by AJ Sherwood
It was interesting to me that his sexuality lines were tangling with his work lines. I wasn’t sure how the two were connected just yet, but something must have happened. And Brandon wasn’t comfortable with his sexuality either at the moment. I mean, did I tell them that Brandon had only recently figured out he was bisexual? That he was struggling with it? That he no longer felt completely at home in his own skin? It didn’t feel right to divulge any of that. Brandon would talk to his family on his own time and terms. Everyone deserved the right to do that and not be rushed into it.
So while his parents might sense something was up with him, it was up to Brandon to talk to them. This simple reassurance was as far as I’d stick my nose in.
1
I looked up from the cereal in my bowl to blink at my mentor, sure I hadn’t heard him right. “I’m sorry, did you say we had a psychic coming in?”
“You heard me right.” Beau cleared his throat and reached for his coffee. I kept trying to tell him he needed more water and he couldn’t live on coffee alone, but at sixty-something years old, he was rather set in his ways. Beau had been an FBI medium before he retired—ghost wrangler, they apparently called them in the agency. When I’d been tested and found to be a medium, my mother had called him up and asked if he’d be willing to mentor me. Technically, Beau was my second cousin once removed or something. Family, regardless. He’d said sure, send the kid up.
Three months later, here I was. Still in Arkansas and learning the biz. It was actually fun, truth be told. We were in a very, very haunted place so I had lots of ghosts to practice with. Unlike what I’d been led to believe, mediums didn’t exorcise every ghost they saw. If they weren’t doing any harm and didn’t want to pass on just yet, it was alright to leave them be.
I got some really fascinating stories out of them, too.
While training, I stayed at Beau’s house, a grey Victorian that had been lovingly maintained. I rather liked it. Not the man who had originally built and owned it—the doctor was a charlatan and bastard—but the house was great. I wasn’t really in a hurry to move on from it, either. It was so much easier, navigating the world with someone to watch my back. I felt like I could breathe.
Refocusing on Beau, I asked curiously, “Why is a psychic coming in? I thought they couldn’t see ghosts.”
“A few types can. It’s rare, I grant you that. But it’s a funny story. He got a ghost for Christmas.”
I blinked, sure I hadn’t heard him right. “I’m sorry, what?”
Beau snickered, the sound catching and sounding rough in his chest. His dark brown eyes sparkled merrily, so this story must be a good one. “A friend came through here for vacation, picked up a snow globe, and gave it to the psychic for Christmas. Had no clue it was haunted. The psychic apparently took it rather well; called up a friend he had in our agency and reported it. He’s volunteered to bring it over to us and help do what he can to send the ghost on. The ghost requested help with passing.”
Oh? That was a first for me. Usually you had to talk them into it. “Wow. Okay, that has to be a first, right?”
“First time I’ve heard of something like that happening. Now, a few things were passed on to me. Jonathan Bane is the psychic. This psychic, he runs hot. So don’t let him near electronics, he’ll fry them.”
I nodded in understanding. I had heard that not all psychics could shield properly. I was glad I was a medium and didn’t have to worry about that nonsense.
“He’s got an anchor, Donovan Havili, but also a guy shadowing him. Anchor’s brother, and the one who gave him the ghost. Brandon Havili is his name, and he’s learning the trade on how to be an anchor. He’s technically FBI but a proby.”
“Got it. So I’ll need to keep an eye on them, too.”
“Yeah, they’re not used to ghosts. Anyway, they’ll be here tomorrow.”
It meant cutting Christmas vacation short a bit, but I didn’t mind. Ghost wrangling didn’t really feel like a job to me. I’d spent most of my childhood trying to navigate a world only I could see, one no one else had understood, and learning things the hard way—with all the bumps and bruises that came with the school of hard knocks. Being able to face the world as an adult, with training under my belt and a mentor to help me? That felt like a vacation.
Beau poured himself some more coffee then settled at the table again. He had that look on his face that meant he was about to tell me something serious. “Mack.”
I stopped eating and focused on him. “Yeah?”
“I’m going to be straight with you for a second, kiddo. You’re good. You’ve got the instincts, the talent, and I don’t really have anything else I can teach you.”
This threw me completely. I’d not expected those words. Not this soon. “Wait, wait. I thought training took anywhere from six months to a year.”
“Normally, yeah. But you came to me late; you’d already figured out part of it. And you pick up things fast. We say six months to a year because everyone has different speeds of learning this stuff. Some people get it quickly, some people need more time. You’re one of the former.” Beau gave me a proud smile, one of the few I’d ever seen from him. He wasn’t really a grumpy man, but he was rather closed off most of the time. “Really, Mack, I’m ready to pass you. I want you to do this one last job, let you work with a psychic, and then I’ll sign you off.”
This came so far out of left field I was left without an immediate reply. Was I happy? Sure. But I wasn’t relieved. It meant I’d be on my own again, and that was a discomfiting thought. “But don’t I need an anchor or partner or something?”
“Sure. Absolutely. The FBI’s got several candidates. You’ll work with them on a rotating basis, see if any of them are a good fit for you. If not, we’ll look elsewhere. I’m not throwing you to the wind, kiddo.”
That did make me feel infinitely better. “Good. Okay, thanks.”
Beau’s wife and anchor walked in, her hair still in curlers, and waved a cell phone as if she intended to chop the back of Beau’s head with it. “Confound it, man, keep your phone on you! It was ringing off the hook.”
Not concerned, Beau didn’t even turn around. (I personally felt that was a poor life decision. Hannah really did look ready to hit him with it.) “You always answer it for me; I’m not worried. Who was it this time?”
“A ghost hunting group wants to do a special trip here and investigate the Crescent Hotel.”
“What’s that got to do with us?” I asked curiously.
Hannah tossed the phone onto the table and stole her husband’s coffee for a sip. “They want to partner with a medium for the hunting. They think it’ll be better to do it that way, as they can prove both the existence of ghosts and that mediums can legit see spirits.”
Having spent a good portion of my life fighting against society’s disbelief, I thought this was a great idea. It was funny. People believe in gods, angels, and miracles, but ghosts? Nope, that was pushing the envelope. You either had those who believed or those who didn’t. And it was hard to sway people over to the side of ‘belief.’ When I told someone I was a medium, even with an FBI badge, they either mocked me for being a charlatan or were in awe. I rarely met anyone who stood on a middle ground.
If these guys were going to record their findings and post them, I’d be happy to help.
Beau of course, had a different stance. He glared at Hannah. “You said yes, didn’t you.”
“Of course I did. It’s good PR. And you should answer your own phone,” she added with saccharine sweetness.
I jumped in before this became an argument or Beau called them back and cancelled the whole thing. “I’ll do it.”
Both of them looked at me: Hannah curiously, and Beau with a disgruntled expression. “Now Mack, why would you do that?”
“If they’re trying to prove both the existence of ghosts and a medium’s ability to see them, I’m all for it. And it sounds a way to pass a good time.”
Beau’s snort made it clear w
hat he thought of that. “You’re crazy, but fine. You take it on. Hannah, when are these guys supposed to get in?”
“In two days.”
Uh-oh. “Uhhh…we’ve got a psychic with a ghost problem coming in tomorrow. That’s kinda a problem if they’re overlapping.”
“No, I think that’d be all the better,” Hannah said. “They can also document helping a ghost pass on.”
“If the psychic and his partners are okay with that.” Beau was back to staring at his wife as if she were deliberately trying to make his life difficult. (She probably was.)
“Um, I guess I can call and ask.” I didn’t mind doing that. It was better to double check now and give people time to adjust schedules before they left. I didn’t want to assume everyone would be fine with it and then have issues later. I frankly hated confrontation and avoided it when I could. “Do you have the psychic’s number? Or wait, I guess it would be his anchor, if he’s bad with tech.”
“I have his and the proby’s number. I’d call Proby first, as technically we’re working with him.”
That did seem like good manners. Beau found the number for me, and I punched it into my phone. Then I cleared my throat, trying to sound less like I was still sitting in my pajamas and more awake. I hit dial and waited as it rang three times before connecting.
“This is Havili.”
Wow. What a voice. Was he a mountain god in a previous life? I didn’t think I’d ever heard a voice that deep before. It kinda gave me tingles. “Hi, this is Mackenzie Lafayette, medium with the FBI.”
“Oh. Hey, nice to speak with you. I meant to call, actually, and touch base with you before we drive up. I’m Brandon Havili.”
Well, he was friendly. Thank god. I dealt better with friendly types. “Nice to talk to you, too. You have a minute?”
“Yeah, I’m good. We plan to drive up early tomorrow, probably be there mid-afternoon. I’m booking rooms for us at the Crescent, since that’s where I accidentally picked up my ghost hitchhiker.”
That was good information to have. “You know for a fact where she was?”
“Yup. I bought the snow globe at the hotel’s gift shop, so no question there.”
“That’s great. That was going to be my first question for you. It always helps if we can narrow her area of death down. Listen, the other reason I’m calling you, I need to run something by you.”
“Uh-oh, that doesn’t sound ominous,” he teased.
I got the distinct impression I’d like this man. I loved people who could dish it out. “Don’t worry, it’ll only cost your firstborn. Seriously, though, we’ve got a request in. A ghost hunting group wants to come in and work with us while they tackle Eureka Springs. They want to prove not only that the place is haunted but that mediums are legit.”
“Huh. Do you really have problems with people thinking mediums are faking it?”
“More than I care for. I’m game to work with them, but they’re overlapping your arrival. They’re due in on the twenty-seventh. If you’re not okay with working with them, tell me now. I can delay them or reschedule or something.”
“I personally think that sounds mega fun, going on a ghost hunt. But let me talk to the other two and see what they think about it. Can you hang on a second? I need to text my brother and Jon.”
“Sure.” I let the phone relax in my hand and covered the bottom part of the phone as I waited. To Hannah and Beau, I said, “Seems like a really friendly guy. I feel like I’m talking to James Earl Jones, his voice is that deep. If I had a voice fetish, I’d be in trouble.”
Hannah laughed as she went to make her breakfast. Beau just rolled his eyes. My mentor had taken me being gay in stride, thankfully. Not everyone could. Hannah didn’t even care. She just demanded I be safe when I picked up guys. Which, let me tell you, was a ridiculous statement. I’m attractive enough—I’m not a troll—and I have decent features, but I’m nothing remarkable. Brown hair, brown eyes, pretty average MO in the looks department. My numerous food allergies cause me to stay a little bloated at all times. Six packs and I were not a thing. I’m mostly fit, I just don’t look it. I don’t really have the looks of a player. Why she thought I would act like one was beyond me.
The phone made a weird fabric-sliding sound before Brandon came back on. “Hey, you still there?”
“I’m still here.”
“Jon’s with me; thinks this sounds fun. He’s the psychic, so he can’t see ghosts as such, just faint auras. My brother’s dead against it, but he’s okay with hanging out in his room while we go play. So, I guess it’s fine by us. You want to use the ghost we’re bringing along as further proof?”
“That was kind of my hope.” I couldn’t help but grin. “If you’re okay with that?”
“I mean, we both assumed you would. It’s okay by us. Should we delay a day, come up on the twenty-seventh so we’re all arriving on the same day?”
“That might be best, sure. I’ll call the ghost hunters and give them a head’s up.”
“Okay, then we’ll see you on the twenty-seventh. Looking forward to meeting you in person.”
I sincerely meant it as I said, “Yeah, me too. Have a safe drive up.”
2
Two days after Christmas, we were on our way to Arkansas. I was pretty happy with the trip, to be honest. I mean, ghosts. Hot springs. What was not to like? I did feel a little bad for dragging my brother along with me, since Don hated the paranormal with a passion. (Which was ironic, considering his psychic lover.) There was a small, petty part of me that would enjoy the show of my brother squirming. You couldn’t love if you didn’t tease, that was my motto. And Donovan braving ghosts for his little blond tickled my funny bone.
Watching my brother with Jon was something of an eye-opening experience. I’d never seen Don in love before, so that was new. Cute as hell, too. If he had a tail, he’d wag it every time he saw Jon. I kept waiting for him to roll over and present his belly for scratches.
But that wasn’t the eye-opening part. It was watching how seamlessly they moved together. I’m sure part of it was Jon’s eyes. He could see a great deal with Don, so it only made sense on his end. But Don was just as good at reading Jon. At anticipating what he would do, what he needed, and it took nothing more than a glance to convey it all. Sometimes not even that. My parents had a healthy, loving relationship, but Jon and Don put them to shame. These two moved as a single unit most of the time.
It made me more than a little envious.
I sat in the back seat of the Humvee—which was a sweet ride—as Jon drove and Don navigated. Jon caught my brother’s hand and laced their fingers together, then drew it up to kiss the back. Don turned his head and smiled at him, a soft expression, glowing with simple happiness. Their hands came to a rest in Jon’s lap and stayed there.
If these two got any sweeter, I’d have to go to a dentist to get the sap drilled out of my teeth.
I’d been nervous about staying around Jon for any length of time, to be honest. I’d heard how much he could see, and right now, there was a lot I wasn’t comfortable talking about. A lot I didn’t want others to know, not until I’d sorted it out in my own head. Having Jon see it all in a look unnerved me. The possibility he’d say something to someone unnerved me even further. But he’d just taken a look, blinked at me, then gave me a reassuring nod. A silent promise that he’d keep all he saw to himself. And he had.
Don did good picking this one.
I let my eyes go toward the window and watched the trees and highway speed past us as we headed west. I didn’t really see it, though. My mind was on the not-so-distant past. Eight months ago, for the first time in my life, I’d felt attracted to a man. Talk about a shock to the system. Thirty-two years old and suddenly realizing you’re not quite as straight as you’d believed. I hadn’t been sure what to do with the revelation. I wasn’t worried about my family, obviously. Don had known he was bisexual for decades, and his sexual orientation had been wholly accepted. And we all liked Jon. M
y parents adored him. I wasn’t worried about the reception I’d get if I announced I was something other than straight.
It was just weird to realize I was bisexual all this time.
I’d made the mistake of getting drunk with a buddy on the team and spilling the beans. He’d not taken it well. And worse, he’d blabbed to everyone else who would listen. Overnight, I had people either giving me the side-eye or being indignant on my behalf. It led to a pitched battle of opinions, and work turned into a battlefield. I’d hated going to the station.
When the official offer from the FBI came in, I’d leapt on it and hadn’t taken a backwards glance. Anything to escape that hellish atmosphere. But it didn’t really resolve my personal revelation. Was I bisexual? Could I assume that after meeting one man I’d wanted to have sex with? Or was I something else entirely?
This wasn’t supposed to be confusing at my age, dammit.
We stopped at a rest station for a bathroom break and to stretch our legs. Jon came out about the same time as I did, but neither of us got into the Humvee immediately. We meandered down the short sidewalk to the grassy area and enjoyed standing for a bit. It was picturesque out here with the thick tree line and dusting of ice on everything. It hadn’t snowed, but the ice did give that wintery feeling. It was cold enough our breath formed white clouds in the air.
“Might be better for you if you talked it out instead of letting it fester in your head,” he said without any segue.
I looked at Jon sharply. “I thought you weren’t a telepath.”
Jon snorted, his blue eyes sparkling with silent amusement. “Hardly need to be. I could see the wheels turning even from the front seat.”
Strangely, I felt like I could confide in him. Despite us not really knowing each other well, he had that vibe that said I could tell him anything and not be judged for it. Maybe because he’d already kept my confidence so well without me needing to ask. “When you read me, what do you see for my sexuality?”
