Ghost of a Chance Read online

  Derek offered Blake another genuine smile. “It’s great to meet you. I’m sorry it was a surprise sprung on you at the last minute, but I hope we can work well together.”

  He was just so earnest that Blake couldn’t help but let the tension go. Once again he was reminded it wasn’t Derek’s fault. And Blake loved what he did. He needed an anchor to do it effectively and for any length of time. Not only did Derek seem gung ho about the whole thing, he actually had the gene. He was predisposed to care for Blake in his recovery. That had to count for something, right?

  “I’m sure we will,” Blake lied, though he did it with a smile. He really wanted that to be the case. But he was uncomfortable to think that this man, to whom he had such a powerful attraction, would see him in his most vulnerable state. Blake didn’t know how he could handle it.

  Hell, gene or not, Derek would probably ask for a transfer the first time he saw Blake come back to life.

  Just then King’s tablet dinged, and the red Priority Case banner flashed across the screen. King touched the banner, and the case filled the screen for a second before King snapped the lid closed. But Blake saw it.

  “That’s for me,” he said with a sigh.

  King squinted. “It can wait.”

  “It’s a kid, King, and marked as a priority.” Blake lifted his gaze to focus on Derek. “Sometimes children are the most problematic. They don’t understand what’s going on, and temper tantrums and fear combine to make a vengeful spirit. We don’t want that to happen if we can avoid it.”

  Derek nodded. “I remember learning about that.”

  “It can wait,” King said again. He gave Blake a pointed look. “You’ve only just met. Haven’t even sequestered together yet. I’ll get someone else to handle it.”

  The sooner they did it, the sooner Derek would run for the hills. As much as Blake wanted to get to know the man, it was on a personal level, not a professional one. That attraction, combined with his self-consciousness, made Blake want Derek to refuse to work with him. And there was only one way that was going to happen.

  “Who sent it?” Blake asked, although he had a good guess.

  King blew out an explosive breath and grudgingly answered, “Shona.”

  “Yeah. I thought so. It’s for me.” Blake pushed back from the table and stood. “If this kid called out to Shona, and Shona sent it on, then I’m sure I’ve got a message on my tablet too. It also means that the spirit is in danger of going dark. I’m best equipped to handle this.” He focused on Derek. “You don’t mind just jumping in, right? No better way to find out what you signed up for than to actually participate in a ghostwalk, right?”

  Derek went still and studied him for a long moment. “If you really think it’s that important to do it right now, then I’m more than willing to help.”

  “He’s not going to run.” King sounded smug.

  “What?” Derek jerked his gaze to King’s face and swung back to look at Blake. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “We’ll see.” Blake turned and headed for the door. His palms started to sweat, and he surreptitiously wiped them on his jeans. He hoped anyway. He just couldn’t see how this would work in the long term.

  “Yes we will.” Derek’s deep voice was full of conviction.

  King snorted out a laugh. “Christ. You two are gonna kill me. Okay, fine. Go read the profile, and I’ll meet you in your office in a couple of minutes.”

  Blake didn’t look back, and he led the way. Derek could follow him or not.

  Chapter Two

  BLAKE used the palm reader beside the door to unlock his office and left the door open as he pushed inside. He had exactly two seconds to regain composure before Derek followed him—more if he didn’t look at the man whose presence seemed to loom behind him.

  His space was just like all the others on the floor—closet with a few drawers, double bed, small kitchenette with a dorm fridge, two cabinets and a sink, and the chair. Right in the center of the floor, with lots of room all around it, the recliner looked cozy and comfortable with its plush seat and warm brown faux-leather covering. It could have been in any living room, except for the gap through the center back. Blake wasn’t overly fond of that piece of furniture in general, but it seemed particularly ominous at that moment.

  He turned to face Derek and watched him as his gaze darted around and took in the room. Blake had added some touches over the years. A framed print of a Cezanne painting graced the far wall. The comforter on the bed was a warm royal purple. A scent infuser on the small counter filled the room with the light scent of citrus.

  “It’s nice in here.” Derek took one more glance around and then focused on Blake.

  “Thanks.” Blake couldn’t stand the scrutiny, so he stepped around the recliner and pulled one of the chairs toward it. He took pains to adjust it on the right side, the place where Katy had always sat. He needed some normalcy in the proceedings. “This’ll do you for now. Feel free to bring in anything you like, since this’ll be your space too. And don’t forget to bring something to occupy you while I’m dead. It can take hours sometimes, and since I’m dead, I’m certainly not much of a conversationalist.”

  Derek didn’t so much as flinch at Blake’s deliberately blunt language. There were sensitivity classes about what they should say and how they should say it in reference to what they did. But Blake was of a mind to call things what they were, and he was dead while he did his thing. Not sleeping, incapacitated, out of touch, or any of the other expressions the bigwigs thought would soften things up. Blake was fine with that. He had no illusions.

  “So,” Derek said conversationally as he sat in the extra chair. He made a face and adjusted his big body. Then he frowned. “This’ll have to be replaced. Anyway. Want to tell me why we’re doing this now?”

  “Because it needs to be done?” Blake blinked innocently, intentionally misunderstanding. He crossed to the closet and retrieved his tablet from his bag. He powered it on as he walked back to the center of the room. Gingerly he sat on the edge of the recliner. Though the chair was comfortable, that wasn’t its purpose, and he wouldn’t settle back until he had to.

  Derek snorted out a laugh. “Okay, yes. But we’ve only just met. You can’t tell me another team can’t handle it. Especially when protocol dictates we sequester for at least three days before we take any cases.”

  Blake shot him a look. “If you don’t want to do this, then turn down the assignment and walk out the door.”

  “I’m not walking out,” he said patiently, never taking his dark, assessing gaze off Blake. “Never mind that I just moved across the country. I knew what I was getting into. You obviously didn’t. I’m sorry about that. They should have shown you more respect. Neither of us really have a choice, not when we’re so compatible. And I think we’ll be good together once we find our rhythm.”

  Damn him for being caring and sensitive. Blake hoped that after one session, Derek would realize Blake was too big a handful and request a transfer. That was worth doing it one time, so Derek could see exactly what he was getting into. And Blake knew he didn’t have to worry about being safe. King would be there the whole time. At least this time. And King would never let anything harm one of his operatives.

  With a deliberate flick of his finger, Blake brought up the case file. It was simple enough. A three-year-old, Emily, had been hit by a car and had passed on just the day before. Her picture showed a smiling, happy toddler with a cap of red curls and bright blue eyes. Blake’s heart broke a little for the family and for the child who would never grow into a beautiful woman. He let the feelings suffuse his being and drew them into himself as he centered his mind. It would be that much easier to find her in the spirit realm if he was focused on those things.

  “So sad,” Derek murmured as he leaned in to read the case file. Shona was always quick and succinct with what she put together, and all the pertinent details were there. In her vision she’d seen the girl on a playground, and Blake tucked that info
away as well. Shona was a gifted medium, and he almost always encountered the spirits where she had seen them. She was able to read spirits better than just about anyone.

  “Which is the reason we need to get this done now.” Blake handed over the tablet so Derek could read it more thoroughly. “A kid like this, who died under tragic circumstances, she’s not going to know what’s going on. If I can help her cross over before she becomes vengeful, all the better. But this girl deserves the peace of the afterlife. Her parents deserve to know she’s there. I can’t stand the thought of her lingering, afraid and lonely. It’s not right and it’s not fair. Not when I can help her.”

  “Your compassion is admirable. I can see now why you do what you do with the gift you have. Not everyone is so generous.” Derek turned and set the tablet on the little counter behind him.

  Blake shrugged. “I don’t know about all that. I just know I have a connection to the little ones, and I want them to be at peace. Shona does too, which is why she usually finds them and sends them my way.”

  King chose that moment to walk into the room, took one look at them, and shut the door behind him. “You’re ready.” It wasn’t a question. He gestured toward the pair of them. “Let’s go.”

  Blake toed off his shoes so he’d be more comfortable and pulled off his shirt and handed it over. Derek took it like he’d been doing it for years, folded the shirt, and placed it with the tablet on the counter behind him. Blake settled back into the chair and pushed the button so it would recline until he was in the perfect spot. A little more wiggling and adjusting to get his back lined up perfectly with the opening, and he was set. And that’s when he noticed the big two-handed claymore King carried. He hated that sword.

  He mentally amended his earlier thought. King wouldn’t let anything harm his operatives except him. Even though he mostly didn’t mean it.

  “Did you have to bring that one?” If his question was tinged with just a bit of whining, he felt he was entitled. That thing hurt like a bitch going in and coming out.

  King shrugged one massive shoulder. “You were late. All the others are in use.”

  He was teasing, but even so, Blake doubted that was the truth. King had a massive sword collection. Some weren’t suited to the task, but he had plenty that were. And only fourteen pairs of operatives actively going on ghostwalks. He was also pretty sure that Abernathy and Davidson were on vacation. King had chosen that sword specifically, though Blake wasn’t privy to the reason. He didn’t need to be. He trusted King.

  He still hated it, though.

  King suddenly shot his gaze to Derek, and his smile was genuine and supportive. “Don’t worry, Derek. I’m not going to leave. I’ll be with you both the entire time. You’ve trained for this, and you know exactly what to do. Besides, for all his bitching, Blake really is exceptional at this. You’ll both be fine.”

  Derek looked taken aback for a moment, and Blake had to wonder if he’d been informed of King’s telepathic abilities. He must have been. A standard release was part of the employment paperwork. Then Derek’s expression cleared, and he cocked his head to the side and addressed his question at King. “Then why is he pushing so hard?”

  “Just do it, King.” Blake was forceful. He knew he couldn’t make King do anything, but he didn’t want to hear the explanation if King was going to give it. He felt foolish, and he hated being vulnerable.

  King seemed inclined to agree. He lifted the sword in a two-handed grip, raised it, and pointed that sharp tip right at Blake’s chest. Blake tried not to tense. It always made things so much worse. He knew from experience that closing his eyes didn’t make it better either. There was nothing that could make it better. He just had to take it.

  Blindly he reached out a flailing hand. Derek must have known what he wanted because he took Blake’s hand firmly in his own. The feel of it was unfamiliar, as he was used to Katy’s much smaller one. Derek wove his fingers through Blake’s. Sure and solid, warm and dry, it felt good—comforting, even. Blake supposed that was a positive thing, but he didn’t want to examine the feeling.

  He took a deep breath. His last. Then he let it out slowly and nodded.

  King brought the sword whooshing down, and the tip hit his chest and sliced right through bone, sinew, and muscle to come out the other side. For a frantic moment, his body tried to breathe. Blood burbled out of his mouth, and panic welled in his gut. Lizard brain overrode logic. He knew what it felt like, knew what was coming, but his body still fought to survive.

  Even with a three-and-a-half-foot blade sticking out of his chest.

  His vision dimmed, and the edges went blurry. His grip on Derek’s hand relaxed. And then he felt a soothing touch on his brow, heard a whispering voice in his ear. He couldn’t discern the words. But he focused on the sensation as finally, blissfully, he died.

  Chapter Three

  BLAKE had been honing his talent for a decade and a half, so he entered the spirit plane in an obscuring, rolling fog. It had taken a lot of practice and focus, but the momentary disorientation of the miasma was infinitely preferable to waking in a familiar place. The spirit plane was a shadow of the mortal one. Familiar would make him want to linger, and that would make his job a hundred times harder.

  It took only a minute or two for Blake to remember why he was there. Part of his gift was to not only be aware on the spirit plane, but to direct his movements and intentions. Most spirits didn’t have a choice, and those who got stuck had even less. The majority of spirits moved on as they should, though sometimes it took a bit to manage it. The ones who couldn’t were the ones ghostwalkers sought to help. It was the sole reason his job existed.

  As Blake focused, the fog rolled away and he found himself near the playground Shona had included in her report. It was a cheery, sunny day, and though the equipment moved as though it were being used, the place was deserted. At one time Blake would have thought it creepy and disconcerting. But he’d seen so much in his travels that not a lot affected him anymore.

  He walked closer and searched until his gaze landed on the little redhead from the file. She was clearly scared. Her blue eyes brimmed with tears and her cheeks were stained with salt. She hugged herself as she turned her head, clearly searching for something—her parents, probably.

  Emily was not the first child Blake had had to help cross over.

  He approached the toddler carefully. He didn’t want her to find him threatening in any way. The best-case scenario would be that she was open to his offer of help and would follow when he tried to lead her on. Blake knew things rarely went as planned, but he held out hope.

  Emily watched him warily, and Blake stopped a few feet away. He gave her his best and brightest smile, and when she didn’t scream, he took it as a good sign. He crouched to get down on her level. She continued to watch him as tears ran down her cheeks, but she didn’t move.

  “Are you Emily?”

  She stared at him with wide blue eyes, and after the longest moment, she gave a tiny nod.

  So far so good.

  “Are you lost, Emily?” Blake used her name on purpose, reminding her who she was in life. Sometimes spirits forgot—especially the little ones who didn’t have the benefit of experience to ground them. He needed to keep her in the here and now, such as it was, if he were going to help her cross over.

  The girl said nothing at all. Blake noticed her tears had stopped, but he didn’t know if that was a good or bad thing. With some kids it meant they were open and listening. With others it meant a tantrum of epic proportions was about to go down. Though Blake had read Emily’s file, he wasn’t sure which kind of child she was. He decided to take a different tack.

  The ground was covered with sand to make it softer for the kids as they ran around, tripped and fell, or jumped off the playground equipment. Blake sat down and molded it into a hill while he kept track of Emily out of the corner of his eye.

  “It’s gotta be a little scary out here without your mommy and daddy, huh?” Blak
e chanced a quick glance and found Emily staring at him intently. Good. He went back to playing with the sand. “If you want, I can show you a better place to wait for them.”

  Blake didn’t like lying, and he especially didn’t want to do it with spirits. Even though Emily was just a child and she wouldn’t know the difference, he wasn’t about to lie to her and tell her he would take her to them. That was a potentially disastrous situation.

  Emily was interested in what he had to say. She stopped hugging herself so tightly and she stepped forward, closer to him. Blake was pleased with the progress. He made his sand pile even higher and smoothed the sides.

  “What do you think, Emily? How’s that sound? I’ll show you where you can wait. It’s nice there. And your mommy and daddy will be along soon.” Not a lie. Time moved differently in the spirit realm, and “soon” was relative.

  Blake watched as the flashing lights on Emily’s sneakers got closer and closer. She stopped just a foot away. Slowly he rolled onto his knees and looked around. After a moment he spotted what he was looking for. On the far side of the playground, just past the merry-go-round, was an indistinct area of bright light. Perfect.

  As Blake reached out, Emily backtracked, and her eyes went wide. Blake immediately dropped back down onto the sand. If she wasn’t quite ready yet, then Blake couldn’t force her. He went back to playing with the sand, glancing up every few seconds to see Emily watching him.

  “What’s your favorite thing here?” He asked softly.

  It took her a long moment to answer, and then all she did was point. Blake looked up and followed the direction of her chubby finger.

  “The slide? Me too. That’s fun.” Blake scooped up some more sand, added it to his pile, and smoothed it down. “Do you want to play?”