Epilogue

The meeting was scheduled for ten o'clock, and Brandon presented himself at the old-house-turned-SPAM-headquarters with all the enthusiasm of a man headed for the gallows. April and her minions had been willing to give him some recovery time following the Great Wraith Adventure, but now they were going to want an answer.

Would he go to work for SPAM or not?

Brandon still wasn't sure.

Over the last weeks, he'd read the blue book cover-to-cover at least three times. He'd talked to Layla about her role in the organization, and even met with Spike twice. He might be more comfortable with his ability, but he wasn't ready to take the plunge.

Something still held him back, some reservation he could neither identify nor ignore.

Once in the building's lobby, however, he began to doubt his own reservation. The receptionist could have been anyone he worked with at Microsoft, as could the two or three people who came and went while he was waiting. He made note of details he hadn't noticed on his first visit: the antique furniture, worn but solid; the modern art that wasn't too abstract; an overall vibe that said, "All good here."

Maybe this crowd wasn't so strange. Besides, he was part of this world, whether he liked it or not.

At the appointed time, Brandon was escorted to the conference room, where he found Spike and an older woman. Spike sported a flannel shirt, torn-up jeans, and a dog chain around his neck, and he introduced his friend as Morticia.

She was one of Spike's teammates, and she could make herself invisible for up to five minutes at a time. She said this proudly, and Brandon accepted it as such, though he sort of thought a five-minute limit could get her into more trouble than not. Still, with her long, straight, black hair and her Goth gown and jewelry, she was fairly intimidating.

"Thank you for meeting with us," Spike said, oozing smarm rather than charm.

"No problem."

"Let's start with a quick update. As you know, Corbin Blande disappeared following the wraith incident."

Wraith incident? Brandon ground his teeth to keep from saying something rude.

"We've put our best team of trackers on it, but he's either very good or so far underground he'll never come up for air."

"I hope it's the latter," Brandon said dryly.

Spike laughed as if he'd made a joke. "Either way, we'll make sure he never bothers you again."

Brandon forced a smile. "Sure."

Spike gestured to his companion. "Morticia?"

Her eager grin made Brandon want to roll his eyes.

"Spike asked me to meet with you in order to tell you a little more about our work." With that, she launched into a spirited retelling of a recent case. They'd been sent to an old farmhouse in Skagit Valley because the neighbors were complaining about the foul smell. "Turns out, a wendigo had possessed the man who lived there, and it took the whole team to bring him in. We had quite a time."

Her mix of enthusiasm and pride impressed Brandon, but, "I'm not sure where my skills would fit in an adventure like that."

"You'd be surprised," Spike said, rubbing at the dog chain. "We put everybody to work."

There was an awkward pause, during which Brandon thought he should say something but couldn't decide what.

"At any rate," Spike continued, as if Brandon hadn't missed his opportunity, "why don't I call you the next time something comes up where I for sure need a necromancer?"

Brandon nodded slowly, still searching for the right words.

"You'd just be on call, like your boyfriend."

That spot near Brandon's kidneys, the place his power came from, took that moment to send out a burst of energy. With a sigh, Brandon realized he was outnumbered. "All right. I can be on call."

Spike smiled, Morticia smiled, and that spot in Brandon's belly calmed down. Pretty sure he'd made the right choice, Brandon smiled too.

That evening, he said as much to Stef.

"Welcome to the family," Stef said, raising his glass of red wine ina toast. They were seated at a small table in a cute little bistro on the Kirkland waterfront, sharing a plate of calamari and a bottle of wine.

Because yeah, Stef had turned Brandon into a wine drinker.

"So, what happens next?" Brandon asked, swirling his wine. He was drinking his second glass and feeling mellow. Stef's five o'clock shadow was heading toward full beard, and Brandon's thighs tingled in anticipation of the burn.

"What do you want to happen next?" Stef grinned like the question was halfway a joke.

Brandon decided to take him seriously. "Well, my lease is up in a couple of months." He meant to float an idea without stating it outright, giving Stef room to dodge if he wanted to.

Stef's eyes grew wide, and he paused with a golden circle of squid halfway to his mouth. "Funny thing, you know. I own my condo, and it's big enough for two."

The way his smile widened hinted that his vague response meant he and Brandon shared the same idea.

"There's the cat and the kitten to consider." Because Sparky was now part of Brandon's family, as was a kitten from the dude next door.

Stef's smile dampened, making Brandon fear he'd said too much. "On one condition," Stef said, somber enough that Brandon's heart jumped up in his throat.

"Yes?"

Stef shrugged, his grin breaking free, dark eyes flashing with humor. "I get to name the kitten."

Two can play like this. "Oh, dear." Brandon wasn't entirely successful at keeping the laughter out of his voice. "Layla already chose a name."

Planting his hands on the table, Stef raised his chin. "Layla? What claim does she have on this situation?"

"Well, we might want to have her over for dinner."

"Oh?"

"Since she won't be moving in with us."

Stef started to laugh. "I should certainly hope not."

"No." Brandon shook his head, his smile full of affection. "Only one of us will be moving in."

His smile meeting Brandon's affection and raising it, Stef said, "Good. That's…good."

Brandon hadn't intended to become a necromancer, and he'd never expected to work for SPAM, even part time. And yet, he was, and he would be, and if Stef was his reward, that was a very good thing.

Because unlike Last Year, for the first time in a long time, Brandon had hope.