Mack's Perfectly Ghastly Homecoming (Mack's Marvelous Manifestations Book 2)

by AJ Sherwood

  “I figured. What you’re saying more or less lines up with Falisa’s report. She made the observation that this thing was trying to drive you out more than hurt you, though.”

  I hadn’t really thought about it, to be honest. I’d been too wrapped up in Brandon. But now that she said it, it sort of made sense. “We were in a room surrounded by chairs and tables and such. If it wanted to hurt us, surely throwing something at us would have been more effective. And it’s been hurting students, sure, but it was all low-grade energy stuff. Scratches and pushes. I think it’s trying hard to be something it’s not. Or not yet. If there hadn’t been inverted talismans inviting it in, I’m not sure if would have gotten into the dorm building to begin with.”

  “That’s my take on it. It’s trying very hard to be more badass than it is right now. Getting you out of the building was the first step to clearing the area, buying more time. Alright, I think I have a better feel for what I’m walking into.”

  “Ma’am, I don’t know how much help I’ll be, but I’ll do what I can as support.”

  “Ah, you’re sweet. I now understand why Sylvia likes you. I’ll take what help I can get. We might have to chase this sucker down. First off, I’ll text you my flight itinerary. Can you fetch us from the airport?”

  “Of course.”

  “Thanks bunches. Get a me room at whatever hotel you’re staying at too. Single room, king-sized bed.”

  “That I can definitely do. Anything else?”

  “I’ll text you a list of supplies, get those if you can. Tell me what you can’t get. We’re going to trap this thing so I can get hold of it. Oh, and Mack—can I call you that?”

  “Please do.”

  “Thanks. Call me Eli, okay? I understand you’re very newly bonded.”

  “As of yesterday.” I was still a little giddy about that.

  “Congrats on that.” Her tone was sincere. “Do us all a favor and walk around some today, get used to your new sight, okay?”

  “I’d planned to,” I promised her.

  “Really? Because when I was newly bonded, all I planned to do was have hot monkey sex.”

  I snickered. I had a feeling I’d come to love this woman. “That was yesterday.”

  Eli cackled. “Man after my own heart. Now, one more thing to clarify. The other medium Falisa’s training—what was his name?”

  “Delaney.”

  “Yeah, him. My anchor’s been calling him the Douchebag. We heard about what went down, how he tried to whittle you and your anchor to size. First off, you’re not going to get that issue with us, okay?”

  I was relieved she’d expressly said so. “Thanks.”

  “When you see me with mine, you’ll understand,” she promised somewhat cryptically. “But I want your take on this too. How bad is Delaney? Is he a total write-off, I can’t use him at all?”

  “I don’t have the same history with him as Falisa does,” I cautioned, weighing my words carefully. “To me, he just came off as a jerk and a liar. I wouldn’t trust his word on anything, that’s for sure. He’s also still unstable with his ability.”

  “Hmm. His boss is strongly urging me to give this guy another chance. I know why, we’re more short-staffed than usual, and we as a division can’t lose a potential candidate. But I’m not getting good vibes about this guy from either you or Falisa. And homophobia in general pisses me right off. If I give him a chance, it’ll be under very close supervision.”

  “That’s fair,” I allowed. I was personally of the opinion that Delaney had realized he’d really screwed up this time. If it was a matter of him losing the ability to work for the FBI altogether, he might have decided he really should straighten his act up. Maybe. I didn’t know him well enough to judge, and that was part of the problem. “Just don’t put him with us if you can help it. Brandon’s ready to flatten him.”

  “Seems to me he needs a bit of flattening. But we’ll work out logistics when I get there and can see with my own eyes the layout of the building. A lot depends on that. Well. Mack, you’ve been very helpful and candid. Thanks. I’ll see you tomorrow. And enjoy more hot monkey sex, okay?”

  I laughed, delighted at the teasing. “Ma’am, yes ma’am!”

  Brandon popped his head out of the bathroom. “Who were you talking to?”

  “Our exorcist. Get dressed, cher, then we’ll find breakfast. I’ll fill you in on the way.”

  One of the things Eli had requested was salt, and a lot of it. Falisa and Ken offered to go and buy some, as we technically still had the day off, and we left them to it.

  Mama wanted to have lunch with us, so we headed up towards Opelousas but not directly there. I guided Brandon to one of the many graveyards in the city. I wanted practice with my sight, and this was the easiest place to go. Saint Charles Borromeo Cemetery was right off the beaten path coming up from Lafayette, and the most sensible place to stop. It was a peaceful place, with wide open fields on all sides and mature trees shadowing the gravestones. On this slightly chilly day, I didn’t appreciate the shade, but I did prefer the privacy.

  We bypassed the large white church sitting on the grounds, heading towards the cemetery itself. Parts of it were blocked off by a low fence—probably a family plot—and another was secreted into the side of a hill. It was a funny sort of place in that aspect, as little of it was perfectly lined up. Showed its age that way, I supposed.

  Brandon’s hand found mine as we slowly strolled through the grounds. He felt warm even in this chill. The person who’d thought up the adage ‘cold hands, warm heart’ had never met Brandon Havili.

  This graveyard didn’t hold unpleasant memories for me, per se, as I’d only been to it a few times in my life. But graveyards in general sat uneasily with me. My brothers had thought it marvelous fun to drag me into such places and then abandon me there. If Brandon wasn’t with me now, I wouldn’t be so nonchalant about walking these grounds.

  It didn’t take a minute of us being there before I saw a spirit. She sat on her gravestone, just looking out over the fields. I stopped where I was and looked at her for the longest time.

  “How is it?” Brandon asked quietly.

  “Different,” I answered, not sure how to describe the change. “She’s more transparent to me. More…distinctly otherworldly. I don’t know how else to put it. Before, spirits to me were just like flesh and blood. I couldn’t separate them out without truly looking at them head-on. Now, I feel like if I passed her, I might initially make the mistake. But all it would take would be a moment, and I’d see the difference.”

  “So a glance might still confuse you, but nothing else?”

  “That’s what it feels like. She’s so obviously a ghost to me, even in that first second of looking.” That satisfied me immeasurably. Maybe I wouldn’t be such a road hazard now.

  We walked a bit more, and I stopped at the base of a tree to look over at the gentleman who sat on one of the stone mausoleum. Again, it only took me a moment. It might have been excused away because I was in a graveyard—of course there were ghosts at every turn. But still, I didn’t mistake him as anything else. I took immense heart in that.

  More ghosts popped up as we walked about, but they seemed content to stay where they were, and I wasn’t interested in hassling them.

  After twenty minutes of tooling about, I tugged Brandon toward the car. “Okay, that’s enough. I’ve seen what I need to.”

  Brandon went willingly, shortening his stride to match mine. His head canted, he studied me curiously. “You don’t like the atmosphere here?”

  “It’s not that, cher. The place is pretty and well-kept. I just have a bad history with cemeteries.” A few choice memories popped to mind, and I grimaced. “It got to the point that, after about age seven, Mama would leave me home and not let me near any funerals. These grounds are like a battlefield to me. I never know if I’ll meet friend or foe, and they don’t wear uniforms to tell me the difference.”

  “Fair enough.” Brandon, bless him, d
idn’t ask another question after that.

  Loading back up into the SUV, we traveled the rest of the distance to the hardware store in companionable silence. I still held his hand. People joked about ‘bonding behavior’ and how bonded couples especially were touchy-feely. I no doubt would get some teasing because of my behavior, but I couldn’t seem to help myself. If anyone had spent as many years as I had on their own, only to be handed this amazing man to be a partner and protector? They’d be a bit over the moon about it too.

  We swung by to pick up lunch, then went to my mother’s workplace. She only had a half-hour lunch break, which didn’t give her a lot of time. But I knew her favorites and picked up a barbecue sandwich with her preferred fixings.

  We came through the front door of the store and Mama immediately came around the cashier counter, giving us both a hug that threatened my air supply. I knew she was happy for me, but seeing her face now, I saw that relief overwhelmed the happiness. Most of my life, she’d struggled with how to help me. First in believing what I could do, what I saw, and then supporting me as I struggled to figure it out.

  I’d not realized how much she trusted Brandon up until this moment. She smiled up at him, and there wasn’t a trace of shadow in that expression. But then, he’d earned that trust, too.

  “We will celebrate later,” I promised her and wished I’d taken a picture of that hug. “Let’s eat lunch before it gets any colder.”

  She led us straight through the store, to the back area where a breakroom sat. It was a simple picnic table with a mini fridge, microwave, and coffee maker standing by. We spread out over the picnic table and dug in, all of us hungry.

  I wanted to talk to her about something but figured I’d start out easy first. “We’ve got a limited amount of time here. An exorcist is coming in tomorrow, and we’ll really have to buckle down then, so today’s the only free time we have until we win the battle.”

  Nodding, she swallowed what was in her mouth. “Let’s do a family dinner tonight to celebrate, then.”

  Annnnd here we go. “Mama, most of my siblings won’t be happy about this.”

  Her mouth tightened. “So you don’t want me to invite them?”

  “I think it would be better if you only invite the people who will be happy for me. Otherwise you’re asking for drama.”

  “People do grow up, you know.” Mama looked defensive on the part of her children.

  Brandon shot me a look that plainly asked if we should tell her about Georgie. I was of two minds on the whole thing, frankly, and wasn’t sure which was the better tactic. Not that I wanted to do my brother any favors, but I didn’t want to break my mother’s heart, either.

  She caught the look, and her eyes darted between us. “What? What are you not telling me?”

  Brandon sighed gustily. “Adelle, that day we were fixing up the house? We found Georgie raiding your fridge.”

  She winced.

  “We got into a fight, and Brandon ended up throwing him out of the house,” I added, also wincing. “He’s changed, but I don’t think for the better.”

  “He’s just…not a happy person.” Her hands lowered, and she stared at her half-eaten lunch as if it held the answers to the universe. “I stopped helping him last month. I was about to lose the house if I didn’t. That’s when I realized he was raiding the fridge. What was I supposed to do, let my child go hungry? I didn’t say anything about it.”

  “Mama, you realize he’s spending what money he has on alcohol and using you to feed himself. You know that.”

  “I do,” she said in a tired way. “He’s too much like his father. Alright, I won’t invite Georgie. But I’m inviting everyone else. It’s time they realized you’re a man in your own right, and I want them to meet Brandon.”

  I still felt that was a bad plan, but at least she had the good sense to leave Georgie out of this. I didn’t want to get into an argument about Georgie at this moment so I let it go. “What time do you want us there?”

  “Six or so, I think. That should give us time to cook.” Her expression lightened a little as she switched topics. “Mon angé, I’ve thought about your offer on the car. I think I’ll do that. We’ve got a three-day holiday coming up next month, I’ll book a flight for then.”

  I was so relieved she’d agreed. “Excellent. I can’t wait for you to meet the Havilis. And Jon. Jon’s a kick in the pants, that one.”

  She nodded, smiling. “I’m looking forward to it, too. But tell me about your sight. You mentioned this morning you wanted to test it. I’m too curious to wait for tonight. You said it changed?”

  “It’s sort of a subtle difference, but yes, it has. Brandon and I took a walk through a graveyard earlier so I could practice a little. In a nutshell, my sight’s sharper. Living and spectral energy have more definition to me now. At a glance, I’ll probably still be fooled. Which probably means driving is still out. But if I’m paying proper attention, I can tell the difference more readily now.”

  “That’s excellent!” she enthused. “Is that the only difference?”

  “For my talent, yes, that seems to be it. Although honestly, I feel more stable now than I ever have before.” I gave my lover a teasing wink. “Have you ever had a dream come true you’d never even allowed yourself to wish for?”

  Mama’s smile turned soft and gentle. “In this case, mon angé, I did the wishing for you.”

  “Oh, is that what happened?” I grinned back at her. “Well, excellent job, then.”

  “Why thank you.”

  Brandon snorted, shaking his head. “I accept the compliment.”

  Mama patted my hand. “I’m running out of time. We’ll talk more tonight at dinner. You’re not going back to work after that, are you?”

  “Can’t. Exorcist arrives tomorrow. We’ve got time until then. For tonight, is there anything I should pick up at the store? Or set out to thaw for you?”

  “No, you just relax. You and Brandon have both been scurrying about ever since you came in.”

  There was truth. I wouldn’t be able to rest idly about, though. Maybe I’d tackle finishing that bathroom. I had about four hours to kill, that should be enough for the first coat of paint, at least. Wisely, I decided to not tell her that. Let it be a surprise.

  16

  Mack had the bathroom completely painted and a primer coat up in the hallway by the time that Adelle made it into the house. She hugged us both again for helping her, and it really made me wonder—was Mack the only child she had who routinely helped her? It might’ve been part of the reason why she was so anxious that he would no longer live near her.

  Since I was not a painter, I chose to help Adelle cook instead. With so many people potentially coming, there was a lot of cooking to do. I’d learned at my mother’s knee how to be a good kitchen assistant and fell to it.

  Adelle handed me an apron with a pleased smile. “Bless you, cher, it was a bit much for just me to do. If you’ll scrub the mirlitons and cut them in half, I’ll get started on the stuffing.”

  I looked at the kitchen table, where she’d laid out the ingredients, and didn’t have a clue what she meant. “The what?”

  “The pear-shaped squashes,” she directed, pointing toward the green things piled up in a bowl. They really did look like pears, only the wrong color. They were too green and wrinkly to be mistaken for pears. “Have you not had stuffed mirlitons before?”

  “Uh, no. This one’s new to me.” This had to be a truly Louisianan dish.

  “Oh? They don’t sell these up north?”

  It was funny to think of Tennessee as ‘up north’ but from here I supposed it was. “Uh, not that I’m aware of.”

  “Then you’re in for a treat,” she informed me, as proud as if she’d made up the recipe herself. “We stuff these with bread crumbs, shrimp, ham, scallions, garlic, and celery. Makes a fine meal, and it’s filling, a good thing to feed a lot of people with.”

  I hauled the pear-things over to the sink and started washing t
hem. “Yeah? I’m looking forward to it, then. Do we make anything else to go with it?”

  “I’ll get some bread baking in a minute. It’s rather a meal in itself.”

  “I can see that.”

  We got to chopping and mixing and cooking. It felt, strangely, as if I’d reverted a little back to childhood and was helping my mother in the kitchen. But it didn’t, at the same time. Probably because I was making something I’d never seen before with a woman who didn’t really believe in measuring ingredients. It was a strange nostalgia I chose to enjoy rather than question. As we cooked, Adelle tentatively asked me questions about my family, my history. I knew she’d probably only heard what little Mack had told her, and she was worried about her son being out in the wide world. It wasn’t always a friendly place. I answered every question she put to me as honestly and thoroughly as I could. I hoped the answers relaxed her. They certainly seemed to, as her body language lost a great deal of its tension as I spoke.

  Mack washed up and joined us, going through the motions so smoothly I could only assume he’d made this recipe with his mother many, many times before. We had things in the oven, and the table was set by the time the first sibling came.

  The woman who came through the door had to be related to Mack. She had the same eyes, the same curly dark hair, although her skin tone was more of a tawny color. She had a round figure, as if she’d had two or three kids and not lost all the baby weight along the way. I couldn’t quite peg which sister this was—either the eldest or second eldest was my guess.

  “Izora,” Mack greeted with a wide smile.

  Ah, this was the sister he liked the best. I watched them hug each other. It wasn’t a quick in and out, but an embrace that lingered with them rocking back and forth subtly for a second before letting go. I liked her already just from the happy way she greeted my Mack.