Laid to rest, p.1
Laid to Rest, page 1
Table of Contents
Books by T. Strange
Title Page
Legal Page
Book Description
Dedication
Trademark Acknowledgements
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Epilogue
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About the Author
Pride Publishing books by T. Strange
Bound to the Spirits
Rattling Chains
Cold Blood
Bound to the Spirit
LAID TO REST
T. STRANGE
Laid to Rest
ISBN # 978-1-83943-239-2
©Copyright T. Strange 2022
Cover Art by Erin Dameron-Hill ©Copyright December 2022
Interior text design by Claire Siemaszkiewicz
Pride Publishing
This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Pride Publishing.
Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Pride Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.
The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.
Published in 2022 by Pride Publishing, United Kingdom.
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the authors’ rights. Purchase only authorised copies.
Pride Publishing is an imprint of Totally Entwined Group Limited.
If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book”.
Book three in the
Bound to the Spirits series
Psychic medium Harlan Brand wants to be the bridge between the living and the spirits of Toronto.
Tired of dealing with ghosts reactively through the Toronto Police Service, psychic medium Harlan Brand starts his own paranormal investigation business, Laid to Rest Investigations. He wants to help ghosts before they become problems, as well as the people and ghosts who slip through the official cracks. His former police partner, Hamilton, joins him as his associate.
Harlan’s personal life is becoming just as complicated. He has just moved in with his boyfriend, Charles Moore, and he’s been contacted by a man he saved from possession, Michael Clark. Despite his love for Charles and the commitment they’ve made to one another, Harlan immediately finds himself drawn to Michael. However, after Charles meets Michael and they hit it off, they decide to invite Michael into their relationship.
As his business grows and Harlan adjusts to his new role, solving cases and helping spirits leads him closer to the heart of a mystery that hits very close to home.
Dedication
As always, for M.
Trademark Acknowledgements
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:
Tim Hortons: Restaurant Brands International
Pepsi: Pepsico Inc.
Sprite: Coca-Cola Company Inc.
Tumblr: Automattic
Netflix: Netflix Inc.
Starbucks: Starbucks Coffee Company Corporation
Kleenex: Kimberly-Clark Worldwide, Inc.
Skype: Skype Technologies SA Corporation
ChapStick: Wyeth Corporation
Teflon: The Chemours Company FC, LLC
The Exorcist: Warner Bros.
Band-Aid: Johnson & Johnson Corporation
Voss: Voss of Norway AS
CSI: Crime Scene Investigation: CBS Television Distribution
Google: Google Inc.
Uber: Uber Technologies Inc.
A Christmas Carol: Charles Dickens
Taz: Warner Bros.
Chapter One
“Where do you want this box?” Morgan asked.
“Um, anywhere over there is fine.” Harlan gestured vaguely in the direction of the kitchen. He had no idea what was in the particular box they were holding, but he was feeling too flustered to check. He knew his ‘system’—or, rather, complete lack of one—would bite him on the ass later when he was actually trying to unpack and organize, but putting it off felt better than dealing with it at the moment.
“You know you don’t have to help with this part, right?” he told them. “Moving my stuff, not the business stuff? I mean, you didn’t really have to help with that, either. It’s not part of your job description—”
“Please. The ‘business stuff’ was like three boxes. And I write my own damn job description—unless you’ve come up with a written statement of what my duties entail?”
Wide-eyed, Harlan shook his head.
“Yeah, I didn’t think so,” they laughed, setting the box down on a pile.
Charles swooped in and glanced at it. “Mm-m, that’s a bathroom one.”
Morgan frowned at him.
“I’ll take it,” he assured them.
Harlan sighed. Of course Charles could keep track of everything.
Harlan knew it was stupid to move his business out of his apartment—all three boxes of it, as Morgan had just pointed out—immediately followed by moving in with Charles. But that was how the timing had worked out with renting an office and Charles’ lease on his old apartment running out. Technically there was no hurry on his end—Harlan’s apartment was his as long as he wanted it—but it had seemed silly for Charles to move all his things and get them all unpacked, only for Harlan to dump a fresh pile of boxes on some nebulous future date. Not that Harlan had that many personal possessions… At least he’d thought he didn’t, but there had been a surprising amount to pack up and load into the truck Charles had borrowed from a friend.
“Hey, does that mean I didn’t have to help, either?” Hamilton—now Harlan’s business partner at Laid to Rest Investigations—laughed.
Shit. Harlan swallowed hard. “Of course not. I’m sorry—”
“Hey.” Hamilton clapped him on the shoulder. “Sorry… I was just kidding. I’m happy to help you two out. Matthew would have been here, too, but he had to work.” He hurried back outside, probably to grab more boxes.
“Are you okay?” Charles asked, setting down the plastic tote he was holding.
Harlan noticed that Morgan was also giving him a concerned look. “Yeah. Sorry. I’m fine. It’s just—a lot.”
Charles nodded, giving Harlan a quick hug. “I know. But the end is in sight!” He turned in a slow circle, taking in the boxes covering every horizontal surface. “Well, the end of moving. Then it’ll just be unpacking—and we can go at our own pace.”
Yeah. As long as we don’t want to sit on the couch or find anything, Harlan thought.
He just nodded at Charles, doing his best to smile.
“I think it’s just a few more, then we can go for beer and pizza.”
Harlan nodded again. He turned to leave the apartment to at least get some air and pretend to be useful by carrying something back inside, but his path was blocked by Hamilton, who was carrying a stack of boxes.
“Did I hear beer and pizza?”
“You did,” Charles agreed. “As soon as the truck is empty.”
Hamilton set the stack haphazardly by the door. “Then it’s beer and pizza o’clock. These are the last boxes.”
Charles whooped, grinning at the room. “Good work, team! I thought it would take us at least a few more hours.”
Morgan snorted. “It would have gone a lot more quickly if you didn’t have so many BDSM toys.”
“Ha. Just be glad Harlan hasn’t really started collecting his own yet or there’d be twice as many.”
Harlan found that difficult to imagine. Charles already had one of every kind of whip, flogger, paddle and cane imaginable—if not multiples.
Charles mimed dusting his hands together. “All right, if that’s it, let’s get out of here. Why don’t you just take one car?”
Harlan’s stomach sank. He was already feeling really peopled out—which was sad, because these were the people he was closest to in the world—and there would only be more people at the restaurant. He’d been looking forward to at least driving over with just Charles.
“You guys go ahead. I’m gonna drop the truck off. Phil can give me a ride, and I’ll meet you there. Harlan, you can order
Great. Now he wouldn’t even have Charles in the car with him? And he would have to order not only for himself but also for Charles as well? Usually, it was the other way around. It made him feel like an immature jerk and a hot mess, but their system worked for them.
“Don’t worry.” Charles leaned over to kiss his cheek. “I wrote my order down for you.”
Well, that’s something, anyway.
Charles did that magical thing Harlan still couldn’t figure out how to do that sent something directly from his phone to Harlan’s.
“We can take my car,” Morgan offered. “Hamilton’s smells like thirty-year-old Tim Hortons.”
Harlan wrinkled his nose. They weren’t wrong.
Hamilton laughed. “Hey, I’ve spilled lots of other kinds of coffee in there! I don’t think the stuff at the precinct is even ‘no name’. It’s…somehow even sketchier than that. It’s probably not even real coffee.”
“Yeah, you probably shouldn’t be drinking that.” Morgan shook their head, laughing.
Harlan found himself swept out the door and into Morgan’s car. He barely had a chance to wave goodbye to Charles before he was gone.
* * * *
Morgan and Hamilton put in their beer and pizza orders almost as soon as they sat down at the restaurant, leaving Harlan frantically flipping through the menu. He chose the first thing that sounded edible and didn’t have too many weird specialty ingredients. He ordered Charles’ pizza, and he was about to tell the waiter what beer Charles wanted, but Hamilton shook his head.
“Nah, wait till he gets here so it’ll still be cold.”
Harlan nodded, feeling his cheeks flush a little. He was relieved when their drinks came. It meant that he had something to do with his hands, and he didn’t have to talk.
He’d ordered Pepsi. He didn’t drink alcohol—or only rarely. It tended to mess up his mood the next day.
He downed his first drink quickly and accepted a refill when the waiter came around again. Having that much caffeine so late in the day would probably fuck with his sleep, but he didn’t want to switch to Sprite or something else. With a dark-coloured drink, he could at least pretend he was drinking beer like the others.
For the most part, Morgan and Hamilton were happy just talking to each other and leaving Harlan alone, which Harlan appreciated. Even knowing that they knew him and wouldn’t expect him to carry the conversation, he still worked himself up sometimes.
He slowly relaxed. Luckily their booth was in a quiet corner, away from other groups, so he didn’t feel completely overwhelmed.
The pizza arrived before Charles did. Harlan wondered if they should wait for him, but the other two started eating right away. Of course, they’d been helping move boxes for hours, whereas Harlan felt like he’d just sort of drifted around getting in the way.
He was starting to worry that Charles’ food would get cold when Charles slid into the booth beside him, giving him a quick peck on the cheek before grabbing a slice and inhaling it.
Of course Charles’ mouth was full when the waiter came around for his drink order.
Harlan fumbled in his pocket for his phone, which he’d put away because he knew it was rude to have it out while socializing. Though, again, he didn’t think Hamilton and Morgan would really care.
Hamilton waved a hand at him. “It’s okay. I’ve got this.” He ordered for Charles, glancing at him for confirmation.
Harlan wasn’t sure if it was even the right thing, but he gave up trying to get his phone.
Charles nodded, his lips slightly parted as he tried to swallow the too-hot sauce and cheese.
Harlan groaned inwardly. Hamilton could remember what his boyfriend liked to drink, and he couldn’t?
Everyone else wolfed down their food while Harlan picked at his pizza and drank soda after soda.
“Oof, I’m stuffed.” Charles leaned back with a groan, his hands folded on his stomach. Making sure Harlan was looking at him, he cocked his head in the direction of the door—his silent way of asking if Harlan wanted to leave.
Harlan nodded, moving his head as little as possible and hoping the others wouldn’t pick up on their little exchange. That would have felt rude. He appreciated that Charles had come up with this little system for them. Again, he was pretty sure Hamilton and Morgan wouldn’t actually mind, but this way he didn’t have to say it himself. And he really did want to go home. Well, back to the box-choked apartment. Ugh.
At least he didn’t have to work the next day. Laid to Rest didn’t have any open cases, which was great for having time to move and unpack but not so great for his wallet or peace of mind.
What was I thinking, trying to start my own business?
* * * *
“Knock knock!” Benjamin Xun, one of the two remaining Toronto police mediums, stepped into the tiny Laid to Rest office, his hand raised as though he were about to knock. The door was open. The office got really hot and stuffy with both Harlan and Hamilton inside, and the solitary window didn’t open.
Hamilton grinned at him. “Hey, Benjamin. It’s been a while.” Benjamin had visited them when they had first opened a few weeks earlier, but they hadn’t seen him since—though Harlan had called him once for advice about dealing with a ghost. No. Not ‘dealing with’. That wasn’t what Laid to Rest was about. Helping a ghost. “Oh, please tell me you have a case for us.”
Harlan leaned forward. He was glad Hamilton had said it, because he’d sure as fuck been thinking it.
Benjamin shook his head. “No, sorry, guys. I just wanted to drop off some ‘congratulations on starting your new business’ presents. I know it’s a little late, but they were on back-order and… Anyway…here.” He set four gift bags down on Hamilton’s desk, which was closest to the door. “They’re for you two, Morgan and Charles. Charles told me what kind of phones you all have.” He cleared his throat, looking away from Harlan. “They’re, uh, from Beth, too, but she wasn’t sure if you’d want to see her.”
She was right, but Harlan didn’t say it out loud. “You’ll have to, um, thank her for us.”
Hamilton pounced on the pile of presents and started rooting around in one of them. He frowned as he held up its contents. “Oh, great. A weird-looking phone case and a flashlight. Thanks.”
Harlan got up to take a closer look. “Really? Thank you!” He picked up the bag with his name on it and held it against his chest.
Hamilton snorted. “Jeez, kid, if I’d known you were that hard-up for a phone case, I would’ve gotten you one.”
Harlan shook his head. “No, these are special.”
Nodding, Benjamin pulled out his phone, which was already in a similar case. “The mesh on the back keeps ghosts from draining the battery, and”—he plucked the package out of Hamilton’s hands—“it also comes with a warded screen protector so they can’t get in that way, either. The flashlight is protected by the same mesh.”
Hamilton whistled, leaning back in his chair with his hands laced behind his head. “Wow. Those must’ve cost you a pretty penny.”
Harlan gulped. He hadn’t realized that a warded screen protector was part of the case. Warding was expensive. “You really shouldn’t have.” He put the bag back on Hamilton’s desk.
“Hey, don’t worry about it. I was there when you learned how much it sucks for a ghost to drain your phone and light. I—we’re—happy to help.”
“Thank you so much.” Realizing he should probably say something more and that he actually knew very little about Benjamin outside of their shared mediumship work, Harlan asked, “How are things going for you two?”
Benjamin let out a soft huff of laughter. “Well, I won’t lie. It has been busy without you and Leo.” Leo had been the Toronto Police Service’s fourth medium until she’d lost her abilities six months earlier. “But we’re managing.” He smiled at Harlan. “It has helped that you guys are handling the less serious cases and we can just concentrate on murders.”
Harlan shuddered. He definitely did not miss that part of being a police medium. Most of the ghosts he’d dealt with through Laid to Rest had died of natural causes or accidents. They tended to look more intact than murder victims, even if their deaths had been fairly gruesome.
