Page 12 of Thunder Road

When the aftershocks ended, Simon leaned in to kiss Vic. “Better?”

Vic kissed him back. “Much. I like this married stuff.”

“Good. Because you’re stuck with me now.” Simon reached for the box of tissues and cleaned them.

Vic toyed with the ring on Simon’s hand. “I think we already established that.”

They weren’t quite ready for sleep, so Vic brought more beer back while Simon found another favorite movie to rewatch, one that was a comedy instead of a drama and not monster-focused.

Since they were both half-dressed already they ducked into the bedroom to put on sleep pants and T-shirts, tossing their clothes in the laundry basket and washing.

“Good pick,” Vic told Simon when they slouched on the sofa together. “Distracting, but I don’t have to pay attention.”

They switched on who was the little spoon just like they traded places top and bottom with sex. Tonight, Vic was happy to feel Simon’s solid body and strong arms anchoring him.

Vic focused on the rhythm of Simon’s heart and the pattern of his breathing. That calmed him and helped him finally release the tension of the day. Knowing that Simon didn’t judge him for his reaction helped a lot and was one of the many things he loved about his husband.

The movie was enough of a distraction to short-circuit Vic’s spiraling thoughts. He didn’t have Simon’s psychic talent, but cops depended on instinct and intuition, and Vic’s rarely proved him wrong.

Those hunches told Vic they hadn't seen the last of problems with the bikers’ entity, even though another sacrifice wasn’t due for a year. He knew Simon would canvas his friends in the supernatural community and that they would come up with a plan. But that same intuition warned him that finding a solution was likely to be more dangerous than expected, especially when dealing with a powerful creature who was not going to easily accept losing its guaranteed food source.

He laced their fingers together over his belly. Simon nuzzled against his neck, more interested in cuddling than in the movie.

Let it go,he told himself, drinking in Simon’s scent.If it’s been going on for forty years, another few days won’t matter. We don’t have to solve it on the first try.

Vic wanted to believe that, but he couldn’t shake the sense of urgency that there was more to this case than they knew, and what they hadn’t figured out might be the most dangerous part.

“Hey, let’s go to bed,” Simon nudged him, and Vic realized he had dozed off. The movie was over, and the credits were rolling. “I’ll check the locks and meet you in there.”

Vic shuffled off, glad to put an end to a very disquieting day. His familiar bedtime routine was a welcome comfort. By the time Simon returned from his late-night rounds, Vic had slipped between the covers, waiting for his lover to join him.

“I’ll be right there,” Simon promised. “Hold my spot.”

“Always.” Vic managed not to drift off until Simon climbed into bed and threw an arm over him. They would roll apart before long, too warm to sleep like that, but Vic appreciated the gesture.

“Sweet dreams,” Simon whispered. “I’m already planning to give you a very happy morning.”

3

SIMON

The next day, Simon looked out on a full room of listeners as he read from his latest book about ghosts at the Grand Strand Sculpture Garden.

“I’ll be happy to take questions,” Simon said when he finished and looked up at his audience with a smile.

Hands shot up in the air. Simon chose an older woman who was three rows back. “What happens if someone asks for a séance but the ghost won’t show up? Why wouldn’t the spirit come?”

“Good question,” Simon replied. “Sometimes ghosts have faded beyond hearing our request for their presence. Where they go or whether they just become part of the universe is beyond my paygrade. But I also believe that they can simply move out of range. If they retain their personality and consciousness, they have good days and bad days, just like the living. It may be a day when they don’t feel like talking. I’d advise respecting that and trying again at another time.”

That seemed to satisfy the woman who nodded and smiled her thanks.

The next question came from a college-aged man. “Why do ghosts hang around? If I could go anywhere for free, I wouldn’t camp out in some dingy old attic or basement.”

That drew laughs, and Simon couldn’t help chuckling as well. “I totally agree. Unfortunately, for reasons we don’t completely understand, some ghosts are range-limited to whatever is anchoring them to the world of the living. That could be a house or a cemetery, an object, or the place where they died—somewhere or some item that is deeply significant to them.”

“What if you haunted something portable and made a deal with someone to take you places after you died?” the young man persisted.

Simon admired his ingenuity. “There are a lot of legends about whether ghosts can cross running water, like rivers, or bodies of water, like lakes and oceans. Many of the legends contradict each other, so it may depend on other factors, like the strength of the ghost or how close it is to an object of attachment.

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