide a hand over his butt.

He grimaces. “Gwyn. I’m a full professor.”

I chuckle. “Like that mattered before. Well, I better get to Seamus’s. It’s almost lunchtime.”

“Have a wonderful afternoon, my love.”

I kiss him on the cheek. “You, too, honey.”

When I arrive at Dr. Duffy’s office, I tap on the door. It swings open, and he steps out, his cat-head cane in his hand and a leather book bag on his shoulder. I step back.

“Wasn’t I supposed to pick up a reference today?” I ask.

“Good morning, Gwynedd.” He pulls the door shut and puts on his navy-blue blazer. “You are correct. I was in a rush to get to class and inadvertently left it at the house. I’m on the way now. Would you care to take a stroll with me?”

“Sure. I was going home to eat lunch, anyway.”

“Excellent.” He motions up the hallway. “Shall we?”

While we walk to his bungalow on Drummond Lane, a block from Leslie’s small Tudor, we discuss the recent baby kidnapping.

“I was there,” I say, frowning. “Ronnie and I comforted the parents. So sad.”

“I know. I was there as well.” He averts his eyes.

“Of course you were. Listen. You can’t keep following me around, Seamus. I understand you feel a sense of commitment to protect me, but you promised to limit your…stalking.”

He returns his gaze to me. “I’d had dinner at the Raven Pub and heard the police sirens. A local in the crowd told me what had transpired. The connection I have with you remains. I knew you weren’t in danger.”

“Well, I feel stupid. I’m sorry I accused you.”

“You have not offended me, I assure you.” He gestures to his front door as we approach. “The book is in the spare bedroom I use as an office.”

After entering the house, Seamus limps without his cane into the bedroom, and I follow. To my amazement, I discover the painting of my mother in a field of flowers on the wall over his desk. I swear the fragrance of lavender exudes from the image.

“You hung the picture of my mom. It looks fabulous there,” I say.

He stares at the painting. “Yes. No need to hide it anymore since you learned of my friendship with your Great-Aunt Gorawen. Lowri Crowther was an attractive woman.” He locks eyes with me. “As are you, Gwynedd.”

I swallow and my bladder calls. Excellent timing, for once. “Excuse me. I need to use your bathroom.”

“Of course. You know where it is.”

I dash to the toilet to relieve myself, flinching at the macabre painting of the Dearg Due that hides behind the door when it’s open. Another creature that slipped through the portal. How many more will the town endure? I wash up and return to the spare bedroom. Seamus offers the book to me as I enter the room, and I approach him, tripping over his cane. He catches me in his arms, and I peer up at his eyes. A longing remains in them, but what can I do about it?

“Oops. I’m such a klutz.” I push away from his awkward embrace and adjust my long-sleeved tee.

“Forgive me. I should have placed my cane in a safer place.”

“Tripping is engrained in my DNA. You could have stored it under the bed and I would have managed to fall over it.”

He chuckles, and for the first time, I notice a more laid-back demeanor—a lowering of his cat sith armor.

“It’s good to hear you laugh. You’re always so serious.”

“You bring out that part of me, Gwynedd. I buried it deep down years ago.” He shifts closer to me and leans on the desk. “I am so incredibly grateful to you for reigniting my soul.”

Oh, my gods. This man isn’t infatuated. He’s in love with me. What am I going to do? What do I say? He knows I’m with Archie. I take the book from his hand and move toward the doorway.

“I should get going. Gotta eat lunch and continue with my capstone project.”

As I hasten to the front door, I can sense his presence behind me. I swallow again and turn my head.

“Thank you for the reference, Seamus. I’ll return it as soon as I have time to sift through its pages.”

He smiles warmly. “I am at your service, Gwynedd. Whenever you require it.”

I force a smile, exit his house, and head to Leslie’s. I can’t explain it, but I sense his protective grasp while I stroll home.

This is going to be a problem.

Despite the gloomy skies and threat of rain, Ronnie and I take a hike in North Basin Creek Park on Saturday morning. She has to get her steps in or she can’t sleep at night. For now, the temperature trends warmer. I stare up at the ominous clouds. Those threatening skies are going to dump on us any minute. Did we make a mistake?

“I realize you need your exercise, but we’re gonna get pummeled shortly,” I say, the stones crunching as I step.

“Nah.” Ronnie gathers her crimson curls into a ponytail. “We’re good until noon. We have two more hours. Plenty of time to complete the loop.”

“Ugh. Do we have to hike back on the trail through the bog? With the higher temp, gnats will cover the area. I’m not in the mood for wiping black insect dots off my face.”

Ronnie sports a fake pout. “Please? Returning on the same trail bores me. The pests may not be so bad.”

“You win. But let’s definitely leave the bog side for our return.”

“Thanks, Gwyn. I’m so big now, I feel like a whale and waddle like a duck. I don’t know how Derek gets it up.”

“Oh, stop.” I laugh, and my amusement resounds through the forest. “You look radiant. You were always gorgeous, but you’re positively glowing during this pregnancy.”

“I guess,” she says. “Have you had any luck with your search for the monster from your vision?”

“No, but I keep looking. I don’t have a lot of time between school and work. And then there’s the question of the mound. The coven hasn’t met at Agnes’s house to finish sifting through the remaining grimoires yet. I doubt we will now. The Celtic Studies department took a hit when the College of Arts and Sciences cut the additional full-time professor position. The single person they added was Dr. Ashley Lewis, and she’s an instructor. Leslie, Archie, and Seamus all had to overload their schedules. That leaves very few hours to complete the spell database. I think Leslie has given up on finding an incantation to close the portal.”

“I wish I could help, but I’m a little…you know.” She points to her bump.

“Don’t you dare worry about it. You have plenty on your plate. We may not get to the last of the grimoires until the semester is over. If we can’t find a spell by then, Archie says we’ll ask his family for suggestions when we visit. Aunt Gorawen couldn’t help. She thinks the ancestral witch who wrote the incantation in my family’s tome must have left out a step or an ingredient. That’s her best guess, anyway.”

“Meanwhile, we all worry every day about what could cross over from the Otherworld. Keep looking for that gray-skinned dude.”