Chapter Four #4
“No, I’ll do it. Go be with your fiancée. I’ll take one for the drunken team,” he admitted.
Besides, he had to go into the lake when the sun came up, and then, he was leaving.
PERIOD.
His ass would be back at that airport so fast, the ghosts’ heads would spin.
Also, what plagued him was what had just happened. Michael was thinking about what Graham had said when he was trying to break free from his grip to fall to the ground below the cliff.
He loved him.
If even an iota of that was true, and their breaking up drove Graham to this point, Michael had to figure this out to see if he could save him.
He had to see what was going on.
The man deserved that.
At.
Least.
Because of Graham’s words, he’d keep him safe, even if he could never love him back.
Oh, don’t get him wrong, his heart wanted to, but Michael was twice burned, and he was now officially gun-shy.
Losing his heart again…that wasn’t the plan. There was no way he’d survive it.
Graham broke it the first time.
Riley decimated it with betrayal.
Honestly, he wasn’t sticking around for Graham to give him the killing blow.
“Thank you for telling me about what’s going on here,” he admitted.
Finn wanted the man to be ready for what was coming. He’d only been here a few hours, and already, he was being pulled into the fray.
It was going to be interesting.
And dangerous.
It was clear that the two dead men were interested in Michael for some reason. Up to that point, they helped, but not physically to save someone.
That also freaked him out because that meant they were strong dead guys.
What the hell else could they do?
That was the question.
In case he needed him, he pulled a card from his pocket, and handed it to Michael.
“Here’s my cell number. Call if you need me. I can come back.”
He took it.
Gratefully.
Oh, and don’t think for a single second that he wouldn’t call in for backup if he needed it. He knew snipers, war, and bombs. He did not know how to do dead people.
That was not his jam.
“Thank you, Finn.”
The man nodded.
Then, he got up, and placed his glass in the dishwasher.
On his way past him, he patted the man on the back in solidarity.
“Good luck. Just be safe. That dark spirit is a bitch to deal with, but Ceit, Duncan, and Ciarán will most likely leave you be. If they already helped you, there’s a reason. We just have to figure out what it is.”
Well, he hoped so.
The last thing he wanted was to be their enemy. He was just trying to figure out his own life.
Truthfully.
And that was messy enough.
When the man headed out, Michael considered what he was going to do next.
So, he jogged up the stairs to check on Graham.
Babysitting involved actually seeing if the person was okay.
When he peeked in the room, the man was still in bed, and he hadn’t moved from the fetal position.
Yeah, that Scotch was going to rule his body for the rest of the night.
Bet.
On.
It.
He knew his choice of drink, and it was always a really good Scotch. He also knew how bad the hangover could be too.
With the man safely in bed, still breathing, and not asphyxiating on vomit, he was clear to snoop around.
For what?
Well, now, that book had him curious.
So, he headed down the hallway, and toward the library. The castle was chilly, and he knew he’d have to light a fire to get the chill out for them.
Summer was here, but Scotland was having a chilly summer.
Or it was the ghosts.
That was a possibility.
He’d felt the chill around him when he’d been hanging onto Graham for dear life.
Granted, at this point, he wasn’t sure what to believe. All he knew was that he came here to heal, and it appeared that he wasn’t going to be only focused on himself.
This place was trying to compete when it came to the messiest existence ever.
Maybe someone did have it worse. Still, he wasn’t fond of the similarities with his world and Duncan’s.
Not.
Even.
Close.
There were wounds here that were open and festering from time and the past.
Honestly, he didn’t mind figuring it out if he could help end the craziness.
Yes, he told Finn he didn’t solve things, but he didn’t mind looking into it.
Watching the Blackhawks solve shit was always interesting to see.
And again…
Curiosity killed the Marine. There was that little irritating fact that two gay men were involved, and here he was, a gay man with a gay ex-boyfriend.
History was NOT repeating itself.
Graham was not dying on his watch, or him either. He didn’t want to die.
At that moment, he was using his life.
At the library, he headed to a shelf, and saw a big, old book on its side.
It was massive and looked ancient.
That was what gave it away.
Well, that and the rest were meticulously placed on the shelves, and that one book called to him.
Why?
He didn’t know.
When he reached for it, his phone rang, and he actually jumped.
“Holy shit,” he muttered, pulling it from his pocket to see who was calling him this late. When he saw it was Gryphen’s number, he answered.
He actually missed the dude.
Hell.
He missed everyone—especially now that he was in a different country trapped with his ex, and some vengeful ghosts trying to cause damage.
This place was…weird.
“Yo,” he said, answering the call.
Gryphen didn’t hesitate to go there, and why the hell wasn’t Michael surprised?
“Hey! I just spoke to Elizabeth. She said you’re angry with her, and I wanted to talk to you.”
He laughed.
And laughed.
And laughed.
Yeah, he knew he was going to get his ass handed to him a few times. Callen had taken it easy on him, likely because Elizabeth didn’t want him to draw blood.
The other Marines?
Ivan?
Gryphen?
Demeter?
Oh, they’d love a piece of his hide for making their mom cry.
Hell!
He was shocked that Takoda hadn’t called him out on his shit.
“Oh, well, I don’t know what I am anymore, Gryph. I’m hella confused. I came here to hide out, and I walked straight into my ex. So, before you try to verbally neuter me, keep that in mind. I’m stressed the fuck out from being blindsided.”
Yeah, so he’d heard.
“Be gentle with him.”
Michael lifted a brow.
Was he serious?
That was not what he was expecting. Yes, he expected to be told that he was a douche for all the craptastic things he’d said to Elizabeth, and he agreed.
This was NOT the normal Gryphen lecture he expected to come at him.
Not.
Even.
Close.
“Him? Well, gee. Maybe someone can be gentle with me,” he muttered.
Gryphen sympathized.
He knew the man was under duress, and that was the only reason he wasn’t trying to tear into him.
Well, that and Elizabeth warned them all that if they did, she’d get mean.
They believed her.
“It’s not going well, Gryph. He tried to take his life. I barely caught him before he plummeted to his death. Now, he’s in the Master’s Suite, pun intended, and I’m in a haunted castle trying to figure out why the hell I saw two dead guys, Duncan and Ciarán, and they had me save him.”
Oh, boy.
This was bad.
REAL.
BAD.
“Wait. Hold up. Can you rewind that back a little bit?” he asked. “Maybe take me back to plummeting to his death and give me details on that since I know plenty about Duncan and his lover? Tony hasn’t stopped talking about it in weeks.”
Because he had nothing better to do, and the idea of being alone in the castle creeped him out, he wanted the company.
Even if it was only a phone call.
He’d take it.
Michael was a team player, and he didn’t mind spreading the cuckoo around.
He was crazy like that.
Because he knew Gryphen was curious too, he told him everything, and when he was done, Gryphen whistled.
“You’re fucked.”
That made him laugh all over again.
How could it not?
Oh, well, he wished that was the fun kind of fucking. Only, it wasn’t. He was hiding out, his ex was here, and now he had dead issues.
Honestly, he wasn’t equipped for this.
Not.
At.
All.
“Tell me about it. I was blindsided, and I reacted poorly,” he admitted. “I own that. The rest of this, I don’t know what to do. Yes, I spoke to Elizabeth, and I crossed a line, but she did too.”
Gryphen was to the point.
No, she actually didn’t.
So, he clued him in.
“Graham called me about four weeks ago to say goodbye. He’d had a hookup to self-destruct, and he was drunk, sexually battered, and left for dead in an alley. Tony said the guy worked him over pretty good, physically, and emotionally.”
Oh, Jesus.
“He’s gonna die like that. Graham is Black Watch. He’s not a pushover. He can take a guy in an alley. I’ve seen him take on five, and come out perfectly fine. Give him a blade, and he’s skewering someone.”
Oh, well, Gryphen was well aware. Only, he didn’t want to come out perfectly fine.
That was the point.
“He wanted to check out. He made a promise to me, and that was the ONLY reason he called me, or the cops there would have found his body behind a dumpster days later.”
That hurt Michael’s heart.
How could it not?
“Since you’re there, he told me to tell you to look in his room if something happened to him, and then give the box to D’Artangnan Graves. Ironically, I know the man personally.”
He laughed.
“My dude, we don’t all use our real names. Raphael doesn’t, Uriel doesn’t, Muriel doesn’t. I’m sorry I didn’t broadcast to everyone that the nun at the orphanage clearly hated my guts and named me after some French characters.”
Yeah, he was aware.
That Michael was even telling him that was huge, and a clear sign that he was rattled.
Saint Michael of the Blackhawks didn’t talk about his past.
EVER.
“Well, despite that, he said that there’s a box in said apartment area, and he needed you to have it. He said you’d understand.”
He was honest.
And he wouldn’t understand.
Then again, it wasn’t like the man could find him. The military made sure of that when they made him Michael the Archangel.
Graham wouldn’t know to look for him as Michael Graves. He’d only kept his last name since he didn’t want to be some weirdo with only one name.