Brandon's Very Merry Haunted Christmas (Mack's Marvelous Manifestations Book 1)

by AJ Sherwood

  “No, fortunately,” Jon answered with a smile. “I understand we’ve got a meeting set up with the boss of the ghost hunters. Dave?”

  “Yup. He’s meeting us in the upstairs lobby, second floor. You’ll like it, Jon. No electronics in that area.”

  “Bless you,” Jon said fervently.

  We trooped up to the second floor with Mack in the lead. Once we got up there, I saw what he meant about the lobby area. It wasn’t large, more like a sitting room, with a red upholstered couch and two wing-backed armchairs. The fireplace was going behind a sunburst grate, and the stonework around the fireplace had an intricate flare to it, a circular array that framed the hearth. It was a very fancy hotel, and the architectural detail pleased my eye.

  Sitting on the couch were a man and woman, both of them in their upper forties. They stood and came around the coffee table as we approached, focused mostly on Mack.

  “Are you Mackenzie Lafayette?” the man asked with a distinct Boston accent. He wore a beanie, but I gathered the impression he was bald underneath.

  “That’s me. Call me Mack. Are you Dave?”

  “Yes. This is Marianne. She’s over our tech department. I thought it best to include her in this meeting.”

  Marianne gave a charming smile, untucking her right hand from the red down-coat she wore and extending it for a handshake. “Hi, Mack.”

  “Hi, Marianne. With me is Brandon Havili—he’s an FBI anchor and my partner for the duration.”

  I gave them both a smile and shook hands, doing my best to radiate friendliness. When people got to my size, we naturally intimidated everyone shorter. News flash: everyone was shorter.

  “This is Jonathan Bane, a psychic, and his anchor, Donovan Havili.”

  Dave seemed intrigued that he had two brothers, both anchors, and I could see the questions boiling to the surface. He didn’t voice them, however. “Great to meet all of you. Here, sit, let’s get an idea of how to do this.”

  As there wasn’t enough seating, I ended up standing next to Mack’s chair, which I didn’t mind. Donovan did the same behind Jon’s, eyeing Mack’s messenger bag distrustfully. He’d apparently realized at some point where the snow globe was.

  “Dave, Marianne, I told you over the phone about how a ghost has come to me through Jon,” Mack started, calm and reasonable, his body oriented to mostly face them. “Her name is Emma. She’d like help passing on, as she’s not quite sure how to manage it on her own. I’ve agreed to help. Now, my question for you is, do you want to record this?”

  You’d think Mack just offered them a lifetime supply of all the candy they could eat.

  “That would be amazing,” Marianne enthused. “That’s okay?”

  “Part of the reason I agreed to this is the many, many misconceptions about the supernatural around us. I want to dispel that as much as I can. This is definitely part of it. I’ve brought Emma with me”—Mack glanced up and grimaced an apology at Donovan, who just nodded, resigned. Freaked out, but resigned—“so she can meet you two but also to test your equipment. If you can’t safely use it or pick anything up now, then we know we need to adjust.”

  “What he means,” Jon translated, voice as dry as a martini, “is that if my psychic energy interferes too much with Emma’s, or your equipment, then it’s better to know now. I can sit this out and not participate if that’s the case.”

  “Ah.” Marianne glanced at Dave, got the go ahead, and popped up. “Just let me fetch a camera. I’ve got all the equipment in my room. Be back in a jiff.”

  As she left, Mack pulled the snow globe out and carefully set it on the coffee table. “Dave, are your people sensitive?”

  “A few are. Some are like me. I’m about as sensitive as a brick.” Dave leaned in and stared at the snow globe curiously. “She’s in there?”

  “Yes, she finds it very pretty. She’s content to stay there until we’re ready for her. You can say hello, if you wish.”

  “Hello, Miss Emma,” Dave said politely. “Sorry for the delay.”

  Mack’s head cocked, and he listened for a moment before relaying, “She said that’s quite alright, it’s all been explained to her. Also, she wants Donovan not to worry. She’s not interested in spooking you.”

  Donovan stared at the snow globe with a forced smile. “Right. Thanks, I do appreciate it.”

  I was surprised my brother wasn’t crawling out of his skin, but I supposed Mack’s presence was to thank for that. With a medium sitting right here, Donovan was basically safe as houses.

  Marianne came back with not only a camera but a mini voice recorder. She set the voice recorder down on the table, flicking it on. Then she turned on the camera and lifted it up to her eye, training it on the snow globe. “Holy shit. She’s in there, alright.”

  “You can see her?” I found it interesting she could through the lens.

  “Cameras can see more than the naked eye, sometimes,” Dave explained, excited and leaning over Marianne’s shoulder to get his own look. “She’s a clear orb of energy in there. Marianne, what’s the battery doing?”

  “Steady as she goes. Jon, it doesn’t look like you’ll interfere at all.”

  Jon practically beamed. “Really? Then I’ll definitely come tonight.”

  “We look forward to having you,” Dave assured him sincerely. “It’s always better for us, the more experts we have on a hunt. Ah, Donovan, I’ve been told you won’t be joining us?”

  “No offense, but ghosts are not my thing.” Donovan shook his head adamantly. “You guys have fun. I’ve got a book and hot springs to enjoy.”

  “Fair enough. But Brandon, you’re coming?”

  “Oh, trust me.” It was all I could do to not bounce in giddy anticipation. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

  8

  I took a nap mid-day since we anticipated being up most of the night. I really had to bring my A-game since I was being filmed. And y’know, I had a man to impress. I didn’t really want to leave the hotel because of everything that was going on, so Brandon leant me his room for my nap.

  Yes, yes it was hard falling asleep in ‘his’ bed, why do you ask?

  After about an hour, I got up and straightened myself out some, not wanting to look like I’d just rolled out of bed. I hadn’t gotten a lot of sleep, but sometimes just lying still and resting could do a world of good.

  Leaving the room, I went looking for everyone else. We had another three hours until nightfall, but helping Emma pass didn’t need full darkness. It would just be easier to film her after dark with muted lighting. She was so pale that it was hard to see her in full sunlight.

  I carried her carefully down with me, still in my messenger bag, and was doing alright until I hit the bottom set of stairs. I heard a sound behind me, something that didn’t sound quite right, and I turned to see what it was. In that same instant, my shoe slipped on the front half of the step and my balance was thrown off. I could feel myself falling head-first, and even though I grabbed frantically at the banister, I couldn’t get a grip on it.

  A strong pair of arms snatched me mid-air and pulled me into a hard chest. I gripped an arm instinctively, trying to gain my bearings. It wasn’t Brandon who’d caught me. The scent was wrong—and how crazy was that, that I knew Brandon’s scent already?

  “Whoa, Mack, you okay?” Donovan asked as he set me gently back on my feet.

  “I’m good,” I gasped out, a little winded from the catch, my brain scrambling to catch up. “Merci. Great reflexes.”

  Donovan gave me a somewhat shy smile. How had I found this man intimidating? He was a giant teddy bear, look at that face. I just wanted to squish his cheeks. I could see why he was such a great anchor, though, if he was so quick to the rescue.

  Brandon jogged up with Jon, concern on his face. “Mack? You okay?”

  “I’m good,” I assured him and Jon, as they both stared at me in concern. “I thought I heard something, turned at a critical moment. Happens sometimes.” Often, in fact. I
’m very, very easily distracted. It led to a lot of bruises.

  Donovan eyed the stairs with severe misgiving. “A ghost?”

  I turned to look as well. “Not that I see. It was a weird sound. But this is an old building; weird sounds are part and parcel.”

  He didn’t really look reassured, but he nodded. Poor guy. This had to be the worst vacation ever for him.

  “Brandon, is everyone set up or still in process?”

  “Still in process but getting there. They set up at the back gazebo like you told them. I hope this is a fast thing. It’s really chilly out there.”

  Louisiana didn’t really get cold; not like it could in Arkansas. I’d had no real experience with cold until this winter, and I wasn’t really looking forward to stepping outside either. “Yeah, it should be fairly quick. Alright, allons.”

  “I’ll fetch a warmer jacket, be right with you,” Jon said as he headed up the stairs.

  Donovan didn’t say a word, but I knew good and well he was going to hide in his room until this was all over.

  As we walked toward the back door, Brandon slipped a bottle out of his pocket and offered it to me. “Here. Figured you could use the caffeine.”

  I took it, my eyes widening as I realized what was in my hand. A Mexican bottle of Coke. Had he seriously stepped out while I was sleeping and hunted one down for me? The hotel didn’t offer something like this. It was incredibly thoughtful, and I wanted to kiss him for it.

  You know what? Screw just wanting.

  I popped up on my tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “Merci.”

  Brandon paused mid-stride, and the expression on his face told me everything I needed to know. It was a blush of delight on his cheeks, a pleased smile, a sharp hunger in his eyes. Oh yeah, he was interested, all right. Why he didn’t make a more obvious move, I didn’t know, but he was giving me every signal. Damn if I wouldn’t follow through on it.

  Ghost first. Then make out somewhere.

  “Oh, good. There you are, Mack. You ready?”

  Dave was a nice guy. I reminded myself of this because I kind of hated him at the moment. I really wanted to sneak a kiss. With a mental slap, I forced myself into a more professional mindset. “Hey, Dave. Yeah, I think we’re ready. I’ve got everything I need in my bag, at least.”

  Dave fell into step with us as we walked out into the icy chill. I was really, really glad all our ghost hunting would happen inside tonight. Especially with the fresh snowfall on the ground. Had that happened during my nap? The sky was cloudy overhead but it wasn’t currently snowing.

  “What does this entail, anyway?” Dave inquired as he walked next to me.

  “Light and cooperation. If you’ve got a nice spirit, at least. Bad one, it’s a different ballgame. There’s different methods, too, depending on the severity of the shit storm coming down. Using rock salt—or sugar in a pinch—can ward off spirits, but it’s rather a stop-gap measure. I’ve seen people swear by Voodoo rituals; others use prayer and holy water. Really, I think it’s down to belief and determination. If you pull down enough power and energy, whatever’s messing with you doesn’t have a way to intervene.”

  “I sometimes get asked by clients with a disturbing amount of activity in a house what to do about it. There is a pastor who’s willing to travel with us and bless the place, but not everyone’s a believer, you know?”

  “Yup, I getcha. I’ll write you out a short list of who to call for your clients who aren’t Christian. It’s FBI approved, too; they hand out cards to anyone like you who’s in the biz.”

  Dave blinked, startled. I could feel Brandon’s sharp attention, too. “Really? The FBI is okay with groups like ours?”

  “Sure. You’re a professional crew. We can’t be everywhere, man, cut us some slack.” I grinned as I teased him.

  He looked pleased at the compliment and grinned back. “Good to know.”

  They’d set up largely under the gazebo, no doubt to keep snow off their equipment. I had no problem with that, as I needed a bit of a walkway anyway. I nodded hello to Marianne. Dave’s crew was small, only four people total, and I wasn’t sure if that was normal or if they had cut down the number to accommodate the three strangers they were teaming up with.

  Jon trotted up in a warmer jacket and started up the gazebo steps until he caught sight of the equipment. Then he stopped dead on the stairs and refused to go any further. Considering how many cameras and recorders were already set up? It was a wise precaution.

  “This is Les.” Dave introduced the spindly man with a wave. Les looked like an undertaker, some relic from the 1800s, forgotten by time. He had that look and carriage to him, although he was only fifty or so. Not old enough to be ancient as the hills.

  “Hi, Les,” I greeted with a handshake.

  Les regarded me with open fascination. “Hello. It’s the first time we’ve worked with a medium. I have many questions, if you don’t mind.”

  “Not at all. This is Brandon, my partner. He’s an anchor in training, so be gentle with him. He’s learning the ropes.”

  The two men shook hands, and Les introduced the last member, a teenage girl about to break into adulthood. She had the same high, patrician nose as Les, although she was brunette instead of washboard blond. “This is my daughter, Harriette. We call her Harry, though.”

  Harry shook hands with me, then Brandon, a little awed by Brandon’s sheer size. “Hi.”

  “Hi,” Brandon returned with a grin down at her. “Keeping it in the family, huh?”

  “What can I say?” She gave him a teenager-ish shrug. “Ghosts are lit.”

  “I can agree with that.”

  I completed the introductions. “Everyone, the cautious man on the stairs is Jon. Jon’s a psychic, and he’s the one who first found Emma and brought her to me.”

  “I’m mostly here to watch and learn,” Jon pitched in. “Please don’t bring anything electronic near me. I fry stuff.”

  There were a few hellos from the group, and while they handled that, I set about making my own preparations.

  Brandon followed me off the gazebo. “Okay, Mack, what can I help you with?”

  “First of all.” I pointed at the top of my soda bottle. “This lid is a problem.”

  He didn’t quite roll his eyes at me, but I felt like his spirit did. Dipping his hand into a pocket, he pulled out a bottle opener and deftly undid the red top before handing it back. “Like I didn’t plan ahead.”

  I eyed his cargo pants with curiosity. “What all do you have stashed in there?”

  “Everything,” he deadpanned. “So, what do we do?”

  I’d figure that out later. If fate was with me, I’d figure it out by taking those pants off of him. I took a swig of Coke to buy myself a second to drag my mind back out of the gutter. “Right, well, like I said earlier. We need light. I’ve got several high beam LED lights on me. Help me set them up like a mini runway.”

  “Anywhere?”

  “No, there’s a specific place that’s got good juju.” I realized very quickly I had everyone’s undivided attention, so I paused to explain. “I’m sure you’ve wondered why some places are so freaking haunted and others not so much. Part of it is the bedrock where the structure is built. Lots of limestone, quartz, crystal, that sort of thing tends to not only retain energy but also reflects it in weird ways. It throws a ghost off sometimes. If they’re recently deceased, they’re normally confused on what’s happened. If there’s nothing to orient to—like if they’re staying in a place that’s only vaguely familiar, like a hotel—then they can quickly get lost there.”

  “Which is why sudden, violent deaths are the norm for most wandering spirits?” Les asked, excited, as if I’d handed him some missing piece of the puzzle.

  “Right. And places like this, the energy is crazy. I can’t see it properly, but I can really feel it. It’s like standing in a whirlpool sometimes. There’s a lot of bad energy here, too, which doesn’t help. Now, when you’ve got a lovely lady like Miss
Emma, someone who wants to pass but can’t, it’s usually for one of two reasons: She’s been locked into bad energy and can’t pull free without help, or she’s literally confused on how. Either way, it’s easy for us mediums to guide a spirit through the process. Light helps, as it gives her a visual cue of the path into the next plane she should be looking for.”

  Harry whipped out her phone and started typing in frantic notes. It was an odd thought to realize I was the expert in the group. For so long, I’d been the journeyman. The apprentice. Huh. It was kinda a nice feeling, not going to lie.

  I led Brandon off a little to the side at a forty-five-degree angle from the gazebo stairs. “This part right here, there’s not a lot of conflicting energy. It’ll be easier for her to move through here without getting confused. Harry, make a note that for someone not sensitive to find spots like this, either a geographical survey or dowsing rods will do it. Silver dowsing rods will cross where energy is high. Areas with a low concentration of metamorphic rock is what you’re looking for.”

  She nodded, eyes not leaving her phone.

  I handed out lights to Brandon, and we turned them on and spaced them out in two-foot intervals. In the dusk of the sunset, the light was brighter than I’d hoped for. Of course, that could partially be because of the cloud cover. Either way, I wasn’t complaining. The conditions were near optimum.

  Once the lights were set out to my satisfaction, I pointed Brandon to the gazebo. “Stand back. You’re sexy and distracting.”

  He perked up, pleased at my flirting, and immediately did as he was told. “I’ll try to be less sexy and distracting in the future.”

  “Do so,” I commanded mock-solemnly. “Right, everyone. Camera’s rolling?”

  Marianne flashed me a thumbs-up, not taking her eyes off the digital camera in her hands. “Yup.”

  I pulled the snow globe free of the bag and set it on the bottom step, crouching down and holding out a hand. “Miss Emma? It’s showtime.”

  The spirit inside lifted her head to regard me. She was barely there, really. Nothing distinctive about her form. I pushed a little energy out to her, needing to stabilize her better. As she cottoned on to the energy, her voice came to me clearly. “What if it doesn’t work?”