Things That Go Bump
Blessed Be the Ties that Bind

"Look, Alex!" the woman's voice called from another room. "Come look!"

Alex blinked. He was fairly sure that there hadn't been a woman in his house when he had left that morning. So thinking, he got up and walked into the other room.

In the center of the room stood a huge, pink, frilly bassinet. Alex jerked backwards instinctively at the . . . pink . . . sight. How had that gotten there? He was a bachelor. He did not do pink and frilly. Bending over the bassinet was a slender woman with wavy black hair. She looked up and smiled at him.

"Oh, look, Alex, isn't she beautiful?"

"Jewel?" Alex asked, totally lost. "But we broke up in high school!"

The woman, who he had now identified as his high school girlfriend Jewel, smiled beatifically at him. "What are you talking about, Alex? We got married right after high school." She lifted a bundle from the bassinet and walked over to him. "And this is our baby." Jewel pulled back the blanket, and Alex looked in to see a beautiful baby girl. She opened her mouth and scrunched up her face to cry, but instead of a normal baby's cry, a noise that sounded a lot like Alex's cell phone ring came from her mouth.

"What the--?"

The baby kept crying like Alex's cell phone until Alex realized, in a sort of fuzzy way, that he was dreaming and his phone was ringing. He reached out and blindly groped for it.

"Hello?" he asked blearily after hitting the 'Talk' button.

"Hey, Dutch. Did I wake you?"

"Yeah." Alex squinted at the digital clock on his nightstand. 12:30. 12:30? 12:30! "Oh, geez! It's after noon! I'm not in trouble with Cowboy, am I?"

Snoddy laughed. "Nah. It's Saturday. Besides, after that attack you had, Cowboy'd let you stay home. By the way, are you feeling better?"

"Yeah, but then, I haven't sat up yet." Wait a minute, home? How had he got home? The last thing he remembered was a blinding pain and a vague sensation of being carried. "Hang on, how did I get home? You guys didn't let me drive, did you?"

"No!" Snoddy sounded so horrified at the idea that Alex had to chuckle. "We dropped you off on our way back to the office. Oh, that reminds me—Cowboy told me to tell you that he's going to need a copy of the key to your apartment if you plan to have any more fits like that. Bumlets didn't have fun picking your lock."

"Okay. Thanks for letting me know."

"Almost forgot! After every successful job, we usually go to Cowboy's house to celebrate. You up for that?"

"Yeah, sure." Alex laughed. "Not like I had plans for tonight anyway."

"So, I'll pick you up at seven, then?"

"Whoa! Hold on!" Alex sat straight up and a wave of nausea crashed over him. When it passed, he managed to croak out, "Say again?"

"I'll pick you up at seven," Snoddy repeated, over-enunciating each word. "Is that okay?"

"Are you asking me out?"

"Basically, yeah."

/Well, if that isn't audacity . . ./ "Okay. See you then."

"Yeah. See you then." Alex hit 'End' on his cell phone and just sat there for a second, letting it all sink in. Then, he grinned and hit a couple of buttons, then waited for the other person to pick up.

"Hello?"

"Princess, it's Alex. You will not believe what just happened . . ."




That evening, at seven o' clock sharp, someone knocked on Alex's door. Alex took a deep breath, compulsively straightened his glasses and ran a hand through his hair, then opened the door.

"Hi, Snoddy."

"Hey, Dutchy. You ready to go?"

"Um. Yeah." Alex swallowed hard. /God, listen to me! I sound like such an idiot. Such intelligent conversation./ The two men began walking down the hallway towards the elevator.

"You look very nice," Snoddy commented.

"Thanks." Alex felt his face heating up. "Uh, you do too."

They walked in silence.

"I'm sorry, Dutchy," Snoddy said suddenly. "I'm not much for conversation."

"That's okay," Alex replied with a relieved laugh. "I'm not either."

The rest of the trip was passed in companionable silence.

Snoddy finally killed his car's engine in front of a large house about ten miles beyond the city limits. It was a simple but elegant house, painted in earth tones with dark green shutters for contrast. Planted in front of the house and along the sidewalk leading to the front door were different varieties of cacti.

"Guard plants," Alex commented, looking at the two-inch long spikes on one.

Snoddy chuckled as they made their way up to the front door. "Cowboy insisted on them. He said it made the place look more like Santa Fe." He rang the doorbell and a blonde woman answered.

"Snoddy! Glad you could make it. And you must be Dutchy." She smiled. "Come on in. The girls have been waiting for you, Snoddy." She stepped aside, and Alex and Snoddy went in. Before Snoddy had taken an entire step within the house, he was attacked by two roughly waist-high blurs.

"Uncle Snoddy!" said one of the blurs. It stopped moving long enough for Alex to identify it as a girl of about six years old with dirty-blonde hair and big blue eyes.

"Come look what we did!" said the other blur, which was identical to the first. Both girls seized Snoddy's hands and led him off.

"Oh!" said the woman. She turned to Alex and stuck out her hand. "We haven't been properly introduced. I'm Jess Kelly, but please, call me Stress. You are?"

"Alex Durecht," Alex replied, shaking her hand. "Were those two your daughters?"

"Yes," Stress replied, looking at where the girls had disappeared with a fond smile. "Katie and Melissa. They're very fond of Snoddy, if you couldn't tell." She motioned for Alex to follow her. As they walked, Stress continued, "Everyone's here except for Blink and Fire, but, then, newlyweds are always late." She glanced over her shoulder and smirked, making the meaning of her words perfectly clear, and Alex flushed.

They arrived at the living room, an expansive area covered with Western-style décor. A faded handbill from Buffalo Bill's Wild West Show hung under glass on one wall, while framed covers of penny dreadfuls showcasing Santa Fe decorated the others. A cowboy hat hung over each entrance. Scattered about the room were loveseats, upon which Alex's fellow investigators and several women Alex didn't recognize were sitting. In the center of the room was a long, low table loaded with pizza, chips, dip, and vegetables.

"Take a seat," said Stress, gesturing to an empty loveseat while taking hers next to Jack. "Help yourself, there's plenty of food for everyone." She reached over and opened a cooler next to her. "What do you want?"

"Uh, Diet Coke, please," Alex replied. Stress tossed him a soda, which Alex fumbled desperately before managing to get a grip on it.

Snoddy came back in then, still being dragged by Katie and Melissa. He sat next to Alex, sending the girls back to their mother.

"Adorable, but a handful," he commented quietly to Alex.

Introductions were made. With Bumlets was his wife, Gabrielle, a freelance photographer, but, she explained, no one had called her "Gabrielle" since she had set a box of Cheerios ablaze . . . hence her nickname Blaze.

On the loveseat next to them were Mush and his fiancée, Melody, a museum curator. Like Blaze, she too had a nickname that reflected her personality—due to her penchant for listening to and singing gloomy songs, she had earned the nickname Bittersweet Harmony, or Bittah.

Just as the introductions were finished, the doorbell rang and Stress got up to answer it. She returned with a rather red Blink, followed by a girl whose face matched her bright red hair.

"The newlyweds are here!" she said with a grin.

The reason behind Felicia Bennett's nickname, Firecracker, was painfully obvious. Her fiery hair was the first thing Alex noticed about her.

"Okay, girls, time for bed," Jack said.

"But Da~ddy!" the girls whined in chorus.

Jack shook his head firmly. "Mommy and I said that you could stay up until everyone got here. Everyone's here, so it's bedtime." He hoisted his daughters into the air, one under each arm, and carried them from the room, ignoring their struggles and protests.

"So, Dutchy," Blaze said, "how did a guy like you get wrapped up in all of this supernatural nonsense?"

Alex shrugged helplessly. "All I know is, one day I'm working at J.C. Penney's with my best friend, and that evening, I get a letter that says, 'Dear Mr. Durecht, you're telekinetic, we need a telekinetic, you start Monday.' "

Firecracker chuckled. "That sounds like Eric's letter. Remember that, honey?"

"Yeah," Blink agreed with a grin. " 'Dear Mr. Bennett, we need someone with your powers, and no, you don't get a choice.' It was the first experience I had with someone reading my mind."

The conversation meandered from topic to topic. There were a lot of laughs, usually at someone's expense. Finally, Alex asked the question that had been bothering him for a while:

"I'm curious," he said. "Is everyone's having a nickname on purpose or just a weird coincidence?"

Everyone exchanged glances.

"I think Jack would be the best to tell you about that," Stress said finally.

"Well, Jack?" Bittah asked. "What is with the nicknames?"

Jack shifted, a look of inexpressible sadness crossed his face, making him look much, much older than he was.

"Ah," he said softly. "The nicknames." He sighed. "Well, Dutch, you see, when Things That Go Bump started, it was me, Snoddy, Bumlets, David, Dominic, and Jake. At first, we just used each other's real names—we didn't see a point in not. But—I don't know if you've ever heard it—there's a myth that says that if someone knows your true name, then they have complete control over you.

"It's not true for human-to-human contact, but luckily for us, it is true when you're dealing with spirits. Unfortunately, it's a two-way street. If a spirit learns your true name, he can control you.

"Dominic was America's foremost tarot card reader. He could look at one card and tell you your life's story. Somehow—we're not completely sure how—a spirit got a hold of Dominic's real name. Dominic was driven to insanity by the spirit and killed himself."

"God rest his soul," Bumlets murmured, crossing himself.

"We didn't know for sure how it had happened, so we dismissed it as a singular incident," Jack continued. "Jake—he could fly; it was as natural to him as walking is to us—was the next to go. David said his real name on a case, but we figured it didn't matter since we captured the spirit we'd come for. What we didn't know was that there was another ghost, one who'd heard his name. A few months later, Jake followed Dominic's example." Jack swallowed hard.

"We began to think that there was a connection between our real names and the deaths. That was when the tradition of nicknames began. When they were new, though, I screwed up and called David by his real name while we were trying to seal a ghost. The spirit took control of him right then, and although we managed to seal it, we killed David in the process." He swallowed again and blinked a few times. "Since then, we've sworn never to call one another by our real names on a case, because none of us wants to end up like them."

Although the small talk continued for a little while longer, the party was effectively over. Each couple bid Jack and Stress good-bye and filed out. A feeling like a huge, rectangular ice cube settled in the pit of Alex's stomach. As he and Snoddy left, he mumbled a quick apology to Stress, then darted out.

Snoddy caught up with him by the car. They got into the car in silence, then about halfway back to Alex's apartment, he dared to speak.

"Boy, I really killed the mood, didn't I?"

Snoddy laughed softly. "It's not your fault. Cowboy's been blaming himself for David's death for far too long now; it's good that he finally managed to get the whole story out."

The rest of the ride passed in silence, mainly because Alex was feeling far too idiotic to speak. Single-handedly, he had managed to totally ruin the celebration. He was SUCH an idiot.

"Dutch—Alex, listen," Snoddy said once they had gotten to Alex's apartment building and were sitting out in the parking lot, the car idling. He reached over and covered Alex's folded hands with his own. "Don't blame yourself. The story was bound to come out eventually. It was just bad luck you happened to trigger it." He smiled. "I don't blame you, and no one else does either. Want me to walk you up to your place?"

"Are you sure you don’t mind?"

"Mind? Nah. It'll be a pleasure." Snoddy killed the engine and got out, going around and opening Alex's door for him. Alex couldn't help but flush a bit.

They walked up to Alex's apartment, and just before Alex turned to bid Snoddy good-night, the taller man gently seized his shoulders and kissed him chastely.

"Good night," he whispered once they had separated. "Sweet dreams." He grinned, winked, and sauntered down the hallway.

In a daze, Alex let himself in and slumped against the door. He listened for the sounds of the elevator doors shutting, and once he was sure Snoddy had departed, he jumped up, punched the air, and screamed,

"YES!"

~end part three~

Continue to part 4