The front desk clerk was a nice man who checked us in with professionalism and a smile. I had just been handed my room key when I heard a somewhat-familiar voice pipe up behind me.
“Havili? Brandon Havili?”
I turned to see the speaker. Right behind me was a man of about average height—meaning he’d be lucky to hit my shoulders—with a curious expression on his face as he looked up at me. Thick, brown hair waved and curled in a flattering way around his face, his light brown eyes glowed amber under the lights, and he looked touchable and squishy.
Damn. That’s the cutest twink to ever twink.
Wait.
What?
My libido chose one hell of a moment to find another guy to be attracted to. I’d barely wrapped my brain around the first one. I mentally slapped the attraction down and rebooted my mouth to say something instead of standing around like a gaping moron. “Yeah, that’s me.”
“Oh, good. I thought I recognized the voice. I’m Mackenzie Lafayette.”
This was the guy I was supposed to be working with for the foreseeable future? He did not look like a ghost wrangler. First of all, he was too cute for that. Second of all, how was I supposed to handle this? I didn’t know how to flirt with my own gender, dammit.
Social training kicked in and saved me again from standing around like a mute idiot. I held out a hand. “Nice to meet you in person, Mackenzie.”
“Mack’s fine,” he said, taking it in a firm grip.
I introduced the two standing by, watching this play out. “My brother, Donovan, and Jonathan Bane.”
Mack shook their hands too, all genuinely happy smiles. I tried to tell my libido those smiles weren’t meant for it specifically. It didn’t care and was trying to override my common sense.
I was well aware I had a type. All my life, I’d been attracted to women who were a little on the plush side. I liked them soft and cuddly. I wasn’t into the physically fit build. Don’t ask me why; it was just what I gravitated to. That apparently applied to men, too. Mack didn’t have an ultra slim, packing muscles kind of build. He had some softness around his middle and looked really cuddly and huggable.
Jon, of course, caught all of this. His eyes darted from me to Mack and then back again before his eyebrows rose sharply. I shrugged at him. What could I say? Apparently, the possibility of me finding another man attractive had happened sooner rather than later.
“I actually came over to the hotel to clear it with the manager for us to do the haunting investigation here,” Mack said to all of us. “It’s good timing that I bumped into you. I wanted to touch base and figure out a plan before we really tackled things tomorrow. Would you like me to take your ghost for tonight?”
Donovan gave him a look that suggested puppy love. “Please?”
“Her name is Emma,” Jon said. “My mother was able to talk to her to some degree, and wrote down everything Emma told her. It’s in with the box with the snow globe.”
“That’s helpful, thank you.”
I carefully transferred the box over, our fingers brushing during the transfer. He ran a little cold, or at least his hands were. For my brother’s sake, I asked, “Would you take a look at our hotel rooms and see if anything’s hanging around?”
“Sure, I’d be glad to do that for you.” Mack gave Donovan such a sincere look of sympathy I almost melted from it, and it wasn’t even aimed at me. “I understand you’re not comfortable with spirits. I’ll lay down some salt, too, to keep your room free and clear. That way you can rest easy.”
Donovan visibly relaxed a few notches. “Thanks. I really appreciate that.”
“No problem. What room number are you in?”
“Three-twelve.” Jon led the way to the stairs. “Sorry, elevators aren’t a good match for me.”
Mack waved it off. “Quite alright. I was warned about you. My phone’s in my back pocket. Do I need to worry about it?”
“Only if I’m in direct contact with it. Long-term exposure will eventually kill things, but it normally takes a direct touch to have an immediate effect.”
“Ah, good. I was worried about the crew’s equipment, too. But if you can navigate around them, it should be fine.”
“It will be. I just have to use Brandon as a shield.” Jon gave me a wink over his shoulder as we crossed a landing.
I shrugged; that was basically what I was here for.
Mack gave me an intense stare, and I swear he was trying to read my mind. “I’m not clear on this. I know you’re probational and in training, but in training for what exactly?”
“Psychic department, specifically ghost wrangling,” I answered. “My recruiter is very firmly of the opinion that I’ll make a good anchor, and he wants to shove me in there first, see if I connect with anyone. That and I actually like ghosts, which is apparently rare.”
“It is, more than you’d think.” Mack seemed very excited about this information, his free hand coming up to illustrate as he spoke. “And that’s great. That means we’ll likely be paired up in the future at some point. I’m about to get passed—this is my last job as a proby—but I’m not partnered. They’ll put me on a rotation with anyone who’s expressed interest to be an anchor until I find someone I click with. When will you be done shadowing these two?”
“Ah, about two and a half weeks, thereabouts.”
“So really soon? Cool. It’ll be nice to partner up with someone I already know. I don’t know that many agents. I’ve basically been training with Hannah and Beau this whole time.”
Jon paused at the top of the stairs to frown at Mack. “I thought you had to already be partnered before they let you be an agent.”
“Yeah, they’re relaxing the rules on that a bit,” Mack informed him, shrugging. “Or so I’m told. There’re too many people with talent they want to keep. They’ll now work with you on finding an anchor if you don’t already have one. I’m really glad. No one around me at home was willing to. I’ve got better odds working with the FBI.”
I couldn’t understand how anyone would look at this man, who was not only cute but also good natured, and think he wasn’t worth the effort of protecting. Of supporting. Were the people around him just selfish or blind? And could I smack them? I wanted to smack them.
We reached our rooms before I could ask things that were likely none of my business. Mack went straight in, looking around curiously—rather like a real estate agent evaluating a new piece of property. I was too curious to stand there and just watch. I put my suitcase down and shadowed him. “Can I ask what you’re looking for?”
He didn’t look at me, but his tone was friendly as he responded, “Sure. So basically, spirits have different stages that they’re in. The older ones are sometimes so exhausted and low on energy there’s barely any sort of presence. Fresher spirits have more vitality more often than not. But if the conditions are right, an old spirit can still have a lot of presence, even a hundred or three hundred years later. Usually if there’s limestone or quartz in the area, that helps them. Also, if those stones are around, there is the possibility of a residual haunting.”