Somebody to Die For

by Kris T. Bethke

  It would be two weeks of his life. And it was important. The trainees would benefit from his expertise. He was there to share his experiences without sugarcoating them. When he was done, he hoped at least some of the ghostwalkers would understand how important their job was. And he really hoped what he said would help at least some of them do those jobs safely and effectively.

  That made it worth it.

  Chapter Two

  IT took Jameson a couple of minutes to realize the room had fallen silent. Between one person and the next, he’d tuned out the talking. It wasn’t his fault, exactly. He’d never had the best attention span to begin with, and the morning’s speaker was still occupying his thoughts. Ever since Avery Wagner stood up in front of the room, he’d consumed Jameson’s full attention.

  But the silence clued him in that he’d spaced, so he sat up straighter and looked around. Nine gazes were fixed solely on him. Okay, then. He cleared his throat.

  “My turn?”

  The instructor, Sarah, nodded encouragingly. She wanted everyone in their group to share as much of their story as they were comfortable with. How did they come to join the company? Jameson blew out a breath and tried to compose his thoughts.

  “Uh, my name is Jameson Parker. I applied to Requiem for shits and giggles, and no one was more surprised than me when I made it through.” Jameson grinned, but his joke fell flat. The only response he got was wide eyes. He cleared his throat again and went for honesty. “The truth is, I had no direction or desires, and I like taking care of people, so I took a chance. I was surprised that I got in and that I’ve done pretty well. But I’ve worked for it too. I think this is important, and I want to help in any way I can.”

  “Thank you, Jameson.” Sarah tossed her binder on the desk beside her and then hopped up on the surface and folded her legs underneath her. She leaned forward, braced her elbows on her knees, and stared them all down. “Here’s where I go off-script. Look, each one of you has spent the last year and a half training. You’ve learned Requiem’s history, how to access and navigate the database, and what to look for when you take a case. You’ve learned appropriate medical care, meditation, and grounding techniques. You’ve heard countless operatives speak about their experiences. You’ve even watched them ghostwalk. But all of that means nothing without actually doing it.

  “Over the course of the next few months, you’ll put everything you’ve learned into practice. If you thought the past year and a half was hard, just wait.” Sarah paused, made eye contact with each person, and then offered a smile. “I’m not saying this to scare you. I’m really not. And the powers that be would probably prefer it if I were more gentle. But I want you all to be prepared. You can do this. We’ll help you. But you need to be ready.”

  Murmurs broke out among the rest of his team. Jameson smiled. He liked Sarah’s no-bullshit approach and was glad she didn’t sugarcoat it. Though, honestly, until Jameson was paired with a ghostwalker, there wasn’t much he could do. Observe? Sure. Help other anchors as they needed it? Absolutely. And he would. He’d be happy to do it. But until he cared for his own ghostwalker, he wouldn’t really be able to experience it for himself.

  “Jameson.” Sarah’s voice broke into his thoughts, and he turned his attention to her. “Once they find you a suitable match, they’ll join us. Until then, learn everything you can by watching and helping where you can.”

  He grinned. “That’s the plan, ma’am.”

  “Good.” Sarah hopped off the desk. “This will be your home group. We’ll start each morning with a team meeting and debrief together at the end of the day. In the meantime there will be lectures and talks. And tomorrow you’ll go on your first group ghostwalk.”

  The murmurs turned excited, and Jameson felt it too, even though he wouldn’t be much use. He hoped he was matched with a compatible ghostwalker soon. Maybe he’d even get lucky and it would be someone with experience. Though ghostwalker/anchor pairs usually worked for the long haul, there were circumstances where a pair broke up. Either because of changes in their lives, or because they found they didn’t work well together. Jameson wouldn’t mind being the rookie in a pair.

  “Okay guys. Let’s break for lunch. At one, we’ll reconvene in the lecture hall. Our esteemed leader has some words for us.” Sarah’s eyebrow waggle made everyone laugh. Director Renata Johnson had spoken to them all briefly that morning.

  As Jameson followed his teammates out of the small room and toward the elevators, he once again let his mind wander to the adorable older man who had commanded their attention that morning after the director addressed them. Avery Wagner had to be at least half a foot shorter than Jameson’s six feet, but he was well built in that compact, gym-muscle kind of way and impeccably dressed. Jameson had a thing for men in dress slacks and button-downs, and Avery wore it very well. The dark blue of his shirt set off his light eyes and dark hair.

  But it wasn’t just the way he looked that caught Jameson’s attention. Avery Wagner knew how to command a room. His tone was sure and just this side of haughty. It made Jameson want to see what it would take to ruffle the man’s feathers.

  “How serious were you?”

  Jameson startled and then looked down at the pixie-like woman who’d sidled up next to him in the cafeteria line. For a moment he searched for her name. He knew she was on his team, that she was a ghostwalker, and that her anchor was the long-haired brunette who spoke so softly that everyone had to lean forward to hear. It came to him in a flash.

  “Hey, Gabriela.” Jameson reached for a tray and a plate. “What’s that now?”

  “Back in the class. When you were trying to joke about why you applied at Requiem.” Gabriela scooped up a spoonful of pasta salad and then wrinkled her nose and set it back in the bin. “Everyone was too shocked to ask, so I got drafted.”

  Jameson chuckled and finished filling his tray. “So you’re going to report back?”

  She shrugged. “Or you could just join us at the table and tell everyone at once.”

  Her smirk was a little bit evil and completely endearing. Jameson had no problem being the center of attention. When he reached the end of the line, he took a step to the side and waited for Gabriela to finish. Then he bowed over his food and grinned.

  “Lead the way, milady.”

  The rest of the team was already seated at one of the round tables on the far side of the cafeteria. When Gabriela and Jameson joined them, the empty seat next to Jameson was a glaring beacon to show his lack of a partner. He wasn’t the only one in the larger class who had yet to be paired with a ghostwalker, but he still felt like the odd man out.

  “Jameson’s gonna share while we eat,” Gabriela announced. Then she dug into her burger with all the gusto of a predator.

  Jameson shrugged. “It’s not that big of a deal. But I was serious.” He cocked his head and thought about it. “Okay, after the smartass answer, I was serious. I applied on a whim, because really, what else was I going to do with my life? Once I made it past the initial interviews, I worked hard and studied hard because I wanted to succeed. This thing we do is important. Well, I mean, what ghostwalkers do. Helping spirits find that eternal rest? That’s important. And they can’t do it without anchors.”

  “Not everyone sees it that way,” one of the guys said. Jameson was pretty sure his name was Cody. He was a little bit older than the rest of them, in his late twenties or early thirties. He was a ghostwalker, and if Jameson remembered correctly, he was killed in the line of duty before he came back to life. He’d left his military career to join Requiem instead.

  “But they should.” Jameson gestured with his fork, and a piece of lettuce flew off the end and landed in the middle of the table. Everyone laughed.

  “There are a hundred different things you could do if you just liked taking care of people, though.” Lucy narrowed her dark eyes, but Jameson didn’t think she was trying to menace him.

  “Sure. But a lot of them involve bodily fluids or children—somet
imes both.” He gave a mock shudder that earned him a laugh. “I can handle blood just fine, but no thanks on the rest.”

  Several people at the table agreed. Jameson couldn’t help but smile. He was glad his team seemed to be made up of like-minded individuals.

  “I literally thought I would fail out when I got to training,” Jameson continued. “So many classes, so much to learn. I think it’s easier on the anchors than it is the ghostwalkers. We just have to support the ghostwalker in their decisions and care for them when they come back to life.”

  “Which isn’t as easy as you make it sound,” Cody said, his voice hard. Jameson saw the effort it took for him to unclench his jaw. “It takes a certain kind of person to be able to do that.”

  “I agree, which is why I think they spend so much time talking to and testing us.” Jameson leaned forward, sort of loving that everyone’s attention was riveted on him. “It’s a long process for a reason. They need to be sure we’ll do what we need to do, and safely for everyone concerned.”

  “So you don’t have the gene, then?” This came from Dru, Gabriela’s anchor.

  “Nope. They say it makes a difference if you do. But I had to work hard the old-fashioned way.” Jameson caught the stare from Dru and Amelia. They were both anchors, and he knew they had the gene. He held up his hands. “Not that you didn’t have to work hard. But you guys are hardwired to care, so that part’s easier, isn’t it?”

  Dru inclined her head as though maybe he was right, so Jameson relaxed and sat back.

  “But anyway, like I said, it’s important. I was, like, six when my grandmother died. I was pretty upset because she was awesome. But my mom assured me she’d be at rest and happy. And when I asked her how she knew for sure, she told me there were special people out there who helped anyone who needed it so they could find peace.” Jameson forked up another bite of salad. “That’s always stuck with me, I guess.”

  Conversation veered off then as each of the team recounted stories of how they learned what Requiem Inc. actually did. Jameson only listened with half an ear. He focused on his food, and when he finally looked up to join in, his gaze caught on Avery Wagner, who was conversing with a few other men at a table not too far away. Damn, but he was just beautiful. Jameson could look at him for hours.

  Gabriela caught him staring and followed his gaze to the table. She leaned sideways and murmured, “I wonder if what they say about him is true?”

  “What do they say?” Jameson tried for casual, as though it didn’t matter, but he was dying to learn anything he could about Avery.

  “That he doesn’t ghostwalk anymore because he lost his bonded to cancer.”

  Jameson’s eyes went wide. No wonder Avery seemed a little standoffish. If he’d suffered that kind of loss, Jameson would be too. He squinted and studied Avery, as though maybe he could learn the truth if he stared hard enough.

  “If it’s true, then you should probably turn your attention elsewhere, hmm?” Gabriela nudged him with a shoulder.

  “I’m not interested like that.” It was a flat-out lie.

  “Sure you’re not.” Gabriela gave him a knowing look.

  Jameson opened his mouth, but she waved him away and addressed to the group.

  “Where are y’all hoping to get assigned? Dru and I were talking about trying to get in the Lubbock branch. No snow in winter, and I hear they have fresh-baked cookies every day.”

  The team was off, discussing the merits of different branches. But Jameson didn’t engage in the conversation. He couldn’t take his gaze off Avery. Jameson thought he could see the sadness around Avery’s eyes, and no wonder, if he’d had a bond with his anchor.

  They talked about it during training. The anchor bond was rare, and there weren’t many pairs who found it. Even if an anchor had the gene, there was no telling if they would connect with their ghostwalker on a physical, mental, and emotional level, especially since fraternization between anchor and ghostwalker pairs was highly discouraged.

  Not that Jameson had to worry about that. Without the gene, Jameson would never bond to his ghostwalker that way. And if he was partnered with a female, he didn’t have to worry about the no-fraternization rule either. He was only attracted to men—men like Avery Wagner.

  No. He pushed that thought away. Gabriela was right—no use in encouraging that particular fantasy.

  The rest of his team finished their lunch, and when they all stood and gathered their trays, Jameson followed suit. He tried to get his mind on the upcoming lecture. It would probably be an important one, since the director of the program was giving it.

  But he couldn’t help one last long look at Avery.

  Chapter Three

  AVERY wasn’t a big fan of crowds, but after the lecture he just gave, he knew it was inevitable. Every time he presented it, trainees were quick to surround him afterward. They had questions. They wanted to hear more. Choosing the right cases was vital to the health and well-being and success rate of any ghostwalker. It was a popular lecture.

  Avery loved presenting it.

  The crowd dwindled as the session broke for lunch. The trainees had their first ghostwalk that afternoon. Avery well remembered his own first ghostwalk and how the thrill and worry coalesced into a hard ball in his stomach. Fortunately, he’d had Luke at his side.

  “Mr. Wagner.”

  Avery turned to find a tall, skinny, smiling man. He looked young, and his dark hair could use a cut, but his warm brown eyes were sparkling. Avery was hungry and a bit parched from all the talking. He wanted to get some food and relax and then find a quiet spot to work on his next lecture. But he shoved that aside and gave the straggler his attention.

  “What can I do for you…?” Avery raised an eyebrow.

  “Jameson. Jameson Parker.”

  “Hi, Jameson. You had a question?”

  “Is it true you were bonded?”

  “Excuse me?” Avery’s stomach dropped, and the earlier irritation turned to outright anger. The nerve. Avery bristled. Who did this guy think he was? Walking up to a virtual stranger and asking such an intensely personal question. The kid had gone through training, so he knew how sacred the bond was, and he still had the gall to ask Avery about it? Avery clenched his fist tightly around the strap of his bag.

  Jameson’s mouth dropped open, and he held up his hands. “Crap. I’m sorry. That didn’t… I mean, I wasn’t trying….” He blew out a breath and then sucked in another. “I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant to say.”

  “Obviously it was.” Avery’s cold tone had the desired effect. Jameson paled further and shook his head.

  “I’m sorry. That was rude. It’s just that… the passion you had when you spoke about talking to your anchor, finding the right balance with them, to choose your cases successfully. If you’re bonded, does that change things? I just…. I’m not saying any of this right.”

  A small part of Avery felt for Jameson because clearly he had questions. But Avery’s brain was stuck on the audacity Jameson had shown by asking such a clearly personal question. It wasn’t anyone’s business, and Avery wasn’t going to talk about it.

  It was just too painful.

  “If you’ll excuse me.” Avery didn’t wait for an answer. He just grabbed his bag and turned to leave.

  “Wait! Mr. Wagner, I apologize. My filter doesn’t always… filter, and I’m working on it. But that didn’t come out like I meant it. I certainly didn’t mean to offend you. It was an intensely personal question that I shouldn’t have asked.”

  “You’re right. You shouldn’t have.”

  Avery pushed past him and swept out of the room. Once in the corridor, he walked quickly to the stairs and took them down two at a time. He shoved at the bar on the door to the sixth-floor reception area, exploded through, and leaned against it the moment it swung shut.

  Dammit.

  Taking a deep, cleansing breath, Avery tried to get hold of himself. In the back of his mind, he always knew that his status as a forme
rly bonded ghostwalker would come out, if for no other reason than operatives loved to gossip. An overheard comment could set everyone talking.

  But he wasn’t as prepared as he thought he was.

  He’d made it clear to the directors that he wouldn’t talk about his anchor bond. Any other topic was fine, but that was off the table. It was too intimate to share. Unless a pair formed that kind of bond and needed his help, he was there only as a ghostwalker, nothing more.

  Avery opened his eyes and found the secretary furtively eyeing him. He tried to give Julie a smile, and the one he got in return was soft and warm.

  “Do you need him?” she asked as she jerked her hand behind her toward the big wooden doors that led to Michael’s office.

  “No. Thanks. I just needed a bit of a break.”

  She nodded with her smile still in place. “If you want to hide in the conference room, I’ll make sure you’re not disturbed.”

  Avery shook his head and gathered his resolve. He was there as an instructor, and it was temporary. After the first two weeks, he could go home to his sanctuary. Regroup, remember, relax. It would be fine.

  With a wave to Julie, Avery headed upstairs to the cafeteria. But halfway up the stairs, Michael caught up to him. Avery was sure Julie had alerted him to Avery’s distress. Neither man spoke, but Michael put a hand on Avery’s shoulder and squeezed. Avery had to suck in a breath to keep from breaking down.

  Michael saw it. Of course he did. He was a Guardian, and Avery’s friend, so Avery expected it. He tried to resist when Michael pulled him into a hug, but that was futile, so Avery gave in and took the comfort.

  “You okay?”

  Avery nodded against Michael’s chest and then shoved until Michael let him go.

  “Sometimes….” Avery blew out a breath. “Sometimes the reminder smacks me in the face. And sometimes people think they’re entitled to information they aren’t. I’m okay.”

  “If you need me to talk to Renata about—”