by Ally Blue
“We’re back!” Amy called.
“We’re in the library.” Bo’s voice sounded rough and shaky. He shot a look full of heat and fear at Sam, then plastered a smile on his face just as the rest of the group came into the room.
“How’d the research go?” Bo asked. “Find out anything?”
Amy narrowed her eyes at them both. “Not much, no. What about you guys?”
“I told ‘em about what we found here, Sam,” Andre said. “I figured you’d keep looking here.”
Sam nodded. “You’re right, I did. Didn’t find much else as far as scientific explanations go, but I did find something pretty interesting.”
“What?” David asked, leaning both palms on the table.
“A note written by Josephine Royce.” Sam nudged Bo’s shoulder. “Show them, Bo.”
Bo stared blankly back at him for a moment. Then realization dawned in his eyes. He held up the piece of paper still clutched in his hand. “Here. Sam found it stuck in a magazine.”
He passed the paper to Amy. Everyone gathered around her to read it. Sam caught Bo’s eye over the top of Amy’s head. Bo’s lips curled into a tiny smile, and Sam’s breath caught in his chest. He looked away, shaken. Bo’s smile shouldn’t make his stomach flutter like that. Not so soon. The idea that he might be developing deeper feelings for Bo frightened him nearly as much as the thing he’d felt inside him the day before.
“Damn.” Taking the paper from Amy, David read it again. “This is fucking awesome.”
“She talks about going to find whatever killed Lily,” Cecile mused. “What do you suppose she means by that? And the stuff about the door?”
“Who knows,” Andre said. “Maybe she didn’t know herself.”
Bo’s brow furrowed. “What I’m wondering is what article she’s talking about. That would probably clear things up a little.”
“I think I know which one she meant,” Sam confessed after a moment’s hesitation. “One of the issues of The Boundary has a piece about a girl that was killed during sex with her boyfriend. Ripped apart. The boyfriend was nearly catatonic after, but the only evidence they had pointed to him as the killer. They locked him up in a hospital for the criminally insane. He killed himself three months later.”
Five pairs of eyes stared at Sam with identical shocked expressions. “That sounds kind of like the killings that happened here,” Andre said slowly.
“Exactly what I thought,” Sam agreed. “And get this. He wrote a suicide note on the wall of his hospital room in his own blood, saying that whatever killed his girlfriend came through him from somewhere else.”
David’s eyes widened. “Like coming through a door.”
“Whatever killed that girl used her boyfriend as a vehicle to manifest itself. Josephine must have experienced the same thing here at Oleander House.” Cecile rubbed her arms and glanced nervously around the room. “That feels right, doesn’t it?”
“It certainly could fit the history of this house,” Bo said. “But we need to be careful that we don’t read into this what we want to see. The Boundary was never a trustworthy source of information.”
“What about Josephine’s note?” Cecile asked. “She referred to that article, and she seemed to think she’d experienced the same sort of thing as that boy.”
“The part about the door opening sure sounds like the kid’s suicide note,” David agreed.
“I can’t be positive that she was talking about that particular article,” Sam reminded him. “I figure she was, because of the similarity between their cases, but there’s no way to be sure.”
Andre shuffled his feet nervously. “We know this place has a strong electromagnetic field. Isn’t it possible that it could’ve messed with Josephine’s mind? Made her see things that weren’t there?”
Andre was clearly still clinging to the idea that everything they’d experienced had been nothing but a hallucination. A few days ago, Sam would’ve readily agreed. Now he knew better.
“It’s not hallucinations, Andre,” Sam said. “Whatever’s happening here, it’s real. And I think that what happened to Josephine was real too.”
Bo tilted his head, giving Sam a curious look. “What do you mean, exactly?”
Sam held Bo’s gaze, trying to stop his mind from wandering to what he wanted to do with the man. “I know it sounds crazy, but I think Josephine meant precisely what she said. That something manifested through her and killed Lily.”
“And she tried to follow it.” Cecile’s expression was thoughtful. “Hm.”
Bo started pacing, a habit which Sam had begun to realize was a way of focusing his thoughts. “Okay, let’s think this through. Assuming that Sam’s right about this—and that’s a pretty big assumption—what then? Does it mean that whatever killed Lily is the same thing that killed the others in this house? If so, where did it come from, and how did it get here?”
“The boy in that article said something came through him,” Sam said. “And if I’m right, Josephine identified her own situation with that boy’s.”
Bo stopped and pinned Sam with an intense stare. “When she said that the door opens when she’s angry, she was describing the feeling of something trying to use her to manifest itself.”
“I think so, yeah.” Sam had to fight the urge to pull Bo to the floor and take him. The fierce intelligence that lit Bo’s face made Sam’s balls ache.
“So why wasn’t she catatonic, like everyone else?” Amy wondered. “How did she manage to channel this thing, witness Lily being killed, and still have the presence of mind to try to follow it back to wherever it came from?”
“Good question.” Bo resumed his pacing, hands stuffed in the back pockets of his jeans, gaze fixed on the floor. “If the circumstances of Lily’s death were the same as the other deaths here, and if Josephine saw the whole thing, how did she manage to keep her mind intact when no one else did?”
“That brings up something that I’m sure all of us have been thinking,” Sam said, speaking slowly as he gathered his thoughts. “Let’s say that Josephine was completely lucid and that what she said was true. That something from some other plane of existence manifested in this reality and killed Lily. Let’s also say that the same thing happened in the other cases where people have died here.” Sam looked up and met Bo’s curious gaze. “Why weren’t Josephine and the others like her physically hurt?”
Amy frowned. “I’ve thought about that as well. It doesn’t make sense.”
Bo nodded, one hand tugging absently on the end of his braid. “Okay. Here’s what I think we should do. Number one, finish the investigation as planned. Being thorough and meticulous is more important than ever now. Number two, we concentrate our research on trying to find precedents for what we’re dealing with here. Search the scientific journals first, then the amateur publications. Leave the forums and message boards for last, since that information is next to impossible to verify.”
“What should we look for, exactly?” Cecile asked. She leaned against David, who wound an arm around her shoulders. Her face was paler than ever and her voice shook. Sam didn’t blame her. He felt ready to jump out of his skin himself.
Bo slowed his pacing, brow furrowed in thought. “Hm. Good question. We might get the best results if we don’t try to go too specific. We could start with searching for unusual or atypical hauntings, I guess. Might want to research vortices as well. It could be that what Josephine was describing was some sort of vortex.”
“We should search for other cases similar to Oleander House too,” Amy added. “Injuries or deaths that are unexplained, especially if they involve witnesses or suspects who are uninjured but mentally traumatized by the event.”
Bo flashed her a brilliant smile that caused all sorts of havoc in Sam’s belly. “Great idea. Anybody else? Suggestions, comments, questions?”
Everyone shook their heads. Bo stopped next to Sam and slapped his back. “Sam, good job finding that note. Okay, people, we still have the storm cellar a
nd the family burial plot to check today. We’ll break into three teams again. One for the cemetery, one for the storm cellar and the other team to stay here and review tapes.”
“Bo, I’d like to team up with Sam today,” Amy said. She smiled at Sam. “I hope you don’t mind, Sam. I haven’t gotten to work with you yet.”
Bo shot a quick, slightly panicky look at Sam. Sam acknowledged it for only a second before turning to Amy. His guts churned, wondering what her real reason for teaming with him was. He gave her a deceptively calm smile.
“Sure thing,” Sam agreed cheerfully. “Which are we doing?”
“Y’all take the storm cellar,” Bo instructed. “David and Andre, why don’t you do the tape reviews, since you’re better at it than me. Cecile, you and I will take the burial plot. That work for everyone?”
Sam nodded along with the rest of the group. He darted a furtive look at Bo. If Bo was at all nervous about Amy’s transparent attempt to get Sam alone, his face no longer betrayed it.
“Come on, Sam,” Amy said, pressing an EMF detector and digital thermometer into his hand. “You do the EMF and temp readings. We’ll do one sweep with me doing video and another with audio and stills. It’s small enough that we should have time, we’ll just bring all the equipment with us.”
“Cool.” Sam took the small canvas bag Amy handed him and put an audio recorder and still camera in it. “Let’s go.”
Amy started toward the back door, the camcorder in her hand. Sam trailed after her. As he passed, he deliberately brushed Bo’s arm with his. Bo looked up and their eyes locked. For a split second Sam was frozen. He felt as though he were peering down a dark well, directly into all the fear and need and loneliness in Bo’s soul.
Something inside Sam twisted painfully as the walls went back up in Bo’s eyes. Without stopping to think of what he was doing, Sam took Bo’s hand in his and pressed his fingers.
I’m here, he promised silently, letting the unspoken vow shine in his eyes. I know you need someone, Bo, and I’m right here. All you have to do is say the word and I’m yours.
Bo didn’t say anything, but the flush that rose in his face before he turned away told Sam all he needed to know. He let go of Bo’s hand and joined Amy in the foyer.
They walked in silence through the sun porch and out the back door. Outside, Amy looked around with a frown. “Is it me, or is it unusually quiet out here?”
Sam licked his lips nervously. “I’ve noticed the same thing ever since Bo and I were out here on Sunday. It’s been getting a little more pronounced every day.”
Amy glanced at him. “Any theories about what’s causing it?”
Sam shrugged. “Animals can sense potential danger before we do. Maybe whatever it is that’s trying to come through here is scaring everything else away.” He squinted up at the cloudless sky. “I haven’t heard any birds for the last two days, and I hardly even hear any insects anymore.”
Amy pursed her lips. “Hm. Remind me to add that to the list of stuff to research.”
“Sure.”
They reached the low stone dome of the storm cellar. Sam peered uncertainly down the steep, narrow steps into inky blackness. “We have a flashlight, right?”
Amy unclipped a small metal flashlight from her belt and switched it on. “Come on. Down we go.”
Sam squared his shoulders and followed her into the cool, clammy dark, mentally steeling himself for the confrontation he was sure was coming.
Chapter Fourteen
The storm cellar was every bit as dark, damp and musty as it had looked from the top of the steps. Sam moved methodically back and forth across the earth floor, working his way slowly toward the back wall. The EMF readings were far more stable here than in the house, and other than a few abandoned spider webs, he felt nothing beyond a sharp anxiety over what he imagined Amy had to say to him.
Watching her calmly going about the business of videotaping the space, though, he had to wonder if he’d been wrong. So far Amy hadn’t said a word that didn’t have to do with their work, nor had she acted as though there was anything other than business on her mind. Sam couldn’t decide whether to be relieved or worried.
Amy shut off the video camera. “Okay, that’s it for video. We’ll go through again with audio and stills now. You keep the EMF and thermometer.”
Very carefully, she put the video camera into the bag and took out the thirty-five mm, and suddenly Sam couldn’t wait a second longer. He touched Amy’s shoulder before she could switch on the audio recorder. “Amy, wait.”
She turned toward him. “What is it?”
He bit his lip. “Why’d you want be teamed up with me?”
She raised her eyebrows. “I told you, we haven’t worked together yet. I thought we should.”
“That’s true, but it’s not why you wanted to work with me today. Tell me the real reason.”
She sighed. “I hadn’t really planned to be this blunt, but I guess there’s no point in dancing around it.” She stared up at Sam with a determined look in her eye. “I know what’s going on between you and Bo.”
Sam’s stomach dropped into his feet, even though he’d expected as much. “What’re you talking about?”
“You know exactly what I’m talking about.”
“Why don’t you tell me anyway?”
Amy glared at him. He glared right back at her, hoping she couldn’t hear the hammering of his heart. “I’ve seen how you look at each other,” she said, her voice low and tight. “I don’t know you well enough to know how you feel. But I know Bo, probably better than he’d like. He’s more vulnerable than he lets on, Sam. Don’t play with him.”
Sam wanted to insist she was wrong and act indignant that she would suggest he was gay. But there didn’t seem to be any point. “What makes you think I’d take advantage of him in any way?”
“Nothing. I have no reason to think you would, and I’m not saying that you will. But Bo’s one of my best friends, and he’s not always so good at looking out for himself. I just don’t want to see him hurt.”
Sam met Amy’s gaze without flinching. “I won’t lie to you, Amy. I like Bo, and I’m attracted to him. But nothing’s happened between us, and nothing’s going to happen. If Bo’s ever hurt, it won’t be by me.”
Amy nodded, her gaze never leaving Sam’s face. “Thank you for being honest with me. I appreciate that.”
Sam shoved away the twinge of guilt at his lie. It was just one kiss, he told himself. “I’d like you to keep this quiet, huh? I’m not ready to tell everyone else that I’m gay.”
“No problem.” Amy’s face broke into a wide smile. “And just so you know, I told Bo the same thing I told you. That he shouldn’t play with you.”
Sam took a couple of shallow breaths. “And why would he play with me? He’s straight. Not to mention married.”
Amy went still. Sam could see the struggle going on behind her eyes. “Things aren’t always what they seem,” she said quietly. “Bo doesn’t always realize how others interpret the things he says or does. Now let’s get back to work.”
She turned away and switched the audio recorder on. Sam dutifully started monitoring the EMF and temperature levels, looking for any fluctuations in response to Amy’s questions. He was grateful for the routine of the investigation, which calmed the turmoil in his mind and let him think. Amy hadn’t actually said anything he hadn’t expected, but the reality of her knowing hit him harder than he’d thought it would.
They finished their investigation without further conversation. Sam watched Amy out of the corner of his eye as they turned off and packed up the equipment. If she doubted his good intentions or harbored any lingering anger, it didn’t show in her face.
I won’t hurt him, Sam promised himself as he and Amy climbed the steps back out into the sunshine. But I’ll have the truth. He figured he deserved to know how Bo really felt about him, whatever that might be.
He only hoped he was ready to hear it.
Back ins
ide the house, Sam deposited the tapes and equipment in their proper places and headed straight upstairs. He grabbed his towel from his room and managed to make it across the hall to the bathroom without running into anyone else. He spent longer than he strictly needed to under the soothing spray of the shower, scrubbing away the sweat and grime of the afternoon’s work and thinking. Wondering how to find out what Bo truly felt without making him withdraw or run away.
Sam was quiet all through dinner. He knew the others had to notice he wasn’t joining in the chatter and speculation over events at the house, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Ever since the moment that afternoon when he’d looked into Bo’s eyes and seen the depth of his unhappiness, Sam’s world had narrowed down to the need to fix it. He wanted to see that soul-deep sorrow replaced by joy. And he wanted to be the one to make that change in Bo.
A part of him knew without a doubt that it could happen. All he had to do was to make Bo see it.
You’re thinking about breaking up a family here, a little voice whispered in his ear. What gives you the right?
He had no answer for that. All he knew was that Bo had to face the truth inside himself before he could find contentment in his life. Just as Sam had had to face his own truths, all those years ago. Not just his sexual orientation, but the difference he’d always felt inside, the twist in his psyche that kept him perpetually at a distance from other people. It had been much more noticeable in his youth, children being far more sensitive to such things than adults, but it was still there.
Sam had resigned himself ages ago to a life of emotional isolation. He’d grown used to the idea over the years, and it didn’t bother him anymore. Seeing Bo struggle with his own identity brought the memory of those tumultuous years boiling to the surface. He wanted to help, simply because he’d come to care for Bo. If Bo didn’t return his feelings, it would hurt, but he’d cope, just as he always had. But the intuition he relied on told him that he hadn’t misread the situation, and that Bo felt the same. The only thing standing in the way of their mutual happiness was Bo’s fear and his sense of duty to his wife.