Midnight Whispers Read online

  Synopsis

  Paranormal investigator Blake Danzig, star of the syndicated show Haunted California and owner of Danzig Paranormal Investigations, has been able to see and talk to the dead since he was a small boy. Born into a circus family, Blake eventually made his way to San Francisco where he wrote his first book and opened his paranormal investigation office. Assisted by his best friend and self-proclaimed witch, Melody Adams, Blake helps his ex-lover and San Francisco Police Detective, Brian Cox, solve cold case murders by contacting the spirits of the victims. But, when he gets too close to a psychotic spirit, all hell breaks loose and Blake ends up risking losing not only his boyfriend, Joe, but his very soul.

  Midnight Whispers: The Blake Danzig Chronicles

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  Midnight Whispers

  © 2010 By Curtis Christopher Comer. All Rights Reserved.

  ISBN 10: 1-60282-186-0E

  ISBN 13: 978-1-60282-186-6E

  This Electronic Book is published by

  Bold Strokes Books, Inc.

  P.O. Box 249

  Valley Falls, New York 12185

  First Edition, October 2010

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.

  Credits

  Editor: Greg Herren and Shelley Thrasher

  Production Design: Stacia Seaman

  Cover Design By Sheri ([email protected])

  Dedication

  For my beautiful partner, Tim.

  Chapter One

  “Oh, yeah, fuck me, dude, yeah, like that, oh…”

  A bead of sweat dripped from Blake Danzig’s nose and onto the muscular redhead beneath him, his lean legs thrown over Blake’s broad shoulders. The twenty-something dude—who only two hours earlier had been Blake’s waiter at a South of Market restaurant—certainly knew how to take cock up his ass, and Blake thrust his rubbered dick in and out of the willing ass with gusto. Blake had never really been into redheads, but his partner was tall and well-built, and his pale skin was an attractive contrast to Blake’s own lean, olive-skinned body.

  “You like that?” Blake asked as the kid played with Blake’s erect nipples. “You like that fat cock in your ass?”

  “Fuck, yeah,” the redheaded waiter whispered, locking eyes with Blake.

  Without warning, Blake flipped the agile redhead over and onto his knees, re-inserting his cock into the tight ass.

  “Oh, fuck,” the redhead said. “Yeah, that’s better.”

  Blake resumed his thrusts. The sounds of his muscular torso slapping against the redhead’s ass cheeks nearly drowned out the sound of the Mission Street traffic outside the windows.

  “Shit,” the redhead moaned, “I’m coming.”

  The tug of the redhead’s asshole on Blake’s cock as he shot his load coaxed Blake into his own orgasm.

  “Fuck. Here it comes,” Blake gasped as he filled the rubber he was wearing with an ample load.

  Breathing heavily, Blake collapsed onto the bed beside the sweating redhead.

  “I’m sorry.” The redhead laughed. “You really got me off in that position.”

  “That’s okay.” Blake smiled at him. “Did you say your name was Daryl?”

  The redhead leaned over and kissed Blake lightly on the lips.

  “Darren.”

  Blake admired Darren’s pale, wiry body and muscular ass as he rose from the bed, crossed the room, and pulled on a pair of black boxer briefs.

  “Sorry,” Blake said. “I meet so many people, I tend to forget names.”

  Admit it, Blake thought. You don’t remember names because you fuck so many people.

  But Blake hadn’t chosen a promiscuous life. No guy, once he learned of Blake’s “gift,” tended to stick around very long. All Blake really wanted was companionship, the possibility of finding the one person who might see beyond his paranormal abilities and stick around longer than one night. That was how, after checking out his waiter’s ass all night—and getting busted numerous times—he had ended up in Darren’s Mission Street apartment.

  “So one of the busboys told me you’re like a ghost hunter or something,” Darren said, mild amusement on his face. “What’s up with that?”

  “I’d rather not talk about it.” Blake rose from the bed.

  “Come on. Are you? I mean, do you actually talk to ghosts?”

  Blake pulled on his jeans and faced Darren. “Yeah. I’m a ghost hunter.”

  Darren sat on the edge of his bed and looked up at Blake, grinning. “I’ll bet lots of poor suckers pay you tons of money to talk to poor old, long-lost Grandma, huh?”

  Blake could feel his face reddening as he pulled his T-shirt over his head. It was always like this. Guys either freaked out over the fact Blake could talk to ghosts, or they were absolute skeptics, like Darren, who obviously believed Blake was a fraud who bilked old ladies out of their savings. Blake wanted to prove his powers, but resisted the urge to tell Darren about the ghost standing just two feet away from him. He had learned a long time ago divulging such information to the absolutely clueless was not only mean, it could be harmful.

  “I’ll see you around,” he said, heading for the door and leaving Darren alone with the ghost in his bedroom.

  Out on busy Mission Street, Blake raised his hand to hail a passing cab. Unfortunately, the cab was occupied and the couple inside, so obviously a couple, made Blake feel even more lonely. He sometimes wondered if leaving his family and the circus had been the right choice. At least with his family, he told himself, he hadn’t been so alone. At least they had understood his gift.

  Blake had been born into a circus family. The Danzig Brothers Circus, part circus, part carnival, had been created by Blake’s great-grandfather in the 1930s and traveled the back roads of America. After the death of Blake’s grandfather, Blake’s father had taken over the management of the circus. Blake’s mother, Lila, was the tarot card reader and his father, Ben, a contortionist. Both parents were aware of their young son’s “gift” and encouraged it. By his tenth birthday Blake was made an official part of the circus and, for five dollars a pop, could contact the dead relative of any paying customer.

  Halloween, however, was the worst for the young Blake. Although he learned most ghosts were harmless, Halloween was a special challenge due to the sheer number of them wandering aimlessly through the physical plane.

  “On Halloween,” his mother had calmly explained, “the veil between the world of the living and the world of the dead is thinnest.”

  Blake’s mother, Lila, never explained exactly how she knew about “the veil” and he never asked, only took her word for it. Others in the troupe whispered that Lila’s mother had also been able to speak to spirits. On this subject, however, Lila kept quiet, only telling him that he had inherited his gift.

  As a result, Halloween became a dreaded day for Blake. Not because of any evil, but because the sheer number of ghosts whispering in his ear was too much to bear. The real trick was to avoid the people not in costume. The revelers dressed up as ghouls were safe, but the real ghosts looked like everyone else, only sometimes in period costume. Every night, at midnight, the whispers of the spirit world would grow loud for the young Blake,
causing him to nickname the phenomenon the “midnight whispers.”

  Blake had loved growing up in a circus. It had certainly not been a typical childhood, the ragtag caravan constantly on the move from one small town to the next. Despite the fact he’d grown up without any other children to play with and had been schooled by his mother instead of attending a traditional school, the experience was a constant fantasy world for him. Instead of a normal home, there were spotlights and greasepaint and colorful banners. Instead of aunts and uncles, Blake had a strong man and a fat lady and a sword swallower.

  Instead of a dog or a cat, Blake had an elephant for a companion. But while he loved the massive pachyderm named Moe, he often felt sorry for the poor creature. Even though he was young, Blake instinctively knew an elephant did not belong in places like Oklahoma or New Mexico or Kansas. He also knew the chain around Moe’s ankle was cruel. He voiced his concerns to any adult who would listen but was always brushed aside—even by his father, who explained the chain was necessary for everyone’s safety. This explanation made no sense to Blake, who found it difficult to believe the gentle giant would harm a fly. His misgivings, however, were realized one night in a small town outside of Topeka when Moe, terrified by a thunderstorm, broke free of his chains and rampaged through the small downtown before the sheriff shot him dead. It wasn’t long before Blake, by this time a young man, decided it was time he needed to break free of the circus, too.

  It was on his twenty-first birthday that Blake made up his mind he was finished with the circus and ghosts and announced to his parents he was moving out West. He had grown into a handsome young man, tall and muscular, with the olive-colored skin, brown eyes, and dark hair of his Latina mother. He’d decided on San Francisco.

  Although his parents were disappointed, they quietly accepted his decision and wished him luck.

  “It’s just as well,” his father said. “This can’t go on forever.” He waved his arm at the scenery around them. “I’ll probably retire in a couple of years anyway.”

  Blake smiled, enjoying a private joke. Ben had been saying he intended to retire for years. Still, times had changed, and people weren’t as interested in circuses as they once had been. The only circuses that would eventually survive would be the polished, corporate versions, so maybe his father had been right.

  *

  Lost in thought, Blake nearly missed the next cab as it sped up Mission Street. He raised his hand just in time and the taxi screeched to the curb. Grateful to have caught it, Blake opened the back door. He slid into the seat, quickly giving his street number to the driver, a dark-haired guy in his thirties. Settling in for the short ride back to his Nob Hill apartment, Blake glanced out the window at the passing scenery. The cab driver kept looking at Blake in the rearview mirror, but if he recognized the young celebrity in his backseat, he kept quiet. Once they had pulled to a stop in front of Blake’s condo, and Blake paid the fare, the driver looked at him closely.

  “Hey, you’re Blake Danzig, aren’t you?” he asked.

  Blake merely nodded.

  “I’m a big fan of your show. It’s really amazing, that gift of yours.”

  Blake thanked the driver for his kind words and wished him a good night. As he entered his building he thought about what the cab driver had said. Sure, his ability had brought him fame, but at what price? Was his gift really so amazing?

  Amazing if you want to remain single your whole life, Blake thought. The cold wind that filled the night air did nothing to cheer him. He turned and walked into the lobby of his building, filled with the sad feeling of spending another night alone.

  Chapter Two

  Blake entered his apartment and looked around at all he’d amassed in such a short time. The comfortable apartment, definitely a man’s abode, was filled with new furniture in subtle shades of brown and gray. The furnishings—a sofa, coffee table, TV, bookshelf, two comfortable armchairs, and a dining room table that could accommodate eight—served only the necessities of life. On the wall above the table hung a simple, framed watercolor, purchased at an art fair. Other than that small touch, the remaining walls of Blake’s condominium were bare. The two bedrooms, too, were outfitted with only the essentials—beds, nightstands, and dressers. Blake walked over to the windows and marveled at the city, spread out below. He went to the bookshelf and took down his book, Haunted: My Life as a Carnival Medium, the vehicle that had propelled him to fame. His thoughts turned to his past and all that had happened after he left his parents and the circus.

  His parents had, of course, insisted on driving him to an Amtrak station to see him off. This meant not only that they would be with him right up to the last minute, but it would delay his departure until the circus caravan was able to swing by a city with a train station, in this case, Kansas City. Both Lila and Ben, after much difficulty doing so, had convinced him that his idea of hitchhiking to a train station was not only foolish, but dangerous.

  “Besides,” his father said, “there are too many loose ends to tie up before you run off to California.” And so Blake had grudgingly stayed on, long enough to reach Kansas City. Once there, in the presence of Anna, aka the Fat Lady, and Simon, touted as the World’s Tallest Man, Blake bade his parents a teary farewell.

  Passersby in the crowded station eyed the odd-looking party with a mixture of amusement and curiosity, but Blake ignored them.

  “You call as soon as you get there.” Lila sniffed, not bothering to hide her tears.

  Blake hugged his mother tight.

  “How will I reach you?” he asked, amused by his mother’s absentmindedness. Cell phones weren’t yet commonplace, and the traveling circus depended on pay phones for any contact with the outside world.

  “We’ll be in Cedar Rapids in a week,” Ben said. “Call their post office and leave word for us, with a phone number if you have one. We’ll get your message.”

  All Blake was taking with him was five hundred dollars he’d saved from his portion of the proceeds, a duffel bag containing two pairs of blue jeans, four T-shirts, socks, and six pairs of clean underwear. He was wearing everything else. Impetuously, Lila removed the St. Christopher medal she wore around her neck on a chain.

  “You take this,” she said, placing it around Blake’s neck. “It will keep you safe.”

  “Thanks, Mom,” he replied, tucking the medal under his T-shirt.

  Blake boarded the train and took a seat at a window near where his family stood on the platform. As the train pulled out of the station, he returned their waves and watched as they slowly faded from sight. With each inch the train moved, each mile, Blake could feel an excitement building inside of him, an excitement for the new and uncharted. Blake did his best to quiet his doubts, the thought that maybe he was making a mistake.

  The first night on the train was exhilarating. Although filled with a mixture of melancholy and fear, Blake was also filled with anticipation. Not only was he headed to San Francisco, but nobody on the train knew he could see and talk to ghosts or that he had just left a circus. For the first time in his life, he was truly on an adventure.

  Blake looked around the crowded car. There were ghosts, of course, but he did his best to ignore them by refusing to make eye contact. No, ghosts were the last thing Blake wanted to deal with on the first day of his new life. He peered out the window at the passing scenery, reminded of his childhood and all the places the circus had taken him. A voice behind him jarred Blake from his thoughts.

  “Is this seat taken?”

  Blake turned to see a tall blond in his early twenties standing in the aisle. He motioned to the vacant seat next to Blake for clarification.

  “No,” Blake replied.

  The blond, wearing khaki shorts and a T-shirt with the UCLA logo, placed his backpack in the overhead bin before sitting down beside Blake. The clean-shaven new arrival had a nice chiseled jawline and high cheekbones. His blue eyes twinkled when he spoke.

  “I’m Chance,” he said.

  “I’m B
lake.” Blake offered his hand.

  “Where are you headed?”

  “San Francisco.” Blake admired Chance’s muscular calves and his chest, which was bulging inside his tight T-shirt.

  “Great city. Are you visiting friends, or do you live there?”

  “I live there. Well, I plan to live there—”

  “Wow,” Chance said. “You’re moving there right now. How exciting.”

  Chance shifted in his seat and his bare leg came to rest against Blake’s leg. Blake swallowed and felt an erection stirring in his jeans. He couldn’t move, afraid Chance would move his leg away. He sat, silently staring at the muscular leg, mesmerized by the blond hairs covering it.

  Blake had never been with another man. He had been attracted to plenty of them: visitors to the circus, clerks in shops, even a brief crush on the strong man, but had never had the opportunity to act on his urges.

  When Blake finally looked up, Chance was staring at him, then asked, “Are you gay?” His voice was barely audible.

  Blake felt his face flush. “Yes,” he managed.

  He locked eyes with Chance, astonished at how blue his eyes were. Blake wanted to say something but his mouth felt dry. He wanted to touch Chance’s face but felt riveted to his seat.

  A smile slowly crept across Chance’s handsome face. “Come on,” he said, rising from his seat. “I have a sleeper car.”

  *

  Sex with Chance was amazing. For the first time since leaving his parents in Kansas City, Blake felt certain he had done the right thing by leaving. No longer a virgin, he now viewed his new adventure in an entirely different way. He was no longer a child, and he felt as if he could accomplish anything. Finally, life was starting to make sense. Hungry for the physical contact he had only imagined up to that point, Blake had sex multiple times with Chance on their trip west. And Chance, though seeming astonished and physically exhausted by Blake’s stamina and sexual appetite, clearly appreciated his beautiful body and desire to fuck.