by Vivien Dean
“What was he going to do, follow me to Philly? Besides, with Brody here too, he doesn’t have to worry about anything weird happening.”
“Convenient.”
Etienne’s mistrust was driving him insane. “For the last time, Brody isn’t faking it. These things are real. What they do is real. So real, in fact, he refused to come with me to the hospital because he was afraid of what they might do to Mariana. He’s a decent guy, Etienne. You have to give him the benefit of the doubt here.”
Silence followed. It lasted long enough that Cruz started to worry he’d pushed too hard. He wasn’t exactly impartial, and Etienne knew it, even if he didn’t know the specifics of the date and the promise of more to come.
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you champion anyone that strongly before,” Etienne said. “Nobody you’re not related to, anyway.”
Something thoughtful had crept into his voice, not the ire Cruz feared, and it left Cruz nonplussed. “Yeah, well, he deserves it. He’s been through a lot.”
“Apparently. Are you planning on asking him out for real when all this is said and done?”
His promise to Brody rang through his head. “Yes.”
“Well, then, I guess that settles that.”
Etienne didn’t even seem upset about it, but then again, that wasn’t his way.
“So you won’t mind looking at all the data he’s gathered?” Cruz asked. “He’s hoping you’ll see something there that could explain why they bother him in some places and not in others.”
“Sure, if he thinks it’ll help.”
“There’s one more thing I’m hoping you can do.”
“You picked a greedy one.”
“No, this one’s for me. Is your laptop handy?”
“Hang on. Simone!” It took a second, but then he was back. “What am I looking at?”
Cruz directed him to Perelman’s website, where Brody’s picture was posted. “Tell me if you see anything—”
“Please tell me Junior has a birthmark.”
The day suddenly darkened at the corners of his vision. “Crap,” Cruz muttered.
“Aaaannnd… he never made contact with them when I told him to go give ’em a chat. Don’t answer that. I already know he didn’t.”
“What’s going on, Etienne?” Cruz tightened his grip on his phone. It was the only way to keep from losing it. “I can’t see ghosts, but that is most definitely something in that photo. Mariana saw it too. How?”
“The how I can’t explain, except that it happens sometimes. The what is a different matter. See, somewhere along the way, Junior picked up a couple of hitchhikers.”
“He’s been seeing these things since he was nine,” Cruz hissed.
“Yeah, knowing that doesn’t actually make this any better to hear. ’Cause that means they’ve had all this time to get stronger, and they’re not exactly pushovers to start with.”
“They, they… what are they? Are they ghosts?”
“Not the way you know of ghosts. Think of them like psychic vermin. They break through the veil between the worlds like other ghosts, but they do it to feed off the living.”
“Like a parasite.”
“Exactly. From the sound of it, they’ve been treating Junior like an all-you-can-eat buffet for a couple decades now. They won’t want to give that up.”
All the strength drained from Cruz’s body, and he sank onto the end of the nearest bench. “I think he’s in serious trouble.”
“It won’t be that bad,” Etienne soothed. “All you have to do is bring him here, and I’ll give him the red-carpet treatment. I’ll even apologize for being so skeptical.”
“I can’t.”
Etienne’s voice hardened. “This isn’t the stuff for amateurs.”
“It’s not that.”
“Then is it the money? Because you can keep it. You know I don’t need it.”
“No!” It came out sharp enough to garner the attention of a nurse who’d sneaked out for an e-cig break. Cruz shifted away from her and lowered his voice. “What I’m trying to say is, I can’t reach him. He went out to test his data—”
“The data he sent you about when and where these things get to him?”
“The same. And now he’s not answering his phone. I have no idea where he might be.”
“Yes, you do. This data of his isn’t an infinite loop. Start retracing his steps, and if you’re lucky, you can yell at him because he let his phone die and worried you for nothing.”
“And if I’m not lucky?”
Etienne sighed. “Focus on the lucky. For both of your sakes.”
Chapter Twelve
THE neighborhood was dingier than he remembered, the houses smaller and tightly packed together. More than one had iron bars over the windows, and the fences predicted serious damage should anyone dare to get through via undesirable means. The one he’d lived in during his graduate work nestled between a brick one-story and a fifties bungalow, and while it seemed like the same people resided in them, his was on the market, a Realtor sign announcing “Price Reduced!” mounted crookedly inside the steel chain-link fence.
While he’d debated coming back later, the possibility of working out of order on his data made his skin crawl. He’d made a bet with himself that if the Realtor couldn’t come by within half an hour to let him walk through the house, he’d chalk it up to poor time management and move on. The Realtor had jumped at the opportunity, though, so Brody got back in his Malibu and waited for his arrival.
That had been forty-five minutes ago.
The worst part was, his phone was acting weird, so he couldn’t call and cancel. Cruz had called not long after Brody got off the phone with the Realtor, but when he tried answering, the line went dead. Nothing, not even rebooting, could revive it. The battery was half-full, and he could access other functions, but anything that required a connection or the Internet was off the agenda.
He drummed his fingers along the steering wheel. Sitting here was a waste of time. He’d already been to his gym and to the lecture halls where he occasionally did presentations on his research. The former was devoid of incidents, while the latter had been targeted only twice. He’d blamed those events on stress, but in light of his new understanding, he was insanely curious why there hadn’t been more interactions. None of his data overlapped to suggest a pattern.
But as frustrating as that had been, it was still better than twiddling his thumbs.
“Screw this,” he muttered.
Unbuckling, he got out of the car, making sure to pocket his phone and wallet before locking it up. After jogging across the street, he tested the gate. Unlocked. When he pushed it open, it let out a rusty groan that made the hair stand up on the back of his neck.
Brody froze. This was a bad idea for a whole host of reasons. First, he was trespassing. The Realtor was probably running late. Second, the tiny house wasn’t a font of good tidings. He’d lived here during his “I’m an adult and I can pay for things myself” phase, which meant it was insanely cheap because he’d made a pittance at the university. It was always either too hot or too cold—and far more often the latter—so when he couldn’t find an excuse to stay on campus, he was stuck sitting around in his underwear because he couldn’t get cool enough or wearing so many layers he felt like that kid from A Christmas Story who looked like a starfish by the time he was dressed to go outside.
Added on to that, it was the house where the first guy he’d ever loved, a law student named Aaron, had dumped him for a Wall Street bear. “He knows what it means to get the most out of life,” Aaron had said that last night. It was November, and he’d come around to discuss Thanksgiving plans, but he’d never made it past the foyer before springing his news on Brody. “He’s fun and spontaneous, and I need that right now.”
Brody had let him go, mostly because he was convinced Aaron would come back. He hadn’t. Thanksgiving had been a solitary affair. He hadn’t even bothered with Christmas.
Now, as he
stared at the front door, echoes of the anguish he’d gone through in those long months reverberated in his memories. He hadn’t dated again for months, wallowing in self-blame for Aaron’s disappointment. That was when he’d grown the beard, mostly because he hadn’t cared enough about his appearance to bother shaving every day. It took until the following spring for him to be confident enough to ask someone else out, but the effects remained, even to this day. Relationships were hard. Work was a breeze in comparison. At the lab, his need for order and his overdeveloped drive were seen as positives, not character flaws. Few gay men wanted to be around that for any length of time.
What about Cruz?
Last night had been almost as fun as their actual date. They’d talked for hours, and Cruz never once complained about Brody rambling. He’d even asked pertinent questions, which frankly didn’t happen very often for Brody. Was that sustainable, though? Was it the newness of attraction for both of them that cast the possibilities in such rosy hues? Would Cruz’s need to find someone to take care of win out once they’d done everything they could to get rid of Brody’s ghosts?
When he let himself think about it, Brody feared the worst.
A vibration in his pocket jerked him out of his melancholy. A moment later, his phone rang. When he pulled it out, he smiled at the sight of Cruz’s name.
“I’m sorry I missed your call earlier,” he said when he answered. “I think there’s something up with the tower around here. I haven’t been able to access anything online or get calls and texts.”
“Where are you?” Cruz asked.
The urgency in his voice caught Brody off guard. “I’m testing out some of the occurrence data.”
“I know that. I called the lab first. But where are you now? Still in Philadelphia?”
“Yeah, one of my old neighborhoods.” One of the beagles barked next door, reminding him he was still inside the gate. He stepped back onto the sidewalk, pulling the gate noisily shut behind him. “What’s wrong? Is Mariana okay?”
“She’s fine. Great. You’re the one I’m worried about. When I couldn’t reach you—never mind. Can we meet somewhere? Back at your lab, maybe?”
What a peculiar request. “My lab? Why? I sent you the file already.”
“That’s not it. I talked to Etienne. He told me things you really need to know, and we need privacy for me to be able to tell you.”
Brody snorted. “Do you know how many people work in my lab? Even locked in my office isn’t completely private.”
“It’s not people I’m worried about overhearing our conversation.”
His deliberate emphasis was unmistakable. Brody’s breath quickened, but rather than succumb to the desire to look back at the house, he focused on crossing the street to his car without making it look like he wanted to sprint to get there faster.
“If you think it’s necessary, I don’t have a problem with it,” he said. Vague words were his friend right now. He still didn’t have a quantifiable way of determining how much his ghosts could glean from his daily life, but they’d always responded to verbal cues. “I’m on my way.”
His heart was thumping as he drove away from the house. What could be so bad that Cruz was afraid of the ghosts hearing it? Especially coming from Etienne? Two days ago he’d been accusing Brody of making it all up, so what had changed?
Answers had to wait. Think of it like work. When Brody was eager for a result and patience was in short supply, he switched to a different project to forget about it for a few minutes.
His current project was driving. He put both hands on the steering wheel and straightened his posture. For now he would be the best damn driver in all of Philadelphia.
BRODY walked in to find Cruz pacing the length of the lobby, the afternoon security guard frowning at him every step of the way. He stopped and turned around at Brody’s entrance, ready at his side as Brody stood in front of the desk.
“Can I get a visitor pass for my friend, please?” he said with a smile.
Cap, the guard, made it up as requested, but his terse tone when Cruz passed over his ID spoke volumes about his mistrust of the stranger. Though Brody held off on commenting until they were in the elevator, the second he opened his mouth to ask Cruz about it, Cruz shook his head and held a finger to his lips to indicate Brody should keep quiet.
Brody’s curiosity compounded with each floor they passed. He was nervous too, but the mystery surrounding whatever it was Cruz was afraid to share beat that out. Cruz stuck to his side all the way to the lab, but even then, he only fell back a step to allow Brody to lead the way.
Rita and Evan looked up when they entered. Rita’s gaze flickered to Cruz, but it was Evan’s pointed appraisal that got under Brody’s skin.
“We didn’t expect to see you back today,” Evan said.
Brody hesitated, especially when Cruz’s eyes narrowed in on Evan. “It didn’t take me nearly as long as I thought it would.” He looked to Rita. “Everything okay here?”
She nodded. “You have a message on your desk.”
“Thanks.” Even though he had seniority, he knew he had to explain Cruz’s presence or risk Evan’s gossip making it even worse. “This is my friend Cruz. We’ll be in my office if you need me.”
Rather than wait for more inevitable questions, Brody left them there, relieved when they were finally ensconced behind the closed door of his office. Cruz glanced around, but his focus reverted back to Brody almost immediately.
“Are you sure we’re good in here?” Cruz asked.
“Of course.”
“And we won’t get interrupted? Because that guy out there answered your phone today while you were gone.”
Frowning, Brody went to his desk and found the pink message slip, complete with Cruz’s name and number, timed just after his cell phone started playing up. “This is Rita’s handwriting.”
“She caught him in here and kicked him out.”
He wished he could say he was surprised. “Remember that idiot I was complaining about last night?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s him.” He wadded up the message and tossed it in the trash. “Sit. Tell me what’s going on.”
Cruz obeyed, leaning forward to brace his forearms on his knees. “First things first. Do you remember a headshot from a few years ago when you were featured on the university’s website?”
“Vaguely.”
“Do you remember anything strange about it?”
He searched his memory and came up empty. “I look like an idiot in it, I know that. I thought the whole PR thing was a waste of time. Why do you even know about that? Did Etienne point it out?”
“No, I found it when I was showing you off to Mariana.”
Heat bloomed in his face. Cruz had told his sister about him? More than that, he’d said “showed off.” Like he was bragging. “I can’t believe you told her about me.”
The corner of his mouth lifted, showing off one of his adorable dimples. “She was trying to set me up with some doctor. I had to show her why I wasn’t on the market right now.”
So it hadn’t been completely voluntary, but the fact that Cruz considered himself unavailable for fix-ups more than made up for it. Brody smiled, then ducked his head when he realized how silly he must appear.
“Hey,” Cruz said softly. “You don’t have to hide smiles. There’s nothing wrong with being happy for a change.”
The best Brody could do was look at him through his lashes. “It’s going to take some getting used to. It’s been a while.”
Reaching forward, Cruz caught Brody’s wrist and used his weight as an anchor to roll his chair closer, all the way until their knees touched. “What if I told you being happy will help with your ghost problem?”
“Because I’ll be too busy with you to notice they’re trying to slice and dice me?” At the sudden alarm on Cruz’s face, he shook his head. “Don’t ask.”
Cruz let go of his wrist to skim fingertips over Brody’s face. Brody leaned into
the touch, his breath catching at Cruz’s gentleness. Their first kiss had been just like this. Understandably so. They were both wary, emotions on lockdown because of the turbulence elsewhere in their lives. Brody appreciated the care Cruz had taken, but he was past needing it. He wanted the hunger, the passion that came when two people let their inhibitions go and took what they desired. His public life was all about structure and rules, so why shouldn’t he unleash when it was just the pair of them?
Cruz’s nostrils flared. “This is really the wrong place for me to be having these kind of thoughts,” he said, his voice husky.
“You mean this isn’t the reason you wanted to get me all alone?” Brody teased. God, it felt good to be able to flirt and not fear how it would be received.
“I wish it was.” He brushed his thumb across the corner of Brody’s lips before letting his hand drop away. “Do me a favor and look at the headshot. I’ll explain to you what Etienne said when he saw it.”
Turning his back on Cruz helped to get his thoughts back in order, at least until he saw the photo in question. He stared at it in disbelief as Cruz started talking about hitchhikers and ghosts feeding off human energies, wondering throughout how it was he’d never seen the shadow before. Well, he knew how. He hated looking at pictures of himself, so he’d never given it more than a glance. Anyone else would’ve justified it as poor lighting. Only people who believed in ghosts—and, apparently, very astute little girls—would see it as anything else.
“But why me?” Brody asked. “My family is as pragmatic as they come. I didn’t even read ghost stories as a kid.”
“Etienne still thinks you’re a sensitive. But if these parasites hooked onto you at a young enough age, they’d scare off any ghosts that might make themselves visible to you. I think… well, based on the timing, it seems like the best explanation—”
“Mom’s death.” He barely breathed the words, but they pulsed with a life of their own, hanging there, unavoidable, undeniable, immutable. “I was a wreck.”
“All that grief was probably catnip to them,” Cruz said.