Hellsinger 01 - Fish and Ghosts (P) (MM) (29 page)

“One can really never masturbate too much,” Wolf whispered into his lover’s ear and chuckled at the stain of red on Tristan’s cheeks. “Of course, hopefully now, that won’t be as necessary as it was in the past. You might even have to give it up.”

Tristan rolled his eyes at Wolf, but the deepening green in their depths was enough to let him know he’d tickled Tristan’s arousal. Jack either couldn’t find the ball or he grew bored because the terrier ambled through the lobby to flop down under the table, his small body wiggling into a curl before he closed his eyes.

“So, ghosts kind of provide their own… electricity?” Tristan cocked his head and looked around the lobby. “Or something? How does that work?”

“They generate an energy.” He thought for a second, trying to figure out how to lay his theories out for Tristan to understand. “I don’t think I’ve got any piece of equipment that can truly register the spectrum they exist on. I’m going to have to work on that. Basically, ghosts are like infrasound, a thrum existing in a slice of sound and light humans really can’t pinpoint until the ghost bleeds into the visible or audible spectrum. That’s when you see them, or in your case, interact with them.”

“Because I needed to be weirder than everyone else,” Tristan grumbled softly.

“No weird, just different,” Wolf corrected. “There’s something different in your DNA that allows you to see through those layers. You’re able to pick up their vibrations. It’s innate in you. Like someone with fine-tuned taste buds or hearing. You’re just tuned into ghosts.”

“But you see them too.” Tristan nodded his chin toward the sleeping dog. “You just played catch for half an hour with a dead dog.”

“I’ve got a theory for that too. Most people in my family are sensitive to spectral resonance on some level… just not at your scale. You’re kind of off the charts, but see, it also has to do with the location of the haunting.” Wolf warmed up to the subject, leaning forward in his chair. “Places… some places… amplify the spectral resonance. I just need to find a way to identify those places and how that works. Think of the places that people feel are… haunted or holy. I think it’s that amplification they’re feeling. You’re more sensitive to it, but someone like you is probably a receiver of some kind. Or that’s what I’m working on proving.”

“And you want to prove this why again?” Tristan frowned at him, slightly wary. “You said it was for your family, but… you’re kind of an asshole about ghosts.”

“Okay, in the beginning, yeah. I usually am, but that’s because there’s so many people just trying to lie about shit to gain something. And really, it is about my family.” He rubbed his hands together to warm them up. The lobby was taking on a slight chill from the cold storm outside, and they’d turned the heat off to keep the ambient noise down. “And it’s kind of about me. I want to be able to prove the spectral spectrum exists.”

“But you’re in the business of disproving ghosts.”

“No, I’m in the business of proving people are faking it,” Wolf corrected. “It pisses me off when people try to lie to the world about a ghost bleeding through. I’m always skeptical, but I have to be. It’s what I’m good at. I’m going to poke at anything unusual until I can’t eliminate a ghostly presence. I’ve dedicated my life to finding a way to quantify a haunting because I’ve got relatives who spend their lives trying to exorcise a destructive spirit, and wouldn’t it be nice for them to know going in what they’re dealing with? The rest of it… the fakers? All they do is fuck up what everyone else is trying to do… fuck up what you do.”

“I don’t do anything,” Tristan said with a frown. “I just write their names down in a book, then ask Mara to make the beds after a few days. Oh, and I hire Heather when she shows up looking for a job. That’ll be nice to go back to.”

“You want to hear my theory? Well, Mom’s too.” He smiled at Tristan’s suspicious nod. “Your Uncle Mortimer only built on what was already here. The Grange is a natural gateway to… well, wherever spirits go to once they’re done here. I think the ghosts that come here to stay are coming from their hauntings and this is their final destination. They get one final respite from their stressful existence, then head off into the light… or whatever is there. It’s why you see them disappearing into those points on your uncle’s star. You… the Grange… help those souls move on. I think if you weren’t here, there’d be a lot more troubled spirits roaming the earth.”

“But we knew they were leaving. We know those things.”

“I think you and your uncle are a large part of them being able to leave. You’re like a beacon. Your presence in this place calls them to their salvation when they’re ready to go. And your uncle somehow found a way to lower the resistance between our world and what’s beyond, but only for ghosts. At their level of energy and existence.”

“Huh.” From Tristan’s tone, Wolf couldn’t figure out what the other man was thinking, but still, he was pleasantly surprised when Tristan continued. “So you’d want to come back to the Grange when this is all over. To study it. The ghosts and stuff.”

“No,” Wolf replied softly. He lifted his hand up to Tristan’s crestfallen face and cupped the man’s cheek. “I want to be at the Grange because you’re here. Even if I never see another ghost here, I’ll still be coming back for as long as you let me. Hell, I might even spend a lot of time trying to convince you to let me rent a room here.”

“Really? A room?” Tristan’s eyes widened dramatically. “Rooms are hard to come by. We usually have so many guests. You might have to share with someone.”

“I’m good with sharing a bed. As long as it’s someone I really, really like. I prefer long-legged blonds,” Wolf murmured against Tristan’s mouth, licking at the seam until the man parted his lips for him. “Especially ones with stormy-green eyes and lazy wolfhounds.”

“I might be able to find you a space, then.” Tristan opened up for him, leaning into the crook of Wolf’s arm when he pressed Tristan into the chair’s firm back. “Something to match your specific… needs.”

Tristan’s skin was cool against the warmth of his palms, and Wolf took great delight in rubbing some heat into the man’s back and sides. Nearly purring, Tristan curved eagerly into Wolf’s embrace, sliding sideways to let Wolf ravage his mouth. It would be hours before Wolf would get a chance to be alone with the man again, so he delighted in slowly exploring the hot damp of Tristan’s mouth, stroking at the man’s tongue and lips with his before capturing Tristan’s chin in his hand to hold him still.

Next time, Wolf thought, I’m just going to pull him into my lap.

His cock scoffed at the thought. Next time they did this, it warned, there better be enough space to lay Tristan out so he could fuck him until they were both mewling, boneless messes.

“Just so you know, my dick has excellent ideas.” Wolf licked the rim of Tristan’s ear, an echo of what he’d done to Tristan’s ass a few hours before.

“I like your dick.” Tristan bent his head back to let Wolf bite down his neck. “It seems to know what I like before I even know.”

“Good, it looks forward to your continued patronage.” He was getting harder than he’d wanted, but the man tasted too damned good to let go, especially since Tristan’s shyness melted away under Wolf’s exploring kisses.

“You two can do that later.” Meegan’s cheery voice was a dash of ice cold water on Wolf’s libido, and he groaned, feeling his cock soften and Tristan stiffen in his arms. “Right now, we’re going to do some house cleaning!”

“God, I hate her,” Wolf whimpered into Tristan’s hair. “Really, five minutes. Would it have been asking too much for five more minutes?”

“Gidget and Matt are carrying in the last of it so we can get going. I’m going to lay down a circle using the powders I got from that swami. I’ve been waiting for something this powerful to use them all. Don’t want them going to waste on something as silly as a door-knocker or moaner. Nothing but a full poltergeist for these babies.” Meegan paused only long enough to shoot her son a mildly annoyed glance. “Hurry up, Wolf. I’m going to need you to help me scribe out the arcs. Your arms are longer than mine. And where’d that ball come from? Tristan, can you get it out from under the table? The red will attract hangers-on, and we certainly don’t want that.”

She pushed at both of them as she walked by, her long skirts swirling about her ankles. Reaching the table, Meegan dropped a small box down on the cloth and began unpacking yet more candles and jars of colored sand Wolf thought looked suspiciously like what tourists bought on the pier as souvenirs.

Sighing, Tristan gave Wolf a quick peck on his cheek, then moved to get off his lap. “Come on.”

“I swear to God, babe, I have no fucking idea what Oedipus was thinking,” Wolf grumbled, but he reluctantly let Tristan go. “In fact, if I wasn’t sure about my dad delivering takeout to those polar bears, I’d have probably gone all Orestes by now.”

“You know, Wolf… you are all kinds of weird.” Tristan brushed his hand off on his jeans and stood up. “I think I could get used to that.”

“Enough so you’d consider renting me half of that bed you were talking about?” Wolf stood behind Tristan and wrapped his arms around the man’s waist before he could get too far away.

“Yeah.” Tristan pressed back against Wolf’s chest before pulling free. “Boris can find someplace else to sleep. Consider half of that bed yours.”

H
E
COULDN
’
T
believe he’d just probably agreed to have Wolf move in. It was insane. Especially since they’d known each for what was probably only a week and most of that time was spent either arguing or fucking. They’d had… moments. Long moments of talking and sharing if Tristan was being honest with himself, but honesty was the last thing he was looking for.

Honesty wasn’t helping the panic threatening to choke him to death as he lowered himself into the chair next to Wolf and reached out to grasp his lover’s hand. Wolf rubbed at his fingers, trying to chase away the chill on Tristan’s skin, then brought Tristan’s hand up to his lips and kissed his palm.

“It’ll be okay, babe.” Wolf winked at him. “Mom’s crazy, but she’s really good at this kind of thing. Really.”

Wolf’s touch on his skin calmed his nerves, and suddenly the potential roommate coming into his life didn’t seem so odd.

“Especially since I’m not even sure I’m going to live through this,” Tristan muttered to himself.

Gidget slowly pulled out a chair, wincing when its legs squeaked across the wooden floor. Sitting down, she puffed her lips out and frowned. “Wolf, I think being here is a really bad idea. I could be in the ballroom monitoring any activity.”

“Meegan says we need five people. Something about points on a star or something.” Matt settled down in the chair next to her, nearly knocking over a candle in the process. He and Gidget had a frantic moment of grabbing the wax column before it could fall over. Gidget righted the candle, slapping her boyfriend’s hand away before he could do any more damage.

“Great, like your grandmother isn’t already trying to kill us,” she hissed at him.

“Sorry,” Matt whispered.

“It’s not a church. You don’t have to whisper.” Gidget rolled her eyes.

“You know, it’s not too late to call a priest.” Matt sighed. “My mom’s always screaming at the television during those fake possession shows that they should have called in the Catholics. Really, lots of churches in the city. I’m sure someone down there with a collar and rosary would pop on up here.”

“Shush.” Meegan frowned at the technician. “If this doesn’t work, then we’ll just wait for Cin to get here, but we’re not calling any fish-on-Friday ghoul. They get all uppity when you point out their rituals are as borrowed as their holidays. Now let me smudge the space clean and we can start.”

Trying to ignore the sensual waves of want Wolf’s fingers were stroking up along his skin, Tristan studied the table’s contents, briefly wondering if the Grange would combust just from the sheer amount of candles Meegan crammed onto the flat surface.

In the center of the table, she’d created an intricate pattern of spirals and paisley from the sands she’d brought in. Small ceramic rice bowls of rock salt sat in front of everyone, along with what looked to be a handful of Tootsie Roll Pops. Curious, Tristan leaned over to sniff at the sands, then stifled a sneeze when he caught wind of the strong perfumes permeating the grains.

“Don’t ask.” Wolf shook his head. “The closest that sand has ever gotten to a swami was the tell-your-fortune gypsy mannequin at the end of the pier.”

“Is that the ring in the middle of the sand?” Tristan didn’t dare a closer look, not with the tickle of floral still lingering in his nose. “Why did your mom put it there? Aren’t we calling my uncle to ask for help?”

“Um, good question.” Wolf cleared his throat loudly, but his mother ignored him in favor of setting a sage stick on fire with a butane salamander. “Mom! Shit. There’s enough candles to get the sage smoking. What the hell are you using?”

“I borrowed it from your brother. He was using it to char sugar and salmon skin.” She waved the torch about before turning it off. “It’s too cool to be used for
food
.”

“My mother, liberator of household appliances.” Wolf squeezed Tristan’s hand. “Next question, what’s the ring doing here?”

“Oh, change of plans. Didn’t I tell you?” Meegan paced around the table, waving the smoking bundle of sage about their heads. “I talked to your Aunt Passarabi, and she said Mortimer’s ritual probably is fine, but we just need to get rid of Winifred. So we’ll be calling her instead. When she arrives, you all will toss the salt at her while I invoke her dismissal. Then we’ll have some dinner. Someplace nice. With tablecloths. We could even go down to Union Square and see if Bach has his little place open yet.”

“Wait, back that up.” Gidget held up a hand. “You’re calling Winifred? What happened to calling up happy, loving Uncle Morty? When did the plan change?”

“Plans are fluid, dear.” Meegan whooshed by in another dancing sweep. “Like the universe. One must learn to bend to its flow. It’s better for the soul and spirit. Builds character.”