8 – This Gift, This Curse

 

 

"Why are all the best looking ones straight?" Mick muttered. He was resting his elbows on the parapet of a roof, looking down at the street below him.

 

Will chuckled. "So you won't be tempted to do something you shouldn't."

 

"As if," Mick replied a bit morosely. "No one, male or even female, would give me a second glance."

 

"Now that's not true," Will said as he came over to join him. "If you had some nice duds and a decent haircut, you'd outshine everyone."

 

"Uh-huh. And that's happening when?"

 

"Unfortunately, unless we win the lottery or find someone willing to take a chance on giving us jobs, probably not in the foreseeable future." He looked down, seeing the crowds of people leaving the movie theater across the street. "So, which one caught your eye?"

 

"All of them?" Mick laughed softly. "Okay, that one in particular." He pointed and when Will didn't seem to get which man he meant, he said, "The guy with the blonde girl. He's got dark brown hair and is wearing a blue jacket."

 

"I see at least four guys who fit that description."

 

"Geesh. Okay, they're heading north up the street. I bet they're going to the coffee shop. Now do you know who I mean?"

 

Will cocked his head, trying to spot him. "The one with his back to us?" he said in amusement.

 

As if he felt their gazes on him, the young man turned around for a moment, saying something to the girl as he pointed back to where they'd been.

 

The scene changed…

 

 

 

Will saw two men stealthily making their way down a snow-covered walk to the back door of a building. They entered and moved down a basement hallway to a door at the end. After a moment's work, they opened it and entered. In the dim light coming through a window, Will saw them place themselves on either side of the door. Time sped up, the room was dark. A young man came down the hallway, carrying a basket of laundry. He seemed about to unlock the door before realizing it already was, so he entered, fumbling for the light switch. The men attacked him, knocking him to the floor amid the dropped laundry. They kicked and beat him until he was unconscious and bleeding, curled in a fetal position. The only words spoken came from one of the men. "She belongs to me."

7 – This Gift, This Curse

 

"So what are you two majoring in?" Kevin asked, as they walked to the check-out counter.

 

Charlie laughed. "Right now all I'm worried about is making it through the first year."

 

Sue shook her head. "He likes to kid about that, but he'll ace the classes. He'd better since he wants to be a lawyer. As for me, I'm aiming for pre-med."

 

"Whoa. Now I feel like a slacker," Kevin told them. "I'm going for my Bachelors in social work."

 

"There's nothing slacker about that," Sue protested. "That takes a lot of guts and a lot of heart."

 

Kevin smiled in embarrassment at her assessment, glad he didn't have to reply since Charlie interrupted them to say, "Next stop, coffee and studying, now that we have the books we need."

 

"So why social work?" Sue asked a bit later. They'd already gotten a table, leaving Charlie to hold the fort while she and Kevin waited in line to get coffee for the three of them.

 

"I could be cliché and say because I want to help people and that's part of it, of course. But it really has more to do with how my mom and I were treated when we needed help a few years ago. I know now that the social worker was just overburdened with too many cases. Still, she could have been somewhat more understanding. Anyway, that's when I decided that maybe with more people working in the system, there'd be more chances to assist those who needed it without making them feel like second-class citizens."

 

"And so a knight in shining armor was born," Sue said. Her words were teasing but the look on her face said she understood and as a result, thought better of him.

 

They returned to the table a few minutes later, coffees in hand, and set to work. As they took notes and discussed what they were finding out, Kevin discovered he liked the twins' company. He hoped they could become real friends, so when they finally decided it was time to call it quits for the night, he was elated when Charlie suggested they meet up again after classes the next day for coffee. "And to work on this too, of course," he added.

 

Kevin thought it was a great idea, so they set a time and place to meet before going their separate ways.

 

 

* * * *

 

 

Getting together for coffee with Charlie and Sue soon became a routine. Often enough it was to study, but occasionally they did it just for a chance to relax in each other's company.

 

During one of the latter times, their conversation turned to movies. Kevin admitted he rarely went to them, which horrified Sue.

 

"She's a real movie buff," Charlie said. "I don't think there's anything out there worth seeing that she hasn't gone to."

 

"Not true," she protested. "Well, maybe mostly true. And there's a great one coming this weekend." She looked at Kevin. "If you're free, would you like to go with me?"

 

"Oh that was subtle," Charlie muttered, which earned him a glare from his sister.

 

Kevin chuckled before telling her he'd love to. Then he asked if Charlie was coming too.

 

"No. I've got a date to go skating with a friend."

 

"His most recent conquest," Sue told Kevin. "He's the prime example of love 'em and leave 'em."

 

"I am not! Okay, so I'm still looking for the right person, but I never make promises to anyone. It's their own fault if they think I've got more in mind then just having fun with them." Charlie winced when Sue smacked his arm. "Okay, that didn't exactly sound too good, but you get the picture."

 

Kevin nodded. "As mom says, you're only young once, so there's no reason to tie yourself to one person until you've tested the waters."

 

Charlie snapped his fingers. "Exactly!"

 

Sue just rolled her eyes before she and Kevin set up a place to meet before going to the movie.

 

Release day for 'Darik Wilson, Ghost Talker'!

 Darik Wilson, Ghost Talker

 

https://www.jms-books.com/edward-kendrick-c-224_229/darik-wilson-ghost-talker-p-4868.html

 

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CLC76Y4G 

 

Darik Wilson was normal young man in college until the day he stumbled across a man's body in a local park. When he touched it, the man's ghost appeared. It scared the hell out of Darik as the ghost of Cornell Albright begged him to find his murderer. He was the thirteenth victim of the serial killer dubbed as X for the way he laid out his victims. Cornell told Darik what little he recalled about his killer, which Darik passed on to Detective Lang, who believed in the paranormal. Unfortunately, it wasn't enough to find X, who ceased his murderous spree after Cornell's death. Cornell stayed around, unable to move on because X was never caught.

Ten years later, X reappears. Darik is on the scene when the third of his victims is discovered, and with Cornell's help he is able to talk to Morris and relay what he learns to Detective Lang. Now, Darik has two ghosts to contend with. At the same time, he meets Steve Grainger while out jogging. When Steve comes to Darik's costume shop to rent a costume they strike up a tentative friendship, planning to run together at a park the following Sunday morning.

Things don't go quite as they expected when X strikes again, killing a man who, in the early morning light might have been mistaken for Steve. Darik and Steve are there when a woman finds the body, at which point Steve discovers he, too, has the ability to see ghosts.

Now, the problem becomes, was Steve the intended victim? If so, will they be able to find and stop X, with the help of the three ghosts, before he strikes again?

EXCERPT:

"You though of something more?" Detective Lang asked when he came over, still holding the evidence bag with the dagger.

"That's mine," Darik told him. "I mean it belongs to the shop and ..."

"And I rented it as part of a costume," Steve said before Darik could finish. "For a party last night. Somewhere along the line I must have lost it. I swear I did! I swear I'm not the man who killed him or anyone else."

Lang nodded, although he didn't seem certain he believed him. "I'll need your fingerprints," he said, gesturing for one of the CSI people to join them. When she came over, he asked her to take Steve's prints, which she did. Then he told Steve he was going to take him down to the precinct to question him further.

Steve swallowed hard and agreed to wait. "I didn't do it."

"I don't think you did, but I still have to question you. You might remember something about when and where you lost the dagger." Lang turned his attention to Darik. "I need to talk to you, too. I can do it here if you'll come with me."

Lang led Darik to the same bench where he and Steve had planned on meeting for their run. "Anything?" he asked.

"Yes. Not much and pretty much the same as everyone else. Big man, smelled, big hand to quote him. Do you know who he is?"

"His ID says he's Edward Nelson. For the moment that's all we know." He shot Darik a sour look. "If you tell me he was one of your customers ..."

"The name doesn't ring a bell, but I'll check," Darik replied with a rueful smile. "If he only rented once, or quite a while ago, well ..." He shrugged. "I don't remember everyone who comes in."

"Didn't expect you would, but please check. Between Morris Burke, and now Mr. Grainger, this is beginning to feel strange."

"I didn't know the first two victims," Darik pointed out.

"That you know of. You might want to see if they're in your records, though." Lang took a pad and pen from his pocket, wrote the names down, and handed the page to Darik.

"God, I hope they aren't."

Lang patted his shoulder. "I'm sure you do. All right, I have to get back to it. Let me know if the ghost of Mr. Nelson gets in touch with you again."

"I will." As soon as Lang left, Darik went back to wait with Steve, to give him moral support if nothing else.

Steve was standing by himself, well away from all the action. When Darik joined him, Steve said shakily, almost under his breath, "I saw him."

"Who? The killer? How do you know it was him?"

"No, no." Steve shook his head wildly, staring at the victim's body, which was being put into a body bag. "Him."

"He lives in the neighborhood?"

"I don't know. Hell. I ..." Steve turned away, chewing his lip. "You're going to think I'm crazy but I swear by all that's holy I thought I saw his ghost or his spirit or something floating above his body when I first got here but it couldn't have been, could it?" He looked at Darik, his gaze pleading with him to tell him he'd been imagining it.

Darik debated how to reply. Do I tell him it was his imagination? Do I admit he wasn't seeing things? That I saw Mr. Nelson's ghost, too? That he has the same ability I do, although I think this is the first time it's happened to him?

"Have you ever seen one before?" Darik asked, understanding how Steve must feel if this was the first time.

Steve shook his head and then, conversely, nodded. He started to walk away until Darik put a hand on his shoulder to stop him. "Tell me, please," he said. "It helps to talk to someone."

He took a gulping breath, his hands clenching. "I was a kid, ten, and while I was visiting my grandparents my grandmother died of a heart attack. I found her lying on the kitchen floor and screamed at her to wake up. No one believed me, but suddenly she was there and she told me she wished she could but it wasn't possible. She said she loved me and wanted me to know she was going to a beautiful place to be with her parents. Then she was gone and my grandfather rushed in to see why I was screaming and ..." He shuddered.

Darik slipped an arm around Steve's shoulders. "That's the only time until today?"

"Yes. They insisted it was impossible, that I'd imagined it because I loved her and didn't want her to be gone. I believed them, after a while." Steve smiled wanly. "That's the only time I've been around a dead person, well except for a couple of funerals, until today."

"Consider yourself lucky," Darik replied dryly.

"Do you believe me?"

"I do. I really don't have much choice because I saw him, too. Mr. Nelson's ghost, that is." Lang was coming toward them at that point, so Darik said, "We'll talk more about it when he's finished with you."

"I don't suppose ..." Steve looked plaintively at Darik.

"That I can come with you? I will if the good detective allows it," Darik replied, looking at Lang since he was within earshot at that point.

"Is there a reason you want to?" Lang asked.

"He needs moral support."

"I'm not going to browbeat him, damn it."

Darik chuckled. "I know that, he's not quite so sure."

 

6 – This Gift, This Curse

 

 

Kevin browsed the stacks in the library, trying to find books for the research paper his professor had assigned. Two of his classmates were doing the same thing, he noticed, so he approached them.

 

"Any luck?" he asked.

 

The guy, Charlie, nodded. "There's not much, though. I think the others beat us to it."

 

"Here we go," the girl who was with him said, pulling out two books to show them. "Now what we should do is check these out, and then trade off reading them."

 

Kevin trailed a finger along the spines of the remaining books and took out another one. "Three books, three of us. I mean if…" He shrugged.

 

"Sure, that works for me. You okay with it, Sue?"

 

"Oh yeah. What girl wouldn't be okay with studying with a couple of cute guys?" She grinned at them both. "We can do it here, or go to the coffee house, or one of our apartments."

 

Kevin felt a swell of elation. While he knew most of the people in the class, he didn't really 'know' them. Maybe with luck he'd be able to make friends with these two.

 

"My place is out," Kevin admitted. "It's hardly big enough for me."

 

"Same here," Sue said. "Charlie?"

 

"You know I have two roommates, Sue, so maybe it'd be better to stay here. Or like you said, go to the coffeehouse."

 

Sue made the choice for them. "Beans and Brew it is then. We can't really talk too much in here."

 

"Says the girl who's been rattling on for the last five minutes," Charlie commented with a grin.

 

"Have not," she huffed. "Just for that, you get to check the books out and carry them."

 

Kevin watched the interplay and asked, "Are you two, you know…?"

 

Charlie snickered. "Not hardly. She's my twin, believe it or not."

 

"Oh, right. I guess I should have figured that out, seeing as how you're both named Jones."

 

"It's okay," Sue told him. "Most people just think it's a common enough last name and don't make the connection, since we don't look like each other at all."

5 – This Gift, This Curse

 

"Well, it won't buy us dinner at a fancy place," Will said, counting out what he and Mick had made for the day. "But then, we're not quite dressed for Delmonico's."

 

"Delmonico's?"

 

"A high class eatery in New York City."

 

"Oh, okay. You ever actually eat there?"

 

Will smiled. "Once, a long time ago."

 

Mick grinned. "In the Middle Ages?"

 

Laughing, Will replied, "Not quite that long ago."

 

"You know, for some reason, I thought you… I don't know, came from here, maybe. Grew up here?"

 

Will smiled a bit as they started walking. "Even if I had, it doesn't mean I couldn't have traveled to other places."

 

"Yeah, true. But you didn't."

 

"Travel?"

 

"No, grow up here. From the way you said that, it sounds like you didn't."

 

"Nope, not a native of this fair city, though I've been here forever, since I was your age when I moved here." Will nodded to a hot-dog cart on the corner. "Dinner time."

 

Mick started to say something then thought better of it. For as long as he'd known Will—a year, give or take—the man had never revealed anything about himself. Mick wanted to ask where he had come from, but messing up their friendship by doing so wasn't worth it. If and when Will was willing to talk, Mick would listen. Until then, he wouldn't pry.

 

They ordered two hotdogs each, slathering them with all the available condiments. Will paid then ordered a bag of chips as well. They took their meals to a bench down by the river, away from the evening crowds. As they ate, Mick thought about when he'd been younger and his father had taken him fishing in the same river. It had been many miles from where he and Will were now, but just sitting there, remembering, made him smile sadly.

 

Will must have caught his look because he asked, "Are you all right?"

 

"Yeah. Just thinking about the past, before things went bad."

 

"Want to talk about it?"

 

"It's nothing I haven't told you before," Mick replied sourly. Then he relented a bit. "Dad and I would go off fishing on Saturday afternoons in the summer, starting when I was like nine or ten. He loved to fish and figured I should learn what it was like." He smiled to himself. "I wasn't big on the fishing part, but getting to spend time alone with him was great. And then… well, I blew it."

 

"So you've said. Wrong crowd, drugs…"

 

"Yep, plus coming out to him. To both of them. It was not a good year." He finished his second hotdog and balled up the paper, tossing it into the trashcan by the bench. "But hey, I'm surviving, thanks to you."

 

Will nodded. "You would have anyway, maybe a bit more battered and bruised, but you would have."

 

"Probably… possibly… but I wouldn't be learning things." Mick shot a look at him, probing a bit, even though he'd just promised himself he wouldn't. "I bet you were a good, umm… teacher, before… well, before you quit?"

 

Will just cocked an eyebrow. "We should get moving. It'll be dark soon and you know it's not the safest place down here when it is."

 

He did it again. He's good a deflecting questions. But someday…

 

Mick nodded and stood. Soon they were back on the downtown sidewalks, heading toward their 'home'.

 

 

 

 

4 – This Gift, This Curse

 

Kevin stepped off the bus, shivering from the cold as he surveyed the apartment building. It was old, but well kept-up and only three blocks from campus, which was a good thing since he didn't have a car. Juggling his suitcases and laptop case, which was slung over his shoulder, he made his way up the short flight of steps to the front door, using an elbow to press the button labeled 'Manager'. When someone asked over the intercom who he was, he identified himself as Kevin Parker, a new tenant.

 

A minute or two later, an elderly man appeared in the lobby and opened the door for him. As soon as Kevin was inside, the man handed him a set of keys, explaining one was for the front entrance, one for the apartment, and the last one for the laundry room in the basement. Kevin thanked him before heading to the elevator that would take him up to the third floor.

 

Getting off a few moments later, Kevin made his way down to the end of the hall. He set one suitcase down so he could open the apartment door, then walked inside, putting the bags down by the door.

 

My new home, at least for a while. He surveyed the small living room. There was what looked like a fairly new sofa along one wall, with a somewhat battered coffee table in front of it. A table and two chairs took up one corner opposite it, and two doors led to what he knew from having been there before, were the kitchen and the bedroom. There was a decent sized desk against the wall next to the front door. He immediately set his laptop case on it then hauled his suitcases into the bedroom.

 

Tiny apartment, tiny bed. He smiled in amusement as he looked at the single bed, glad to see that the mattress looked clean. After taking off his jacket, he opened one suitcase, taking out sheets and a thermal blanket, setting them on the bed. The rest of the contents, personal items, towels and washcloths, would end up in the bathroom.

 

He began unpacking the other suitcase, distributing his clothes between the closet and the dresser.

 

When that task was completed, he went into the small kitchen. Next item of business, food shopping.

 

There were a few plates, cups, and glasses in one cupboard, a frying pan that had seen better days, and a saucepan. The manager had told him and his mother when they rented the apartment that the dishes had been left behind by the previous renter and he saw no reason to throw them out. "But feel free to get your own, of course," he'd added.

 

Kevin had opted for keeping them—and the mismatched set of silverware he found in one of the drawers.

 

He went back to the living room to get a pad of paper and a pen from his laptop case and began making a shopping list. While he did, he realized it was getting dark in the room and switched on the overhead light.

 

"Guess I'm eating out tonight," he said aloud. "It's too late to shop, especially since I don't know the neighborhood."

 

He neatly folded the list, leaving it on the corner of the desk, and went to get his jacket. Then he headed out, hoping there was a cheap place to eat nearby.

3 – This Gift, This Curse

 

 

"Mom," Kevin called out from the top of the stairs. "Do you have a clue what I did with the power cord for my laptop? I can't find it anywhere."

 

Coming to the bottom of the stairs, his mother shook her head in amusement. "Calm down and check in your carry bag."

 

"Oh…yeah. I didn't think about that. Sorry. I'm just…"

 

"Going in six directions at one time." She laughed. "Understandable, but you will get everything packed well before it's time to leave for your flight."

 

"I know." He came down the stairs to hug her. "I'm going to miss you."

 

"For a few days, maybe." She ruffled his short, dark brown hair. "Then you'll be too busy with classes and new friends to even think about me." She gave an exaggerated pout, which made him grin.

 

"Not even," he protested. "If it wasn't for your pushing and prodding me, I wouldn't be going off to college. I'd be flipping burgers at some fast-food joint instead."

 

"Bull. I just… Okay, so maybe I did push a little, but that's only because I want the best for you…and I'm getting maudlin. Go back upstairs and finish packing. We leave in two hours."

 

"Oh hell." Kevin sped back to his room after hugging her again.

 

Looking at the two large suitcases laid out on his bed, each still half empty, he set to work again, muttering, "Should have started this yesterday, like Mom said."

 

He began tossing in clothes and necessities willy-nilly, stopped, and started again, this time folding them properly. Finally, a little over an hour later, he carried the suitcases downstairs, placing them by the back door.

 

"You're sure you have everything you need?" his mother asked, adding with a straight face, "Maybe I should go up and check."

 

"Geesh, Mom, I'm eighteen. If I don't know what to take and what to leave behind, I need my head examined."

 

She laughed, then told him to sit down and eat, putting two plates with sandwiches and carrot sticks on the table.

 

As they ate, they talked about college, his getting settled into his new, if tiny, furnished apartment, and into his classes. Once again she apologized for not being able to go with him.

 

"Mom, it's okay. Honest. I know you can't miss work again after the time you took off to help me find the apartment. I'll be just fine."

 

"You'll call as soon as you're there?"

 

"No. I thought I'd just ignore you from the moment I get on the plane."

 

"Kev…" she grumbled.

 

"Mom…" he grumbled back before grinning. "Of course I'll call. Probably more than you want me to."

 

She smiled, patting his hand. "Uh-huh. That could never happen. Now finish up, because we should get moving. Time and planes wait for no one."

2 – This Gift, This Curse

 

 

Mick didn't know why he continued to hang around with Will. Probably because it felt safer to have the old guy watching his back. Mick had been on the streets since he was fourteen. That had been four years ago, and in the intervening time he'd had more than his share of run-ins with other street kids and the cops. That is, until Will had taken him under his wing.

 

"You're like the son I never had," Will told him at one point. Then he'd smiled, adding, "Hopefully if I'd had one, I'd have made sure he had a good home and love. Or perhaps that should be vice versa. Love is much more important, I think."

 

Mick agreed. "I've got the home," he told him. "The problem is the love is missing."

 

When Will asked, Mick said, "My folks are"—he shrugged—"less than tolerant of people who aren't exactly like them, and that includes me."

 

Since Mick had already admitted to both being gay and not exactly a model citizen when it came to having used recreational drugs—to wit, marijuana, Will said with a laugh, "So you didn't adhere to the straight and narrow path they envisioned for you—emphasis on 'straight'."

 

"Got it in one."

 

They made an odd pair, but it worked. They'd met when Mick was running from a couple of punks who thought beating up street kids was their prime reason for existing. Will had stepped in and shown them they weren't the only ones who had the power to hurt someone.

 

"Not that it'll actually sink in," Will said, after the punks had slunk away, their tails between their legs. "But at least the word will get out to leave you alone."

 

"I hope so," Mick replied. At five-ten and scrawny from living hand to mouth on the streets, his only real defense was to run from the bullies who got off on hurting kids who were weaker than them. Will, at six-one and surprisingly muscular, despite the fact he was also living on the streets, made the perfect protector as far as Mick was concerned. So he'd started trailing after the man until Will had broken down and let him stick around.

 

"You behave, stay away from the dealers, and don't sell yourself," Will said, "and I'll keep an eye on you. Screw up and, as some movie actor said, hasta la vista."

 

"'Hasta la vista, baby', if you want to say it right. It was Schwarzenegger in one of the Terminator movies."

 

Will chuckled. "Whatever, as you kids say. I still mean it. Don't screw up."

 

"Yeah, yeah."

 

And so they became friends of a sort. Mick was sure, though he never said so, that most of the people who saw them thought they were father and son, and probably wondered why they were homeless. Though given the way things are these days, we wouldn't be the only family that was… if we really were family.

 

* * * *

 

"Catch," Will said, when he appeared at the entrance to what he and Mick were calling home for the moment. He tossed the book he'd found to the teen then took a seat on the broken windowsill in the room on the third floor of the abandoned building.

 

"Whoa, great! Where did you get this?" Mick turned the book over to read the blurb on the back of the spy thriller.

 

"Someone left it on a bus bench. Paying it forward, I guess. But"—he waggled an admonishing finger at Mick—"no reading until you've done your math."

 

Mick sighed. Recently Will had taken it upon himself to make certain Mick studied math, English and any other subjects he deemed necessary to survive in the world.

 

"Just because you stopped going to school when you ran away, does not mean you get to slide on your education."

 

With that said, Will had managed to come up with books he thought would help Mick in that respect. At first Mick had protested but soon he'd found a certain joy in being able to understand and keep up with what Will wanted him to learn. When he did well, Will rewarded him, as he had today, with something interesting to read. "Maybe not great literature," Will sometimes said with a laugh, "since they're all 'found' books, but reading anything is better than reading nothing."

 

Mick settled down with the dog-eared pad of paper and a pencil to work on his assignment. When it began to get dark, he pulled out the battered flashlight he'd found in a dumpster, feeling a bit like Abe Lincoln studying by firelight.

1 – This Gift, This Curse

 

(Originally published in 2013)

 

"'You are old, father William, the young man said…'" Mick grinned as he quoted from some poem he'd heard somewhere.

Will feigned a swat at his young companion. "That's getting repetitious, Mick."

The kid moved nimbly away. "It fits though."

"I'm forty-three," Will grumbled.

"Yeah, old."

Shaking his head, Will pulled his jacket tighter, trying to keep warm against the cold night air. He felt old at the moment, even though he knew he didn't really look it. His brown hair was long, held back off his face in a ponytail with a piece of string, and his beard was trimmed as best it could be under the circumstances. He wasn't particularly wrinkled, despite spending most of his time out of doors. He was tanned too, because of that, but not inordinately so.

It had been a rough day, fraught with problems of both the survival and precognition sort.

Survival he could deal with. The precog—well, he could deal with that as well. He had been for years. But he didn't have to like having the ability, even if it did help people.

Like today…

Will watched the mother and her toddler enter the playground of a school across the street from where he and Mick were huddled at the moment. It was unseasonably chilly for an early September Sunday morning, thus the playground was empty, with the exception of a man who seemed at first glance to be a janitor, since he was carrying a black plastic trash bag and a broom.

Probably there early to clean the area so he'll have the rest of the day off. Will considered it as he wondered where the best place to panhandle for the day might be.

Then he looked more closely at the man.

In a flash, the scene changed…

 

A toddler was in the sandbox while his mother sat on a bench nearby, alternating her attention between the boy and the book she had taken from her purse. The man strolled toward the sandbox, his glance swiveling from the woman to the child. In less time than it took for the mother to turn a page, the man had grabbed the boy, running out of the playground with him.

 

"Hell no." Will jumped to his feet, racing across the street, leaving his bewildered companion behind.

Then the scene reverted back to what it had been when Will had first noticed the woman.

She stopped at the entrance to the playground to say something to the toddler before opening the gate. The man was on the far side of the area, sweeping one of the sidewalks leading to the school.

The child made a dash for the swings, stopping when his mother pointed to the sandbox. Will heard the child protest and his mother tell him he could swing later. As they crossed toward the sandbox, Will entered the playground. The woman stared at him, her look wary as he headed their way. When he got closer, she picked the boy up and despite his crying that he wanted to play, she walked rapidly away toward the exit.

Turning quickly, Will saw the man's back as he vanished around the side of the school, the broom and trash bag abandoned on the sidewalk.

"What was that all about?" Mick asked, when Will rejoined him at the entrance to the alley.

Will shrugged. "I thought I recognized her. I realized I was wrong when I got closer. I guess she decided them being there with some a bum hanging around wasn't such a good idea."

Mick shook his head, picked up their gear, handing Will his backpack, and they set off to begin their day.

45 - Caomhnóir – Manny

 

“You still can return to your old life. I’ll get you a return ticket if that’s what you want.” Manny took a step towards Hamlin, freezing when he glared at him with a shake of his head. “I don’t want you to leave,” Manny whispered, “but if that’s what you want to do—I understand.”

 

“Are there any other secrets you’d like to reveal,” Hamlin asked, his voice still icy.

 

Bowing his head, Manny told him quietly, “No.”

 

Hamlin stood where he was, his eyes slowly moving over Manny, taking in the defeated posture of his stance and the lost look on his face. “How often does this happen?”

 

“Sometimes, every other year, sometimes not for several years; it depends if I’m needed somewhere else, in some other time.”

 

“And there you do the same sort of thing you do here?”

 

Manny nodded.

 

“Is it only for a year?”

 

“Yes. Sometimes the job only takes a little while, but I can only travel through the veil on one day of the year, All Hallows’ Eve.” Manny smiled humorlessly. “Keegan—well for whatever reason, he’s lucky now. He can tell Alasdair he won’t do it. I don’t have that option. If Sofietje says I have to go then I have to go.”

 

“That’s not fair you know. They shouldn’t be able to rule your life like that,” Hamlin said angrily.

 

“It was a choice I made willingly, eternal servitude rather than an eternity suffering for my sin. It’s a choice we all make, Caomhnóir or Scriostóir.”

 

“But damn it you’ve redeemed yourself over and over again. Don’t they give you Brownie points for that?”

 

Manny chuckled ruefully. “Nope.”

 

“That just sucks.” Hamlin moved into Manny’s space, stroking his fingers along his jaw, “For both of us. But if you can live with it I guess I can too.”

 

Catching his hand, holding it tightly, Manny asked, “Are you certain?” 

 

“Yeah. You see I have this problem. I love you. I’d rather be without you for a year now and then than without you forever.”

 

Manny let out a heartfelt sigh of relief. “I love you too, so damned much.”

 

“Then how about you show me.” Hamlin looked around, frowning. “There is a bed somewhere here I hope.”

 

“Yes.” Manny pointed to the sofa. “It folds out into one, a surprising comfortable one actually.”

 

Hamlin grinned, giving Manny a light shove towards it. “Well get it unfolded.”

 

Manny did, and then they made use of it, several times.

 

The End

 

44 - Caomhnóir – Manny

 

 

“Whew,” Hamlin said, letting out a deep breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding until just then.

 

“She is a bit—imposing,” Manny agreed. “Shall we get your bags and get out of here?”

 

They did, and half an hour later Manny watched in amusement as Hamlin looked around the tiny apartment. “I told you it was small, but I didn’t want to make a decision on something larger until you got here.”

 

“I’ve seen storage closets bigger than this place.”

 

“I know, but since I’m hardly ever here it just seemed silly to invest in something more.”

 

Turning to look at him, Hamlin frowned. “You travel a lot then?”

 

“Unfortunately, yes. It’s rare that I get an assignment like the one I had in New York. Usually I’m here for a week at most before Sofietje sends me off somewhere else.”

 

Hamlin dropped his bags by the door before asking, “For how long?” When Manny said nothing as he debated his reply, Hamlin sighed. “I’m going to be alone more than with you, aren’t I? Well,” he smiled some then, “it’s still going to be worth it.”

 

“You can come with me. Keegan said that Thom travels with him sometimes. But, well, there’s one time when you can’t.”

 

Something in Manny’s face told Hamlin he wasn’t going to like this. He leaned back against the wall, looking at Manny. “When is that?”

 

Manny dropped his gaze. “Occasionally I’ll be gone for a year.”

 

“A year? You’re kidding me. If it’s for that long why can’t I go with you?”

 

“Because I’ll be in some other century and I have to travel through the veil to get there and only the dead can do that,” Manny told him all in one breath. “I’m sorry, I should have said something sooner but I was afraid that if I did you’d change your mind and—“

 

Hamlin nodded slowly, running a hand through his hair. Pushing off the wall, he paced across the room to look out the window, staring at a city that was foreign to him.

 

“Mijn liefde, I’m sorry, I was a coward, I know it.”

 

Turning, Hamlin stared at him, saying coldly, “More than that, you didn’t trust me. What else haven’t you told me? What else did you think you had to hold back until you had me over here where I can’t just say ‘fuck you’ and go back to my old life?”

43 - Caomhnóir – Manny

 

 

Hamlin spotted Manny the moment he arrived in the baggage claim area. Seconds later, he was wrapping his arms around his lover, kissing him as if there was no one else around. A soft cough finally broke through his elation and he turned to see a statuesque, white-haired woman standing close by. She was tapping a sharp fingernail to her lips as she studied him.

 

“That’s Sofietje, I bet,” Hamlin whispered to Manny, not releasing his hold on him.

 

“In the flesh, I’m afraid.”

 

“Introduce us,” Sofietje suggested imperiously.

 

With a nod, Manny said, “Sofietje, this is as I’m quite certain you’ve surmised, Hamlin Nagel. Hamlin, this is mijn commandant, Sofietje.”

 

“Het is een genoegen om je te ontmoeten.” Hamlin told her with a slight bow of his head.

 

“Ik hoop dat ik in staat zal zijn om dat zo goed kunnen zeggen, in de tijd.”

 

Hamlin glanced at Manny. “Some of that I understood, I think.”

 

“I said,” Sofietje told him before Manny could, “that I hope I will be able to say that in return, in time.” She gave him a slight smile. “I will admit it speaks well of you that you are attempting to learn our language.”

 

“Of course I am. I love him and I’ll be living here with him. Or rather, we’ll be living here together. It would be stupid of me to expect people to only speak English when I’m around. Right?”

 

“Zeer verstandig van u.”

 

“Okay.” Hamlin held up his hands in surrender. “I’m barely beginning to learn, so could we please stick to English for now.”

 

“For now, yes. I expect you to be more fluent in Dutch the next time we meet. Is that understood?”

 

“Sofietje,” Manny growled. “Play nice.”

 

“Maar natuurlijk, Manfred. Heb ik niet altijd?”

 

Manny snorted. “Not hardly. But for now, please do, and leave. We need to get his luggage and then get back to my place.”

 

Sofietje nodded. “Be at my office first thing in the morning so that I can debrief you.”

 

“Yes, mijn commandant.” Manny resisted saluting.

 

“En Manfred, ik denk dat ik goed te keuren van uw jonge man.”

 

“Good,” Manny replied, grinning, “because he’s here for the long term, like it or not.”

 

With a lift of one eyebrow, Sofietje turned and walked away.

 

* * * * *

Het is een genoegen om je te ontmoeten – It is a pleasure to meet you.

Zeer verstandig van u. – Very astute of you.

Maar natuurlijk, Manfred. Heb ik niet altijd? – Of course, Manfred, haven’t I always?

En Manfred, ik denk dat ik goed te keuren van uw jonge man. – And Manfred, I think I approve of your young man.

42 - Caomhnóir – Manny

 

 

Sofietje had not relented. She had wanted Manny back in Rotterdam immediately. Therefore, he had no choice but to go, leaving Hamlin behind to deal with the fallout from his abrupt departure. He had at least gotten a chance to say his goodbyes to the boys, which he had found almost harder than doing the same with Hamlin. At least he knew that, in time, he and Hamlin would be together again.

 

Within a day of his return, Sofietje had sent Manny off on an assignment. When he returned a week later, she had another one for him. Only the fact that Hamlin was still waiting it out while Gebhard searched for the perfect replacement kept Manny from blowing his cool. He had the distinct feeling that Sofietje was keeping him busy in the vain hope that he’d forget about Hamlin. If she found out that his lover was going to be moving here, Manny had the feeling the shit would hit the fan big time.

 

Finally, much to his relief, even though he felt some trepidation as well, Manny got the phone call he’d been waiting for so anxiously. Hamlin told him elatedly that Gebhard had found not one but two men to be counselors at the house.

 

"Just tell me when and I’ll be on the first flight out," Hamlin said.

 

“I’ll be back in Rotterdam in two days if all goes well.”

 

"It better. I miss you so damned much I don’t think I can wait even that long. I’ll make my reservations as soon as we hang up."

 

“Just don’t forget to let me know so I can meet you at the airport,” Manny told him, laughing happily.

 

They talked for a while longer, until Manny had to call a halt to their conversation so he could get back to the reason he was where he was.

 

Two days later, just as he’d promised Hamlin, the job was finished. His flight back to Rotterdam landed him at the airport less than an hour before Hamlin was due in. So instead of heading home, he was pacing the waiting area while he waited for his lover’s arrival.

 

“Hold still,” a stern voice said from behind him.

 

Swinging around, Manny saw Sofietje standing there, her arms crossed as she glared at him

 

“Just when were you planning on telling me?” she asked. “Or weren’t you?”

 

Manny shrugged. “Given my druthers, never. But I know I couldn’t keep it a secret forever. How did you know?”

 

She gave him a slight smile. “I am not a fool, Manfred. You know I was aware of your young man even before I gave you permission to return to the States. I will admit I was hardly elated when Alasdair told me that you had taken up with him again, although I was not terribly surprised. But to bring him back here—" She shook her head.

 

“Fait accompli at this point, I’m afraid,” he told her, a small grin quirking up his lips. “They just announced that his plane has landed. So, if you’ll excuse me—" He started off towards the baggage claim area where he was to meet Hamlin.

 

“You will introduce me to him,” Sofietje said, walking along beside him.

 

With a sigh, Manny nodded his agreement.