“Maybe.” Blake cleared his throat. “Marvel or DC?”
It wasn’t a surprise anymore when Blake used the Or game to change the subject, and Derek never minded because it always gave him a deeper insight into Blake’s mind. Derek wanted to spend a lifetime getting to know him, and every piece of information was a gift.
“Marvel of course, especially with the way DC keeps jacking up their movies.” Derek made a face just to see Blake laugh.
He obliged him, and the sound warmed Derek through. Then Blake pulled away to pick up his sandwich and eyed Derek over the top of it. “Me too. I agree. Good. I thought we’d have to stop being friends.”
Derek picked up his travel mug and sat back. He sipped one of the teas Blake had bought him, and he felt an extra bit of comfort when he drank it. He had used those teas exclusively over the past several weeks, and he was almost through his supply. While he had plans to head to the tea shop to replenish, he knew it wouldn’t hold the same kind of sentimentality as Blake’s set had.
Blake raised his eyebrow and stared at him pointedly as he took a big bite of food. Right. It was Derek’s turn to ask a question, and he’d gotten caught up in his thoughts.
“Soup or salad?”
Blake shot him a look as he chewed and swallowed. “Soup. Especially if you make it.” His eyes went dark, and he made a yummy sound.
It went straight to Derek’s dick.
Trying not to squirm at the sudden tightness in his pants, Derek smiled. “That’s a very nice thing to say.”
Blake shrugged. “It’s the truth. Answer.”
“Soup then. If I make it. For you.” Derek made his tone suggestive on purpose, and Blake’s gaze darkened further as he darted his tongue out to lick his bottom lip. Derek’s gaze was drawn there, and he didn’t even try to hide his leer. Going slow was one thing, but Derek wouldn’t hide what he wanted. He made his interest clear. He didn’t want it to be a surprise when he broached the subject with Blake.
And from the way Blake was staring at him, wide-eyed and a little breathless, Blake knew exactly what Derek wanted.
“Uh… umm.” Blake couldn’t seem to tear his gaze from Derek’s, and Derek held it, knowing his eyes were filled with all the heat, lust, and affection he felt. “Uh. Mac or PC?”
Derek burst out laughing, and the tension that had been building between them broke with a pop. He leaned forward and placed his mug back on the table. His chuckles eased but didn’t quite disappear. “That’s random. You’re hysterical. PC.”
Blake laughed too, and his shoulders relaxed. “Really? Because I find—”
Whatever Blake was about to say was cut off when a three-tone bell sounded throughout the cafeteria. Everyone went quiet, and some people looked up toward the ceiling. Julie’s calm and professional voice spoke through the intercom.
“Code black. All available ghostwalker and anchor operatives, please report to the conference room. Repeat, code black. All operatives please report to the conference room immediately.”
There was a moment of heavy silence and then several chairs scraped as people suddenly stood. Blake jumped to his feet, dropped his half-eaten sandwich onto his tray, grabbed both his tray and Derek’s, and jogged toward the garbage.
“Dammit.” Blake’s tone was filled with worry, and Derek quickly stood and followed.
“Code black?” Derek asked. He stayed right on Blake’s heels as they strode from the room, bypassed the elevator, and went for the stairs. “A real one?”
“They don’t play around when a ghostwalker has passed. Move it, Scott.”
Derek double-timed it down the stairs and hardly even took time to appreciate the beauty that was Blake’s ass in those jeans.
Chapter Twelve
BLAKE’S heart was pounding so hard he thought it might beat right out of his chest, and it wasn’t because he’d just raced down three flights of stairs. A code black. There hadn’t been one here since his early days with Requiem, and then, even though he’d gone in, he wasn’t useful. Someone else had found the ghostwalker’s spirit and helped her cross over. That might be the case again, but he had to try. They all did.
A ghostwalker had died—really died, not just temporarily. It was a scary thought, because there wasn’t much that could take a ghostwalker out permanently. Decapitation or a completely destroyed body could do it, of course. There wouldn’t be anything for the ghostwalker to return to. Or old age, which was at least a hundred and twenty for a ghostwalker. Most lived longer than that. Eventually cells just got too old to regenerate, and death came for everyone in the end.
Blake hoped it was the latter. The former was too horrible to think about.
There were already a few people in the conference room when Blake and Derek entered. Blake made a beeline for his brother, whose pale, wan complexion worried him. Sam had never experienced this, and he wasn’t the only one. Glancing around the room reminded Blake he was the most senior operative in the department. Not one of them had ever been called to a code black.
“It’s okay, Sammy,” Blake soothed, falling back on the childhood nickname as he sat beside his brother.
Sam made a face, but it was quickly replaced with a tight, nervous grin. “You’d think with what we are we’d know how to cross over when our time comes.”
“If only it were that simple, yeah?” Blake squeezed Sam’s shoulder. “But because we have such a connection to the spirit plane, we can’t cross without help.”
Sam nodded and opened his mouth to say something but shut it quickly as King strode into the room. He had a commanding presence at the best of times, but with his face looking so grim, he had everyone’s complete and utter attention.
Under the table Derek placed a hand on Blake’s thigh and gave a subtle squeeze. Blake shot him a grateful smile. Knowing Derek was there to support him eased some of the panic that threatened to well up in his chest.
King looked around to make sure everyone was present, and then without any preamble, he tapped his tablet. It connected to the room’s wireless interface, and the case file appeared on the blank wall. The picture was of a very frail-looking old man whose blue eyes seemed to twinkle along with his smile. Blake felt a small sense of relief.
“Archie Davis. A hundred and thirty-two years old. Spent seventy-five years as a ghostwalker at this branch before he retired and moved to Florida, fifty-two years ago. By all accounts he was one of the best ghostwalkers in the field. Had more successful cases than anyone else.” King tapped the tablet again, and a cozy-looking bungalow with black shutters and a huge palm tree out front replaced the first picture. “Died at his home, approximately three hours ago. Was discovered by neighbors who happened to be walking by and heard the crash as he fell. EMS tried and failed to revive him.”
Derek’s fingers petted Blake’s thigh, soothing his agitation. Blake released the breath he didn’t know he was holding and tried his best to relax. In a few minutes, he, along with the others, would be going into the spirit realm to help that man. Blake needed every ounce of his focus.
“Shona and Mary both picked up some of his thoughts, and he’s very confused. Mary noted he was particularly attached to the beach outside his home. He walked on it every day. Shona picked up thoughts of his wife. Lucille. They were married for seventy years, and Archie was devastated when she passed. She’s buried here at the Montrose Cemetery. They had no children.”
King clicked again and displayed a picture of Archie’s wife as she’d been later in life. She was adorable, with her coiffed hair and her flower-print, long-sleeved, seventies-style dress. Blake smiled.
“He spent most of his time at home, puttering around. He liked reality TV, liked to shout at the people and tell them they were being stupid. He occasionally gave guest lectures at the Requiem branch in Pensacola.
“Let’s get this done as quickly as possible, people. Archie is an institution around here, even if you’ve never heard his name. But more than that, after everything he’s done, he d
eserves the peace of a restful afterlife. He may not know what’s going on or where he is. And we all know that can lead to a vengeful spirit. Archie is counting on us.” King straightened further and looked them all in the eye, one by one, going around the table. “Any questions?”
Sam sat forward, his gaze fixed on King and his voice tentative. “Michael? Dom’s sick, and I….”
King looked him right in the eye, assessing and probably reading Sam. Then he nodded once. “I’ll anchor you myself. I’ll meet you in your office once I have everyone else squared away.”
Sam blew out a breath and nodded. Blake could tell he was relieved and a little worried at the same time. He wanted to comfort his brother and remind him that it was just like any other job. Having King as an anchor would be a good thing, as he was a Guardian and therefore better than the best, but he didn’t get the chance. When no one spoke, King dismissed them, and everyone scrambled up, anxious to get going. Blake followed suit with Derek right on his heels.
The moment they entered their office, Blake toed off his shoes and yanked his shirt over his head. Derek was there to take it, fold it, and set it on their little table. Then he pulled his chair closer to Blake’s, and Blake sat down and adjusted his recliner.
“Where do you think you’re going to go?” Derek’s voice was a quiet rumble, and Blake sank into the sound and closed his eyes. He and Katy had never talked about the case Blake was about to go on, not the way Derek and he did. But Derek had been curious, and Blake quickly realized that voicing his thought process made it easier to implement his plan when he was in the spirit plane.
“I’m going to try the cemetery first, I think. Loved ones have a way of pulling us like nothing else. If he’s not there, I’ll go to his home. But the way he felt about his wife? That’ll pull him, I think.” Blake kept his voice as low as Derek had, and the cemetery cemented itself in his mind.
“Good plan.” Derek took his hand and laced their fingers together. Then he used his other hand to gently rub and massage the back of Blake’s hand and up his arm. He leaned close, breathing slowly, and Blake matched his breaths and settled in.
Everything Derek did settled Blake in ways he never anticipated.
They sat like that for a few minutes, just breathing and touching. It was almost a shock when King walked in, sword in hand—not the claymore, thank goodness, but a regular longsword with a jeweled hilt.
King stared at them both for a moment, and then without a word, raised the sword and plunged it into Blake’s chest. The struggle to breathe intensified and his body fought to stay alive. But there was none of the panic he usually felt. He hadn’t felt it in weeks, he realized. Derek was there, holding his hand, keeping him grounded.
Thick wet blood burbled out of his mouth, and then he died.
Instead of his usual rolling fog, Blake stood in the middle of Montrose Cemetery. That was new. He’d never been able to appear right where he wanted before. He was always drawn to some place familiar until he learned to control it. But this was better. He could get straight to work.
The cemetery was large, and Blake walked and swept his gaze around, looking for signs of Archie. He didn’t know which direction he needed to go, but he kept moving, drawn by something he couldn’t define or describe. After a few minutes, he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned and saw Sam.
He wasn’t the only one who thought to check the cemetery first.
“Hey.” Sam’s voice was low, his eyes wide, but there was a determination in his stance that made Blake smile.
“Hey.”
That was it. They didn’t say anything else as they spread out a few rows so they could cover more of the cemetery. A few minutes later, they were joined by Lois, her dark hair long and swinging. She nodded to them both, and all three ghostwalkers kept looking.
Then suddenly Lois held up a hand. Blake and Sam stopped. She took a few steps forward and to the left and looked around a tree. Her shoulders relaxed, and she motioned to them.
“There he is,” she whispered.
The ghostwalkers moved with care, not wanting to startle Archie. He was standing in front of a grave marker that was weathered by time and the elements. Blake could just make out Lucille’s name etched in the stone. By unspoken agreement they flanked Archie’s spirit, not tightly enough to box him in but close enough that, whatever way he turned, he’d see one of them.
“Archie?” Lois spoke quietly, gently, and Archie’s head snapped up. He squinted at her.
“How do you know my name?”
“We’re here to help, Archie.” Lois took one step forward, but didn’t get any closer. “We want to help you.”
“I don’t need help.” His tone was not exactly belligerent, but it was definitely forceful. “I’ve been going on ghostwalks longer than you’ve been alive. I can handle this.”
“We know you can.” This time it was Sam who spoke, keeping his tone light. He gave the old man a smile that would melt the staunchest of hearts. “But it’s always nice to have help, right? Besides, you’re the best. You can teach us.”
Archie considered him for a long moment and blew out a sigh—at least he mimicked doing so—and turned his attention back to the headstone. “I end up here all the time now. I should be better. I know better. But I miss her.”
The heartbreak in his voice just about killed Blake. Archie had been without his love for a long, long time. That had to be the most difficult thing in the world. A picture of Derek flashed in his mind, but he resolutely pushed it away. He needed to focus. The stoop in Archie’s shoulders clearly came from more than just age. Blake wanted to hug him and soothe his pain, and he would have if he could.
“Tell us about Lucille,” Blake suggested, and he was proud his voice didn’t shake. “She was beautiful.”
Archie nodded. “She was. My beautiful, fiery girl. Never backed down from an argument when she got something in her head. Loved harder than anyone I’ve ever met. Didn’t care that I wouldn’t age the same, that she’d leave me long before I’d be able to come meet her. We were as close as two people could get. Couldn’t have been any closer even if we’d had an anchor bond.” He gave a watery-sounding chuckle.
Blake’s heart thumped. Anchor bond? He’d heard of them before, but he didn’t think they actually existed. Archie certainly seemed to think they did. And he’d been in the business a lot longer than Blake.
“What do you mean?”
Archie shot him a look, and Blake’s insides squirmed at the judgment in Archie’s eyes.
“What do you mean, what do I mean?” Archie shook his head. “She wasn’t my anchor. Not on the job. But she was definitely that at home. Kept me grounded, see. Kept me whole. We weren’t bonded, but we might as well have been.”
Blake opened his mouth to ask Archie to explain better, but Sam beat him to the punch and spoke first.
“Sometimes you don’t need a bond, huh, Archie? Love is enough.”
“Lucille and me, we sure had enough love.” Archie gazed into the middle distance. “She’s gonna be all piss and vinegar it took me so long to get here.”
“But you’re here now, aren’t you?” Lois took another step closer to Archie. “You’re here to be with her.”
“I’m not on a job, am I?” Archie sounded resigned.
“No, Archie. It was peaceful, your passing. And now you can be with Lucille.” Blake stressed his wife’s name so he would remember he had a reason to cross over. It was always easier when spirits wanted to go, even if they didn’t know how.
For long moments, Archie didn’t say a word and kept his gaze fixed on Lucille’s headstone. With each minute that passed, Blake felt the tension rise. Would Archie remember enough to let them lead him into the light? Blake could see it, just at the edge of his peripheral vision. What would they do if he didn’t want to go?
Archie suddenly straightened and looked around. “Where is it? The light? I can’t see it. I should be able to see it, shouldn’t I?”
Sam gestured to the right. “You will, Archie. When you get close. You’ll see it, and Lucille will be waiting on the other side.”
Archie looked in the direction Sam indicated, but he didn’t seem to see the light. That was the way with reluctant spirits. And ghostwalkers were always reluctant spirits.
Another minute or two passed, and Archie nodded and held out a hand to Lois. “I’ll need your help. Walk with me?”
Blake relaxed, stepped closer, and rested a hand on Archie’s back as Lois took his hand. Sam stepped up on the other side as Archie tucked Lois’s hand in the crook of his elbow. Archie studied Sam for a split second and then took his hand too. Together the four of them slowly made their way toward the light.
Archie’s mouth opened in surprise. “It’s so bright. Never was this bright before. Guess that means it’s for me.”
“Yes,” Blake murmured, relief suffusing him. “That’s right.”
A nod, a few more steps forward. Archie smiled, his eyes brimming with unshed tears. “Lucille’s gonna be madder than a wet hen. Lord, I’ll have to listen to her bitch for days.”
Sam let out a tiny laugh. “And you’ll love it.”
“Yep. I’ll be glad for it, just to see my girl again.” And with that, Archie let them go and stepped into the light. A moment later he and the light were gone.
The three of them stared at the spot where he’d been. Lois wore a sad smile, and Sam leaned into Blake just a little. Archie was at peace. Well, he would be once Lucille stopped her tirade. Blake smiled at the thought and wondered what that kind of love felt like.
He saw Derek in his mind’s eye again. He wanted to be back with him, but they couldn’t have what Archie and Lucille had. It wasn’t possible, right? His heart ached.
“I’ll go let Michael know we’re ready to come back.” Sam hesitated a second, looked at Blake, and then smiled and walked away.
Ghost of a Chance Page 9
