It was eighty-five degrees outside, but in headquarters, it had to be coming up on a hundred. James walked in to start his shift at noon and was tempted to immediately walk right back out as the thick air enveloped him in sticky heat. But he was in charge and if the others were tolerating this, then so would he. 

Even if he was a pale New England creature that thrived at sixty degrees and no higher. Wasn’t it autumn in a week? Not that this mid-September heat wave had gotten the memo.

“The air conditioner broke,” Amelia, his second-in-command, said by way of greeting when he got up to the living room. 

She had it on the floor in front of her, the pieces laid out neatly on a now-ruined towel. She’d managed to fix it a couple years ago when it had only needed a cleaning to get working again, but this looked more like an autopsy than a rescue attempt.

“I can see that,” James said as he set down his bag. 

It was dark in here, the shades drawn to keep the sun out. It didn’t help much, but he could appreciate the attempt. Every fan they owned was also currently running in the living room, balancing on every surface. But they were all just moving humid air around. 

Amelia had on a bright pink tank top and short shorts, her bleached hair in a messy knot on the top of her head. There was probably a dress code that she was violating, but common sense and the beads of sweat across her forehead told James not to bring that up. Especially when he kind of wished he was wearing the same thing right now. Though he still only felt safe in the turtleneck shirt that was currently strangling him.

“Who’s here?” he asked.

“Everybody’s on today,” she said. “I’m here for a few more hours. Bradley went to see if he could get a replacement air conditioner. He’s at store number three right now.”

Normally all repairs or replacements had to go through the Foundation for Paranormal Studies, but James could see the urgency here. There had been a heat wave for the first couple weeks of September with no sign of stopping, and the air conditioner had worked fine the night before when he left. 

“Did he get the money out of petty cash?” James asked, as though there was possibly enough in there.

“He said he’s going to pay for it himself and push for reimbursement,” Amelia replied, pushing a sweaty lock of hair behind her ear.

There was no way the Foundation would reimburse him, at least not before the end of this century. James shook his head. “He shouldn’t be spending his own money on it,” he said. “I’ll see which store he’s at and give him my credit card.”

“Because we should be using your money instead,” Amelia retorted. “I tried that already and he told me to fuck off. Besides, do you have enough credit left on your card?”

“Do…yes, I have enough credit.”

At least he was almost certain of it. Had Amelia seen his credit card statement sitting on the counter at some point in the week since she’d moved into the apartment he’d previously shared with Graham? Or did she just know him a little too well?

He was working on paying that balance down.

“He hasn’t been able to find one anyway, so it might not matter.”

James wasn’t surprised by that. Every time he’d been to any of the usual places lately, they were either sold out of air conditioners or there had been an obscene markup on the few that were left.

Amelia’s phone rang and she answered it as James stood here, sweating. “Dammit,” she said. “Thanks for trying. No, I don’t think it’s worth going that far. We’ve got enough to do today that they’re going to need you here when I leave. Take your lunch before you come back, though. Right, thanks.”

She hung up the phone just as Gabriella came in the front door. “Oof,” she said as she walked up the stairs. 

“The air conditioner broke,” James explained, which was about as necessary as it had been when Amelia had said the same to him.

“I can try to go get a new one,” Gabriella offered.

“Bradley’s already on it,” Amelia said. “Or, he tried. Nowhere has them.”

“Wait,” Gabriella said. “Mom stashed her old one at Gran’s house when she moved. Let me see if it’s still there.”

She took out her phone and stepped aside to call her mother. “I think there’s another fan in our apartment somewhere,” James said. “If another would help. We could also take the one out of my room. It isn’t great, but it could maybe cool off in here if we put up some blankets to block the hallway and kitchen. Or we could just all work out of my office.”

All of these options were unappealing. Heat was nothing new, they dealt with hot, humid summers every year. Usually the air conditioner was enough to cool off the living room and James’s office somewhat if he left the door open. Then the bedrooms only needed fans. It wasn’t too complicated and it kept them all from killing each other.

“Maybe,” Amelia said, frowning down at the pieces of air conditioner strewn in front of her. “I was hoping to at least get the living room cooled. She’s not going to admit it, but this heat is making Madelyn sick.”

James wasn’t surprised. Between the injuries she’d sustained years earlier and the amount of medication she took, Madelyn’s body was far more sensitive than she wanted them all to know. “Where is she?”

“She’s at home,” Amelia said. “She was supposed to work a long one today, but she wasn’t doing great last night. So I told her to come in this afternoon and just do the evening.”

That was fine. As long as she was safe, James was fine being one person down. He adjusted the neck of his shirt, wincing at the sweat.

“Do you have a spare shirt here?” Amelia asked. “Or maybe run home and change? You’re going to get sick too, it’s really hot.”

He wanted to tell her he knew it was hot. He’d stood in his room for fifteen minutes before work, trying to force himself to put on something appropriate for the weather. But he hadn’t even been able to step out of the apartment in a teeshirt before panic had sparked in his stomach, forcing him back inside to grab the turtleneck shirt he’d left crumpled on the bed. He’d already been sweating through it before he arrived here, but hopefully his deodorant would hold. And yes, he did have a spare shirt here, but it was also a turtleneck.

“I’m fine,” he said.

He didn’t mean for it to come out as firmly as it did. Amelia looked up with an eyebrow raised as James backtracked. “Sorry,” he said. “But I’m fine, really.”

“Okay,” she said skeptically. “Just stay hydrated.”

Gabriella came back just as Amelia’s phone rang again and she stepped aside to answer it. “Mom’s there now with Auntie Dana,” she said. “She said it’s in the cellar and it’s not great, but she can go get it.”

James’s mom was in town to go to the funeral of an old high school friend with a few of her siblings. She’d arrived last night, refusing James’s offer to pick her up at the airport and insisting that he not rearrange his life for the next few days in order to see her. He would, she’d promised. But she’d be busy all week too. “Great,” James said. “Tell her thanks. I can…”

He trailed off, remembering the meeting with McGovern, their branch liaison, he had scheduled in about twenty minutes. “Tonight,” he said. “I’ll stop by tonight?”

That wasn’t going to help them for the next several hours, but maybe he could get out on his lunch break if he got one.

“What?” Amelia said into her phone. “Oh, thanks, but actually Gabriella’s mom has one we can borrow from their grandmother’s house. One of them is going to get it at some point.”

Gabriella grimaced. She had a couple things on the schedule today too, but James could rearrange them. Or he could go get it after his meeting and everything else on his list could wait just a little longer.

“You sure?” Amelia asked.

She lowered her phone. “Bradley said he’ll stop by and get it.”

James wanted to refuse. Bradley had a bad knee. He didn’t need to make extra stops. It might be awkward for him to be there with their family. There were plenty of reasons. But it was also the easiest route and he knew that arguing would get him nowhere. “Thanks,” he said instead. “Tell him I appreciate it.”

***

James was still a little nervous as the meeting window opened on his computer screen. It was just McGovern, he reminded himself. It had been a few months since they’d finally sat down and talked about what had happened back in March. And James forgave McGovern for the part he’d played. For real. 

But he couldn’t help the way his heart still sped up, or the way he remembered yelling into the phone when McGovern called him to check in during his medical leave. Well, somewhat remembered. He hadn’t been sober, but he did remember rage like he’d rarely felt in his life and he’d meant every word he’d said, even if he didn’t remember all of them.

But the meeting back in June had been a good thing. McGovern had watched over the North County headquarters for over twelve hours so that Amelia, Madelyn, and Bradley could be at St. Hildegard’s Medical Center with James, Gabriella, and Graham while they got treated for psychic attacks from a couple of cooking website owners who had called them for help. They’d asked the Foundation for help, then tried to hurt Gabs and eventually kill all of them to cover up what they’d done. Only to kill themselves in the process. The pointlessness of it all still nagged at him.

But McGovern, after everything, had stepped up. And afterward, James had thought it was only right to have an honest conversation with him. They’d sat here in his office and at first, he’d thought there wasn’t a chance this was going to happen. Not when neither man said a word for the first few minutes. But then McGovern had cleared his throat.

“I’m sorry,” he’d said.

He didn’t elaborate or grovel or anything else. He’d just said it and waited while James took it in. It had taken James a little longer to do this than he might have wanted it to. But he’d nodded. “Thank you.”

“You were right,” McGovern had continued. “I lost sight. I was so focused on getting these cases done and making the administration happy and I made the worst judgment call of my career.”

Was it the worst? James wasn’t going to ask, but it was a really bad one, so he’d just nodded again. “And when you said I was worse than them because I made you think I gave a shit, you were right. I’m not going to try to convince you that I give a shit, but I do.”

“I know,” James had said softly, his throat catching on the words. “I believe you.”

It hadn’t been entirely satisfactory. But they didn’t have the type of relationship that called for crying or hugging or anything more intimate than a handshake. And when McGovern had left, James had felt better.  

Today was a normal meeting, catching up on the past couple week’s cases. It went smoothly and by the time it was over, it almost felt like a meeting they might have had a year ago. He was frustrated, McGovern was frustrated, and neither was satisfied with the compromises they made. But it was normal.

James was getting back to normalcy. That was important and it was working. 

Things weren’t perfect. Adele was still out there. He still struggled to eat sometimes. His sleeping wasn’t great. But everything was improving.

Still, he’d slept like hell the night before. He’d had his first Adele nightmare in a couple weeks, which was progress. But James hadn’t felt triumphant as he lay in bed at two that morning, shaking and remembering. He’d gotten a little more sleep after that, but not much. Finally, he’d gotten up at six and spent the morning cleaning his apartment with loud music blasting through his headphones to block out his thoughts. If he didn’t have work today, he would have gotten staggeringly high and maybe fallen asleep in the cool of his bedroom for several hours. But he did, so he’d cleaned, tried and failed to nap for another hour, and finally caved and gone to work.

His terrible little desk fan buzzed as James clicked out of the darkened meeting screen and scrubbed his hands over his eyes. He had so much more to do. He’d gotten a couple irritated emails asking after cases he was pretty sure he’d closed out, a complaint about some paperwork both Graham and Gabriella had submitted (they’d followed the instructions perfectly, but the Foundation would like just a little more effort, a little more spark), and a reminder that all captains needed to finish this year’s safety training modules. 

Then there were a couple things Amelia had said she could do instead, but James didn’t want to put on her plate. She was already overworked.

It was really hot in here, the heat pressing down on him, even as the fan buzzed on his desk. Between the lack of sleep, the heat, and the drone of the fan, James’s eyes were closing on their own. He had more work to do, he didn’t have time…

“Are you alright?”

The next thing he knew, he heard Bradley’s voice over his shoulder, which was being shaken by a strangely cold hand. James lifted his head off the desk and a Post-it note detached itself from his cheek. “What?” he muttered. 

“Are you alright?” Bradley repeated, wiping his hand on his pants. “God, you’re so sweaty.”

“Yeah.” James shook his head as he sat up. “Yeah, sorry. I think I fell asleep. Shit.”

Bradley studied him for a few seconds. “What?”

“What do you mean, what? I need to make sure you don’t have heatstroke or whatever.”

“No, I’m fine. I just didn’t sleep well last night, leave me alone.” 

Bradley didn’t leave him alone. Instead he stayed where he was until James blinked fully awake and realized he was still standing there. “What?” he repeated, frustrated now. God, how was he so sweaty?

“The air conditioner works, but we need to close off some of the space. It’s not strong enough to cool the whole main area.”

“Okay,” James said, rubbing his eyes.

Then he stopped. “No, wait, that’s ridiculous. How many of us are on? We can just work in here and close the door. We don’t need to nail up blankets.”

He didn’t quite regret this plan the second the words were out of his mouth, but it was close. “We’ll do it for today,” he said around a yawn. “Tomorrow I can drive out to Greenfield or something if that’s what it takes to get a new one for the living room.”

“Fine.”

“Did you have lunch yet?” James asked fuzzily, suddenly aware he wasn’t sure how much time had passed since he’d accidentally fallen asleep at his desk yet again.

“Your mother invited me to stay for lunch.”

Now James was more awake than he’d been in months. “What?”

“I got to your grandmother’s house and your mom and your aunts were making lunch. They invited me to stay.”

“And you did?”

Of course he did, no one dared to turn down an invitation when it came from Auntie Jules, Auntie Carrie, and Mom. 

“Yeah.”

Teasing Gabriella had been funny when it was her mother that was spending time with Bradley. Now that it was his own mother, suddenly it was less amusing. What had they talked about? Had he been polite to her?

“That’s…that’s nice,” he finished.

Of course he’d been polite. Bradley might say the most vile things to the team and to the Foundation and to clients and to anyone else that crossed his path, but that didn’t mean he was going to go insulting James’s mother. Besides, Auntie Carrie adored him. 

“Yeah,” Bradley said. “There’s food for you in the fridge. I’ll get the air conditioner.”

“I’ve got it,” James said, getting up and moving past him.

He was out the office door before Bradley was even out from behind James’s desk.

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CONTINUE TO CHAPTER 2

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