After the meeting, James banished the two who had worked the night shift to take a break. The rest of them spent the next few hours cleaning the house as James kept half an eye on the case printer. Despite his apprehension, it didn’t end up choking up anything for them to do. Instead, it remained ominously silent as James cleaned his way through the living-room-turned-command-center of their headquarters. 

The Foundation had bought this house from long-dead elderly owners in the 1980s in order to have a branch of the organization working out of Northern Worcester County. While they had made some changes and upgrades over the years, the house still retained a lot of its former looks. Charts of demons hung on the wall beside embroidered blessings and a list of old-fashioned poisons and their antidotes hung beside a First Communion certificate for someone named Brendon that was dated 1978. Two couches and an old recliner were crammed into the living room, where most of the space was taken by a small bank of terrible computers. 

At one end of the living room was a small hallway leading to a few bedrooms and the bathroom that was next on James’s cleaning list. The bedrooms had originally been meant as occasional overnight areas that would eventually be converted into workspaces. But ongoing understaffing meant everyone ended up spending a lot of time sleeping over, so the bedrooms had remained just that. James had noticed that this led to several of them, himself included before he got an office, doing work hunched over on the beds like teenagers. Since nobody here was a teenager anymore, he should maybe address that at some point.

On the other side of the living room was a small dining room, taken up entirely by a large wooden table covered in weapons and other supplies. James’s office was off of that, as was the small foyer to the back exit of the house. James looped through these two rooms, dusting and scrubbing as he circled toward the kitchen beside them.

At some point in the midafternoon, as he brewed a pot of coffee, Bradley and Graham came into the kitchen. Graham had a small stack of laundry in his hands while Bradley went immediately into the cabinets, looking for bleach.

Graham was wearing one of the many awful t-shirts he’d bought on the Hampton Beach boardwalk over the years. This one was bright red with “#DAD AF” written across the front in scratchy font.

“That’s fucking awful,” James said, nodding toward the shirt. “You’re not even a dad.”

“Getting started early,” Graham said with a shrug. “Have we ever had a day this quiet?”

“Not that I remember,” James replied. “I mean, overnights plenty. It’s really the opposite, where a busy overnight is unusual. But a day shift without any kind of case at all is just weird. And I know I’m jinxing it, but I don’t actually care.”

The printer didn’t explode with cases as he stopped talking and neither of the others rushed to silence him, so maybe they were feeling the same way. “It’s nice to have an opportunity to just get this place clean, I guess,” James continued, watching as the coffee began pouring into the pot.

“I found eight socks in the gray bedroom,” Bradley said. “Not even caught under the dresser or anything. Just on the floor.”

“Three of them are mine,” James answered easily as he pulled mugs out of the cupboard. “You guys want some coffee?”

Bradley was scowling, but nodded. “Please,” Graham said as he poured detergent into the small washing machine.

Coffees poured, James took a minute to prepare his, then set it on the counter as he wiped down the small table tucked into the corner of the tiny kitchen. It was nearly identical to the setup that at least three of his aunts had in their own raised ranch homes. A small space with an oven embedded in the wall and a tiny washer and dryer tucked under the countertop, both a bonus that James knew would never be replaced when they finally broke. The sink was piled with dishes, mostly coffee cups. They had a surprisingly large collection of mugs here, brought in from thrift shops and relatives redecorating their homes. At least, that was where James and Gabriella had gotten most of their contributions to the house. 

James’s office was nearly completely furnished that way. This included the couch, which was the ugliest, most comfortable couch any of them had ever seen, courtesy of his Aunt Bev renovating her basement. James regularly napped on it in between shifts instead of going home, even though his house was less than a block away. Amelia and Gabriella in particular gave him shit for it, but they also spent plenty of time on that couch so they didn’t have room to talk. He didn’t even get startled anymore when he walked into his office to find either of them lying there. 

The printer buzzed, and everyone in the room jumped at the sound. James turned to see Madelyn making her way over to it. She picked up the paper, and he was both relieved and disappointed when she scanned it, then set it down.

“False alarm,” she said. “It’s supposed to be going to South County. They’ll correct it in a sec.”

Sure enough, the printer came to life a moment later and spit out another piece of paper. She picked it up as it came out. “‘Disregard the previous message.’”

“What are you up to, Mads?” James asked as he held up a coffee cup toward her.

“Raking,” she replied as she came over to the counter between the dining room and somewhat crowded kitchen to take the cup. “It’s nice out and I wanted some exercise.”

Don’t be overbearing, James reminded himself as the temptation to tell her not to push it rose to the surface. Madelyn was a grown woman and knew her own body. If she wanted to rake the dead leaves in the small backyard, that was her right.

“Amelia’s out there too,” she added, to his relief.

It had been several years since Madelyn had been thrown off of a building when she was first in the door to fight a monster. While she’d survived the attack, it had left permanent damage. James knew that she both badly wanted to work normally again and also knew it wasn’t an option. But she didn’t seem to even realize that James might have concerns about her health from merely raking. So he wasn’t about to say anything out loud.

“Oh, I saw the card from the Foundation,” Madelyn said, taking a sip of her coffee. “Congratulations.”

James looked at her. “What card?”

“The one on the coffee table?” she prompted, nodding toward the living room. “Thirteen years with the Foundation?”

“Lucky thirteen?” Graham said. “Damn.”

How had he missed that? “Thanks,” James said, trying to ignore the weird feeling bubbling up as he went into the living room and picked up the card in question. “I hadn’t seen this yet.”

It must have come in with today’s mail, there were a couple of internet offers and bills beside it. A small postcard with a picture of a smiling ghost, the same smiling ghost that appeared in nearly every powerpoint Bradley made, as well as on the shower curtain he’d finally tossed out last month. James picked it up and turned to the back.

Captain McManus –

Congratulations on thirteen years with the Foundation for Paranormal Studies! Here’s to many more!

There was no signature. If there was a CEO of the Foundation, no one had ever heard from them, so this certainly didn’t come from on high. Though there was a board of chairpeople, so maybe they’d all sent this together and forgotten to scrawl their signatures across it.

Or, more likely, it was from an overworked administrative assistant sending out pre-printed postcards according to the schedule on an overstuffed calendar. 

Thirteen years. He’d joined the Foundation right out of college. Though James had known about them earlier, ever since that vampire hunt Uncle Tommy and Auntie Mary had had to do. They took care of business, then the Foundation heard what happened and came out for the final matters and documentation. James had been fascinated by the idea of an organization that did this kind of work, just like something out of a TV show. And he’d wanted to join right away, but both his mother and Auntie Mary insisted he finish college first. 

And now here he was, with a sociology degree under his belt and a nearly entire career history devoted to the supernatural. He’d worked a few other jobs in high school and college, but nothing else since then. Not for thirteen years. Thirteen was going to turn into fourteen and fifteen and onward until forty. Unless he died in the field or something, but that was surprisingly rare for an organization like this one. 

Robin’s breakdown and death were actually somewhat of an anomaly.

And the work was the center of James’s life, for better or for worse. Most of what he learned and practiced was directly connected to his work here. No romantic relationships in years, not that he was looking for anything right now. Very few remaining friendships from his time before, and zero time to form new ones outside of work. Thirteen years of that and more to come.

“You’ve been here thirteen years?” Gabriella asked from the doorway, where she was now standing with her water bottle.

“Yeah, apparently,” he replied, looking at the card. He wondered if that ghost was something they commissioned or if it came in some clip art package years ago.

“Hang on,” she said. “I thought you said you joined after college.”

“I did.”

“But that doesn’t make sense,” Gabriella continued as James looked at her in confusion. “If you’re nine years older than me, then how did you join after college and already work thirteen years?”

Amelia came into the dining room as James was considering how to answer. He wished the others weren’t about to witness Gabriella’s embarrassment. “I’m thirteen years older than you,” he said. “You’re thinking of Robbie.”

Their cousin Robbie was thirty-one and managed a handful of gas stations in southern Connecticut. He was also tall and blond and it wasn’t the first time that James had been mixed up with him, even among family members.

“Are you serious?” Gabriella demanded, her face red.

“Yeah,” he said. “It’s no big deal, it’s not like I gained any kind of super wisdom in the past four years.”

“That’s for sure,” Amelia said, moving behind him to get to the chore chart. 

“Can it,” James said.

“My mom told me it was nine years.”

“She’s thinking of Robbie.”

“Wow.”

“Are you going to be okay?”

“Yeah,” Gabriella said dryly. “I think I’ll survive. Thirty-five. Wow.”

“Old as hell,” Graham added solemnly, as if this was a revelation to him when he and James had lived together for several years by now.

James looked over at Madelyn. “You got something to add?” he asked.

She shrugged, then silently offered him her cane, which was leaning against the kitchen wall. “Unbelievable,” James said. “That’s it, I’m volunteering you all for cleanup duty at every site in Massachusetts. I’m sending the email now.”

“Do you remember how to send an email?”

That one came from Gabriella as James looked over in outrage. “I’m telling your mom you said that,” he said. “Oh my God, everyone get back to work. You’re all so…”

“I still just…” Gabriella shook her head. “Years. I thought you were only nine years older than me for years.”

“What’s going on?”

Bradley was back, the ancient broom in his hand as he stood in the doorway and looked at the group. “Did you know that James is thirty-five?” Madelyn asked.

“Yeah, obviously.”

“Wait, how old are you?”

Gabriella was apparently feeling brave today. “None of your business,” Bradley said. “Move.”

He swatted at her feet with the broom and she stepped aside to let him into the cabinet behind her. “It’s not like I was hiding it,” James said. “I know how old all of you are. Your birth dates are on your records.”

Bradley looked ready to say something and James couldn’t begin to imagine how ridiculous that fight was going to be. But apparently Bradley felt the same way, because he just took out the dustpan without a word. 

“Amelia, you’ve been here seven years?” James asked.

She shrugged. “About that, yeah. And we brought on Madelyn like a year or so after I started.”

“And Bradley’s blessed us with his presence in North County for a few beautiful years, but what about when you were in Essex County? You’re coming up on eleven years, right?”

“Why do you know these things?” Bradley asked.

“Captain’s magic,” James replied. “Looks like we’re a couple of old timers.”

“There’s high turnover in this field,” Madelyn said from the stool she was now sitting on. “I know the Foundation doesn’t hire unless they’re absolutely dying, but I hear plenty about other places.”

James looked at her curiously. “From who?”

She just shrugged, a small smile on her face. “Madelyn’s here with the underground connections,” he teased. 

“Look, when you can barely walk, you spend a lot of time online. I see things.”

James had given up on most of the internet even before becoming captain, so this was another reason he was grateful that Madelyn had chosen the tech path for her specialization on the team. “We’ll talk later,” he said. “I have questions.”

“And I might have answers.”

She winked at him, then turned to Amelia. “By the way,” she said. “I talked to Rosa on the evening shift last night. She told me to tell you that the Wilbraham case ended up being a bust. But she did get photos for you.”

Rosa was the captain of the Hampden County branch of the Foundation and also a good friend of Amelia’s. James also knew that Amelia was hopelessly infatuated with Rosa. “It was a house with some markings she didn’t recognize,” Amelia told James. “If it was a bust, then they were probably just from some bored teenager with a sharpie. Which is better than a demonic summoning, I guess?”

Gabriella picked up the chore chart where it was sitting beside Madelyn now. “James, do you mind if I just bring all the linens to the laundromat?” she asked. “There’s no way it’s all going to fit in here.”

She motioned to the tiny washing machine, which was already humming with the small load Graham had started. “Keep your phone on you,” James said. “I might be dead of old age before you get back, so call Amelia if anything comes up.”

She hurried out of the room and James looked down at the card that he had forgotten he was holding. Thirteen years. The longest running member of the team.

Robin had been older than James by probably ten or fifteen years. With a jolt, James realized he didn’t know how long Robin had been with the Foundation. Had he joined at eighteen, the way Amelia had? Or had it been a second career like Graham, coming in after he’d established himself elsewhere?

James smiled, hoping it looked natural. “I’ll have to hang this on the fridge,” he said, moving back to find some space on the cluttered fridge door.

He hung it with a magnet of the Leominster zip code that someone had actually bought, and made a show of looking proudly at it. Actually, no. He was proud of it. Thirteen years of commitment to a career. It was hard work and sucked more often than not, but he thrived in this field. Just maybe not as a captain. But there was no other option unless he decided to quit or begin searching for his own replacement. So he was going to just swallow down whatever this weird feeling was and move on with his day.

“Right,” he said. “I’m going to celebrate lucky thirteen by cleaning the gym. I’ll see you all sometime tomorrow.”

---

CONTINUE TO CHAPTER 3