At quarter to eight, they’d finished setting up Ivan’s “witch stuff” and Helen had strapped a camera onto Killian, strung on his mic, and put new batteries in the walkie-talkies. She would stay outside in the van and monitor the cameras and technology. Ivan got an honorary microphone and walkie-talkie of his own for backup. They both had flashlights, but Killian tucked his into his coat pocket.
“Ready?” Ivan asked, smiling down at Killian. They’d known each other for a grand total of two and a half hours and Killian was getting ooey-gooey feelings when the guy smiled at him. Ridiculous.
“Yeah.”
“You never told me about your experience here as a kid.”
Killian frowned. “And I’m not going to, you nosey mother—uh, Ivan.”
The witch snorted. “I hope it isn’t relevant.”
“I can’t imagine it
