by AJ Sherwood
Snorting, I turned back to the listening men. “So there you have it. Want to go? Gym’s about a mile down the road.”
“Go!” Eli ordered strongly from somewhere inside the room. “I want a nap and can’t do that with you hovering.”
It wasn’t quite that simple, there was a bit of feet dragging, but Eli won and kicked them out. We headed out, me driving as I had the address, Booker riding shotgun with me.
“Thanks for this,” Booker said in his soft tenor voice. “We need to stay physically fit, but it’s hard with all the cases and weird hours.”
“Tell me about it. Even while training, we’d get called out sometimes to support someone else. Working out every day is a real challenge.” I enjoyed the simplicity of lifting weights, running. It gave me a nice break to just breathe. I also had the sense Mack wanted a little alone time too. It was one of those things I appreciated about him. He wasn’t one of those people who believed a couple had to do absolutely everything together. Mack respected that there were things I liked doing—like working out for a few hours—and didn’t insist I stop because he didn’t enjoy it. I’d broken up with someone once because they’d wanted to control what I did to match their own interests.
We didn’t really talk much on the way in, which was fine. I could tell they were still pretty tense. When we reached the gym, we basically headed to our own preferred stations first. I stretched, as I was feeling pretty locked up, and then hit the treadmill for a while. After five miles, I got off, then headed for weights. It wasn’t until I got to the benches that Quinn caught my eye.
“Spot me?” he requested.
“Sure.” I eyed the weights he already had on the bar and whistled soundlessly. Two hundred and forty pounds, huh? Damn, that was impressive.
Quinn hefted it up and started doing his reps. It was clear from the way he was lifting this wasn’t his max. It wasn’t often I met a man who could lift as much as I could.
“Brandon.”
“Yeah?”
He didn’t look at me, arms still moving steadily. “It made us all really happy, you know. The way you and Mack reacted to us. You just blinked and accepted it. We don’t get that very often.”
There were times I really wanted to punch people. My reaction shouldn’t have been so remarkable that he’d thank me for it. “I figured out I was bisexual not too long ago, and the people around me weren’t too accepting of it. It’s why I left SWAT. I’m not going to do that to someone else, man. If you and Booker and Eli are happy as you are, cool. I’m all for there being more love in the world.”
Quinn racked up the bar, I helped to situate it, then he sat up before giving me a wide smile. It crinkled up the corners of his eyes and emphasized the laugh lines in his face. “I like that attitude. But really, you left SWAT because of that?”
“Eh, and the FBI came by to recruit me. I felt like it was time for a change. And I love everything spooky, so when they hinted I could possibly go into this division? I jumped at the chance. Mack was an extra bonus I didn’t see coming.”
“How exactly did you two meet, anyway? We only got that a ghost was involved.”
I obligingly told him the story as we swapped places, him spotting me. Booker wandered over at some point, listening in and lifting barbells. He really was a quiet sort of man.
Since I was telling the story, I felt like it was a good opening to get more information about them too. “Booker, you seem a natural fit into the division, but I’ve never heard of a ghost hunter coming on board before.”
Booker shrugged, still lifting. “I’ve got a degree in Parapsychology. After graduating college, I worked with three different groups, trying to prove things, but it wasn’t working. I didn’t have the sight, and they didn’t have the right training or equipment to make things feasible. What with our different schedules, we couldn’t always meet and work, either. It was frustrating in the extreme. I approached the FBI just to see if they’d let me tag along on their investigations as a consultant.”
“That was about the same time Eli fell out with her work partner. And lost her arm.” Quinn’s face darkened, hands clenching at his sides. “She never has told us the full story. But the FBI promptly kicked him out, and he was blamed for the whole shitfest. If you ask her what happened, she’ll say something like she was in a bar fight gone wrong.”
I snorted.
“My personal favorite is that she was in New York when the Chituari landed.” Booker snickered. “And she doesn’t mind the arm as much, now.”
“Well, sure, not after you built her that steampunk thing that has all those pockets and stuff.” To me, Quinn explained, “The arm can hold three vials of holy water, salt packets, chalk, and a mini flashlight. She’s literally ‘armed’ with that thing. She can grasp and release objects, too.”
“I had wondered about it. It looked like it had compartments to open.” I found it interesting Booker had made it for her. The man was just full of surprises, wasn’t he? “So Booker, you met her first?”
“Yeah. Not by long. Maybe eight months or so? We’d gotten more or less settled with each other, were talking about bonding, when Quinn came along.” Booker shot his husband a sweet smile, a small upcurving of the lips. “Our missing piece.”
Quinn shared the smile. “It was a little alarming, I’ll be honest. These two don’t have a lot of patience when someone interests them, and there I was getting it on both sides. But I felt more at home with them than anywhere else, and I was sure of those feelings. Sure of them. It made the fight to stay together easier to weather.”
“Also helped that Sylvia was totally on board,” Booker pitched in, smile turning fond. “I think she accepted us at first because Eli clearly loved us both, and she supported her sister being happy. But when she really got to know us, she liked and trusted us, and that was important all around. We’re really glad you have Sylvia as your super. She’s good at taking care of her people.”
“I got that sense from the first time I spoke to her. I’m glad, too. A bad supervisor is the worst thing to have. Do you have a good one?”
“Ours is good, too. I think most of the supers in the PAD are good.”
I grimaced at the acronym. Sure, Paranormal Activity Division sounds good all spelled out, but really? The acronym sucked monkey balls.
Booker noticed my expression. “What?”
“I hate the acronym,” I admitted. “Sounds lame. Can’t we be called the Boogeymen or something?”
Quinn didn’t even hesitate. He threw his hand up in the air like someone calling for a vote. “Boogeymen, seconded!”
The man didn’t laugh externally, but Booker snickered on some level. “Thirded. I admit it does sound better.”
“Right? Maybe if we use it often enough, it’ll spread.” I sure as hell hoped so.
We switched up weights and did more reps. Booker finished first but stayed by, stretching and cooling down. I was feeling pretty loose and good with the workout but remained on task so Quinn could finish up. Not having a spotter was one of the stupider things you could do while lifting this much weight.
As Booker leaned over his leg, hand on his arch, he asked, “Brandon, did I understand it right that Mack can exorcise?”
“Yeah. It takes a lot out of him, but he can do it in a pinch. Why?”
Booker lifted his head, dark eyes studying me as if I possibly held an answer. “It’s not a common talent among mediums. We’ve been looking for a support team to go with us on the rougher cases, but most of the mediums who can exorcise either refuse adamantly to do it or they have their own…groove, I guess is the right word. They handle specific cases and not much else if they can help it.”
“We’re also rather impressed with Mack,” Quinn pitched in with a sigh as he set the weights down with a loud clank. “We’ve been on cases where shit hit the fan, and the other medium we were working with didn’t immediately come to help. They had to be told to, and even then sometimes told twice. Mack dropped everything an
d ran to Eli. He’s had her back ever since.”
I glanced at the two of them, not sure where they were going with this. “Surely that’s not so rare?”
“People are good at their jobs in the division, don’t mistake me. But not everyone has the same knee-jerk reflexes in dangerous situations.” Quinn sat up and eyed me the same way I was studying him. “You reacted just as quickly as he did. Best yet, you’re still helping us out. Like now, giving us a chance to breathe and regroup after last night’s shitshow. It’s not often we like people as much as we do you and Mack. I suppose what we’re asking is, if we have one of the rougher cases handed to us, can we call on you as support?”
This startled me, that we’d made such a positive impression on these two that they wanted to work with us again. But at the same time, I felt rather the same way about it. I liked them. I liked Ken and Falisa, too, but it wasn’t the same kind of feeling. “Sure. I think it’s fun to work with you three. I can only speak for myself, though.”
Both of them were super pleased at my answer, if their mile-wide grins were anything to go by. “Then let’s clean up and go ask your partner,” Quinn suggested.
We were done anyway, and a shower was definitely in order. “Yeah, sure.”
I got back to the room to find it empty, but I heard a suspicious amount of giggling coming out of the room across the hall. Mack had apparently gone to visit Eli at some point. I took a shower, enjoying the heat, and dressed in what was probably my last clean outfit. Laundry was definitely in order.
Coming out of the room, I almost bumped right into Ken, who was heading out. “Hey, Ken.”
“Hey,” he greeted. “Falisa and I thought we’d find lunch in the next hour or so. You want to join us?”
“Sure,” I agreed easily. “Let me grab everyone else, too. We all need to eat.”
“That we do. You seen Eli yet this morning?”
“Not seen, no, but that’s her and Mack giggling.”
Ken shot the closed door a relieved look. “Then she’s feeling better. God, that scared me, seeing her down like that. I thought maybe after lunch we could buy some Super Soakers, get some water blessed by one of the local priests.”
“I like the way you think.” It would probably look stupid, grown ass men running around with Super Soakers, but I didn’t question things that worked. I found it interesting, too, he’d mentioned only Falisa and not Delaney. The guy was probably still sulking in his room.
Ken went on his way, and I knocked before sticking my head into the other room. “Hey, you all decent in there?”
“Well, we are,” Mack returned suggestively.
I rolled my eyes and came all the way in. Sure enough, he and Eli were snuggled up next to each other on the bed, the laptop straddling their thighs, and The Witcher audibly playing. “You’re re-watching the bath scene aren’t you.”
Eli beamed at me. “I hadn’t actually watched the show. We started at the beginning. Mack just jumped ahead a little to show me the delights of Geralt of Rivia.”
“Uh-huh,” I deadpanned. “Well, Ken’s invited us all out to lunch. We thought we’d do some shopping for Super Soakers and get some more holy water blessed afterwards. Eli, you up for that?”
“Sure, I’m feeling better. The painkillers are doing their job, too.”
She did look better. Less pale, and the pain lines around her mouth and eyes were easing up. Eli struck me as the resilient type. “Okay, then put the nice sexy man down.”
“He’s a complete and utter spoilsport,” Eli complained to Mack.
Mack waggled his eyebrows at me in a ridiculous way. “Not always.”
Well, these two were in a fine mood. I offered Mack a hand and hauled him off the bed. He took the laptop with him, and we stepped out of the room long enough for him to retreat to ours and find shoes. As he put sneakers on, I stole the moment of privacy to relay, “Quinn and Booker asked if we wanted to possibly team up with them more often.”
Mack lifted his head, blinking up at me. “You guys sure got into a serious discussion while getting sweaty.”
I shrugged, not denying it. “I think they were taking advantage of having me to themselves, yeah. But what do you think?”
“I’m surprised they’re asking one day into knowing us.”
“It’s a mix of things on their end. They were super happy we didn’t look at them sideways because they’re poly. They’re also very impressed with you. Apparently not every medium jumps to Eli’s rescue when something goes wrong. They don’t want to wade into the fray if even an exorcist is struggling. You immediately running to her last night really impressed them.”
Mack shook his head sadly. “I understand why mediums would hesitate. Exorcists are the big leagues, after all. If they can’t handle it, odds are it’s super dangerous. But still, to leave a colleague stranded in a bad situation without even trying to help extract her?”
“I was also a little horrified by what they were saying. So do you see now why they asked?”
“Because I’ve already proven to have her back. Their backs, I should say.” Mack finished tying his shoelace and stood up, his expression thoughtful. “I don’t mind working with them when they need a medium. I like them. Eli is a riot, I’d love to be friends with her.”
I personally thought having a medium friend other than Beau would be really good for Mack. He needed more friends who understood him. “Then let’s tell them yes.”
Mack nodded. “And go find a priest willing to bless Super Soakers. I feel like that latter’s going to be the challenge.”
Laughing, I shrugged. He was probably right.
19
No one quite understood why ghosts were weaker during the day. If you listened to some, they claimed the moon and the witching hour gave them power. If you listened to others, it wasn’t that they were weaker in the day, it was just that there was less noise and light at night, so you saw them more easily. I really didn’t know which theory was correct, and it didn’t really matter. We (probably) had an advantage during daylight, so daylight it would be.
We all had a good night’s sleep, rendezvousing over breakfast in the hotel dining room. Since not all of us were awake—we were used to being night owls—there wasn’t much in the way of conversation.
In fact, it wasn’t until we arrived at the dorm’s parking lot that anyone really spoke. I had my head in the back of the Tahoe, helping unload the Super Soakers, when I heard Delaney clear as a bell.
“After we’ve got the third story blocked off, I’m coming back out. I’m not staying in the building when she goes in.”
The tone he used suggested he was trying to speak privately to someone, but he was a touch too loud. I turned and leaned out, staring around the side of the SUV to see him. Brandon stopped mid-motion too, craning backwards a few inches to look. Delaney had his back to me, facing Falisa, and the look on her face was priceless. Her jaw was in danger of hitting the ground, she was so speechless. And she looked ready to hit him.
“Delaney,” Ken said far more patiently than I would have, “you cannot just say no to a job. If we’re going to successfully trap this thing, we need all hands on deck. Splitting up was a mistake.”
Delaney’s voice slid into a whine. “I don’t want to deal with a ghost an exorcist can’t take out. And she’s weak, she lost to the ghost in two seconds.”
Now wait a minute. That was hardly fair. No one could completely defend themselves in pitch darkness. And Eli knew that, was pulling out when she’d been hit. It had been bad luck on her part more than anything.
Eli clearly heard him, and she stomped around the car to get right in his face. “First of all, I’m not a fucking ninja. No one is. I dare you to go into a pitch-black room and be able to fend off flying objects. Second, shit goes wrong on jobs like these. If you’re not willing to take the heat, then get out of the damn kitchen.”
“Delaney,” Falisa sighed and it was not a good sigh. It was an ‘I’m done with this idiot’
sigh. “Just go home. If you’re not willing to face any dangers, just go home.”
Delaney got that sour look on his face he always did when he was scolded and didn’t agree with it. “My fears are valid!”
“Kid.” Ken’s patience clearly had evaporated although he kept his voice level. “I’ve had easier jobs than this one. I’ve also had worse, when bad luck hit and everything that could possibly go wrong, did. You seem to think you can just walk away from this, hand it off to someone else. You’re forgetting. You’re the one they call when the situation’s fucked up and people need help. We’re the emergency response team. You can’t walk away from this. There’s no one else to call.”
Yes, that was exactly it. Ken couldn’t have put it more perfectly. We were the ones to fix the problem. We were the only ones who could. As a child, I’d have given my eye teeth to be able to call someone to help me. In fact, the division had existed back then—I just hadn’t known I could, in fact, call for help. Now, as an adult, I did know. And I was one of the people who chose to stand on the front line and battle.
Either someone hadn’t explained this well enough for Delaney to get it, or he’d not paid attention when he’d signed on. Maybe he thought the FBI would just show up and wave their hands, and the problem would magically solve itself without him having to crease his suit. Who the hell knew? But I knew this: I didn’t want him at my back. He didn’t have the grit or determination to get this job done.
Brandon apparently thought the same as he softly ordered, “Sit this out, Delaney. Go back to the hotel. We’ll get you a plane ticket home after we’re done here.”
Delaney turned on him so fast, I heard vertebrae pop. “You don’t get to fucking tell me what to do! Fine. Fine, I’ll do it.” Without another word, he stomped toward the front door. He looked remarkably like a toddler mid-tantrum, looking for something to break.
I watched him go with severe misgivings. I didn’t like the thought of such a bad-tempered adult in there with an already volatile malevolent. I wasn’t alone in that opinion, as everyone else looked to Falisa with the same expression of doubt.
