Chapter 35

If before the exorcism, containment was looking like a tornado had blown through, afterward it looked like it was hit by a bomb—made even worse by the fact that we now knew about the human remains.

Most folks think that when you’re cremated, the fire is so hot that there’s nothing left of you but ash. In actuality, what you leave behind is more like gravel. But the funeral home grinds it up before they pass it along to the grieving family, so no one with a morbid bent goes digging through it to discover what’s really left of grandpa.

I’d wager that Gordon Tertz had not been cremated by a funeral home. Or if he had, it was done on the sly, after hours, by a tie-dye-wearing caretaker that reeked of pot. Don’t get me wrong, there was plenty of gravelly ash, but there was also a lot of other stuff, chunkier stuff, in the mix. Thankfully, Tertz’s remains were all in one spot, more or less—which would make it a lot easier for the agency to give him the proper burial we’d promised. Still….

“I can’t shake the feeling that we breathed some of him in,” I told Jacob.

Giddy with the elation of having chatted face-to-face with his first ghost—a fellow TK, at that—he simply shrugged and said, “I guess there’s a little Gordon in all of us.”

We were pondering one of the scattered photos where a young, unbroken Gordon Tertz was looking hopefully at the camera when the rescue team found us. If they found it odd that we were standing there in an unlocked room when we could have been making tracks toward our car, they were tactful enough not to say anything about it.

I didn’t envy the folks who’d be tasked with cleaning up the mess we left behind. Most likely, they’d be supervised by Jibben—and he’d be in his OCD glory making sure that every last molecule was accounted for.

Between security, rescue, and investigators, the elevator bay was in high gear. One of Jacob’s Internal Affairs colleagues was snapping pictures of Darnell’s body. Thankfully, the two of them knew each other well enough that a two-minute rundown of events made for an acceptable statement—and security handed over our service weapons without a fight.

Though the rain outside had died down, traffic was about as appalling as we’d expected. We took the surface streets home, calling Clayton every two minutes all the way there. Every call went right to voicemail. You might think that after the first couple of times, we would’ve got the hint. But in the face of building anxiety, if that green call-button is your only recourse, you damn well keep smashing it.

It was early afternoon on Sunday by the time we finally pulled up in front of the cannery—which, thank God, was clearly still standing. Jacob parked with one wheel on the curb and left his door hanging open as he splashed his way up the walk. I caught up with him (even after closing the car door) trying desperately to shove the key in the lock upside down with one hand while laying on the doorbell with the other.

Wordlessly, I took the key from him and opened the front door. We thundered through the vestibule and spilled out into the living room….

Only to find Clayton sprawled on the couch with his sock-feet on the coffee table, flipping through channels on the TV. “Your doorbell is like, super loud.”

He was fine.

Perfectly fine.

The relief I felt over seeing that sullen face—ignoring me, as usual—rocked me so hard, I thought I might throw up.

I’d say Jacob was staring at his nephew like he’d seen a ghost…but that would imply Jacob was happy. The look on his face was too raw to even call it relieved. “Why didn’t you answer the door?”

In his most duh tone of voice, Clayton said, “You told me not to.”

Well…he had us there.

“Clayton,” Jacob said raggedly—then dove onto the couch and scooped him up in a massive hug.

“Whaaat?” the kid whined, though secretly, I’m sure he enjoyed it…even though Jacob was squeezing him hard enough to pop bones out of their sockets.

When Clayton finally squirmed out of the death grip, Jacob asked him, “Are you okay?”

“I guess.”

“But we were gone all night.”

“Yeah, but emergency stuff kept playing across the bottom of the TV, so I figured maybe you were just stuck somewhere. Plus, I got a text from Vic before my phone crapped out.” He shrugged. “So, I knew you weren’t dead or anything.”

Good thing I’m not a hugger. Otherwise, I might’ve embarrassed us all.

“Once, at school, there was a tornado siren right when lunch was getting out, and they made us all sit in the lunchroom for three more hours, even after it was time to go home, and then they even gave everyone a brownie and a milk. For free.”

I’d blow someone for a brownie and a milk, though I couldn’t say as much in mixed company. Since no one was dead or anything, as Clayton had so eloquently put it, I headed toward the fridge to shove something in my maw and stave off imminent collapse—

And stopped dead in my tracks in the kitchen doorway.

The room looked like Gordon Tertz had just vacated the premises. Dirty dishes took up the entirety of the countertop. The garbage can was overflowing. The smoke detector casing was hanging by a wire. And the toaster was on its side, disgorging a scattering of crumbs that looked like they could’ve come out of one of those vacuum-sealed scientific sample bags.

Taking in the disaster that used to be my kitchen, I tensed all over…but only for half a second. I might not be a fan of messes. But at least we wouldn’t have to catalog this one for scientific posterity.

The pot of spaghetti on the stove was still kind of warm, though the noodles were in a solid mass, held together by the entire contents of a jar of parmesan. When I carved out a forkful and shoved it in my mouth straight off the stove, I realized the sauce was actually ketchup. And then I took another big bite.

The city’s power outages had been patchy. Some neighborhoods were still down. Some never got dinged at all. The cannery had gone dark, but only for a few minutes—just long enough for all the clocks to start blinking 12. Clayton hadn’t been particularly fazed by any of it. Mostly, he was just annoyed with himself for not packing a charging cable for his phone and having to resort to non-streaming TV, though he allowed that our channel selection was adequate.

By the time Barbara showed up a few hours later to collect her kid, the kitchen was in some semblance of order and most of the clocks were reset. Clayton swore up and down he wouldn’t mention exactly how long we’d left him alone, but Barb’s got a way of eroding people’s defenses. If he wasn’t careful, something would eventually slip.

When Barb came stomping up the stairs, I clenched everything it was possible to clench, positive I was gonna be reamed within an inch of my life. But instead of demanding a play-by-play, questioning our choices, and accusing us of serious neglect, she launched into a diatribe about the traffic. “What, people can’t drive around here when it rains? Hello, it’s just water.”

Was it possible she didn’t know about the funnel clouds and half the grid going down? Maybe it was just local news. Or maybe living in a town that tests its tornado sirens every Wednesday at 11 am sharp breeds a certain kind of acceptance. Either way, I wasn’t about to volunteer the information.

She turned to her son. “And what have you got to say for yourself, young man? Your phone gave out pretty quick. I’ll bet you’re wishing you did like I said and brought your charger.”

Clayton shrugged.

“Well,” she said, “one of these days he’ll figure out that I do know what I’m talking about. But I’m not gonna hold my breath. So—what’s the verdict? Is Clayton mature enough to handle this band trip or not?”

“Actually,” Jacob began—

Only to be cut off by his sister. “I wasn’t asking you. Clayton’s got you wrapped around his little finger. You’ll say whatever it takes to make him happy. There’s more to parenting than fun and games.” She looked at me. “So, what do you think?”

“Me? I know less about parenting than Jacob does.”

“Maybe. But you’re not worried about whether or not Clayton likes you, so I trust that if he’s not ready for that trip, you’ll tell me.”

“So, what you’re saying is…Jacob would be the fun parent, and I’m the strict one.”

The gloating went over her head, but I’m sure Jacob heard it loud and clear.

I didn’t mention that the simple weekend slumber party turned out to be a trial by fire—literally, at one point, with a toaster that might not have survived. But when I said I thought Clayton seemed pretty capable of handling himself, I truly did mean it.

Jacob hugged Clayton goodbye so hard, I thought for sure the jig was up. But the real surprise came when Clayton, on his way out the door, treated me to a quick, one-armed, half-hearted squeeze. I dunno who was more surprised by this, him or me. Probably for the best that Barb didn’t see. We would’ve been totally busted, for sure.

As we waved goodbye from the stoop, Jacob said through clenched teeth, “I never want to go through that again.”

“The sleepover?” I gave a final wave as they turned the corner and were gone. “Sure, there was room for improvement, but if your sister hadn’t dropped in on us out of nowhere—”

“Not that. The worry. The helplessness. The thought of coming home and finding him dead on the floor. And it being all my fault.”

“You can’t control the weather,” I pointed out as I drew him in out of the rain. “And try as you might, you can’t control what other people do, either.”

“But if I’d just canceled my plans right away, I would have been here. And Clayton wouldn’t have gone through this whole thing alone.”

Frankly, I suspected the most traumatic thing that had happened to Clayton this weekend was the death of his phone battery. I hooked a finger through the belt loop on Jacob’s shorts and tugged him up against me, then took his face in both my hands and said, “If you hadn’t done what you did, then I would’ve had to face the poltergeist on my own. And we both know, the only reason Tertz finally moved on was because of what you told him.” I pressed my forehead into his and sighed. “Without you, I can’t guarantee I would have made it out of there.”

Even with my face right up against Jacob’s, the kiss caught me off guard. He grabbed me by the shoulders, swung me around and flattened me to the wall. And when he pressed his lips to mine, I could taste the desperation.

I don’t know how anyone can cope with having kids. Loving someone makes you vulnerable. And the harder you love them, the scarier it is knowing that something might happen to them.

I’d never let myself get too attached to anyone, not until Jacob came along. As his tongue skimmed my lower lip, teasing my mouth open, I looped my arms around his neck and held him tight.

He broke the kiss with a huff, grinding me into the wall. “I love you so much it hurts,” he said, gravelly and low—and I realized that vulnerability cut both ways. I always forget about the chinks in his armor. And the wounds that manage to sneak through them surprise me, every time.

“It’s okay,” I said softly. “We’re okay.” I guided him into a kiss that was deliberately tender, with my hands still cradling his face.

Jacob’s got this muscle in his jaw that gets a workout whenever he’s frustrated or upset. If the sight of it flexing is painful, that’s nothing compared to the feel of it throbbing beneath my fingertips. I backed him away with a gentle push. “We’re okay, Jacob,” I repeated, in my normal tone of voice.

The pain in his eyes said, But what if it had turned out different?

“Look,” I said, “neither one of us thought that working for the FPMP was just crunching numbers and throwing salt. We were both fully aware of what we were getting into—and that the threat could come from any and all sides, including our own people. We’ve never come across a telekinetic ghost before, and I doubt we ever will again—”

“That’s not it,” Jacob insisted. “We’re always putting ourselves on the line—we’ve been doing it since we joined the force. The risk comes with the job. Different risks, maybe. But the idea is the same.” He sighed against my cheek. “Vic, I was so close to leaving you there to handle it alone—”

“But that’s not what you—”

“I almost did. I knew how mad you’d be if I second-guessed you, if I thought you couldn’t handle things on your own.” Now was probably not the time to point out that, yes, I had been pretty pissed about him turning around. “I really struggled. Because the clouds looming on the horizon could have blown over—”

“But they didn’t. And you were right.”

“I don’t care about being right. I care about you. And if I’d been selfish enough to just take off while you were here dealing with—” he gestured to the world at large. “With everything. If something had happened to you—how could I ever live with myself?”

“Something did happen. And you were here.” I gave him another shove, harder now. “Now, let’s go to bed before we both keel over.”

Our second wind had long since blown away, but our thoughts were racing fast enough to keep us going. I’d shed my suit and stripped down to my boxers, but Jacob had the underwear around my ankles before I could even peel back the comforter. He shoved me down on the bed and I rolled over to face him, momentarily confused by all the dark smudges scattered over his arms and chest…until I realized he was covered in bruises from our ordeal with the poltergeist’s tornado. And if he looked that bad with his sturdy olive complexion, my white pallor must look ten times worse.

I risked a glance down…and winced.

But Jacob, standing between my knees, was visually mapping the bruises without flinching away. Maybe they were proving whatever elusive point he was trying to make. Or maybe he was just thinking about a different set of bruises—the love bites and fingermarks he’d left on me, back when our relationship was still fresh out of the box.

Things could have gone so much worse.

“C’mere,” I told him. “Give me something else to think about.” I might have been hoping to distract Jacob, but when it came right down to it, I needed the distraction just as much as he did. And when he lowered himself over me and began kissing his way across the black-and-blue souvenirs of our poltergeist run-in, pretty soon, all I could think about was where he’d trail that hot mouth next.

But when he moved across my chest and started working his way down my belly, I realized I needed so much more than just a thrill. I caught him by the hair and urged him to meet my eyes. “Up here,” I said. “I want you face to face.”

Wordlessly, Jacob climbed back across the bed until we were level again. His mouth found mine, but this kiss was different from the last one. It was needier now, yet totally sure.

His hand trailed down my side, tracing the path of one particularly nasty bruise–probably a whack I took from the tape dispenser. I gasped against his lips, but he didn’t stop. Instead, he dragged his fingers lower still, to graze my hipbone and cup the curve of my ass.

I was getting hard already. While Jacob reached for the lube, I shifted to let my dick reposition to my belly. It twitched hard when he pressed in a slippery finger. We’d done this so many times before, it already knew exactly how this was gonna play out. Except this wasn’t all those other times. This was now. And we needed each other in a way that was raw and new.

Jacob was just as ready as I was, already angling my hips so he could pound me just the way I liked it. But there was an intensity on his face that made me suspect that for him, this wasn’t just a replay of our greatest hits, either.

When he sank into me, we both moaned. But neither of us dropped the other’s gaze. I figured the horror of the last couple of days would disappear. But somehow it was still there, imprinted on us like the bruises that covered us both.

I looped my legs around his, arching my back so his belly rubbed the underside of my dick. It’s easier when one of us reaches between us to take care of business, but sometimes the intimacy of jizzing hands-free is worth the effort. Jacob knew the score. He caught my wrists in either hand and shoved my arms up over my head so that neither of us was tempted to make a grab for it.

In bed, I surrender to him quicker than a meth dealer with a K-9 clamped to his leg. He’s always in control—and that’s how I like it. But as we started to move, finding our rhythm, I realized that whenever a ghost showed up, I refused to hand over the reins.

Even when I claimed that’s exactly what I was doing.

Could Jacob rip habit demons in half and shove ghosts through the veil? Sure. But deep down, some part of me always thought of those things as just finishing a task that I’d started.

Necessary…but hardly groundbreaking.

Glorified cleanup work.

But back in the lab, I’d been so spent, I was literally at Tertz’s mercy. And ultimately, Jacob was the one who’d taken care of it.

Because he was every bit as capable as me.

Something shifted—something so big, I wondered if he felt it too.

He started fucking me, really fucking me, and I let everything go—the anguish, the guilt, the quiet realization that I’d finally come up against a ghost that was way too strong to handle. And once I’d released all that mental baggage, somehow I found myself in a profound center…the eye of the storm. Where everything simply was.

Jacob. And me. Moving as one.

He shoved into me over and over, never letting up on my wrists–and I never wanted him to stop. This was us, coming together in the wake of something that had almost taken us apart.

And finally I understood what this connection we had was really about. Not who could see the ghost or who could find the veil. It was about trust. And the knowledge that no matter what kind of ghostly shitstorm we found ourselves in, we’d always have each other’s back.

The rapid-fire thud of Jacob’s hips made a solid counterpoint to his fists holding me in place. The point of no return beckoned, and I welcomed it–a release that felt infinitely greater than the mere rush of pleasure.

I must’ve made some kind of sound as I came, because Jacob grunted and shifted, and now he was chasing his own peak instead of watching for mine. He came, hard. And when he let go of my arms, I immediately cradled his face with both hands, drawing him down into a tender kiss we shared as he rode out his final few thrusts.

When Jacob finally rolled off of me, we stayed that way for a moment, staring up at the ceiling as we caught our breath. I let my head loll to one side to look at him, and he did the same, with exhaustion etched on his brow, but a soft smile in his eyes.

Of course Jacob was my equal. He was a man of steel.

And there I was, claiming to have figured something out, when all I’d really done was remember what I’d known all along.