by Ally Blue
Sam obediently started the video rolling. He said nothing about Bo’s irritated tone, or the more-than-obvious reason for it. Following the plan they’d outlined earlier, he made his way around the room, asking the same questions he’d asked everywhere else that afternoon. As usual, he felt himself tense when it came time for the question that had preceded the almost-manifestation the previous day.
“If you are here,” Sam began, heart hammering, “show us a sign of your— Christ!”
Sam stumbled forward, regained his footing and whirled around, wildly scanning the room for whatever it was that had run into him. All he saw was Bo, looking sheepish.
“Sorry,” Bo said. “I guess I tripped over something. You okay?”
Sam stared, relief and annoyance warring for domination of his emotions. Annoyance won.
“Fuck, Bo, I thought…” Sam took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. “Never mind. I’m fine. No harm done.”
Bo nodded and went back to taking pictures. But Sam saw the slight smile curling his lips. Damn, he fucking did that on purpose. For a second, Sam wanted badly to throw Bo against the wall and beat him bloody. Or kiss him until his defenses crumbled and he begged Sam to take him. Sam wasn’t sure which was the stronger urge, or if they were really all that different in the end.
A chill trailed cold fingers down Sam’s back. He sucked in a sharp breath. The sudden sense of dread was nearly overpowering. It was all he could do to hold the camera steady. Resisting the urge to jump away from the imagined nightmare behind him, Sam turned in a slow circle, capturing every part of the dim room.
“Bo,” he said, “get some stills of this area. Quick.”
Bo did it without question, the flashes of light blinding in the gloom. “What was it? Same as yesterday?”
“Not exactly. Just a feeling, really.” Sam leaned against the wooden table, shaking slightly. “I didn’t see anything, but I figured it was worth checking out more closely.”
“Good thinking.” Bo snapped one more shot, then lowered the camera. “Ready to go on to the outdoor kitchen?”
“Yep.” Sam gestured toward the door. “After you.”
Bo lifted an eyebrow, but preceded Sam out the door without a word. Sam watched Bo’s ass as he walked, not bothering to hide it since Bo was clearly expecting it. But his heart wasn’t in it this time. All he could think of was the inexplicable feeling that he’d nearly caused something to manifest in the washhouse. Why he should feel that he himself did it rather than it being a response to the carefully thought-out questions, he couldn’t say.
That can’t be right, Sam thought uneasily, even as a voice inside him whispered that it was more true than he wanted to contemplate. It’s not me. It’s this place. Something about this place.
By the time they finished investigating the old kitchen, he almost had himself convinced.
Chapter Ten
Back inside the house, Sam poured a big glass of lemonade and sat sipping it on the upstairs porch while he waited for Bo to finish showering. He wondered what Bo would think if he knew Sam had offered to wait just so he could savor the scent of Bo’s skin in the lingering steam.
Bo came wandering onto the porch about fifteen minutes later with a towel around his hips, wet hair dripping down his back and shoulders. “I’m done, it’s all yours.”
“Thanks,” Sam choked out, trying with limited success to keep his attention focused on Bo’s face.
Bo grinned, clearly well aware of how his near-nakedness affected Sam. Bastard, Sam thought irritably, fighting down the contradictory urge to laugh at Bo’s blatant flirting. He wished the man would pick a mood and stick with it. The way Bo flitted from uncomfortable to angry to playful teasing made Sam dizzy.
“See you at dinner,” Bo said, turning to go back inside. “Cecile got some jumbo shrimp at the market down the road. I’m going to fry them and make some coleslaw and hushpuppies.”
“Sounds great,” Sam answered, stomach already rumbling in anticipation.
Bo smiled over his shoulder as he sauntered into the parlor. Sam tried to tell himself that Bo did not put an extra slink into his walk. It didn’t work. He knew Bo had come out to the porch half-naked and purposefully made his movements even sexier than usual, just to throw Sam off balance.
“Fucking tease,” Sam muttered as he gathered clean clothes and hurried into the bathroom. “Well, it’s not gonna work, you asshole. You’re not gonna get to me.”
He kept repeating that to himself right up until he came all over the shower curtain.
Dinner was an animated affair, everyone talking at once about the pictures that morning and what they hoped they might find from the afternoon’s investigation. Bo’s mood remained infuriatingly mercurial, cool one moment and hot the next. Sam wanted to hit him.
Sam finally caught Bo alone as they carried dirty plates and leftover coleslaw into the kitchen. “Bo,” he said, keeping his voice low with an effort, “can I talk to you for a minute?”
“Sure thing.” Bo piled plates in the sink and started the water running. “What’s up?”
You fucking well know what’s “up”, Sam thought grimly, adjusting his crotch. Out loud he said, “You’re flirting with me. Stop it.”
Bo stared in evident surprise. “What? I’m not flirting with you. I told you, I’m—”
“Straight, married, yeah, I know.” Sam made an impatient noise. “I get that, it’s fine. Maybe you don’t realize what you’re doing. But you’ve been giving me mixed messages all day, and I want you to stop.” On impulse, he moved closer, so close he could feel Bo’s short, quick breaths on his face. “If you want me, just say so. You already know how I feel.”
“Sam, please.” Bo’s voice was soft and breathless.
“Please what?” Sam resisted the urge to caress the curve of Bo’s jaw, but he didn’t back away. “What’re you asking me to do, Bo?”
Bo licked his lips, his gaze darting between Sam’s eyes and his mouth. “Don’t…don’t get so close.”
“Why not?” Sam surprised himself by leaning even closer, his cheek brushing Bo’s. Bo gasped, and Sam smiled. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”
“Yes,” Bo whispered. “Please stop.”
Sam stepped back enough to look Bo in the eye. Bo’s pupils were dilated, his upper lip dewed with sweat. Sam could practically smell his fear and his arousal.
“This is what you’ve been making me feel all day,” Sam said. “The difference between what I just did and what you’ve been doing to me is that I mean it. If you don’t mean it, stop doing it. Please.”
Bo stared at him with a strange look in his dark eyes. “I didn’t mean to tease, Sam. I’m sorry.”
Sam nodded. “Thank you.”
He turned on his heel and walked out before Bo could say anything else. He didn’t want to hear any of the excuses Bo would certainly come up with given a few minutes’ thought, and he sure as hell didn’t want to stand close enough to touch the man and not be allowed to do it.
This week, he mused as he headed for the library, is gonna fucking last forever, if he keeps coming on to me like that.
The thought of it caused a pleasant and thoroughly unsettling stir in Sam’s groin. He sighed. Parts of him were clearly begging for Bo’s attention, even though his brain knew it couldn’t possibly end well.
“Fuck it,” he muttered. “I’ll deal with it later.”
Thus resolved, he curled up in the big leather chair in the library to flip through the previous day’s photos one more time. Andre wandered in a few minutes later.
“Hey,” Andre said, settling on the sofa. He gestured toward the stack of pictures in Sam’s hand. “Find anything new?”
“No. I didn’t expect to, really, I just…” Needed something to distract me from thinking of fucking our boss through the floor. “I just figured it wouldn’t hurt to look one more time. You never know.”
“True. So, y’all get anything this afternoon, you think?” Andre stretched, y
awning.
“I’m not sure. I got one of those feelings again. You know, like something was there but I couldn’t see it. We’ll see if anything shows on the video and stills, I guess.” Sam set the pictures aside. “What about you and Amy? Anything?”
“Nope. Not a thing.” Andre yawned again. “Damn. Wish I could wake up.”
Sam frowned. “Amy said your nightmares were getting worse. Aren’t you getting any sleep?”
“Not much.” Andre shook his head. “Amy shouldn’t be going around telling people that.”
“She just wanted to know if my dreams were getting worse too.” Sam picked nervously at a loose thread in his shirt, hoping Amy hadn’t said anything to Andre about her conversation with Bo that morning. “They are, by the way. My dreams, I mean. They’re getting pretty awful. Amy thinks it’s a pattern, and I agree with her.”
Andre’s expression was solemn. “Any idea what it means?”
“Not a clue. But I bet it’s linked somehow to what’s been happening here.”
“Bet you’re right.” Andre idly flipped the pages of a magazine someone had left lying on the sofa. “Maybe if we can figure out how it’s related, the dreams’ll stop.”
“Maybe.” Sam stroked the soft leather of the chair. “You know what, we should really discuss our dreams with the group.”
Andre sighed. “Probably. I don’t much want to have to think about them, to tell you the truth, but I guess it would be the best thing to do.”
“I think it would, yeah.” Sam took a deep breath before suggesting what he knew Andre wouldn’t want to hear. “I think we should discuss the things we’ve felt too.”
Andre gave him a sharp look. “Meaning what?”
“Meaning we should talk to the group about the possibility that we’re psychic.”
“I don’t know, Sam,” Andre said, looking uncertain.
“The idea kind of spooks me too,” Sam admitted, “but what better group to talk it over with? Especially for you. They all know you way better than they do me. Except Cecile. And I think she ought to be the most understanding of the bunch, considering.”
“I hear you.” Andre cracked his knuckles, gaze darting nervously around the room. “I just don’t like it. The idea of being psychic.”
“Neither do I. But it won’t make us any less psychic to pretend we’re not. If we have those kinds of abilities, we may as well learn to understand them, and use them. Right?”
“Yeah, okay. You’re right.” The corner of Andre’s mouth lifted in a wry smile. “Never thought I’d be one of those people, you know? The ones everybody calls crazy.”
“I know what you mean.” Sam shifted in his seat, curling his legs underneath him. “I hate the idea of people thinking I’m crazy when I know I’m not.”
“Says who?” David demanded, coming in at that moment. “Maybe you are.” He dropped next to Andre on the couch. “What are we talking about?”
“Sam and I,” Andre said pointedly, “were talking about the stuff that’s happened to us so far this week. You barged in uninvited, as usual.”
Andre’s grin took the sting out of his words. David grinned back at him. “Good thing I’m so lovable.”
Andre laughed. “Sure enough. Come give me a kiss, baby.”
David scuttled backward as Andre made a grab for him. “No!” David begged between giggles. “Stop it!”
Ignoring David’s pleas for mercy, Andre hauled the other man halfway onto his lap and planted a kiss right on his lips. David scrambled out of reach, wiping his mouth.
“Andre, man,” David gasped, laughing. “Ew. Just…ew.”
“What?” Andre laid a hand over his heart. “I’m hurt.”
“Sure you are,” David said, rolling his eyes. “Smart ass.”
David smacked Andre on the arm, provoking a light punch in the ribs from Andre. It devolved from there into a wrestling match on the sofa. Sam laughed.
“All right, boys,” Amy said, sweeping into the room with Bo and Cecile at her heels. “Quit groping each other. We’re having a meeting.”
Bo’s gaze cut from David and Andre to Sam’s face, and suddenly Sam didn’t feel like laughing anymore. The look in Bo’s eyes said quite clearly that he wanted to touch Sam in that free and playful way. Sam sympathized. He held the eye contact just long enough to let Bo know he felt the same. Bo quirked a tiny smile at him.
“So what’re we meeting about?” Andre asked, sitting up and straightening his shirt.
“I want us to talk as a group. See what everyone’s thoughts are at this point in the investigation.” Bo leaned against the table and crossed his arms. “Who wants to start?”
“I will,” Cecile said after a moment of silence.
Bo smiled at her. “Okay. Go ahead.”
Cecile glanced nervously around the room. “I know that on the first couple of days, I said that I experienced things. Y’all already know that those things weren’t entirely true. But I have felt things, ever since I first set foot in this house. Weird things, like I haven’t felt anywhere else, ever.”
“Like there’s something alive and intelligent in here with us?” Sam spoke up. “Something we can’t see, because it’s not quite in our plane of existence?”
“Yes, exactly!” Cecile exclaimed. “Have you felt it too?”
“Yes.” Sam glanced at Andre. Andre answered the question in his eyes with a curt nod. “So has Andre.”
Amy sat on Andre’s lap and put an arm around his shoulders. “Honey, how come you didn’t say anything to me?”
“Sorry, babe.” Andre kissed her cheek. “I didn’t know what to think of it, or how to handle it. I was gonna tell you, when I felt ready.”
Amy smiled. “It’s okay. Was that what spooked you the first night?”
“Yeah,” Sam answered. “We both felt the same thing. Like there was something very alien and very dangerous waiting around the corner.”
“What corner?” David asked, frowning. “You mean in the hall or something?”
“No,” Andre said. “He means around a corner of space, or something. Like it was there in the room with us, only on a different level. Right, Sam?”
“Right,” Sam confirmed.
Bo gave him a considering look. “That’s interesting. I’ve never heard anybody describe a paranormal encounter in quite that way before.”
Andre nodded. “I can believe it. I’ve sure as hell never felt anything like it before.”
“Guys?” Cecile said, looking hesitant. “Have either of you considered the possibility that you might be psychic?”
Glancing at Andre, Sam leaned forward in his seat. “Actually, we were just talking about that before you guys came in. We were wondering that exact thing.”
“What do you think?” Andre asked, a little nervously. “You reckon we are?”
Cecile was silent for a moment. “I think it’s definitely possible,” she said finally. “Although I’ve never experienced anything like what you’re describing, the way you’ve experienced it sounds awfully familiar. Most of my own psychic experiences have happened in similar ways. An extremely strong feeling or sensation that others don’t share, usually without anything concrete to back it up.”
Sam stared uncomfortably at his lap. He didn’t know quite how to feel. Thinking he might be psychic was bad enough; having it more or less confirmed by an actual psychic gave him a queasy sensation. He stiffened in surprise when a hand gripped his shoulder. He looked up, right into Bo’s sympathetic eyes. Bo’s expression said that he’d noticed Sam’s mixed feelings about his abilities and was trying to be supportive. Sam appreciated the effort. He smiled, and Bo smiled back.
“Guys,” Bo said. “I get the feeling that neither of you are particularly comfortable with this. I hope that won’t stop you from trying to use your perceptions in this investigation.”
Andre raised his eyebrows at Sam. Sam shrugged. “We’ll give it a shot,” Andre agreed. “Maybe Cecile can kind of show us what to do?”
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Cecile smiled. “I’ll help any way I can. There’s not really much to it, though. All you have to do is center yourself and concentrate on what you’re sensing.”
“What I want to know,” Amy chimed in, “is what the hell is this thing y’all are sensing?”
The room fell silent. Sam could practically hear the wheels turning in everyone’s heads, including his own.
David broke the silence. “Could it be some sort of poltergeist?”
“Maybe,” Amy answered, brow furrowed. “But poltergeists usually don’t hurt anyone.”
“No one’s been hurt here,” Andre reminded her.
“Yet,” David muttered.
“But people have been killed here in the past,” Amy pointed out. “That’s not something poltergeists do.”
“Could it be another kind of spirit?” Cecile wondered. “A malevolent one?”
“I guess it’s possible.” Bo perched on the arm of Sam’s chair. “But I don’t think so. People have lived here for decades at a time without experiencing anything at all. That actually sounds more like poltergeist activity, except that Amy’s right, they don’t usually hurt people. They certainly don’t kill.”
“Any idea what it might be, then?” Sam asked, keeping his voice level with an effort. Bo’s nearness made his head spin.
Bo looked down at him, gaze lingering on his mouth. Sam licked his lips. He suddenly found it hard to concentrate on the conversation.
Giving Sam one last look, Bo turned away. “I’m not sure. It might be that what we have here is something no one’s studied before. Maybe even something completely unique.”
No one spoke. The fear-tinged excitement was palpable in the room.
“So,” David said nervously. “How do we handle it?”
“The same way we have been.” Bo stood and started pacing, his footsteps slow and measured. “We use the methods we’ve worked out every time we investigate. We make a note of every single thing that happens, and every single time anyone feels anything unusual. Even if it doesn’t seem important at the time, it might turn out to be part of a pattern.”
Sam thought uneasily of his dreams. Andre caught his eye, and Sam knew they were both thinking the same thing.