Whisper of Spirits (FSID Agents Book 1), page 1
Whisper of Spirits
Book 1 of the FSID Agents Series
A.J. Macey
Blurb:
Ritual murders?
Reliving death memories?
Avoiding the advances of my overly-attentive coworker who doesn’t realize he’s been firmly friendzoned?
That’s just a casual Friday when you’re the Olympia Police Department’s favorite consulting psychometric medium. Yeah, that’s me, Casper Colt, the supe who can talk to dead people and see things when I touch stuff.
Well, that all changes when four sexy agents from the Federal Supernatural Investigation Division are called in to assist with finding the killer. As much as I’m used to staying unattached, save for my ghostly best friend, there’s something about them that calls to me.
Mason- the hotheaded and heavily-tatted alpha,
Ryan- the sweet doctor whose orders can’t be ignored,
Flynn- the quiet warlock with a shiver-inducing voice,
and Knox- the flirty angel who smiles like the devil.
Can I get close to them and still keep my secrets?
Most importantly, can we solve this case before I become just a whisper of the past?
Warning:
The FSID Agents series is a five-book WhyChoose/Reverse Harem saga featuring MMFMM meaning there is M/M content, and the female main character doesn't have to choose between her love interests. Please note that this is a spin-off series, and it’s highly recommended to read books 1-3 of the Best Wishes series first due to spoilers.
This book contains references involving PTSD, murder, violence, and other themes that some readers may find triggering.
Contents
Whisper of Spirits
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Epilogue
Whisper of Pasts
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Also by A.J. Macey
Copyright 2019 by A.J. Macey
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof
may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Cover: Moonstruck Cover Design & Photography
Editing: Ms. Correct-All’s Editing and Proofing Services
Formatting: Inked Imagination Author Services
Dedicated to:
My daughter, Evelyn Rose.
Venture far. Wander often.
Whisper of Spirits
Book 1 of the FSID Agents Series
By A.J. Macey
1
December 27th
Thursday Midday
Casper
The next time I say yes to something, I’m going to actually listen to the question, I scoffed. The smell of the dumpster permeated everything—my clothes, my hair, my skin. Pretty sure this is just what I smell like now. I flicked the front door to my apartment closed as I tossed my keys into the bowl that had a permanent home on my granite counter. Grime coated my freckled skin despite having worn a protective suit during my impromptu dumpster dive, and I was more than ready to get clean.
I toed off my work boots before walking any farther into my home. Don’t need that shit spread over my nice hardwoods and plushy rugs. I headed straight for the glass enclosed shower in my en suite, turning the knob into the red. Steam started to build as I stripped out of my tactical cargo pants and my black long sleeve shirt. Since it was my work outfit, the items went into a separate hamper from my day clothes. I shuddered at the thought of crime scene and death mixing with my normal shirts and jeans. I pulled the glass door open on my shower when I was stripped down, and immediately lathered up my shoulder-length hair in shampoo then my lean muscles in my body wash. This better only take one washing to get the smell out.
Three washes and one conditioning later, I stepped out onto the tiled floor wrapped in a black towel. I could finally take a deep breath, feeling more like my normal self than I had since the beginning of the day. The steam cloud that had collected in my bathroom billowed out into my small bedroom when I opened the door. A chill cooled my flushed skin. I recognized that chill running down my spine, the refreshing and comforting feel of a summer breeze on a hot day.
“Really? I’m still in a damn towel,” I spouted, heading toward my walk-in closet. I dug out a pair of underwear and pajamas before stepping back into my room. Alaric Gray was spread out on my bed staring at the ceiling. “Seriously Ric, let me get dressed.” I hitched a thumb in the direction I wanted him to go.
“It isn’t like I haven’t seen it before, Cas.” His handsome face smiled at me. I crossed my arms over my chest and raised a brow at the 18-year-old sprawled out on my white comforter. He huffed and flung his legs over the edge of my bed before strolling out of the room, not even stopping to open the door to the living room.
I rolled my eyes at his laziness. I mean, he’s strong enough to interact with multiple objects but won’t open the damn door. I dressed quickly in case he wanted to pop his head through the door as he had done before. His translucent body was seated on the sofa, jean clad legs crossed as he flipped through different TV channels as I stepped out.
“What’s on tonight?” I asked, pulling open the fridge. A leftover pizza box from the night before greeted me. I slid the box out and brought it over to the couch with me. Ric made a humming sound, and his lips pursed as he continued his search for something to watch. I sank down into the dark grey cushion, putting the box on the glass coffee table. A slice of pepperoni pizza rested in my hand as Ric finally settled on a channel. Ah, Doctor Who, good choice. We watched in silence, Ric knowing I needed to decompress after a consulting day. I scarfed down two pieces before my eyes drifted shut, my head resting on the back of the couch. Ric shuffled slightly and a soft blanket encased me, lulling me into a dreamless sleep.
December 27th
Thursday Night
Ryan
The rest of the team was scattered around the building, recuperating in the way they usually did after finishing a stressful case. Knox was working out, Flynn was talking with his grandparents, and Mason was finalizing his report as I filed the last pieces of paper into the case box. The rest of the guys were struggling with the aftermath of this last case. The damage that kid had done in the few days he’d held his ex-girlfriend captive was intense, and the interviews had left a bad taste in our mouths. No one had actually said anything, but the thinned lips and hard eyes that littered my teammates’ faces were all I needed to know they were having a rough time. Something doesn’t feel right with the whole situation, I noted. The kid’s mention of something bigger had made my internal alarm bells ring.
Taking a deep breath, I exhaled sharply before putting the lid on the box. I made my way through the long corridor and down the elevator, carrying the cardboard container to the evidence room. After signing in and filling out the evidence log, I slid it onto the shelf in its proper slot. I had barely stepped out of the evidence room before Mason appeared next to me.
“What’s up?” I questioned, noticing his clenched jaw. “Stressed?”
“Struggling with pent up shit, yeah,” he answered quietly, his gaze asking me the usual unspoken question. Tilting my head, I started toward our short-term rooms. The others used them for napping or when we were on call, but Mase and I had our own purpose for our time spent there. As soon as the elevator was closed, Mason started to pace, he and his wolf restless as stress plagued their mind.
The ride to our team’s floor was slow, the walk to the portion where our rooms were located even slower; my mind whirled with exactly how I planned on helping Mase de-stress. As soon as the door closed, I slammed him into the wood, capturing his lips with mine. A deep rumbling growl radiated through his chest as I bit his bottom lip, sucking it into my mouth before swirling my tongue around his.
“Pull your cock out for me,” I murmured, a hint of demand lacing my tone as I brushed my fingers over the front of his slacks.
“Yes, sir.” He nodded, panting as his stress melted, giving way to need and desire. Doing as I commanded, he let his cock spring free from its tight confines into my waiting palm. I wrapped my free hand around his neck, stroking him roughly and squeezing the more I pumped his length. His eyes rolled back, the shallow moans he exhaled making my heart race and blood pound in my ears. Loosening my grip on his tattooed skin, I drank him in giving him no reprieve as I continued to work him closer to release.
“Come for me,” I hissed, gripping his throat once more, holding his icy gaze with my warm brown one. Shuddering, he came, his cock spurting against my forearm and hand. After waiting a few moments for him to catch his breath, I ran my thumb across his lips as I cupped his jaw. “Better?”
“Yes, sir,” he murmured heavily with lust, still riding the high of his release. “Can I—” he started, but his ringtone cut off his question. Pulling it from his pants pocket, his rough voice barked out a greeting, silence following as he listened to the person on the other side. After a few moments, he gave an
Well, at least I got him to relax for a minute. Stepping into the small attached bath, I washed my arm off before walking back out to where he was readjusting himself inside his dress pants.
“Don’t worry, you can make it up to me later,” I stated with a brow raise as I followed him out of the room. He huffed out a laugh, his mood already settling thanks to the orgasm high as he fell easily back into his role of team lead. The walk to our office was silent, my fingers flying across my phone screen to alert the other two members to meet in our office.
“We have a new case,” Mason announced to our team, gaining both Knox and Flynn’s attention as we walked in.
“Where?” Knox’s honeyed voice called out from beneath his desk. He straightened after pulling out his service weapon from the bottom drawer and his trip bag from the ground next to his desk. He was dressed in his typical white button up and black slacks, having finished in the gym before I messaged him.
“Olympia, Washington.” I couldn’t help but groan internally. I had nothing against the Pacific Northwest, but we had just flown back into Washington D.C. two days ago.
“What’s going on up there? Are supes going crazy?” Knox joked, but a hint of irritation slipped through, exasperation blatant in his expression.
“Ritualistic style murder. The local police department up there has a supe consultant on the payroll, so we’ll be working with them too.” Mason’s voice was hard and clipped. He hated working with outside people, like consultants. The conversation lulled as we grabbed our trip bags, weapons, and badges before we headed toward the jet that was being prepped for the flight at the airfield. My team and I filed out of the building and into one of our team’s vehicles to take us to the jet.
December 28th
Friday Early Morning
Casper
My phone’s muffled ringing woke me, a pain in my neck making me groan. That’s what I get for falling asleep on the couch. I sat forward and snatched the annoying object off my coffee table. The caller ID read Sgt. McIntyre.
“Sarge,” I greeted, rubbing my eyes.
“Cas, sorry to be calling so early, but we need you at a scene as soon as you can.” His normally commanding voice was soft, immediately putting me on edge. Sarge only talked like this when he had some bad news, so while I waited for him to build up the courage to tell me, I pushed off the couch and padded into my room, flicking on the light.
“Where at? Details?” I placed the phone on speaker on top of my dresser. Grabbing the first pair of tactical cargo pants and black shirt I could find, I changed as quickly as my sleepy limbs could move.
“Watershed Park. I sent you the GPS location. Looks like a ritualistic murder.” Sarge continued to give me the most basic details, wanting me to get a feel for the scene myself. “I do have to warn you though, Cas.” He hesitated.
I sat there, rubbing my eyes as I waited for him to continue. There it is, the voice he uses right when he’s about to tell me something I don’t want to hear.
“I had to call in the FSID.”
I groaned, grabbing my keys and heading out of my apartment door. The night was still going strong as I plodded down the stairs toward the building’s front door. Eugene’s shop, the space directly below my apartment, was locked up for the night as I pushed open the door to the street.
“I know, Cas, I know. I don’t want them here either, but the Chief made the call saying we all could use their insight on this one.”
I sounded a skeptical agreement as I hopped into my already-warm truck. Thank god for remote start. McIntyre voiced a farewell that I echoed before hanging up. I plugged in the GPS coordinates and headed to the crime scene.
The area was lit with floodlights partially down the trail. My boots sank into the mud as I headed in from the parking lot. The usual forensic team was snapping photos and collecting evidence. I slipped on plastic booties when I reached the edge of the crime scene tape and ducked under. None of the officers or detectives stopped me, having worked with me on a plethora of cases over the years. A few nodded a greeting while some gave a tired good morning. I returned all the sentiments as I strode over to McIntyre.
“Sarge.” I nodded at him, my eyes scouring the scene.
“Cas, it’s not good,” he warned, leading me to the body. I dug out a pair of gloves and pulled them on as I reached the murder victim.
A middle-aged woman was spread eagle in the mud, her dark wavy hair fanned out above her head and mixed in with the murky dirt. Her floral dress was soaked in dried blood while her limbs were splayed out at odd angles. The most attention-getting part of the scene was the jagged cut from the base of her neck to her navel. The rib cage had been cracked open, and her heart was missing from the chest cavity. Stones with runes painted on them had been placed at the five points of a pentagram with a circle dug deep into the ground connecting them. I squatted over one of the stones, thinking. Definitely a ritual... but for what?
McIntyre and the other officers let me examine the scene at my own pace, taking in details of each aspect of the circle and the body. I didn’t feel a chill or see any spirits near the scene. Not surprising, I wouldn’t want to hang around this either. I turned my head, looking for the police sergeant.
“Hey, Sarge?” I called out when I spotted him discussing something with the medical examiner. He nodded to Dr. Rosa Vernin and her assistant Dr. Krish Patel before walking over to me. “Is the body cleared with forensics? I don’t feel anyone around here, so I’m going to do my thing if everything is done.” I was about to slide my glove off when he told me to wait. I looked up at him from my crouched position, but he was looking over to the edge of the crime scene.
Standing up, I saw four tall men ducking under the tape. I felt my lips thinning as I looked at them. Just fan-fucking-tastic, Federal Supernatural Investigation Division. The one leading the group had ice blue eyes that burned as he looked toward me and McIntyre. His chestnut hair was cut close to his head on the sides while the top was long and slicked back at an angle. A nose ring winked in the spotlights in his left nostril. Several studs around his ear also caught my attention. Sharp cheekbones, strong jaw, the harsh line of his mouth, and tattoos creeping up his neck had me breathing in sharply. He is striking. His hands and fingers were covered in tattoos that I couldn’t help but notice as he reached into his jacket to pull out his FSID badge to show to McIntyre.
“Sergeant McIntyre? I’m Special Agent Mason Bronstad. This is my team, Dr. Ryan Tanner.” He gestured a tattooed hand toward the leanest of the group. Dr. Tanner’s dark blond hair was messy, but not long enough to look unbrushed, and a short beard covered his jaw. His eyes were a warm brown, and a small smile curled his lips as he shook McIntyre’s hand.
“Special Agent Flynn Garcia.” A tanned man with shoulder-length dark brown hair nodded slightly, his leather jacket creaking as he shook McIntyre’s hand as well. His strong jaw was covered in stubble, not as long as Dr. Tanner’s beard, but just as sexy. Agent Bronstad introduced the final member of the team, a coffee-colored man with lean muscles and a warm smile, his black hair cropped short to his head. “Special Agent Knox Jenkins.” He was the only one who voiced a hello to McIntyre out of the three.
“Thank you for coming out at such an early time.” McIntyre nodded his head to the group of sexy men, a hand extending toward me. “This is our consultant, Casper Colt.”
