Closer: Bay City Paranormal Investigation book 4

by Ally Blue

  On screen, Bo’s voice faltered. The picture jerked and dipped.

  “There.” Andre halted the video. “Did you see it?”

  “No.” Bo let go of Sam’s hand and leaned forward over Andre’s shoulder. “Replay it frame by frame.”

  Andre went back a few seconds, then restarted the video in slow motion. Sam kept his gaze glued to the screen. Just as the picture jerked and bobbed, Sam saw it—a strange, swirling blur in the lower right corner, as if the scene were a painting where the colors had run together. The hairs on his arms stood up.

  “You saw it that time, right?” David asked, shooting Sam a questioning look.

  Sam nodded. “Yeah.”

  Frowning, Bo shook his head. “All I saw was movement artifact.”

  Dean gaped at him. “Seriously? You didn’t see that in the corner?”

  “I saw that, yes.”

  “And?”

  “And, it’s a blur.” Bo gestured toward the screen. “I stumbled, my shoulder hit the wall, and that jogged the camera. I really don’t think there’s any more to it than that.”

  Andre stopped the video and looked up at Bo. “I see your point, but this doesn’t look to me like something you’d normally see from camera movement.”

  “Well, yeah, but it still could be the camera moving,” David added, rubbing his chin. “I mean, it does look unusual to me, but you gotta admit we really can’t rule out movement as the cause. Especially since it only lasts like half a second. Even frame by frame there’s only a few shots of it.”

  “Thank you, David.” Bo gave Sam an I-told-you-so look. He didn’t say a word about the strange vision which had caused him to stumble in the first place, and Sam knew if he were to spill the beans Bo would make him suffer for it.

  Feeling trapped and irritated, Sam stalked across the room to snatch his beach towel off the floor. “I’m going to take a shower.”

  He hung the towel over the back of a chair and strode out of the room. Bo didn’t follow. Sam wasn’t sure why he’d expected him to.

  Once he got upstairs Sam opted for a bath instead of a shower, and lingered far longer than he should have. He tried to tell himself he wasn’t waiting for Bo to join him, but he was, and there was no point in pretending otherwise.

  When the water became uncomfortably tepid and Sam’s fingers and toes were pruned and corpse-white, he gave up. He opened the drain, climbed out and dried off, then went into the bedroom to get dressed.

  He put on his favorite black cargo shorts and the threadbare red Wintzell’s Oyster House T-shirt he’d borrowed from Bo months ago and ended up keeping. Bo called it Sam’s security blanket, claiming he wore it whenever he was feeling down or needed reassurance about something. Sam supposed that was true. At least, it was true at the moment. Right now, he felt angry and afraid, and utterly helpless in the face of Bo’s stubborn refusal to acknowledge that anything out of the ordinary might be happening to him.

  But what if he’s right? Maybe it really is nothing. Maybe you’re so afraid of losing him that you’re seeing monsters where there aren’t any.

  Sam let out a deep sigh. His emotions were jumbled, his thoughts confused, and he just wanted the whole problem to go the fuck away.

  Thunder rumbled in the distance. Drawn by the promise of the violent weather which always calmed his mind, Sam wandered onto the porch. The wind had picked up, whipping the crests of the choppy waves into foaming whitecaps. Lightning flashed against the blackness gathering on the horizon.

  As he watched, gunmetal gray clouds swallowed the blue sky bit by bit. The lightning streaked closer and closer. Thunder shook the house. A few lone drops spattered the porch railing, bringing with them the sharp, earthy scent of the approaching rain. Finally, the clouds blotted out the sun and the rain pelted down, swathing the world in a silver-gray curtain. Sam fell into a chair and settled in to watch the storm.

  The rain had tapered to a light drizzle and scattered sunlight had begun to break through the clouds by the time Bo joined Sam on the porch. He sat in the chair beside Sam’s, reached over and took Sam’s hand. Their fingers intertwined, and Sam felt better.

  “You’re still going to the fort tonight, aren’t you?” Sam asked eventually. He didn’t look at Bo, just stared out over the ocean. The water was rough and gray in the wake of the storm.

  Bo was silent for a moment, his thumb rubbing absent circles on the back of Sam’s hand. “I’d like to.”

  “I figured.” Gripping Bo’s hand tighter, Sam turned to meet his gaze. “I wish you wouldn’t, Bo. I don’t know why I feel so apprehensive about you being there, but I do.”

  “Is it just me you feel that way about?”

  “Yeah. When I think about the rest of the group—including me—being there, it doesn’t bother me. The rest of us feel safe to me. But you don’t.” Sam curled one leg into the chair beneath him. “I realize I have nothing really concrete to base that on. The blur on the video is inconclusive, I know, even though it seems completely wrong to be the result of camera movement. Even those…visions, spells, whatever they are you keep having, don’t prove anything.”

  “That’s only happened to me once. But you’re right, it proves nothing. I’m glad you’re finally seeing that.”

  Sam stared at their clasped hands, choosing his words carefully. “It’s happened at least twice since last night,” he said, keeping the anger and frustration from his voice with a huge effort. “This morning while we were running, then again in the water.”

  “No, it hasn’t.”

  “Yes, it has. Don’t lie to me.”

  “I’m not—”

  Sam silenced Bo’s protest with a savage glare. He snatched his hand from Bo’s grip. “Just stop it, Bo. I thought you trusted me more than this. If you don’t, fine, whatever, I’ll live. Just don’t sit there and lie to my face.”

  Silence. Bo’s eyes searched Sam’s face. In the distance, a low rumble sounded as the storm moved north.

  “Okay,” Bo spoke up at last. His voice was soft and shaky. “You’re right. I’ve had more of those…whatever they are. I have no idea what to call them.”

  Drawing his legs up, Sam wrapped his arms around his bent knees. “Why couldn’t you tell me that before? Didn’t you think I’d understand?”

  “That’s not it at all.” Bo tugged hard on the end of his braid. “I dismissed what happened as a result of too little sleep. I haven’t actually seen anything, even though I called it a hallucination before. It was nothing but a very strange, very brief feeling of being somewhere else. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust you to understand. I knew you would. It’s just that I truly didn’t think anything of it, and I didn’t want to worry you unnecessarily.”

  “So what changed your mind about telling me?”

  Bo grinned, and the unexpected change of expression was like the sun shining after the storm. “You mean other than your incessant nagging?”

  Sam had to laugh. “Yes, other than that, since I know you well enough to know nagging never works.”

  “Because it’s happened too often to dismiss it anymore. Once is a random event. Twice is a coincidence. More than that is a pattern.” Rising to his feet, Bo started pacing a tight circle on the damp boards of the porch. “I still don’t think it has anything to do with the fort, or with any potential portals.”

  “How’d you know that’s what I was thinking?” Sam uncurled his legs and planted one bare foot on Bo’s knee, stopping his pacing.

  “Because I know you.” Bo shot a fond look at Sam. “I suppose I can’t blame you, really, after all we’ve seen and experienced in relation to the portals.”

  Snagging Bo’s wrist with one hand, Sam pulled him onto his lap. “If what you’ve been experiencing isn’t related to the portals, what do you think it is? I’m assuming you don’t still think it’s just exhaustion or whatever.”

  Bo’s brow furrowed. He wound an arm around Sam’s shoulder, fingers playing with the tendrils of hair curling against his nap
e. “Honestly? I don’t know. Whatever’s causing these episodes, they don’t seem to be particularly dangerous. But if they continue, I’ll go see my doctor after we get home. And I don’t think I should be driving right now, just in case.”

  “I agree.” Filled with a mingling of relief and renewed worry, Sam wrapped both arms around Bo and held him tight. He buried his face in the curve of Bo’s neck. “Let’s go back home, right now. Today. You can call your doctor, and I’ll take you to see him. Let’s find out what the fuck’s going on.”

  Bo rested his cheek against Sam’s hair. “It’s Friday afternoon, Sam. Even if I were to get hold my doctor this late, there’s no way I could get in to see him until Monday. We might as well stay. If I’m still having the episodes then, we’ll head back to Mobile and I’ll go to the doctor. Okay?”

  It wasn’t okay, really, but Sam knew better than to argue. Bo had his mind made up, and nothing short of a catastrophic event would change it. Sam figured it was better to stay here and keep a close eye on Bo than to force the issue and end up spending the next few days with a tight-lipped and angry lover and no real change in the situation.

  “All right,” Sam agreed. “But I still don’t think you should keep going to the fort.”

  “Whatever is causing me to feel these strange things, Sam, it’s nothing to do with the fort.” Bo’s voice was surprisingly calm, his fingers gentle and soothing in Sam’s hair.

  “Maybe not. I don’t know. I just don’t feel good about you being there.” Turning his head, Sam pressed a soft kiss to Bo’s throat. “Please, Bo, don’t go there.”

  Bo sighed. Straightening up in Sam’s lap, he cradled Sam’s face in his hands and stared into his eyes. “They need us. Andre won’t say so, but they do. Fort Medina is too big for four people to cover.”

  “Andre wouldn’t have accepted the job if he didn’t think they could do it without us. You know that.”

  Something hard and desperate flitted through Bo’s eyes and was gone before Sam could grasp it, replaced by a sincerity Sam suspected wasn’t entirely genuine. “I tell you what, Sam. Let’s go tonight, and see what happens. If I keep having those hallucinations, we’ll stay out of the investigation from now on.”

  “Promise?”

  “Yes. I promise.”

  Sam studied Bo’s face. He seemed to mean what he said, but his eyes were shuttered, and Sam had the uneasy feeling Bo would break this promise like he’d broken the one he made to stay out of the case in the first place.

  He’s going to go whether you like it or not. Go with him, and watch him. Maybe he’s right, anyway. You have no proof that any of this is caused by potential portals, or anything else out of the ordinary.

  “I don’t like it,” Sam told him. “But I don’t really have a choice, do I? You’ll do what you please no matter what I think.”

  He hadn’t meant for the words to sound as bitter as they did, but there it was. He was bitter, and a little hurt. Why shouldn’t Bo know that?

  To Sam’s surprise, Bo didn’t respond with clipped, angry rebuttals like he usually did. Instead, he leaned down and kissed Sam’s lips, the touch lingering and tender. Sam closed his eyes and let the feeling carry him away.

  “I’m so sorry,” Bo murmured as they drew apart. He stroked Sam’s face. “I seem to say that a lot lately, don’t I? But it’s true. I’m sorry for whatever I’ve done to make you think I don’t care about your needs, or your opinion. I do care. I wish you could believe that.”

  Sam smiled, but there was no joy in it. “So do I.”

  For a second, Bo seemed torn between guilt and indignation. He opened his mouth, closed it again, then shook his head. “Okay. I’m going to start dinner. I’ll call you when it’s ready.”

  Pushing to his feet, Bo dropped a kiss on Sam’s forehead and walked back into the house. Sam didn’t try to stop him.

  ***

  At eight-thirty that night, the group piled into the SUV for the trip to the fort. Sam sat in the back with Dean, staring at Bo’s profile. Bo was in the front beside Andre, who was driving as he usually did. They were talking. Discussing the case, Sam figured, though he made no attempt to listen. The only reason he’d come tonight was to keep two sharp eyes on Bo. If he’d thought anything short of physical restraint would’ve kept Bo away, neither of them would be here.

  Not that he hadn’t considered it. Watching Bo load equipment into the SUV, eyes gleaming with anticipation, Sam had been sorely tempted to throw Bo over his shoulder, carry him inside and tie him to a chair until the rest of the group returned from the night’s work. The fear of Bo leaving him, for good this time, was the only thing that stopped him.

  Fucking pathetic, Sam, he chided himself, watching Bo’s fingers toy with the tail of his braid. When did you get to be so whipped?

  An elbow nudged his arm. He turned to meet Dean’s worried gaze. “What?” he snapped, and instantly regretted it. After all, Dean had done nothing to deserve being yelled at. “I’m sorry, Dean. What is it?”

  Dean’s eyebrows went up. “I’d ask what’s making you so damn cranky, but I bet I know.”

  Sam sighed and leaned back to let his head rest against the back of the seat. “Bo and I had another fight.”

  “Thought so. About the fort?”

  “Yeah. Well, mostly.”

  “You didn’t think he should go, but he ignored you.” It wasn’t a question.

  “Got it in one.” Sam let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “The hell of it is, he wasn’t even unpleasant. He was so sweet to me. He told me how much he loves me, and how important I am to him, and he apologized yet again for how he was acting. But here we are anyway. Nothing changes, ever.”

  Dean was quiet for a moment, watching Sam’s face. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but don’t you think you’re overreacting a little?”

  Sam shot a glare at Dean. “No, I’m not.”

  “Then explain it to me.” Dean twisted in his seat to face Sam. “I understand why you’re upset about this. Y’all were supposed to be here on vacation, and now we’re here and Bo’s gotten all caught up in our new case. It sucks, but frankly I don’t see why you’re this upset about it. What’s really going on, Sam? Tell me.”

  Sam sat up straight and glanced toward the front of the vehicle. David and Cecile were both leaning forward from the middle seats, involved in an intense discussion with Bo and Andre.

  Moving closer to Dean, Sam lowered his voice to a near-whisper. “You remember that weird blur on the video Bo took last night?”

  “Yeah. Bo said he stumbled and that’s what made the camera move and the picture blur.” Dean shrugged. “Made sense, actually.”

  “But he didn’t just stumble. He had a… Well, he called it a hallucination. I don’t know what to call it, but it sure as hell wasn’t normal.”

  Dean stared at him, eyes wide. “What did he see?”

  “He said he didn’t see anything, but he felt like he was somewhere else. He said it was dark and hard to breathe.”

  Frowning, Dean brushed a lock of hair out of his eyes. “That’s definitely not normal.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “How long did it last?”

  “Only for a split second. But Bo said he felt as if he was there in that other place for ages, even though he knew it was practically no time at all.”

  “Huh.” Dean glanced at Bo. “Let me guess. That wasn’t the only time it happened.”

  “Right again. It happened again this morning on our run, and again while we were swimming.”

  “And nothing like that has ever happened to him before?”

  “No. And he had a nightmare last night that was very similar to the vision or whatever it was he had.”

  “Wow.”

  “Yeah.” Sam picked at a loose thread in the hem of his shorts. “I had the same dream the night before, Dean. Exactly the same. The last time that sort of thing happened was at Oleander House.”

  “Christ.” Dean ran a hand through
his hair. “What do you think it means?”

  Sam shook his head. “I don’t know. Maybe nothing. But I don’t like it. The whole thing feels wrong.” Closing his eyes, he leaned his head against the window. “He’s in danger at the fort. None of the rest of us are. Just him. I know it. I can feel it. And he won’t listen.”

  A warm hand enfolded Sam’s. He opened his eyes. Dean was gazing at him with determination on his face. “I know you’re already planning to stick close to him tonight. If anything happens, if he has another one of those spells, note the exact time, and note anything at all that you pick up with your psychic senses at that time. We’ll look for any fluctuations in the fort’s energy field and see if they coincide. If we find any sort of correlation, we’ll confront him. I’ll help you.”

  Sam’s vision blurred. He blinked away the sudden stinging behind his eyelids. “Thank you,” he said, and squeezed Dean’s hand.

  ***

  At the fort, Bo suggested a switch in teams. Sam wasn’t surprised, considering, but it hurt anyway. To his profound relief, Andre vetoed the idea with a decisive “no”, and, when Bo tried to argue with him, a threatening glower.

  The entire team—Bo included—had learned not to argue with Andre when he gave them what David called simply That Look. Bo shut up and followed Sam to the old living quarters lining the inside of the fort’s northern wall.

  Two hours later, Bo still hadn’t stopped muttering under his breath about Andre’s curt dismissal of his suggestions, and Sam’s nerves were worn ragged. Listening to Bo’s constant complaining was bad enough. Knowing that the reason for it was because he didn’t want to be with Sam was downright painful.

  As they entered a tiny, windowless room carved into one wall of a larger space, Bo grumbled about no one listening to him. It was just loud enough for Sam to know he was supposed to hear it, and something inside him snapped.