Chapter 7
Farnsworth
Booty call.
Something about the phrase tickles my brain in a fun way. It’s been a long time since I’ve indulged in learning the current slang of the Above, and this is a reminder that there is joy in doing so.
Another thing that stands out is how free Borja is to do as he pleases with other men. I was certainly aware that men can date each other in the modern era, but I suppose I assumed the intimate parts still only happened once a formal commitment had been made.
What would it be like to experience physical pleasure just for the fun of it? My body heats at the scandalous thought. It’s been so long I hardly remember what it feels like to touch another man in that way. I have a rare opportunity to do so, being in the Above, but am I brave enough to try?
Would Borja help me find a suitable partner? Could I ask him to? My eyes flick over to him where he’s sitting with his gaze intently focused on his phone screen. He’s a remarkably handsome man but crossing that line with him would be an act of very poor judgment.
Subtly, I shake my head. Best to push those thoughts away and focus on the task at hand.
“Got it,” Borja announces, his face lighting up. “A whole PDF of the book.”
“Excellent. What are the missing chapters about?”
“Chapter twelve: Conversations with the Dead, A Guide to Séances. Chapter thirteen: Summoning Spirits Beyond the Veil. Chapter fourteen: Mediumship, Tuning Your Intuition. Chapter fifteen: Cursed and Haunted Objects. Chapter sixteen: The Afterlife and Beyond. Chapter Seventeen: When Trouble Brews, Banishing the spirits from the living.”
“Hmm. Interesting. Those chapters were torn from the book, which either means someone wanted to study those chapters or someone didn’t want others to be able to.”
“Do you think the Horror tore those pages out?”
“Hard to say. I’ll have to read them to see if I can glean anything from it.”
Borja hands me his phone. “What can I do in the meantime?”
For a moment, I focus on the historical records of every soul in the underworld, calling up the specific one I need and flicking my wrist. The hefty book appears in my hand, and Borja gasps as his eyes go wide.
“We should refresh our knowledge of the Horror’s origins and history. When it was among the living, its name was…” I close my eyes to remember. “John Henry Wolcott. Turn to the W section and start there.”
“John Henry Wolcott,” Borja repeats, taking the book from me and flipping pages.
While he does that, I focus on the small screen in my hand and begin perusing the missing chapters. It’s hard to say if the pages went missing before or after the Horror’s arrival, but perhaps there’s a clue hiding in these pages.
The room is silent while we both study our respective literature, but then Borja makes a choking sound that draws my attention to him. When I look up, his face is scrunched in terror.
“What’s wrong, Borja?”
His head snaps up, his eyes wide. “He fucking ate people.”
Ah yes, it’s coming back to me now. “I remember him. He hosted extravagant dinner parties and selected one guest to participate in acts of Victorian spiritualism.”
“Participate? He killed them using archaic rituals and then prepared meals that included parts of them. That’s some Hannible Lecter shit.”
“I have no idea who that is.”
“Fictional serial killer who ate parts of people.”
“I see. Well, it was unusual time. If I recall, his dinner parties were renowned.”
Borja nods. “It says his victims went along with it willingly, believing he was some kind of portal to an improved afterlife.”
“He was killed by a victim’s husband, if I recall correctly?”
“Yes, stabbed to death during a séance.” Borja turns the page. “Wolcott became a Horror ten years after his death when he figured out how to return through a spirit board, which he allegedly haunted for months before being banished.”
“By me. That Horror was my first assignment.”
“Right, and a Horror isn’t supposed to be able to get out again, so how did this one?”
“That’s the answer we have to find.”
He nods. “Anything helpful in those chapters?”
“Nothing concrete, but I get the sense that someone was either attempting to summon or attempting to banish a spirit. It would be ideal if we could find a way to locate whoever tore these pages from the book.”
“That seems hard. We don’t have the first clue when it happened.”
“No, we don’t.” I put the phone down and pick up the original book instead, flipping through its pages for some unseen answer or direction.
After a couple of minutes, slightly frustrated, I set it down on the couch cushion.
The book falls open to a page with a slip of paper tucked in the seam. “What’s this?”
Borja scoots closer as I pull the note out.
“What does it say?” Borja asks.
“Donated by the Wolcott family, 1910.”
“As in John Henry Wolcott?”
“Perhaps, yes. I wonder who it was donated to. There could be a connection.”
“The Horror was in this book, right?”
“Right.”
“A book that once belonged to his family. Maybe it even belonged to him.”
“Maybe.”
“Is it possible that the Horror can haunt objects that used to belong to him or his family?”
“Yes,” I say softly as Borja’s questioning starts to take hold in my head. “I see what you’re getting at.”
“Maybe this book isn’t the only thing the family donated. We could start by finding out if other objects exist. Could lead us to the Horror.”
“I admire your instincts. That’s a smart avenue to research.”
Borja smiles. “Thanks.” He glances at the window. “It’s getting dark. Should we try again tomorrow?”
“Yes, you probably still need some rest. You’ve been through a lot today.”
“Just dying and coming back to life, no biggie.”
He grins and I find myself amused. He’s taking this all so well. That’s a positive sign that he’ll be right for this position.
“I was gonna take a shower,” he says.
“By all means. I’ll be here.”
“Make yourself comfortable, and help yourself to anything in my kitchen. We can order food too if you’re hungry.”
“Are you hungry?”
Borja opens his mouth then snaps his lips closed. “Uh, no, I guess I’m not. I should be.”
“Again, you’ve been through a lot today. Your appetite will likely kick in soon.”
He nods. “Cool. Be right back.”
I watch him walk down the hall, leaning my head back against the couch to do it.
Being around another living, breathing man is stirring up old desires I thought were long gone, but I guess they’ve just been dormant.
It’s kind of nice to know I can still feel things like attraction and admire the beauty of another man, but it’s frustrating too.
There’s no outlet for this in my world, so it’s best to bury it and forget it.
Soon, I’ll be back in the Revival House, alone. Always alone.
I can hear the water from the shower through the thin walls, and my mind unhelpfully conjures an image of Borja peeling out of his clothes and revealing his masculine body. Does he have chest hair? I get weak for chest hair.
Closing my eyes, I tilt my head back, indulging in the fantasy for just a few minutes. I could get up and walk into the bathroom right now, take my clothes off, step under the water with him, and run my hands all over his flesh.
The swelling of my cock is startling—I almost forgot it could do that—but instead of feeling shame about it, a sense of comfort settles over me. I still function like a normal man does. I still feel desire.
I imagine running my hands down Borja’s chest as I lean in and taste his lips. He’s not tender with me, instead digging his fingers into my skin as he draws me closer and our mouths crash together in a fiery kiss.
My hand moves between my legs, softly massaging and caressing my growing bulge, but when the water in the bathroom shuts off, I sit up abruptly, smoothing my clothes and hair and hoping I can present myself professionally when I have to look Borja in the face again.
I shouldn’t let myself get carried away thinking about things that can’t happen, but there’s no harm in a little fantasy, is there? Borja doesn’t have to know.
He appears in the hallway wearing only a towel clinging to his hips, his skin still dotted with beads of water. It’s distracting, and I should look away, but I don’t seem to be able to.
“I was thinking,” Borja says. “We should go out. I can show you some stuff.”
“Like?”
“Modern life. You said you wanted to learn some things about the Above. I can show you.”
“You’re not tired?”
“Not yet. You up for it, Farnsworth?”
We really should work, but we likely won’t find much to go on at this time of night. Borja is right—this is my opportunity to update my knowledge. Who knows when I’ll be in the Above again.
I nod, getting to my feet. “I’m up for it.”
Borja grins. “Nice. We’re gonna have fun.”
“Not too much. We have work to do tomorrow.”
“Don’t worry, Cinderella, I won’t keep you out all night.”
“Cinderella?”
“Turns into a pumpkin at midnight. Don’t tell me you don’t know the fairy tale.”
“I’ve heard of it. I’m certain I won’t become a pumpkin at any point.”
“It’s a joke, Farnsworth.”
“Oh, right. Humor is a bit lost on me at times.”
“That’s okay. We’ll get you up to speed.” He looks me up and down. “You need something else to wear.”
“Like?”
“I think I have something that’ll fit you. Come on.”
I follow Borja to his bedroom, glancing around before leaning against a wall.
“You can sit on the bed if you want.” He disappears inside a small closet.
I sit on the edge of the bed, feeling very awkward. Normally, I wouldn’t see the inside of a man’s bedroom without some established courtship, but I remind myself that this modern world is different from the one I’m used to.
Borja returns, holding up a plain white shirt and a pair of jeans. “These don’t fit me anymore. Too snug. They might fit you.”
“Okay.”
I take the clothing from him, looking around for somewhere to change, but before I can ask, Borja lets his towel drop to the floor, revealing his naked body completely. I can’t stop myself from staring, and I’m thankful when my eyes make it back to his face to find that he’s not looking at me.
He turns away from me to open a dresser drawer, and my gaze is drawn to his backside. Wow. He’s firm and toned, but not overly muscular, and his skin looks so soft that I’m tempted to reach out and touch him. When he turns around again, he smiles, and I clear my throat awkwardly.
“Do you need some privacy?” he asks. “I figured since we’re both guys, it wouldn’t be a big deal.”
“Uh, no big deal.” Carefully, I set the clothes on the bed and begin removing my own, ignoring Borja in case he’s looking at me. I don’t remember the last time anyone saw me unclothed, but suffice it to say it’s been a very long time.
Quietly, I tug on the jeans, which are far too tight, and then the shirt. When I glance up, Borja is leaning against the dresser, wearing only underwear now, his arms crossed over his chest and a smirk on his lips.
“You look good like that.”
“You think so? It feels tight.”
“It is tight, but in a good way. You’ll blend in.”
“If you say so.”
“I do. Give me a few minutes and I’ll be ready to go.”
“Fine.”
Borja walks over to me and drags his finger down my left bicep. “You’d look so badass with a tattoo. Ever think of getting one?”
“For what purpose? No one ever sees me.”
“You see you.”
“I have no need to decorate my body.”
“But do you have a desire?” He leans in close enough that I hold my breath. “I’m just saying you could pull it off. It would be an interesting contrast to the way you normally dress to have something like that hiding under your clothes.”
“I suppose,” I mumble, wondering where my usual objections to deviating from the norm went.
Borja grins, backing away as he drags a hand through his tresses. “We’re gonna have fun tonight.”
I hardly know the definition of the word, but something about Borja’s playful teasing has me… interested. Maybe even a little excited.
Ain’t that a kick in the head?