by Anne Brooke
As I struggled to keep the sprite away from my throat, where it could do a lot of damage just short of killing me, Miranda sprang to my rescue. She reached for the water jug and deposited its entire contents on top of the sprite. A piercing howl—the sprite’s—and a triumphant yell—Miranda’s—beat against my ears, and the creature released me from its deadly grip. It scampered past Miranda’s desk, still howling, through the front door and away as red sprite-blood dripped from its form. Earth-sprites seriously hated water. They were terrified of becoming mud.
“Are you alright?” Miranda put down the jug and peered at me.
I spat out the remains of the water from my mouth and wiped away a strand of hair. “Never better. I always do like an end-of-day crisis. Thanks for scaring the damn thing off.”
“My pleasure,” she said, “though I’m not wiping up the carpet.”
I opened my mouth to reassure her she wouldn’t have to, not after saving me from a long and difficult-to-explain hospital visit, but Aaron got there first.
He stepped into the room and took us both in with a very hard stare. “What the hell was all that about? There wasn’t anything there. Nothing at all, I’m telling you. You’re either both insane or I am. So tell me, which is it?”
“Look,” Miranda said, leaping into the fray. “Just because something isn’t visible to you doesn’t mean other people can’t see it. Why are young people so narrow-minded these days? You brought in an earth-sprite. I can’t see them, but I can sense them. It’s gone now, you’ll be glad to hear. Those beasts really don’t like water. They’re also deadly and goodness knows what it was doing with you anyway.
“You seem to be a pleasant enough young man, and my nephew appears to be quite fond of you, if I can put it like that. You came here because you wanted help with a haunting, but if you’re going to bring one or other of the psychic elements with you, then there’s obviously something else going on. Anyway, you’re the one who’s causing the disturbance rather than us, so please don’t question our insanity when maybe we should be questioning yours.
“Now, would you like tea? I can put the kettle on, and we can all discuss this like reasonable people.”
The silence rose among the three of us as Aunt Miranda came to the end of her monologue. I’d not heard her say so much since the day Tony Blair won the election. She wasn’t a keen supporter of the Labour Party. I cursed the pesky sprite because it meant my postsex meeting with Aaron had probably lost any romantic flavor I could have hoped for.
Oh well.
I opened my mouth to ease the tension, but Aaron got in first. This seemed to be becoming a habit. I really had to activate my speech buttons much sooner. I, after all, was the boss…of the agency at least.
“Do you always have such a lot to say?” Aaron asked my aunt, but I could tell that the first sense of shock had gone and he wanted to smile.
“Oh yes,” Miranda replied. “And you’d be wise to listen to it. Tea?”
“Yes, please. I think I need it.”
Miranda nodded and tip-tapped her way to the kitchen. I hoped she might bring me back a towel, but I couldn’t be sure, so I shook out my shirt and hoped my professional image hadn’t been entirely lost. Some hope.
“Here,” Aaron said and grabbed a handful of tissues from Miranda’s desk. “Are you always this dramatic, whatever the hell is going on?”
I took the tissues and dabbed at my shirt. “I’m not dramatic at all. It’s just I see things other people don’t, and sometimes it causes problems. On the other hand, it means I can help when the dead start to interfere with the living, so it’s a price I’m prepared to pay. My mother once told me if you have a gift, you have to use it well and to help others, not just selfishly, and I’ve tried to keep to what she said.”
I couldn’t say anything else, though maybe I wanted to, so I wiped my eyes and hoped Aaron thought it was the water, nothing more. He didn’t say anything. He simply prised the tissues out of my fingers, added to them from Miranda’s supply and started to wipe me dry more effectively. After a few moments, the feel of his fingers so near to my chest made my dick get hard, so I moved away.
“Thanks. I’ll need to change, but thanks.”
His smile made my throat feel dry and brought back vivid memories of how close we’d been the night before. “It’s my pleasure,” he said. “Believe me.”
How this wasn’t true, in so many ways. It was my pleasure, too. Before I could change my mind, I put my hand at the back of his head, brought his lips to mine and kissed him. Not a full on, tongue twisting, saliva inducing snog—though I’d thought it might be—but a series of small, delicate kisses, just for him.
He put his arms around my waist, pressing me closer, in spite of my recent drenching. Obviously, wondering if I was insane hadn’t lessened his interest. I just got a feel of his hardening cock against mine, and the kisses might have been about to leap to a different level, when a lady-like but determined cough caught both our attentions.
“Tea is ready,” Miranda said.
Heck, I’d almost forgotten she was here.
We drank tea, and Aaron took one of Miranda’s homemade biscuits. He didn’t spit it out, so I imagined it was one of her successes, or he was being incredibly polite. Miranda gave me a wink and withdrew subtly to her desk. Just far enough to give us some privacy, but not far enough to allow me to leap onto Aaron and have my wicked way with him, or let him have his with me. This was a good thing in terms of my professionalism, but less so for my libido.
Something else occurred to me, as my aunt began tapping away at her keyboard. No doubt a spot of online shopping as there wasn’t much else to do at the moment.
“You didn’t have to turn up here,” I said, as a conversation starter, of sorts. “I could easily have popped the report in next week, as I promised. Though it’s good to see you. Never think it’s not.”
Aaron sighed. “I know, but this morning, first thing, something happened in the house, and one of the builders was injured.”
“What?” I said, almost spilling my tea. “What happened? Is he okay?”
“Yes. He’s fine. One of the hammers hit him, cutting him above the eye. I cleaned him up, and the other builder took him to hospital.”
“An accident?”
Aaron shook his head. “No. Sorry, not possible. The damn hammer pursued the poor bloke around the kitchen twice before it got him, so ‘accident’ doesn’t describe it, does it? In the end, it took two of us to shut the hammer in the cupboard and lock it. I tell you, Jack, that thing was evil. Holding it made me feel sick.”
Aunt Miranda stopped typing, and I didn’t need psychic abilities to catch the waves of concern coming our way.
“I’m not surprised,” I replied. “From what you’re saying, I think we’re going to have to go in tomorrow night, with some options to solve the problem before it gets stronger. I didn’t expect my presence there yesterday would have provoked such a reaction, but sometimes it happens. Is the new plan okay with you, Aaron?”
He frowned. “What will you do?”
I handed him the report and opened it to the summary page. “I’ll set up the equipment in the kitchen and elsewhere, and take the usual readings. Miranda will be with me, as we always work together. It’s a whole lot simpler. I’ll also put a few sprung-traps in place to see what turns up. Sometimes these sorts of hauntings can be caused by a combination of factors coming together at one moment in time. I’ll need to check it. Plus, in order to save potential angst later on, I’ll perform a cleansing ceremony if there’s time. It’s not the standard one used by the church or spiritualists, but a combination of both I’ve found to work very well indeed. In the morning, we’ll report back to you and see where we go from there.”
“I won’t need a report. Won’t I have been there when all this is going on?”
I hesitated. “It’s not usual practice for the client to be on site when the agency is carrying out an investigation. I usually recommend the
y stay with family or friends.”
Aaron’s face took on a look of determination I’d not seen before. “Not in this case. I’m staying.”
“It’s not wise,” I said. “I don’t want to have to be responsible for you when I’m working. There’ll be enough else to focus on.”
“You’re not responsible for me. We’re both grown men. It’s my house and it once belonged to someone I loved very much. I’m not going anywhere. I won’t get in your way, but I’ll also help if I can. That’s my final offer. Besides, isn’t the customer always right?”
As Miranda half-snorted, half-laughed in a less than lady-like fashion, I had to admit he had a point.
*
All this explained why exactly a day later, Miranda, Aaron and I were ensconced in Aaron’s house, waiting for the fun to start. I’d sensed the anxiety the moment I arrived, clutching my usual on-the-job baggage of cameras, recorders, salt and a good supply of silver. It felt like thorns scraping across my skin, a warning of dangers to come.
One glance at Aaron as he opened the door and waved us both inside told me things had gotten worse since we’d spoken. His frown had deepened, and his face looked grey.
“Rough night?” I asked him, stupidly.
He nodded. “No sleep at all. I’m making insomnia an Olympic sport. It’s the crying I can’t stand.”
“Yours or something you’re hearing?”
He grimaced. “By now, it’s perhaps a bit of both, but at first, just what I was hearing. I spent half the night trying to track which room it was coming from, and the other half trying to keep my bedcovers on. Whatever the hell it is I’ve got here, it’s got very cold hands, I can tell you.”
I couldn’t help bristling, while Miranda gave me the look and began sifting through our baggage in the living room. Okay, I knew it was wrong to be irritated, but I was damned if I was going to let whatever was putting the feelers on Aaron hang around in its half-life too long. Unexpectedly, he gave me a quick smile.
“No need to be jealous,” he said. “Whatever it was, I fought it off successfully.”
Ah. I hadn’t thought I was so transparent, but I’d obviously been wrong.
“Good,” I replied, as Miranda stifled what might have been a snort. “What about the builders?”
He gazed at me, deadpan. “They haven’t made any passes at me at any stage, but if they did, I’d fight them off, too, now.”
His “now” made me want to smile, but Aunt Miranda had already given up the battle and succumbed to laughter. So I fought down the urge, in order to maintain some vestiges of professionalism. “No, I meant how have they been since the injury?”
Aaron sighed and sat on the nearest chair. He stretched his legs out and stared at the ceiling. I wanted nothing more than to ruffle his hair and kiss his mouth until he smiled again.
“I don’t know,” he said. “They’ve not been back. And, in all honesty, I can’t blame them, can you?”
“No,” I agreed. “I can’t. But how about you? Last night must’ve been frightening. You’re not used to this sort of thing.”
“You can say that again. I started off being scared. Who wouldn’t? But after a while, I got angry. This is my house, it belongs to my family, and I’ve put my heart and soul into it. I’m damned if I’m going to let a bout of bullying get the better of me, whether it’s from the living or the dead. Do you see what I mean?”
I nodded. It was as good a way of putting it as any I’d come across, and I touched his arm. “Hell, yes. And good for you.”
The way he looked at me made me want to take him in my arms, pull him out the door and somewhere far, far away. Somewhere we didn’t have to deal with the past and its hauntings, and somewhere we could be alone.
It wasn’t going to happen. If I did suddenly do a runner, dragging Aaron with me, Aunt Miranda was an expert at the left field rugby tackle. One of us would end up getting hurt, and it was likely to be me. So I nodded at Aaron before glancing around to see if I could spot any hidden imp or sprite lurking in the shadows.
I saw nothing, not even a hint of water or a sprinkle of earth.
“Any more incidents today?” I asked him. “Any water or mud in strange places?”
He gave me a sideways look. “No, nothing. Why?”
I shook my head and carried on unpacking what I needed. “No reason. Just curious.”
It was strange, though. After a psychic incident like the attack in the kitchen, the imps and sprites were more often than not out in full force. As had been seen when Aaron visited the office earlier on. In a way, I’d almost expected it and been prepared to suffer an onslaught of impish activity in the house itself. However, even when I closed my eyes and concentrated, I couldn’t sense anything. No water, no earth.
They simply weren’t here. What could it mean? Either what had happened had spooked the sprites so much they’d scarpered, or—which was significantly worse—they’d scarpered for fear of what might happen. Yes, this thought worried me. When I glanced over at Miranda, I could tell it worried her as well.
When Aaron asked if either of us wanted coffee, I said yes. I needed to get him out of the room so I could talk to Miranda, but she spoke first. “You’re worried, aren’t you?”
“Yes, too right I am. I can’t sense any imps or sprites. We’re going to have to keep a sharp eye out in case we need to withdraw.”
Miranda’s eyebrows rose as high as they could without leaving her face entirely. “Withdraw? Heavens, you must be spooked. I’ve never heard you admit defeat before we even begin.”
“I’m not admitting defeat. It’s not the paranormal detection way. Still, something feels off about the house. Nothing I think we can’t handle, but I just want us to be sharp tonight, okay? I don’t want to let Aaron down.”
Unexpectedly, my aunt’s expression softened. “You really like him, don’t you?”
“Yes,” I had to admit. “It’s early days—way too early—but yes, I do.”
Anything else she might have said had to wait as Aaron returned with the coffee tray and a plate full of biscuits. I finished setting up in between munching.
All of which brought us to now: two A.M. I’d just finished the latest half-hourly stroll round the house to check everything, gaining me nothing as even my psychic traps hadn’t been triggered, and all three of us were sitting in the living room. We weren’t making conversation, and it was fine, as I liked to concentrate. However, every now and again, I sneaked a look at Aaron’s beautiful face. I couldn’t help myself. Even better, every so often he looked back at me.
I was just considering taking another peek at the man obsessing my thoughts when something shifted in my head. This only happened either when someone from the other side was trying to contact me without the usual formalities, or when things were about to get nasty. On rare occasions, it meant both.
The shifting became deeper. I sprang out of my chair. “Get down!” I yelled.
Aunt Miranda ducked at once, shielding her head in her hands, but Aaron stared up at me in disbelief. I had just enough time to reach him and push him to the carpet before the corner of one of the picture frames knocked me on the shoulder and shattered on the floor. It had been aiming at his head.
The next moment, something cold hit me in the stomach. Bloody hell, a psychic knife. Thankfully it was only the handle. At the same time, Miranda yelled a warning, and I dodged sideways so the weapon’s edge just missed me. Thank goodness for quick reflexes. Clamping down on the myriad voices in my head now all shouting for attention, I spat on my hands and grabbed where I hoped the knife grip would be as the blade went by. Saliva made it more visible.
I was in luck. The end of the handle jagged on my fingers, and I held on. It felt lumpy, and I couldn’t understand why. No time to ponder on it. The force of its trajectory pulled me across the room and I slid belly-down over the sofa like someone in a comedy sketch. This was no comedy. One moment, all had been relatively peaceful, and the next I was somehow involved
in a full-scale ghostly battle.
I was half-on and half-off the sofa when the knife plunged into the floor. Any second now, it would vanish entirely if I didn’t get a move on.
“Silver. Now!” I shouted, refusing to waste time on full sentences, and hoping Miranda would forgive the lack of courtesy.
Without any fuss, my aunt pushed the silver into my free hand, and I brought it down on the knife as quickly as possible.
A small explosion—no more than expected—ensued at the sudden influx of the metal’s purity into the psychic world. Aaron shouted, Miranda gasped, and I let out a stream of curses, which would have made my mother frown.
When the smoke finally cleared, everything was under control, more or less.
“What the hell is that?” Aaron was the first to speak as he rose to his feet and waved away the smoke.
I held up the knife to the light so I could get a better look at it. The top edge was jagged all the way along, but the bottom was smooth. The handle was what caught my attention, though. Decorated in gold and inlaid with red studs, which might have been ruby, it was easy to see where my impression of bumps had come from. I’d never seen anything like it.
“It’s a psychic knife,” I explained, as Aaron waited. “Something the spirit world uses to attack people when they really mean business. No wonder the imps and sprites have vanished. I can’t say I blame them.”
“Let me look at the knife,” Miranda interrupted, getting to the heart of the matter as usual.
I smiled my best “this is really normal, so don’t worry, as we’ve got it all under control” smile at Aaron and passed over the weapon to my aunt. I wasn’t sure Aaron was convinced by what I’d said, but I sure as hell knew Miranda could tell me more about the knife than anyone else in the region. Possibly the country. She was an expert with psychic knives, a talent that made her a tidy little sum from guest appearances at the right conventions.