Oleander House: Bay City Paranormal Investigations, Book 1

“Tomorrow, let’s try a different approach. One psychic and one nonpsychic on each team—”
“Pretty much like we’ve been doing, right?” David broke in, grinning.
“Yes, David,” Amy answered with exaggerated patience. “But this time, the psychic on the team can try to sense whatever’s in the house while the other team member records the area with a video camera and EMF detector. We could use the same procedures we used today, only this time we’d be able to see if any of the weird things Cecile, Sam and Andre have felt correlate with any concrete instrument readings. Sound good?”
Everyone agreed that it did. Bo grinned. “Okay, that’s settled. Same teams work for everybody?”
Nods all around. Sam glanced at Amy and saw her shake her head very slightly. She was looking at Bo with a sort of resigned sadness. It made Sam feel as if he’d wronged her somehow by his attraction to Bo, even though he knew that was ridiculous.
David got to his feet, took Cecile’s hand and pulled her up with him. “If it’s all the same to y’all, I’m off to bed. I’m whupped.”
“Me too,” Cecile added, a bit too quickly. “‘Night, all.”
They left the room hand-in-hand amidst a chorus of good nights. Andre chuckled. “Who actually thinks they’re going to sleep right now?”
Sam smiled. “They’re pretty obvious.”
“Some people just can’t hide it, I guess.”
Amy’s voice was cool, but her eyes cut like lasers. Sam felt the blood rise in his cheeks. He hated it. He stood and started toward the door.
“I’m off to bed too.” It was far too early for bed, but Sam didn’t care. He needed to be alone, no matter what anyone else thought of it. “See y’all in the morning.”
Amy, Bo and Andre all called good night. Out in the foyer, Sam turned and caught Bo’s eye. They stared at each other, and Sam found himself unable to look away. He didn’t see the teasing smile from earlier that day on Bo’s face anymore, or the barely concealed lust he’d almost grown used to. What he saw in Bo’s eyes was a longing for closeness. For someone to share his life with. Someone to understand and accept all that he was.
It was a yearning Sam understood, even though it was new to him. He turned away, feeling lonelier than he ever had.
Chapter Eleven
    The dream returned three times that night. Every time Sam closed his eyes and let himself drift, the scene played out once again in his mind. Sex, blood and death, pleasure and horror intermingling until he could no longer tell which one was making his heart thud so painfully. After waking for the third time in a cold sweat, Sam switched on the light and sat huddled against the headboard of the bed, trying to shake the vision of his dream man’s shredded insides strewn across the sheets, the rivulets of blood running down the strangely indistinct walls.
    The hours passed slowly while Sam sat there, wide awake and trembling with tension, arms locked around his bent knees. When the first dawn light leaked through the curtains, he carefully unwound himself, got dressed and headed downstairs.
    He wasn’t surprised to find Andre slumped halfasleep across the dining-room table, two fingers loosely looped through the handle of a steaming coffee mug. “Hey, Andre,” Sam said on his way across the room. “Dreams again?”
    Andre gave him a bleary look. “Fucking things kept me up ‘bout all night. I finally came on down here an hour or so ago. Figured I may as well, since I sure as hell wasn’t getting any sleep.”
    “Yeah, same here.”
    Sam shuffled into the kitchen, took a large mug with cartoon cows on it from the cabinet and poured himself a cup of coffee. Yawning, he dragged himself back into the dining room and sat across the table from Andre.
    “So what’d you dream?” Sam asked, sipping the strong, bitter brew.
“Same thing as before. Everybody dead, body parts all over the place.” Andre let out a frustrated growl. “Sucks, man. I never had bad dreams before. These things are fucking killing me.”
Sam nodded. “Yeah, I woke up so often I finally just gave up and sat there awake until it started getting light.”
Andre stared thoughtfully at him. “What are your dreams like, Sam?”
Sam wanted to tell someone, and he figured Andre would sympathize in a general way. Certain details, though, he intended to keep to himself. “It started out with a sex dream,” Sam said, staring at the chip in the rim of his mug so he wouldn’t have to