Yep. Definitely screwed.
Michael took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He was the Guardian, in charge of the department, and he needed to be professional. It took effort, but he shoved all his feelings into that box in his heart that he reserved just for Sam. With his game face on, he got to work.
And if he kept glancing over at Sam? Well that was just his job.
Chapter Seven
IT was a good thing Sam was paying attention, or he would have tripped over Tyler as he turned to walk up the last flight of stairs--not that Tyler was easy to miss. He was six foot five of solid muscles. Bulging biceps that strained his T-shirt were kind of his trademark. His thick black hair fell into his deep brown eyes, and he had a habit of trying to make himself smaller because he knew just how intimidating he looked.
Tyler was one of the kindest people Sam had ever met. If he'd been a thug in his younger years, what did that matter? Sam only cared about the person he was now, and that person was hiding his face with his hair and sitting in the stairwell.
Sam didn't say a word. He just sat beside Tyler, pushed in close, and then looped one arm through Tyler's. A quiet hitch of breath was the only acknowledgment Tyler gave of his presence. Sam rubbed his free hand on Tyler's shoulder and let him breathe and just be.
A good ten minutes passed, and Sam finally spoke. He made sure to keep his voice quiet and low.
"So. We just gonna sit in the stairwell all day?"
The tiniest laugh was his only response. But Tyler finally looked up and shook his hair out of his face. Sam pushed it back and tucked it behind one ear. He saw the worry in Tyler's eyes.
"We've all had scary ghostwalks."
Tyler nodded, but he still didn't speak. His gaze tracked Sam's and then bounced away and landed on his knees again. Sam pushed in a bit closer, not worried that he was smooshing Tyler into the railing. Tyler could handle it.
"You've had a few days off, huh?"
Tyler nodded again.
Sam blew out a long, exaggerated breath. "Yeah. It's necessary and all, after a ghostwalk like that. But man, sometimes I think it does more harm than good. Now you've had days to worry about it instead of getting right back in the saddle. Makes the prospect worse sometimes."
"Yeah."
Oh, a word. It was whispered, but at least Sam was making progress.
"You've been doing this for a long while now, Ty. What's got you so worried?" Sam cocked his head. "It wasn't your first bad one, was it?"
Tyler shook his head. "No."
"Then?"
He cleared his throat. "She was just so angry. I didn't see it coming."
Sam understood that feeling. He went back to rubbing Tyler's shoulder.
"Sometimes," he began and then stopped to think about how to put it into words. "When you don't see it, when it all seems like it's going to be fine, and then they get you, that's the hardest. Especially for someone as experienced as you. You read spirits well, Ty."
Tyler shot him a look, and Sam grinned.
"I mean, you read a case and you get a good feel of what you're going into. Just by what the mediums have put in there. No one can do that like you can."
Tyler shrugged one massive shoulder. "I didn't this time."
"Tell me about it." Sam knew he was taking a risk, but after working together for years, Sam thought he knew Tyler pretty well. And if he could help Tyler get to the root of the issue, then maybe that anxiety and worry would go away or at least diminish.
"She'd fallen off the trail, so no one could see her. She was there for two days before someone reported her missing, and it took another two before they found her. Search dogs and everything." Tyler shuddered and sucked in a breath. "Mostly she was just pissed that she'd died that way. She was an experienced hiker. It's why she was doing the trail in the first place. She did everything right, so she was... incensed that she died. I thought I could reason with her, but she grabbed on and wouldn't let me go. Said I had a good body for hiking."
Sam abandoned all pretenses and wrapped his arms around as much of Tyler as he could. He held him close and murmured soothing sounds. Tyler wasn't crying, but he was shaking as he relived that moment--the moment when a spirit had threatened to take over his body. It happened to all of them at one point or another, and it was scary as hell to think about going back into the spirit plane and having it happen again.
When Tyler calmed down, Sam dropped his arms and bumped Tyler with his shoulder.
"Want me to go with you?"
Tyler's head jerked up, and Sam gave him a sincere smile.
"We'll do this first one together. I haven't ghostwalked in a while." He made a face at Tyler's raised brow and then laughed. "Okay, I went in to help you. But Michael anchored. And Dom's been gone and--"
"Try again." Tyler was at least smiling now.
"I know the first time it happened to me, it wasn't that bad, but I was scared out of my head to ghostwalk again. Blake came with me. We went together, and it made it easier. Reminded me what I did and why. And that I could." Sam smiled brightly and opened his arms. "So you want to?"
Tyler seemed to think about it, and then he nodded.
Sam jumped to his feet. "Great. Let's go. I'll get Dom, you get Annika, and we'll meet in the double room at the end. Then we can figure out who we're going to help."
Tyler got up with more grace than someone his size should have and grabbed Sam's wrist.
"Thanks, Sam."
"No problem. Really. I'm happy to help."
They split apart when they reached their respective offices. Dom was already inside, and he looked up with a big smile on his face. He reached into his bag and, with a great flourish, pulled out a water globe. Sam grinned and took it and then gave it a shake. The glitter swirled around a Hawaiian dancer, complete with grass skirt and lei.
"From Levi. Something shiny, as promised."
"Thanks. It's perfect. I'll shoot Levi a text later." He placed it on the table, watched it for a second, and then turned his attention to Dom. "Grab your stuff. We're ghostwalking with Ty today."
Dom shot him a questioning look but did as he was told. "He nervous about going in?"
"Yeah." Sam had told Dom everything that happened while he'd been away, so he knew Sam and the other ghostwalkers had gone in after Tyler. "So we're going to help him. Something easy. Have you looked at the case files yet?"
Dom shook his head as he followed Sam out of the office. "No. I just got here a minute ago."
"Okay. Well, we'll figure it out."
Sam walked into the double room first, but Tyler and Annika were already there. She was fussing over Tyler, and he let her. Sam smiled. They were another well-matched pair. Annika didn't have the anchoring gene, but she had mothering down to an art. And she had a soft touch that Tyler responded well to.
"Oh Dom, my best friend and perfect anchor."
"Christ," Dom muttered but he smiled. "What?"
"Please do me the honor and favor of telling our esteemed leader what we're doing. And you--" Sam spun around and pointed at Tyler. "--you and I shall figure out where we're going."
Annika leaned close to Tyler and put her hand on his arm. "If you're not ready, we can wait."
He gave her a smile and squeezed her hand. "I'm okay, Nika. I can do this. Sam's gonna help."
Annika shot him a look, but it didn't last. Her expression softened, and she nodded. "Okay, then. Let's do this."
Sam and Tyler looked through the cases and settled quickly on a sweet, kindly grandmother who had passed away a few days before. Ninety-two, with more than fifty grandchildren to her name, she was, by all accounts, the most wonderful woman on the planet. But she had a horrible sense of direction. Alli had made a notation on the case that the poor dear didn't seem to know which way was up, let alone how to cross.
They had a plan of action, and all they needed were the swords. Sam kicked off his shoes and pulled off his shirt as Tyler did the same. Good lord, but he had a gorgeous chest. Sam
grinned to himself and got settled in one of the chairs. It wasn't his, so it didn't fit him perfectly, but it would do for one ghostwalk. Once they were situated, Dom called for Michael.
It didn't take Michael long to appear. And he looked like an avenging angel, with a sword in each hand and a serious expression. He looked them both over, and his gaze lingered on Sam a little longer than necessary. Then he stepped between them.
"Tyler, are you ready?"
"Yes, sir."
Michael nodded but kept staring at Tyler. It took Sam a second, but he realized that Michael was reading Tyler. Sam assumed that he wanted to make sure his operative was in the right frame of mind. Sam appreciated it. He didn't think Tyler would go through with it if he wasn't ready, but sometimes hidden doubts were just that--hidden. And if Tyler was not entirely sure, it could be disastrous.
Michael smiled softly and reached out to grip Tyler's shoulder. "Yeah, you are."
Then he lifted the sword and plunged it through Tyler's chest. Annika immediately pressed down on his shoulders, and Tyler's entire body gave a jerk. Blood burbled out of Tyler's mouth, but Annika didn't move. Tyler jerked again and then went still. Only then did Annika start to clean him up.
Sam had seen plenty of people die by sword over the years, but that was a little bit traumatic. He worked fast to center himself, remember the plan and where he was going to meet Tyler, and then he looked up at Michael.
"Do it fast, please. I don't want to leave him in there by himself too long. He needs me to walk with him."
Michael's expression was full of such affection that Sam's breath caught.
"It's really good of you to help him. Ready?"
Sam nodded, braced himself, and tried not to tense up. He focused on Michael, on those deep dark eyes he adored and the warmth of his approval. He was doing it for Tyler, to remind him he was a confident ghostwalker, to help Tyler get his feet back under him after a traumatic experience.
Knowing Michael approved was just a bonus.
He saw the sword above him, caught the glint off the overhead light, and then felt the searing pain as it pierced through flesh and bone. He fought to let himself go into that oblivion, felt the blood well up in his throat, and then died.
First he became aware of that peaceful feeling that death always brought him, and then of the serene beach scene before him. Sam smiled. For a moment he just let himself be. Then he shook himself and went in search of Tyler.
He found him already talking to the sweet old lady from the picture in the case file. She was stooped with age, but she had the warmest smile he'd ever seen. Sam walked close to the pair, but didn't get in the way. They both looked over at him, so he smiled and waved.
"Martha, this is my friend Sam. He's here to help you too. You deserve a double escort to cross over."
She tittered out a high, girlish laugh. "My. Such handsome boys. It must be my lucky day, getting to see such fine men before I go."
"We're happy to give you the treat, then," Sam said as he stepped closer. "Are you ready, Miss Martha? Or do you need a minute?"
"I do love the ocean." She turned so she could stare out at the blue depths. To Sam, the colors were muted as they always were on the spirit plane. Without turning back she asked, "And you say I can see my family again?"
"Yes, ma'am," Tyler assured her. "You wanted to see your mother and brother and sister, and they're waiting for you. Just as soon as you're ready."
"I lived a long time without them. I'm the last one left." She pursed her lips. "Well, was."
"It's hard being the only one," Tyler agreed.
Martha turned around and took in all the sights. "It's so beautiful here. I'd forgotten."
"But this is not your final stop, right? Just a detour."
"What if I want to stay right here?"
Sam saw the moment of panic cross Tyler's face, and he stepped sideways so Tyler could see he was right there. Tyler visibly relaxed and then turned his attention back to Martha.
"You could stay, I suppose. But the question is, do you really want to? Wouldn't you rather finally be with all the family who passed on before you? I'd make a sure bet they're waiting on you."
She gave that high-pitched laugh again. "Probably. I never could be on time for any old thing. Have to make a grand entrance, you know?"
Tyler chuckled, and his shoulders eased. "Can you imagine it now? They're all waiting--your mother, your siblings, your husband Hank. And you walk in."
"Well." She clapped her hands, delighted glee all over her face. "Best be on with it. Which way?"
"Right this way, ma'am." Tyler held out an arm, and Sam held his breath. Or he would have if he were actually breathing. More often than not, the best way to get a spirit to cross was by physically guiding them, but after what he'd just been through, Sam was a little surprised Tyler would allow a spirit to touch him.
But Martha gently placed a hand in the crook of his elbow, and Sam followed a few paces behind as they slowly made their way across the sand and to the light. Martha didn't need any more encouragement when she saw it. Instead she let go, called back a thank-you, and stepped through. A second later the light was gone.
Sam turned to Tyler. "Could that have been any easier?"
Tyler laughed. "Don't jinx it. Besides, I was talking to her for a couple of minutes before you came through. She was ready--more than ready. I just had to show her the way."
"Exactly." Sam gave him a pointed look. "See, you didn't need me at all."
"No. I'm glad you were here. When she touched me, for just a second I freaked out. But I knew you had my back."
"Of course I did." Sam smiled and then gestured vaguely behind him. "You want to wait here while I find somebody to tell Michael we're ready to come back?"
"I'll do it. I enjoy scaring Alli. See you on the other side."
Sam laughed and watched him go. Then he sat in the sand, closed his eyes, and readied himself for the return trip. It had been a good one, and Tyler was acting like his old self again. Mission accomplished.
Chapter Eight
MICHAEL read through the report again and then slammed his tablet so hard on his desk that the screen cracked. Hell. He was going to have to request a new one from IT, and they would give him shit about it. He should have more control over his temper, but it was about Sam, and Michael was at his wit's end.
Despite his talk to Sam weeks earlier, he was still at it--taking difficult cases that went on for far too long. According to the reports, his latest case was the worst yet. The spirit kept shifting around, and Sam had spent an inordinate amount of time looking for her. And when he found her, the spirit's snarky attitude made conversation nearly impossible. There was an edge to Sam's interactions with her that Michael didn't like. Something pulled at his gut and told him that all wasn't as it seemed with the spirit.
Things had been even more strained between them ever since he anchored Sam a couple of weeks back. Michael knew that was his doing, that maybe he'd gone too far, so he let Sam have the space he seemed to need. He'd been making a concerted effort not to get too involved with Sam's cases and trust him to do his job. But enough was enough.
He blew out a breath, reined in his emotions, and hit the intercom button.
"Julie, I need Sam in here."
There was a pause. Then, "Dominic too?"
"No."
"Yes, sir."
Michael drummed his fingers on his desk. His impatience made him edgy, and he needed to get control of himself before Sam walked in. It was about the job, nothing else. He couldn't let his emotions play into it.
The knock at the door let him know he was out of time. He sat up straight, unclenched his fists, and called, "Enter."
Sam walked in and shut the door behind him. When he looked at Michael, his closed-off expression didn't bode well. But it also meant Sam knew why he had been called into the office. Good. That would make things go much faster.
"You wanted to see me?"
Michael gestur
ed to the chair across from him. "Sit."
Sam did, but he held himself stiffly, that unreadable expression still on his face. Michael stared back and willed himself not to use his telepathy to find out where Sam's head was at. He waited a beat and then another, hoping Sam would start, perhaps admit his guilt and express his regret. But it was clear Sam wasn't going to speak. Okay, then.
"It seems you took your verbal warning as a suggestion rather than a command."
Sam blinked, but nothing showed in his expression--no emotion, no reaction. Michael hated it.
"Is that what it was?" Sam's voice was even and utterly neutral.
Michael fought his frustration. "You know it was. I specifically told you to stop taking hard cases."
"We all have to take hard cases. You can't tell me to stop."
"Perhaps," Michael allowed. "Let me be clearer, then. I specifically told you to stop taking those kinds of cases back-to-back. It's too taxing on you, mentally and physically."
"I'm fine. Ask Dom."
Michael growled, and his frustration bubbled up. Sam was being purposefully obtuse.
"I'm sure Dominic would say you're fine. He supports you entirely. That's what a good anchor does." Michael took a second to calm himself. "I want to know why you disregarded my directive."
"I take the cases I'm drawn to, the ones where I feel I can help the best. You know that. It's what all ghostwalkers do."
Goddammit. That cool, even tone was getting under Michael's skin. Sam never spoke so dispassionately, never had that much control. It was unnerving. If Michael didn't know any better, he'd think an unemotional clone had replaced Sam.
"Be that as it may, you cannot keep doing this to yourself. Burnout is a very real thing, Sam. I will not allow you to make yourself sick over the job."
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