Mack's Rousing Ghoulish Highland Adventure, page 12
“See? There’s someone no doubt waiting for you. Come on, man. Why slouch around here when you could be having fun with your friend again?”
It took another minute before he grudgingly got out of his chair and followed me into the room. Brandon had done a runway of candles in mason jars that he had found somewhere. He was very, very good at putting his hands on lights when the situation called for them. I kept a weather eye on my reluctant ghost, not sure if he’d balk at the home stretch.
“Just walk,” I coached as we slowly made our way down the aisle of lights. “Think of the warmest place you’ve ever been, the place that made you happiest. If that wasn’t home to you, then think of your best friend. All you’re doing is returning to him.”
There might have been a smile lurking under the beard as he put a hand down on a handle and opened a door. It was bright white light that greeted him, blinding to me. The living couldn’t see through that door.
But I could hear it when a male voice boomed out, “Alastair! What took ye so bleedin’ long, mate?”
Alastair actually beamed. I didn’t know that craggy face could do any other emotion aside from glumness. But there he stood, overjoyed to the point that I swear there were tears in his eyes. “Ye cannae blame a man for gettin’ turned about!”
“The hell I cannae. Get yer arse over here!”
Alastair didn’t even glance back at me, or say thanks, or anything. He just went through, and the door shut firmly behind him, the room returning to its normal illumination.
I rolled my neck, feeling the stress of the evening catching up to me. Damn stubborn ghosts.
A warm pair of hands I knew well landed on my shoulders and started kneading. I relaxed into them with a groan of appreciation. Bless Brandon and his hands. Bless them. Oww, that was the spot, right there.
“Why do they always resist you so hard?” he asked in a mostly rhetorical fashion.
“Fear of the unknown. That’s my theory. Because something went awry with their death, and they were trapped here, they’re afraid of what might happen if they do pass beyond the veil. There’s so many different religions, so many takes on what the afterlife covers, it’s no wonder they’re confused. I think, too, it’s harder to try something again after you’ve already failed at it once. To try to pass on from this world, only to find yourself stuck, that has to be unnerving.”
He stopped kneading, sliding both hands around my waist, curling a little around me. I leaned into him, letting him support some of my body weight and enjoying the embrace. This man held me so tenderly, it was like he cradled my heart with his hands.
“Are you done in?”
“That obvious, huh? I basically finished passing our zombie ghosts since they were the most eager to get out of here. After that I had to sweet talk every other ghost into passing, as they’re too nervous to jump at the offer. I don’t know if I have it in me to talk one more into it.”
“From my count, you got another thirty to pass.”
“Yeah, that sounds about right. I lost track after a certain point. I don’t have any more energy to spare tonight, that much is true.”
“What do you want to do now, then? I was going to help them ward the inn on the inside. They’re just finishing the outside up now.”
Now that I could do without expending any energy. “Sure. Let’s finish up, then we can finally rest, eat dinner, all of that.”
Brandon kissed my temple before letting go. We both bent to blow out all the candles but left candles in place, because who knew? Maybe someone would finally request to be assisted to the afterlife without me badgering them into it.
Exiting the room, I went looking for the rest of our team. I didn’t get far. No one sensitive could get far in this building, not without being body checked by a ghost. Their numbers had diminished but they were by no means low. If I had to guess, we still had over a hundred in the building.
The ghost confronting me looked like one of those judgmental types. You know, the nosy neighbor that lived next door and had to be in everyone’s business, staring pointedly over her glasses whenever she could. That type.
“Yer too hands on with him to be friends,” she said in a starched voice. “Some funny business goin’ on here, looks like.”
I arched an eyebrow at her. Really? Really, we were doing this? “He’s my lover.”
Her jaw dropped, eyes bugging out of her head. Spluttering, she choked out, “Ye cannae say that so blatantly—”
“I have no idea what era you’re from, but the times have changed. I can, in fact, openly claim him as mine. And marry him if we both wish for it. No one can gainsay that. Now, unless you want me to scatter your soul to bits—”
She hastily backed up, arms crossed defensively over her chest.
“—I’d suggest keeping your mouth shut and staying out of my way. I have no patience for the homophobes.”
One of the older ghosts nearby—and he looked like an old soldier, especially with that sword hilt peeking out over his shoulder—gave a boisterous laugh. “He may look scrawny, but there be fight in this one! Lafayette, ye’ve a spine of steel, I grant ye that. Even if ye do choose a man as yer partner.”
I took the compliment in the spirit it was meant.
Brandon leaned in to ask near my ear, “Do I need to go get holy water and start shooting things?”
“No, it’s fine, the stupid bitch who challenged me now knows better. I forgot, Scotland was one of the last countries to accept LGBT rights.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, I remember reading about it. It was 2014, I think. She’s from an era long past, I think the 40s or so.” I shook my head. I wasn’t excusing her, because wrong was wrong, but I wasn’t willing to argue with an already closed mind.
Pushing past them, I went for the front rooms and found Booker sitting in front of a laptop in the main dining room, a printer on the table next to him. He was printing and sorting things as he went, taking them off the laserjet and sticking them in different piles. No one else was in the room, although from what I could hear the bar next door was hopping. No wonder he chose to work here, where he could spread out.
“Hi, Booker,” I greeted as I came to stand at his side. “How goes?”
“We underestimated how many talismans and warding symbols we needed for the outside,” he informed me with a quick glance up. “So I’m printing more. This other set is specifically for buildings. To be honest, I’m not sure if the first set we have will work all that well for the grounds.”
Uh-oh. “How come?”
“Because it’s meant more for buildings than an open area. It’ll create a defensive wall, sure, but this thing can fly. I think the sluagh will be smart enough to figure out it can fly over it.”
“So…” Brandon joined us, not sounding happy. “You think the first line of defense will fail?”
“I harbor severe misgivings, let me put it that way.”
Well, shit. “Let’s hope the sluagh is stupid. Our expert isn’t here yet, after all.”
“Seconded.” He reached for a stack and handed them to me. “Want to help with the inside? These can all be applied to the western wall. Especially doors and windows.”
I was a lot more motivated to help after hearing what he’d just said. “Yeah. What do we have to stick it with? Tape?”
He offered two rolls of masking tape, which would definitely do the job. I split the stack with Brandon, and we started in the same room as Booker since this outside wall faced west.
Brandon shuffled through them as he moved, brows drawn together in confusion. “I don’t know that I’ve seen this design before? How do I apply them?”
“Ah, you probably haven’t. These are rather new to me, too. But all warding talismans are set up the same way. You want one in every corner, one in the middle, one in every corner of an opening—door, window, whatever. And one in the middle of that.”
“The four corners are what we’re locking down, then?”
“Bing bing. Correct. The middle talisman is to help lock the others in place over a wide area.”
“Ahhh. The light just dawned. Got it, okay.”
I let him take the top corners as he could reach them without a ladder. I went low, and between the two of us, we had a good system down.
Even as he worked, Brandon questioned, “So can someone explain to me why it can only enter a building through the west? That part still doesn’t make any sense to me.”
“Hmm, we might not ever know the rhyme or reason,” Booker responded a little absently, still printing and sorting at the table. “But a lot of mythology and spirits have weird quirks to them like that. Some theorize that the reason why such things exist in the first place is because people made them to explain the unexplainable. Take the sluagh, for instance. The legend initially said it would attack healthy people, make them sick, and then feed from their souls, right? Well, if you have healthy people randomly getting sick and dying with no explanation, wouldn’t you think something was causing it deliberately?”
“A lot of superstitions came about because of that.” I rose from my crouch, examining my handiwork. Yeah, that should hold. “Every culture has their own beasts and monsters they can blame illnesses on. The part about coming in from the west—well, that’s likely due to our location. I mean, we’re surrounded by ocean on almost all sides here. I imagine a lot of storms hit and hit hard—and they came from the west.”
“And those factors all got mixed in together to create the sluagh?” Brandon shook his head in disbelief. “Without any other basis?”
“Oh, there might have been something initially that resembled it. Or something that took on the mantle and identity of what people believed. But human belief is something else. It’s amazing what power we hold, how we can form things. Like that malevolent on the last case.”
I winced at Booker’s reminder. “That situation was so messed up. But a good case in point. Anyway, if the legend says that it can only enter the building from the west, it’s likely correct.”
“But what if it’s wrong? You know how legends go, sometimes they’re off in the details,” Brandon said.
I did see his point. I stayed on my heels, looking up at him. After so many months together, I could read the concern on his face easily enough. “You want to do more than just the west side.”
“It can’t hurt, right? And I’d rather be safe than sorry.”
Really, I had no argument for him. Would it be more work? Yes. Would it be worth it so he could sleep peacefully knowing we had full protections up? Also yes. I wouldn’t sacrifice his peace of mind just because this would take another hour’s worth of work and probably another few printed pages of talismans.
Turning in place, I looked at Booker and saw the same pensive expression on his face. “I don’t mind doing the whole building.”
Booker slowly dipped his head in a nod of agreement. “Really, it’s a wise precaution. I’ll print out more sheets. Someone tell Catriona so she can let us into all of the rooms. I don’t think she’ll argue with us.”
I highly doubted she would. She was as nervous as a frog near the frying pan right now, and for good reason.
Brandon slapped the last talisman up in the far corner before lowering himself to his heels. “I’ll go and talk to her. Be back in a sec.”
Good choice. Brandon had the charm of a leprechaun. Even if she did balk for whatever reason, he’d work her around to his point of view. Not that I really expected trouble.
Booker paused in his sorting to look at me, head canted in question. “How many did you do?”
“Thirty or so, according to Brandon. He wrote names down as we went.”
“Was that your limit?”
“Of energy and patience, yeah. I passed the remaining zombie ghosts first. The rest of them have to be talked into passing.” I rolled my eyes. I still did not get the idea of lingering here where you literally had nothing to do, rather than passing on so you could reunite with loved ones. Seriously. Did not understand the apprehension.
“Have I mentioned recently how glad I am that you came?” Booker grinned at me as he lightly pushed his glasses back up onto his nose. “If it was Eli in your shoes, she’d have already lost her temper and forced them all into a single file line, whether they wanted to go or not.”
“I can see that, actually. And don’t think I’m not tempted, I am.”
“Heh. But you won’t actually do it. My wife, on the other hand, would. Thanks for your patience, Mack.”
“Don’t thank me yet. I may see the end of my rope before this is all said and done.”
“But the building will survive because you’re in charge of the ghosts,” Booker pointed out. “And the same could not be said if Eli was the one in charge instead.”
The man did make a good point.
Sitting in the Old Inn tonight had a very interesting vibe. It was like being in a fortified haunted house, with no option of leaving and no idea when the festivities would actually begin.
With booze available.
Pretty obvious where this was going.
No one thought the sluagh would hit us immediately. The pattern of the ghosts coming in said it was getting closer with every night, and it was basically next door to us as it stood. We had a night before it reached us, if it stuck to the pattern it had done for the past several weeks. But we also couldn’t really settle enough to get any sleep. Catriona, amazing hostess that she was, opened the bar for us, and we all went for the poison of our choice.
Except Eli and Booker; both of whom were watching Quinn like a hawk. It was so blatant that it caught my attention, even with me sitting two seats down from Quinn.
“One drink,” Eli ordered her husband flatly. “No more.”
Quinn raised a hand in promise. “Fine, fine.”
“Just one,” Booker emphasized with that same look on his face.
“I said yes, didn’t I? Yeesh. Calm down.”
Neither of them looked like they believed him. As soon as they went to collect their own drinks, Quinn leaned toward me, tone low. “I don’t know why they’re so uptight about that. They say I can’t hold my liquor at all. But I’m not that much of a lightweight.”
People who had no memories when drunk said things just like that. My suspicions were roused. “Do you remember anything the next morning?”
“Eh, not usually. But that’s typical, right?”
“Not so much, no.”
Quinn blinked at me. “Really? You remember most of it, then?”
“I remember all of it. I’ve never had memory lapses when drunk.” I winced as a few particular memories raised their heads. “Much as I wish otherwise sometimes.”
Mack piped up next to me. “Same. I’ve had a few blips, where things are sometimes fuzzy in the morning, but I usually remember it all. How do you normally wake up in the mornings?”
“Eh, usually stark naked and in bed with them.” Quinn squinted at the ceiling as if fruitlessly trying to recall at least something. “I assume good times rolled, but yeah, nada.”
He must have had a standing agreement with his spouses that drunken sex was okay. Not everyone had that consent in place, for various reasons, but I knew quite a few people that did. Mack and I did. Drunk or not, if we asked for sex, then consent was in place. Really, the only time I turned Mack down was when I felt like I had a serious cold incoming and I didn’t want to infect him with it.
There was a yelp and a mad scramble, and between one blink and the next, Rowen was up on a table. I didn’t think anyone was drunk enough for that show yet, so I assumed something else had startled them up there.
“Rowen?” I asked in concern, already moving toward them. “Why are you standing up there?”
“I can stand where I want,” Rowen answered, still eyeing the floor with open trepidation.
Logan just turned, eyeing his sibling with amusement. “Where be the spider?”
“Crawlin’ towards yer foot, get it, get it!”
I saw the arachnid in question and gave it a nice squish with my boot.
Rowen sighed in relief, hand pressed against their heart. “Thank ye. I become a mafia boss whenever I see a spider. I want it dead, its family dead, their home burned down. I dinnae like spiders.”
“My mother is exactly the same. Here, let me give you a hand down.” I set my own drink aside and extended both arms to them.
Rowen stepped into them gratefully, then squeaked a bit in surprise when I didn’t so much aid them as just pick them up and put them on the floor. Rowen’s eyes were a bit wide around the edges as they blinked up at me.
“Shite, ye’re strong,” Rowen said in awe. “Mack, does he do things like this all the time?”
“All the time,” Mack confirmed. He sounded a bit too happy, and when I checked, he was halfway through his first drink. Buzz starting to kick in already, huh. “It’s funny, seeing him and his brother together. They tend to forget their strength. Things get broken.”
I snorted, shaking my head. “Unfortunately true. Then again, we’ve never grown out of the habit of teasing each other and settling everything with wrestling matches.”
“What’s wrong with wrestling?” Quinn leered, eyebrows waggling at his husband.
“I don’t wrestle like that with my brother, I promise you,” I assured him dryly.
Booker eyed Quinn back with a matching leer. “There’s benefits to our method.”
“I bet.” I had a feeling one of those wrestling matches would happen later tonight, too. Those two were looking a little feisty.
Mack blinked up at me with the saddest puppy eyes. “You don’t wrestle with me like that.”
There was a general snicker from our audience that I tried really hard to ignore. “I’m a little afraid of breaking you, honey.”
Mack’s pout went up another level or five. Seriously adorable but not helping me at the moment. Did this really bother him? He couldn’t be that drunk on just one glass, right? I looked him over more carefully and re-evaluated. Mack wasn’t really a lightweight, but he did not look sober to me right now.
“Just how high a proof is that drink of yours, honey?”
