Good Will Ghost Hunting: Demon Seed [Good Will Ghost Hunting 1] (Siren Publishing Classic) (2 page)

Will’s knuckles turned white around the FLIR camera case in his hand as he struggled not to throw it at his friend. “I don’t want to talk about this, Purs.”

Purson shrugged his broad shoulders and fixed his friend with his piercing blue eyes. “Whatever. Aidan said we’ve got a new producer joining us?”

“Unfortunately.” Will handed Purson the clipboard and started sorting through a carton of power cords. “Freaking network wonk. Probably some kid right out of college and wet behind the ears who wants to change the world.”

“We should be so lucky.”

“I’m not in the mood for your shit today, Purs.”

Purson started to playfully bust Will’s balls when he remembered it was Wednesday. Will was always in a foul mood on Wednesdays. “Sorry.”

* * * *

The others gave Will a wide berth for the rest of the day. The Otherworlds show was in its third season and going gangbusters. The network film crew would show up around three to start filming B-roll and setup shots. Kal Martin’s flight was scheduled to arrive at Tampa International at five thirty. He would join them at the University of Tampa campus after arriving.

The ghost-hunting show wasn’t Will’s idea. He’d been happy running a small, local production company making commercials, filming Florida-based documentaries, shooting stock footage and syndicated pieces, and other low-budget jobs. It was a way to kill time and stay busy more than anything. He still wasn’t sure how Aidan had managed to take his hobby and get them involved in…this.

Three-ring circus didn’t begin to describe what it’d turned into. Syfy channel had their own popular show, and Otherworlds was the low-budget version on the
gO! Network
. “With little gee, and a big OH!” declared the network’s slightly stupefying slogan. The network had built its rep ripping off reality shows from the big cable networks like the Discovery and History Channels. Their show investigated and debunked not just reports of ghosts, but other myths, including the Swamp Ape and Bermuda Triangle, among others.

While Aidan’s idea, Will had been roped into the cohost spot because of his quiet, brooding, serious temperament. Aidan was the playful, funny one, and most likely to claim ghost even when he damn well knew there wasn’t anything supernatural going on at a site. Will played the Professor to Aidan’s Gilligan. The public loved it.

No, Will understood exactly why he got involved, because he tried to keep The Firm off Aidan’s ass. If Will kept Aidan in line, at least until he could finally leave this freaking earthly plane for good, they’d be less likely to come down on Aidan. Especially when Aidan used insider knowledge to spice up their show.

Not hard to do when you’re an archdemon.

* * * *

Aidan observed Will all afternoon. Typical Wednesday, and Aidan normally wouldn’t have scheduled a job, but it was the only day he could get the UT officials to agree on. He desperately wished Will would meet someone, but his cousin stubbornly refused all attempts at matchmaking.

Will’s slate gray eyes used to be filled with joy. He had a handsome smile that hadn’t seen the light of day since…

Aidan clamped down on the thought, unsure if Will could still read him or not. The longer Will’s powers atrophied, the closer he got to the day he could leave.

Permanently.

One of the network film crews showed up a little early. Their sound man worked with Aidan, setting up and getting the information for the night’s shoot. It kept Aidan busy and distracted. At some point Will slipped out for some peace and quiet before their investigation got underway.

The sound man, Bob, shook his head. “Man, my little sister keeps begging me to bring her to one of the shoots. She’s in love with Will.”

“So’s half of the straight women who watch the network, Bob.”

“Why isn’t he married? Or at least dating? I never hear of him going out with anyone.”

One of Will’s long-standing ultimatums was that his personal life couldn’t be discussed with anyone. Will made it clear from the beginning that if he even heard a thought of one of the men talking about him to anyone, he’d refuse to work on the show anymore. Aidan had to go to The Firm for extra support in that area, warding paparazzi away from Will and keeping his private life private. Unfortunately, that mystique made him even more popular. Will Hellenboek fan sites were cropping up all over the web.

“He’s a private man,” Aidan told him. “That’s all I can or will say.”

Kalyani Martin nervously tapped her foot and fought the urge to pace back and forth in the departure gate area. This was her first producer gig, and she didn’t want to mess it up. Bad enough her father fought her tooth and nail when she chose film as her major, followed by two more years of postgrad studies. He’d grumbled and groused when she took the student internship at
gO! Network
but apparently figured it was safe since she hadn’t graduated yet.

When she landed the paid administrative assistant job at the network after graduation, her father had been less than enthused but at least placated that she still lived in Columbus, at home, where he could keep his eye—and thumb—firmly on her. When Kal informed her parents she’d accepted a network job assignment to work on a show based in Tampa, he’d gone…

Well, he’d gone totally freaking batshit crazy, as her friend Becky would say.

Saying her father wasn’t the most modern or progressive of men was an understatement of George W. Bushism proportions. Reverend Kenneth Martin, head shepherd of the First Columbus Evangelical Baptist Church of Christ, despaired that not only did his sole child go to Ohio State University—go Bucks!—but she didn’t want to get married yet.

Thank goodness Kal’s mother finally stood up to him and helped win him over. The full academic scholarship hadn’t hurt either.

Kal’s announced move to Tampa nearly drove him over the edge. Her father wanted her home, in Columbus, where he could marry her off to Jeff Conrad, the son of his best friend and church deacon, Billy Conrad.

She couldn’t stand Jeff Conrad. She didn’t know him very well, but he always came off as a standoffish, smarmy jerk. Then again, maybe she thought that because his father Billy was a smarmy jerk and she painted Jeff with the same brush by default.

Of course, Kalyani neglected to mention to her parents exactly what her new show was about. It would compound the problem and make her escape from Columbus even more difficult. She’d only told them she’d been assigned as a producer on a documentary show. Otherwise, there would be fireworks.

“Devil’s work!” her father would shriek, demanding she drop to her knees and pray.

She wished she was exaggerating, but considering he’d freaked out over her bringing home a Billy Joel CD two years earlier, she knew he would. Thank goodness he couldn’t figure out how to unlock her MP3 player.

He’d have a coronary.

Not that Kalyani would ever admit to her father that she’d watched the remake of
Hairspray
at a friend’s house one night during a high school sleepover, but he made the Bible-thumping mother in that movie look like a pagan liberal Democrat by comparison.

Another bonus—moving to Tampa meant getting away from home again. Living on campus during college had been heavenly, the freedom blissful. The past six months back home under the same roof as her father had been…

Well, hellish.

When she took the administrative assistant job at the network, it paid more than enough for her to get her own apartment. Between her father’s stern lectures and her mother’s pleading looks not to leave her alone with him ranting and raving about Kal moving out, Kal gave in and lived at home. She even caught him snooping through her cell phone—which she paid for, not them—when she got out of the shower one night. Two days later, when the network asked her to take this job, it seemed like a good omen.

Or divine intervention.

Kal rubbed her palms against her jeans. No denying she felt nervous leaving home for the first time by herself, not counting college, because then she could go home for weekends. Usually she had to. If she didn’t put in an appearance at church her father would call out the Ohio National Guard to find her.

Yay! I can sleep late on Sundays!

While she’d admit to breaking out of her shell a little at OSU, she still considered herself a good girl by most standards. She didn’t intend to compromise her scruples. The network promised her a chance at bigger, better things down the road. If she wanted to stay on that road, she had to point her car in the direction they dictated, starting with this gig. She resented being forced to take this particular show, but if it meant a chance to break into network television, she’d willingly do it.

Still, it was easier to keep her father in the dark for a while longer.

At least until after her flight safely landed in Tampa.

She’d never watched the show before the network gave her the first two seasons on DVD. They said they wanted a skeptic in the producer slot, said it gave the show more veracity and authenticity, balanced it out. She had to admit they pegged her dead to rights there. She didn’t believe in ghosts except those of the Holy variety. Even then sometimes she had her doubts, although she’d never admit that out loud in front of her father. She absolutely didn’t believe in most of the things Will Hellenboek and his crew investigated. Although she gave him credit, he rarely seemed willing to admit a place had supernatural activities, unlike his goofy sidekick, Aidan.

Hellenboek certainly had devoted legions of admirers. Googling him revealed dozens of fan sites. He was a mysterious man with brooding good looks. Apparently his personal life was a well-guarded secret, which, of course, made him even more popular.

The gate attendant called Kalyani’s flight. She slung her laptop case over her shoulder, grabbed her purse and carry-on bag, and stood in line to board. This was the first time she’d ever been to Tampa and only the fifth time she’d ever flown. The network had arranged for a rental car at Tampa International. Hopefully the apartment they leased for her wasn’t infested with cockroaches or bedbugs.

Kal said a little prayer as she handed over her boarding pass and waited her turn. This marked the start of a new life, her first true freedom. She would take every opportunity presented to get out on her own, and thank Heaven on her knees if she had to.

* * * *

Will pinched the bridge of his nose and counted to ten. As always, setup resembled controlled chaos, with Aidan twenty places at once and making sure the infrared and other cameras had been properly placed and wired. Purson had to handle one of the unpaid PAs, who insisted on bringing his girlfriend to the shoot. Purson finally convinced the girlfriend to leave with a little of his special brand of persuasion. Will brooked no bending of his “boys only” rule when he worked on a shoot. The four closely knit men knew the real reason. Everyone else assumed Will was either gay or an obnoxious chauvinist pig.

Neither reason true, of course, but Will was more than happy to let the rumors fly if it kept him isolated from anything other than incidental contact with members of the opposite sex.

He damn sure couldn’t work with a woman. The crew only welcomed women on shoots when Will wasn’t around, usually B-roll retakes or prelim investigations edited into the final cuts to make it look like they’d all been shot at the same time. The public never knew the difference, only the inner sanctum of the high-ranking production crew was aware of it.

Will glanced at the time, pleasantly surprised to see they were almost an hour ahead of schedule. “We’ve got time for dinner,” he told Aidan. The crew welcomed the break. “So when’s this new producer arriving?”

Aidan glanced at his watch. “Flight should have landed by now. Unless he gets lost, probably in the next hour or so. You know traffic’s a bitch around TIA with all the construction, especially at rush hour.”

* * * *

While Kalyani nervously awaited her luggage, she twisted the small ring on her left hand. She’d shipped most of what few other things she had, and they would arrive in the next day or so. Fortunately the apartment was furnished. Kal had checked three large suitcases of clothes and other things to bring with her. She snagged a cart and struggled with the heavy bags but got everything loaded and located the rental car counter. Twenty minutes later the shuttle bus driver helped her unload at the terminal rental car lot. Sweating in the humid Florida heat, Kal loaded the bags in the trunk, studied her map, and pointed the car toward the interstate.

This wasn’t her idea of Florida. Postcard settings of white sandy beaches and sedate, palm-tree-lined avenues were nowhere to be seen. Neither were acres of lush, green citrus groves or nearly nekkid beach love gods, as pictured on tourist-trap postcards. Instead, rush-hour traffic and construction felt like being back in Columbus, only with muggy, salt-sweet air as the backdrop.

It took her nearly an hour to crawl through traffic and find her way to the University of Tampa campus. Plant Hall’s tall, ornate minarets graced the skyline across the Hillsborough River from downtown Tampa. Kal consulted another map as she parked next to a cargo van which had an Otherworlds magnetic sign stuck to the door.

Kal dug through her purse, located her network ID card lanyard, and strung it around her neck. She’d insisted on Kal instead of Kalyani on the ID and had practiced her stern but not-too-bitchy mug-shot face for hours in her mirror before she’d had it taken. She had no illusions—this was a male-dominated profession and she wanted every possible advantage. Cute and perky weren’t advantages to getting network producer assignments and having people listen to you on a shoot. Unless you wanted to be fetching coffee or proofing scripts for life.

She pulled her hair into a ponytail and parked a well-worn Brutus Buckeye baseball cap on her head after threading her hair through the opening in the back. Jeans and sneakers, she’d planned ahead although she wondered if she should have gone with shorts in this heat. A tank top under an unbuttoned, long-sleeved chambray shirt, sleeves rolled to her elbows—she looked like serious business for this business. No makeup, she rarely wore it. Kal took one last look at herself in the rearview mirror.