by Abigail Roux
“Care to elaborate on that?” Wyatt asked with a self-conscious laugh.
Ash ran his tongue along his teeth, playing with his metal stud, brow furrowed. “I want you to stay, but mostly because I’m scared. And that isn’t fair to you.”
Wyatt reached out to pat Ash’s knee. “It’s okay. I’ll stay if you need me to.”
Ash shook his head. “Tomorrow.”
“Okay.”
Ash leaned over the console to give Wyatt a kiss, and they lingered over it until Ash was having second thoughts about letting him leave. He finally pulled away and gave Wyatt’s cheek a pat. “I’ll see you later.”
Wyatt nodded. Ash got out of the car quickly, before he could change his mind, and waved as he headed for his building.
When he pushed his door open and flicked the light on, he stopped dead. His keys fell from his fingers.
Every piece of furniture in his house was tipped on its edge. The coffee table looked as if it were teetering on a precipice. The couch had tilted so far over that the edges of the cushions were touching the floor. Even the lamp that lit the living room was tilted, its shade askew, casting odd shadows on the ceiling and walls.
Ash began to panic, his breaths hard and heavy, a tingling sensation traveling from his fingers up his arms to his head. It felt like the hairs on his scalp were all standing on end.
He couldn’t move.
Hands grabbed at his arms and spun him around. He gasped when he met Wyatt’s eyes.
“Are you okay?” Wyatt asked, out of breath from his dash up the stairs.
Ash shook his head woodenly.
“You screamed.”
“No,” Ash managed to say. “No, I didn’t.”
“I heard you from my car. I heard you scream.”
Ash shook his head again. It wasn’t possible that he’d made a noise loud enough for Wyatt to hear on the street; he’d been paralyzed. He turned and looked into his condo again. Everything was normal.
“I . . .”
“Ash?”
He put his hand out and flicked his fingers at his furniture. “It was all . . .”
“Okay, come on,” Wyatt said, his voice gentle and worried as he ushered Ash inside.
Ash sat on the couch, his movements feeling stilted and foreign. Wyatt headed for the bathroom, but when he tried the door, it was locked.
“You live alone, why do you lock your bathroom door?” Wyatt teased as he went to the other bedroom to try the other door to the bathroom.
“I don’t,” Ash answered, voice flat. He was sure Wyatt didn’t hear him.
“This one’s locked too,” Wyatt called out.
Ash took a deep breath as a violent shiver ran down his body.
“How the hell did you lock both doors from the inside?”
“I didn’t.”
Wyatt came around the corner to look at him.
“I’m haunted.”
“What?” Wyatt asked, laughing, though he looked uncomfortable. “I thought we got rid of all this.”
Ash’s eyes strayed to the lamp. He shook his head. There was nothing to say that didn’t make him sound crazy.
“I can’t get into your bathroom.”
Ash nodded.
“Come home with me, Ash. Let’s get out of here.”
“Okay.”
Wyatt looked relieved that Ash didn’t fight him.
“Just let me grab some stuff.”
“Want me to help?” Wyatt asked, still hovering over him.
Ash shook his head and glanced at the bathroom door. “I’ll just be a second.”
Wyatt looked doubtful, but he finally nodded. “If you’re sure.”
“I am. Go on. I’ll be there in a second.”
Wyatt bent to give him a kiss on the cheek, and then he was gone.
Ash got up, walking to the bathroom door with a growing sense of dread. He tried the glass doorknob, and the door swung open with ease.
He shivered as cold air flowed from the bathroom. “You don’t like Wyatt?” he said to the empty room. “Well go fuck yourself. I’m keeping him.”
“You’re haunted?”
Ash nodded, morose.
“Are you sure about this?” Ryan asked as he wiped down the bar top.
“My apartment now, too.”
“That place has always been drafty as hell, man.”
“Drafts don’t lock doors.”
“Neither do ghosts,” Ryan grunted
“You don’t know that.”
“You don’t either, Ash. You’re still coming off a concussion, you’ve been working hard, and you’re falling in love. It’s completely understandable that you think you’re haunted.”
“How is that understandable?” Ash turned and threw his own rag down on the table he’d been cleaning. “How does any of what you just said make sense?”
Ryan shrugged.
“You really think I’m falling in love?”
“Uh-huh.”
Ash huffed, but he had to smile as he turned around and picked his rag up again. As if on cue, the bell rang, and Wyatt pushed through the door.
“Hey,” Ash said with a smile.
Wyatt gave him one of his goofy, self-conscious grins that made Ash want to kiss him.
“I don’t have much time,” Wyatt said.
“Ooh, afternoon delight,” Ryan crooned from behind the bar. “How you doing, Wyatt? Talk later.” He headed for the kitchen.
Wyatt watched him go with a confused smile.
Ash laughed. “What are you doing?”
“I came to ask you on a date.”
“Really? It’s a little late for that, isn’t it?”
Wyatt rolled his eyes. “What are you doing tonight?”
“I’m leaving on a jet plane, actually.”
Wyatt grimaced and smacked his forehead. “Vegas!”
Ash laughed. “Yeah.”
“I forgot.”
“It’s okay. It’s just the biggest flair competition of the year.”
“I’m sorry.”
Ash leaned on the bar and grinned. “You get a pass ’cause you’re cute.”
“Are you up for that with . . . all that’s been going on?”
Ash shrugged, uncomfortable again. “I don’t know. I hope so. We’ll be gone for three nights; if I’m not up to flairing, I’ll just have to drink a lot.”
“Just don’t gamble and you’ll be fine.”
Ash tried to smile but failed. “I’m . . . I’m kind of looking forward to getting away for a few days.”
“I understand.”
“Can you do me a favor?” Wyatt nodded and reached out to slide his hand over Ash’s hip and pull him closer. Ash smiled as warmth stole over him. “Can you walk Bullseye for me while I’m gone?”
Wyatt raised an eyebrow and leaned closer. “Bullseye?”
“The broken neighbor’s dog.”
“Oh. Yeah.”
“It’s a big sacrifice, I know. See, I’d have to give you a key to my place in order for you to do that,” Ash said, narrowing his eyes and smirking.
“Yeah.” Wyatt nodded. “Yeah, I think I can do that.”
“Good. You’ll have to pick me up at the airport, too, when I get back. And then let me into the condo cause I only have one set of keys left.” He turned into Wyatt and kissed him.
Wyatt laughed. “I can do that.” He kissed Ash again, unable to resist. It grew more heated, and Ash pulled him closer until Wyatt had him pressed against the bar.
Ash held Wyatt’s face in both hands and kissed him harder. When he pulled back, he grinned and said, “If you want to know what color it is, all you have to do is ask, you know.”
“I’d rather be surprised,” Wyatt murmured. He kissed Ash again.
“Health code violation!” Caleb shouted from the door to the kitchen.
Wyatt broke the kiss to glance over, but Ash just laughed and slid his hand into Wyatt’s pocket.
“We’ll finish this later,” Ash said to
Wyatt before letting him go. “It’ll have to be after Vegas, though.”
Wyatt nodded, disappointed. Ash found it hard to let Wyatt go, and for the first time, he realized he wasn’t looking forward to the competition. Maybe Ryan was right. Maybe he was falling in love.
Wyatt picked up Bullseye from the grateful young woman who lived across the hall from Ash, and they started on their walk. The dog was excitable, running full-speed at anything that moved until he hit the end of his leash and nearly yanked Wyatt’s arm out of its socket.
The walk still started nicely. They made their way around Fountain Lake, where the paddleboats were in the summer. The fountain in the middle of the lake was lit from its center with colors of the season, and tonight the spouting water glowed an eerie red and orange. The day had been unusually warm, but the night was cold and the mist that had developed over the water was thick and swirling with the breeze.
Wyatt kept glancing at the lake, wondering why it made him so tense. Fog on the water was anything but unusual, and the lights weren’t out of the ordinary either. Every special occasion had colored lights in Fountain Lake. Regardless, Wyatt pulled the dog off the sidewalk that led around the lake and started him across the street, back toward the Fan. When they reached the block that hosted Ash’s building, they walked down the opposite side and turned the corner into the alley behind.
Bullseye found himself a patch of grass and continued to wag his little tail as he did his business. None of the grass at the lake had been appropriate. He was a ridiculously happy dog. Wyatt looked around the alley at the bones of the old buildings, not really interested in watching the mutt pee. There were parking spaces behind Ash’s building, and a large dumpster. The entrances to the fire escapes were also back here, and it was interesting to see where old windows had been bricked up and new ones had been cut. There were several doors along the ground floor level that led to Wyatt knew not where.
Wyatt was still looking around when he caught a glint of metal on the ground. He frowned and took a step closer, and his heart leapt into his throat when he realized what he was looking at.
He bent down and fought off the dog’s excited pawing and licks as he picked up the set of keys. They had a battered fleur-de-lis keychain attached to them, the same one Wyatt had seen on Ash’s keys the first night he’d gone home with him. Wyatt dug the key to Ash’s building out of his pocket and held it up to one of the three keys on the keychain. It didn’t match. He pushed the dog away as it wrapped around him and tried the second key.
It was a perfect match, and Wyatt swallowed against a sudden tightness in his throat. How had Ash’s lost keys gotten here?
“You look like you lost something,” someone commented from behind him.
Wyatt whirled around, searching for the source of the voice in the dark crevices of the building. A man stepped away from the shadow of the dumpster and Wyatt’s heart raced even as he tried to calm himself.
“No, I uh . . . I found them,” he stuttered as he held up the keys and jangled them. The dog sat down behind him and whined, winding the leash around his ankles.
“Oh, that’s good,” the man drawled as he moved into the light. With a rush of relief, Wyatt recognized him as one of Ash’s older neighbors. He turned and began strolling down the alley, using a cane to aid his progress. “You have a nice night, now,” he said over his shoulder.
“And you,” Wyatt managed to stutter. He watched the old man, realizing that he was nearly hyperventilating as he stood there. He ran his hand over his face and then opened his eyes again, half expecting the man to be standing right in front of him despite having recognized him. But the shadowed figure turned the corner and continued on into the night, leaving Wyatt alone and very nearly too scared to move.
He glanced down at the keys, found right where Ash had said he’d seen the man in the top hat holding them, and he began to shake. Suddenly all the nonsense about ghosts and hauntings didn’t seem like such nonsense after all. Everything he’d been trying to tell himself, the explanations for the sounds, the shadows he’d seen in the corner of his eye, Ash’s terrifying experiences.
They were all real.
When Wyatt picked Ash up Monday morning, he waited until after Ash had told him about the competition to mention the keys. Ash had placed tenth overall, which Wyatt found astounding considering his recent head injury and how many entries there were, and he had won almost $10,000 in prize money. Ryan had followed up with a twelfth place finish.
They really were studs of the flairing world.
“You have to make the overhead lights so they blind him, you know? Or he can’t do anything,” Ash said as he laid his seat back and closed his eyes. “He gets so easily distracted by low-cut shirts in the audience. Of course, hell, I’m the same way with anything shiny, so I shouldn’t be saying anything.”
Wyatt smiled fondly at him. Maybe now wasn’t the best time to tell Ash he’d become a believer in the hauntings. Ash was exhausted. And happy. “Do you work tonight?” he asked instead.
“No, bar’s still shut down.” Ash sighed. “But we were going to go in and get some shit done since we left Caleb for three days.”
“Caleb’s done.”
“What?”
“He got everything done. Noah and I helped a little. There’s some finishing touches left and some things to be delivered, but the bar reopened today.”
“You’re kidding! That’s incredible.”
Wyatt grinned and glanced sideways at Ash. He saw a flash of a face in the window above Ash’s head, a dark silhouette that seemed to be staring at him. When he turned his head to look at it more directly, it was gone.
His heart was beating harder and his body had gone cold. He looked again, trying to catch another glimpse, but all he saw were cars passing by and the city of Richmond growing larger as they neared downtown.
“You okay?” Ash asked when he noticed Wyatt looking back and forth between the road and the space over his head.
Wyatt gave the glass one last glance before turning his attention back to the road with a curt nod. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good.”
“You sure? You look a little . . . pale.” Ash sat his seat up and leaned in close.
Wyatt nodded and tried to give a reassuring smile. He put his hand on Ash’s knee. Ash’s hand slid over Wyatt’s, fingers threading through his. The tips of Ash’s fingers were cold. Wyatt squeezed them, trying to warm them.
Maybe he wouldn’t tell Ash about the keys just yet. He was obviously a little too close to all this ghost business if he was managing to spook himself now.
He gave that window one more glance. Yeah. Far too close.
The sound of a key in the lock and a door creaking open barely registered with Ash, and it wasn’t until Caleb stepped in front of him and made eye contact that Ash forced himself to focus.
“What are you doing here, lad?”
Ash blinked and glanced around the bar. “I don’t know.”
Caleb raised an eyebrow and discreetly began to look him over.
“I woke up and I was here.” He realized he was sitting on the bar, legs swinging free, staring listlessly at the newly refinished floor. Music played on the sound system, an odd mixture of hardcore rock and old-world sea shanty.
Caleb met his eyes again in alarm. “You don’t know how you got here?”
Ash shook his head. “I don’t have my keys,” he whispered. “I don’t know how I got in.”
Caleb blinked at him for a moment before he seemed to shake it off. He nodded.
Ash remembered Wyatt driving him home last night. He remembered Wyatt staying the night. He remembered waking up after Wyatt had left for work, and going to take a shower. And then he was here.
“I’m going to call Ryan in. And then I’ll call Wyatt and Noah, okay?”
“No,” Ash begged. “Please. He thinks I’m half-crazy already.”
“Ash. You like him, right? He likes you? Something is obviously wrong, so let him help you through thi
s.”
Ash shook his head, staring at the floor again. His eyes were losing focus. The world was beginning to blur into something that didn’t matter again. All that mattered was the seductive draw of giving himself over, letting something stronger than him take control.
“I’m calling him.”
Ash didn’t protest. He continued to stare at that spot on the floor, unwilling and unable to look away.
The board was meeting to discuss a variety of things. Wyatt had seen everything on the agenda, from his position as curator to what to do about the mice in the attic that had been snacking on General Lee’s dinner jacket. There was a news crew coming later that day to observe the unveiling of a one-hundred-year-old newspaper, and Wyatt and Noah were set to supervise that if Wyatt still had his job at that point. Some people had been complaining about strange noises in the Haunted Hall, but they were chalking that up to either overactive imaginations or pranks on the interns.
Wyatt shivered. He was so sick of ghosts, he almost wished he’d just taken his pink slip and walked away.
His phone began to vibrate just as the meeting was starting up. He moved around in his seat, plucking the phone out of his pocket and peering at it, trying to be discreet. Gravedigger’s. That was odd, and though Wyatt was a little concerned, he didn’t dare answer it while his neck was already on the chopping block.
“So, Dr. Case, what have you got to say for yourself?” Edgar Reth said to start the meeting.
Wyatt wished he had the power to make someone burst into flames with his mind.
Reth’s gaze darted around uneasily, then settled back on Wyatt.
There was a knock on the door, loud in the tense silence. Noah poked his head into the room and hissed at Wyatt.
Wyatt turned wide, incredulous eyes on his friend. Noah pointed at the phone.
Wyatt gestured toward the table and the twelve board members who were watching them.
Noah pointed more emphatically, and Wyatt waved him away. Noah ducked out of the room again, and Wyatt turned his attention back to Reth, surprised to find that he was flustered now. What could be going on that would prompt Noah to interrupt this meeting?
“Dr. Case?” Reth demanded. “You’re here to defend your job.”