Free Duck Duck Ghost by Rhys Ford Page A

bellowed loudly. Muttering a pardon under his breath, Tristan fled for the fence, his head down low so his shaggy blond hair covered most of his blush.
    “Ah, Sey. He’s new to this,” Wolf admonished. “Go easy on him.”
    “What? Being a boyfriend or Kincaids?” She grabbed at one of the bags, exclaiming at its heft. “What have you got in here? Shrunken heads?”
    “No, you’re the one with bits and bobs lying about the house.” He liberated the bag, slinging it over his shoulder. He hit the release for the back hatch, and the SUV’s rear door popped up. “And Tris is—special. To me.”
    “Then why is he over there cooing at the cows instead of over here making puppy eyes at you?” Sey frowned at him. “Did you fuck it up already?”
    “Oh, how you know me so well.” He’d only packed the barest of necessities for a ghost hunt in the car, but it would still take him two trips to get his equipment into the house. He set the largest case down on the driveway, then elongated its handle so it could be wheeled in. “He’s a medium. Probably one of the strongest I’ve ever seen.”
    “And you’ve brought him here?” Sey’s slate-blue eyes practically boggled out of her head. “Are you insane? Didn’t your mom tell you I’ve been having problems?”
    “Yeah, that’s why I wanted him to come.” Wolf stopped unpacking the car and stared down at his older cousin. “They speak to him, Sey. He sees them. Hell, I think he actually accentuates their existence in a lot of cases. He also needed out of where he was for a bit. Someplace different than where he’s grown up. Mom said she told you about Hoxne Grange—”
    “Holy shit! He’s that medium?” Sey tsked in sympathy. “God, that poor kid.”
    “Okay, I don’t know what she told you, but stop with the poor kid thing. It’ll piss him off.” Wolf craned his head to study Tristan scratching the young calf’s nose. “He’s strong, Sey. Solid but kind of fragile in a lot of ways. I don’t think his folks treated him right, and shit, I didn’t do him any favors a couple of weeks ago.”
    “Lost your temper, then?” She sniffed at his nod. “Hotheaded Scot to the core.”
    “I’ll own up to that,” he replied. “I brought him here because Ophelia Sunday seemed to operate on his wavelength a bit, and he needed to get the hell out of the Grange for a while. It’ll be a change of pace for him while I hunt down your problem.”
    “I’m not one of your cases, Wolf. This isn’t rats or some crazy rabid bat. Things are moving around the house, and now I swear to God I can almost hear whispering.” Sey shifted her hips, her expression serious as she stared off at Tristan’s distant form. “I know there’s something wrong here. I can’t pinpoint what it is, but I’m not one of your hoaxes. The only reason I told Meegan I’d let you have a crack at it first is because it’s not so bad. Just a little worrisome, but really—”
    “I don’t think you’re a hoax, Sey.” It was bad enough most of the family thought he’d crossed the line into full-blown skeptic. Wolf didn’t want to piss off one of the few relatives he had who still liked him. “I’m here to see what I can find. And maybe Tristan can help me figure it out. He’s good , Sey.”
    “And you love him. He’s kind of fond of you. He keeps looking back here, and it’s not because I’ve got a great rack.” She nodded her chin at the blond. “Only you would bring a guy on a ghost hunt. What happened to dinner and a movie?”
    “Tristan’s not a typical kind of guy, and hell, we didn’t exactly ever….” Wolf paused suddenly and swallowed. “Fuck me. I’ve never ever actually taken him on a date.”
    “And he’s already met your mother.” Sey whistled softly. “He must really like you, because Meegan? She’s a deal breaker in my book. I’d run screaming for the hills if you brought that hippie around me and said welcome to the family—and I’m already