Page 41 of Deadly Blooms (Psychic Unraveled #1)

I couldn’t contain myself any longer. I launched forward, wrapping my arms around him like he might vanish again. “Graham! I’m so sorry! I never meant—God, I didn’t know Uncle Silas was going to—I?—”

He gripped my arms, firm but gentle as he peeled me back just enough to look me in the eye.

“Maggie… Max… it’s okay. I’m fine.” His voice was scratchy, like he’d been gargling grit. “Water, though… could really go for some water.”

“Of course,” I whispered, my whole body trembling with the aftershock of losing him, then getting him back again.

“On it!” Derek called from the landing, already thudding down the stairs.

Katie dropped to her knees beside us, eyes scanning Graham’s face. “Do you think he’s actually gone? What if Silas is just… faking?”

Graham shook his head slightly. “No, he’s still here.” Each breath came with effort, like his lungs forgot who they belonged to. “I can feel him… lingering”

I glanced at Katie, then back to Graham. “Look at his eyes, Katie. Can’t you tell? They’re not glowing anymore.”

Katie squinted. “His eyes were never glowing, Maggie.”

“Yes, they were.” I whispered, almost to myself. “That’s how I knew it was him again.”

Katie smirked, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Well, I didn’t see it. Seems like there’s some sort of connection between you two.”

A warmth crept into my chest—hope, maybe. “How did you do it?” I asked him. “How did you take control again?”

Graham blinked slowly, like he was still orienting himself in his own skin. “Felt him weakening. Like something snipped the puppet strings. And then I just… stepped in.”

I offered him my hand and helped him to his feet. His grip was strong again. Familiar. “Could you hear anything we were talking about? About Uncle Silas being murdered? You’d think someone would have caught it if there was any foul play.”

Graham nodded, the movement slow and heavy. “Yeah… I remember. When he got sick, it hit fast. One minute we were closing a case, the next…” He shook his head. “Whole precinct went quiet for weeks. We figured it was just pneumonia, like the doctors said. Guess we missed something.”

He looked down at me for a moment—just a second too long, his thumb grazing mine as he let go of my hand, and I swore I felt it in places it had no business echoing.

Then he smirked, just a little. “You really know how to throw a party.”

I huffed, trying to keep it light. “Next time, we’ll skip the possession, and just serve cake.”

His eyes dropped to my mouth, then lower. “Cake wouldn’t have cut it. The moment I saw you all I could think was how fucking edible you looked.”

My pulse stuttered, and I forgot how to breathe.

Katie raised an eyebrow and muttered, “Yeah, well, if she’s dessert, I call dibs on licking the frosting.”

“Ladies,” Graham croaked, lowering himself into the seat. “If we’re finishing off the evening with a threesome, I need a fucking drink first.”

“Shut up.” I muttered, cheeks on fire, trying to hide the grin tugging at my lips. He was fine. Wrecked, dehydrated, possibly still sharing headspace with my dead uncle—but right back to his snarky bullshit that drove me wild.

Katie snorted and dropped onto the floor with the Nox Animae , flipping pages. “So… Silas worked with you often?”

“No. Not directly,” Graham said, still catching his breath between winces.

“I was doing mostly patrol, picking up shifts in Beverly here and there. But yeah, sometimes we shared a case and our notes crossed paths. He always seemed to hang around the precinct. Everyone worked with or alongside him at some point.”

He ran a hand down his face, then looked around. “Where’s that specter-sniffer with the damn water? Is he trying to bless it or something?”

Definitely Graham.

“You okay?” I hovered. He looked pale—too pale—and the last thing I needed was him diving headfirst into the floorboards.

“I’m fine,” he insisted, but rubbed his eyes again. “Just so fucking thirsty.”

Katie hollered down the stairs, “Derek! You finding water or negotiating with Poseidon?”

The cats curled up on the couch, both staring at Graham with twitching tails and suspicious eyes. I sat next to them, trying to ignore the fact that my pulse was still doing gymnastics.

Why was I the only one who’d seen his eyes glow green? Why could I feel the shift before anyone even noticed?

Was it the blood bond with Uncle Silas?

Or was it him?

There was something magnetic between us—something real. Not like the love spells I’d played with in the past, not the false affection I’d conjured just to feel chosen. No, this was something heavier. Messier. Something I couldn’t un-feel even if I tried.

Katie leaned against the chair, flipping through the ancient pages while Graham’s focus shifted to the text. His face went from curious to mildly horrified to “I’m about to puke.” He turned the color of chalk, then green, then back again like he’d gotten whiplash from whatever he’d just read.

Derek rushed in, a pitcher and a glass in hand.

Before he could even pour it, Graham lurched forward, snatched the pitcher straight from his hands and chugged the whole thing in seconds. Water streamed down his chin, his Adam’s apple bobbing furiously with every gulp.

If he wasn’t going to puke before, this was definitely going to do it.

He lowered the empty pitcher, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and let out a breath. “Thanks, man.”

Derek blinked. “Sure. Want me to bring a lifeguard next time?”

But Graham was already moving. “We need to get to the precinct. I want to pull Silas’s file. There might be something in it.”

“Wait—what?” I stepped in front of him. “Why would Uncle Silas even have a file? They didn’t treat his death as a murder.”

Derek sat the pitcher down by the attic door with a careful clink . “They keep records on anyone who consults with them. Freelance investigators, psychics—people like me. It’s mostly logs, case notes, things we were involved in.”

Graham nodded, arms crossed now, steel-eyed and focused. “Might not be admissible, but it’s documentation. And if he was working on something sensitive…”

“…there might be something they didn’t catch,” Derek finished, resting a friendly hand on Graham’s shoulder.

Graham cut his eyes sideways to the hand like it was coated in something sticky. Derek clocked it and slowly, sheepishly dropped his arm.

“I’m heading over now.” Graham turned, already halfway to the stairs.

“Whoa—whoa— nope. ” I grabbed his bicep with both hands to hold him back, then planted my hands square on his chest. “You’re not going anywhere by yourself.”

That solid wall of muscle under my palms was a very real reminder he was alive. And yet I could feel Uncle Silas’s spirit pulsating inside of him like static. His chest rose under my touch, slow and steady—but something about him still buzzed with unfinished energy.

“You’ve got someone else hitching a ride on your vessel.” I said. “Ring any bells?”

His gaze darkened and dropped to my hands on his chest. “Kinda hard to forget.”

“Yeah, Graham…” Katie’s voice cut through the heavy silence. “What happens if Silas decides he wants another go?”

Graham paused mid-step, jaw tightening. Katie didn’t look up from the book, just kept one finger marking her place like she was ready to cite page numbers if necessary.

“She’s right,” Derek added. “Every time there’s been a switch between you and Casper, you’ve ended up flat on your ass. What if that happens when you’re behind the wheel, or worse?—?”

Graham let out a perturbed breath. “Okay, then what are you suggesting?”

“We’ll go with you,” I offered, already moving toward the stairs. “You shouldn’t be alone.”

“All of you?” he raised a brow. “That’s not suspicious at all.”

“Got any better ideas?” I asked, pacing the attic like if I walked hard enough, a better answer would appear. “All of us is better than you driving off a bridge because Uncle Silas wants to relive his glory days in your body.”

“I can stay here with the kids,” Katie said, giving Tophie’s tail a lazy stroke as the cat sprawled across her lap like royalty.

Chester was still curled on the couch like a concerned loaf of judgment.

“Besides, taking Derek makes sense—he already works with the precinct. If anyone asks, it’s just business as usual. ”

“She’s got a point,” Graham said. “If anyone questions it, we’ll just say we’re reviewing some of Silas’s old cases. Covering all bases.”

“But what if they ask why Derek’s there?” I asked. “We can’t exactly say you’re currently possessed by my dead uncle.”

Derek scoffed. “What, like I don’t have a perfectly valid reason to be at a police station?”

Graham gave him a long, unimpressed look. “Alright, Ghostbuster. What’s your airtight cover story?”

Derek held up a finger. “Field consultation. Ongoing cold case. Ghostly inconsistencies.”

Graham didn’t blink. “That’s not a thing.”

“It is now, ” Derek said. “Trust me. I’ve said weirder shit and still got paid.”

“Graham, I’m sure Derek’s been plenty of help when you’ve needed him,” I said, trying to diffuse the tension before someone threw a punch.

“If the captain asks,” Derek cut in, “we’ll say I’m here because we were just finishing up the Harbourview Heights case, and you had to pick up a critical document.”

“Ah yes,” Graham drawled, narrowing his eyes at him. “The never-ending paperwork from that circus… which I’m still buried under—thanks to you.”

Derek didn’t flinch. Just pressed his lips together in a self-satisfied smile. “It’s not a lie. And if the captain sees you putting in overtime on your day off, it might just score you a gold star—or at least fewer crap shifts.”

Graham considered it, then gave a single nod. “Alright, Maggie and Derek, come with me. Katie—keep digging, I want this asshole out .”

“Good plan, I don’t know how many assholes your body can take. It already had two before Silas jumped in,” she smirked.

He gave her the finger, kissing the pad of it and blowing her way.

My breath hitched at the sight, a warm fuzziness growing in my belly.

God, he was back.

Graham didn’t wait for another vote. Just grabbed my hand and tugged me toward the stairs.

And for a moment, it felt like everything was going to be okay.