“Did we turn off the lights in the house?” Austin said, taking a staggering step toward the edge of the sidewalk.
The lights on the top floor of the museum were all ablaze. Lit up like Christmas would be the best way to describe it. “Donna and I were the only ones up there today. We didn’t turn on any lights. And since when is there a Christmas tree in the turret?”
“There isn’t.” Austin reached out for his hand and gripped it hard. All warmth gone now as he shivered.
“I can’t remember if I locked the doors when I left.” He admitted.
“Oh-ka-ay.” Heath dragged the word out. A shadow walked in front of a window and disappeared. He blinked. “Someone is inside.”
“But who would break in and put up a Christmas tree?” Austin’s voice trembled as if he were freezing. He reached for Heath’s hand again, clutching tight. Maybe even tighter than before.
“Should we call the police?” Heath was ready to call. He had his hand on his phone in his pocket when the light in the dormer at the very top of the house flickered to life. “I locked that door. I know I locked that door. That’s the room where we found the secret—”
“That is the secret room, Heath. We never found access to that dormer window. I never asked why it was walled off. I didn’t think it mattered. It’s on the side of the house—” He stopped speaking when a second shadow passed in front of the dormer. The silhouette of a woman wearing a long skirt clearly outlined. And then the light went out. All the lights went out.
“Oh, fuck me.” Austin wheezed, squeezing Heath’s hand. “Tell me you saw that and I’m not hallucinating again?”
“Wonder what Rory put in that Irish coffee?” Heath replied because he would never say the obvious words.
Austin just laughed. It sounded slightly manic. He let go of Heath’s hand and stepped out onto the street. Pausing long enough for a car to pass before darting across to the other side.
And like a dumbass, Heath followed him.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The courtyard door they used to come and go was unlocked.
Austin mentally kicked himself for rushing out without checking. It was his job to make sure the property was protected. He leaned his forehead against the door and tried not to panic as he heard footsteps approaching.
Heath.
His boss.
The owner of the house and all the antiques, some priceless, inside.
He was so fired.
So, so, fired.
“I could have checked it when I saw you race out.” He heard the words as if from a distance. He just didn’t qualify them. “I could have checked when I came back from the pub this afternoon. After seeing how upset you were. I could have stayed. I didn’t have to run out like a diva in a snit.”
“You could have. Still doesn’t make it any less my fault for not locking the door and setting the alarm.” Austin couldn’t face his employer. Not while his heart was still racing in his chest. “You didn’t believe me.”
“And then I walked into the middle of a heatwave of a nightmare, that I can’t explain. And well… there’s a lady in full Victorian dress in the secret attic room upstairs. Unless I hallucinated that… I think that coffee might have been a mistake.” Heath’s hand was cold on his. He allowed Heath to press the door handle down and steadied himself as the door opened. He didn’t need to fall in face-first. He had enough bruises; he didn’t need a goose egg on his forehead or a bloody nose to go with those bruises.
“Edwardian,” Austin said, without thinking about what he was saying. “She looked Edwardian to me. The skirt was slimmer at the hip. No bustle. Victorian would have had a bustle.”
“Okay.” Heath’s breath was hot on his ear. “Edwardian, then. As long as I’m not crazy and you saw her too.”
Austin blinked several times and nodded. He wanted to lean back and press himself into the heat of the man he’d allowed himself to… no. He wasn’t falling for a man who looked exactly like the ghost, he— Hell, maybe he needed to take a long vacation in a nice place for the mentally infirm. He wasn’t in love with a ghost. And he sure as hell wasn’t in love with his boss. Just because he looked like the ghost, he wasn’t in love with… because that was crazy.
He dragged in a deep breath and took the first step into the back hallway, putting distance between himself and Heath before he allowed the fantasy to run unchecked all the way up the stairs and into the room with the wedding ring quilt.
Heath followed him inside and flipped the light switch. Thoroughly modern electric fixtures came on from high above. All shadows fled in the bright light. In the silence, Austin could hear the slight hum of fluorescent bulbs and nothing else. The house was as quiet as a tomb.
“The other doors were bolted, and the alarms set. If anyone was here, they would have come out this door or those alarms would be screaming right now.” Austin felt the need to fill the silence if only to ward off the screaming heebie-jeebies creeping up his spine and over his skin.
“So, you’re saying, that if there was someone here, they’re still here?” Heath sounded only less terrified than Austin felt. He tried to hide it. And Austin couldn’t help but wonder if maybe part of Heath’s disquiet was caused by Austin… or maybe he was wondering if Austin was crazy enough to drag him into some insane plot to hurt him.
“If someone is here. They’re still here. Or we’re both drunk and hallucinating and scaring the shit out of each other for no good reason.” Austin reached into the umbrella stand beside the door for the baseball bat he put there, back when he was here alone most of the time. He came up with an umbrella. Heath reached around him and grabbed the bat. He shrugged when Austin raked him an incredulous look.
“I saw horses this afternoon. Horses. And I saw people… okay, I saw a man. A young one. He was shirtless. And sweaty. And… he didn’t have a face,” Heath said as he hefted the bat with both hands. His tailored designer jacket pulled taut over his broad shoulders. Heath didn’t blink. He nodded and started for the back staircase, taking the lead while Austin tried to do the same with his umbrella, but his broken hand made it impossible to wield it like a weapon.
“The horses were all black. Arabians. I think. Beautiful animals. You were there.” Austin whispered recalling his own waking nightmare that afternoon, and his own faceless ghost. The face seemed clearer now in his memory. “Well, your ancestor was there. He was young. Very young. Sweaty. Smiling. He seemed so happy to see me… and the horses. I could hear the sounds of… a smithy. And it was so hot. Hotter than summer. The fires burned in the courtyard… but it wasn’t the courtyard, it was the stable… it’s not as clear as I thought it was. But it seemed so real.”
Heath stopped on the first landing and looked back. The light above them one of the original gaslights that had been converted to electricity. It was dim and cast an orangish glow. The effect seemed to flicker over his face. His eyes were wide, and he sweated, the same as Austin. He stared for a long moment, then nodded. “Yeah,” he said, his voice a strained whisper. “Exactly.”
“The girls all say they’ve seen the horses.” Austin pointed out. “We’re not crazy.” He paused for a long moment while his heart raced. The sound of his fear, the only thing he heard in the silent house. “I’m not crazy. I know you’re not him, I know you’re not a ghost. But he was here. I saw him. I talked to him— I slept with him. I had sex with a ghost.”
“A ghost who looks exactly like me?” Heath said after a long moment of heavy silence. He went very pale, his skin wax-like in the flickering gas lighting. “In my bed upstairs.” He blinked rapidly. His pupils expanded until the blue almost disappeared from his eyes. “Wife… I had a wife. But I loved—”
“Someone else,” Austin said into the heavy silence. His heart racing so fast he might swoon at any moment.
“A boy, I was in love with a boy,” Heath said, his voice not quite right. Deeper, maybe. With an accent that Heath, this Heath, didn’t have. “He went away…” Heath cleared
his throat and looked around, he seemed upset. “I dreamed. I mean… I had a dream not that long ago. Of… I woke up alone and confused. I slept with my ex because… that dream seemed so real. And this place. Sometimes…” he stopped speaking and glanced up the stairs. The wall sconce lamps didn’t flicker now. They glowed a soft gold against the red velvet flocked wallpaper. The gold stripes sparkling like real gold.
“Sometimes it’s like you’re awake in a dream and you can almost see a memory, but you blink and it’s gone?” Austin had no idea what he was talking about. He had had no experiences like that in the house. If he didn’t count the night of bliss in the wedding ring room.
“Exactly. There should be children. Little girls. I can almost hear their voices. I should smell the fireplace. And… his pipe. He smoked a pipe.” Real fear entered Heath’s eyes. He blinked rapidly before swiping his hand over his face. “What the hell am I talking about?”
Austin’s skin puckered with goosebumps. Something heavy moved upstairs. Or the floor settled. Or wind hit the side of the house. Could have been mice in the walls. Or bats. Not that he ever saw or heard anything before to make him think there were vermin in the house. “We should call the police. Let them go look.”
Heath stopped rubbing his face and glared at Austin for half a heartbeat. He squared his jaw and wrapped his hand around the bat hilt. Putting himself in front of Austin, he climbed. One step at a time. And Austin followed. The umbrella in his hand felt heavier with every step.
On the second-floor landing, Heath held up his hand before stepping out. Austin stopped. Neither one of them spoke. Austin held his breath and listened, hard, as if holding his breath would help him hear better. All it did was make him light-headed.
There were no lights on upstairs. Not a single one. There was no one up there, except them.
“The door to the third floor is closed,” Heath said just before Austin passed out from lack of oxygen. “I remember locking it when Donna and I came downstairs. I left the keys on the table in the workroom.”
“We should have checked the workroom first,” Austin wheezed. His head ached. His vision wanted to blur. “The turret is only accessible on the third floor.”
“As is the attic room.” Heath’s voice changed again. He sounded more like the Heath he was when he first arrived. So precise, in speech and manner.
“I was wondering when the hoity-toity priss would come back,” Austin said. And immediately wished he’d kept his mouth closed. The stairwell threatened to swallow him whole. He couldn’t focus on the man in front of him. He dropped the umbrella. It clattered loudly in the quiet house as it rolled down the stairs. “Heath.” Austin could barely get the word past his lips. His body felt heavy. His lips, numb.
“Austin?” Heath’s voice sounded husky, maybe a little angry, and very distant. Hot hands gripped his upper arms, knocking the jacket off one shoulder. Half of him shivered from cold. “Are you okay?”
“Dizzy.” Austin blinked several times to clear his vision. Lamplight flickered down the hallway, glowing warm and inviting. “I need to lie down for a moment.”
Heath held his arms while he looked everywhere, but at Austin. He seemed so very angry. He dragged in a deep breath and blew it out in Austin’s face. It smelled like spiced wine.
They’d snuck a bottle from the kitchen when the cook wasn’t looking. Nobody would miss it. Everyone was out. Gone to town. It would be hours before anyone would miss him from the stable. The windows were open, they would have to be quiet. Unlike that day down by the creek when they’d first kissed and touched and no one was around to hear them. He didn’t know if he wanted to be quiet. They could go back out there. “I have to get back to work soon. We have to be…”
“Quick? I know. I’ll help you catch up. Come on. I want to see you in my bed.” They climbed the stairs, the bottle almost empty now, the wine made everything so much… better.
“I want to take that suit off you,” he said, flicking at the buttons on the linen jacket. The starched neck of his shirt was almost impossible, but he got the button without ripping the delicate material. “I like you better out of your Sunday best.”
“I like you better in nothing at all,” Heath whispered, pulling and tugging at his clothing, stripping each other until there was nothing but skin and sweat between them. The room was stifling hot, the late afternoon sun pouring in through the open windows, caressing their bodies. He was tanned to the waist. His skin darker even where the sun hadn’t seen than the fair, freckled hand, he laid on his hip.
“Kiss me.” He looked up into eyes the color of a summer storm and lost himself. “I love when you kiss me. Like I can’t catch my breath.”
“I love kissing you,” Heath said, the taste of his laughter almost as strong as the wine. “I love your hands on me. I could lie like this with you…”
“Forever…”
He heard himself say—
Chapter Twenty-Eight
On the eighth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me…
“Son of a motherfucking twat!”
Austin sat up in the pale wintry dawn to find a livid woman leaning over him.
“The one thing I specifically told you two, randy-ass motherfuckers, not to do was get cum on that quilt. And where did you do the deed?” Jemma stood beside the bed, her hair tumbled around her shoulders like a wild dark mane, her lipstick smeared. She had a hickey on her neck… she had no business— “Exactly where I told you not to fuck. That’s where.”
“Dear God, woman, please stop shouting, my head might explode.” Heath sat up beside him, holding his head in his hands, his eyes squeezed tightly closed. He was gloriously naked. And all Austin wore was his cast. “Nobody got anything on the damned quilt. And if we did… it’s my fucking room so—” Heath opened his eyes, slowly. Taking in the mantel and the old clock and the wide-open windows that were letting in a blast of cold air and some snow. “What the hell? How the fuck did we get here?”
Austin pulled the quilt up to his chin. He was freezing. And starving. And shaky in a way that had nothing to do with either of those two conditions. “I have no idea. I remember… we came upstairs to… the lights were on… and we got here and it was dark and I got dizzy and… it was hot and you stole the wine from the kitchen.”
“Wine?” Heath looked over the edge of the bed where they’d dropped the bottle of wine before they… “I haven’t had wine since… can’t remember. I can’t remember getting naked either. Or…”
“Well, thank god for whiskey dick,” Jemma said, still breathing fire. “Still smells like sex in here. And wood smoke.” She looked over at the fireplace, almost as if she expected to find the remains of a crackling fire. The brick hearth was still a bright, clean red, and the iron of the original grating still gleamed from its new coat of paint. “The fireplaces in this place are closed off, aren’t they?” She remembered finally, her voice losing the mother dragon quality. Her attention distracted enough that Heath dared to dart from the bed, groaning as his forgotten hangover reared its ugly head. He was just stepping into his silk boxers when Jemma turned back around. Her eyebrows shooting into her hairline as she raked him with an approving glance.
“Why are you here?” Austin flipped the covers off. She wasn’t going away any time soon, and he was freezing. May as well bite the bullet and let it all hang out. Jemma made him feel as much like meat as she could. Her gaze settling between his legs… “Stop staring. It’s like you’ve never seen one.”
“I wasn’t expecting tiny little Oz to have a dragon living in his briefs. Allow a girl a moment of appreciation. Newfound, of course.” Jemma sounded nothing like the prudish intern, she played during the day and more like the drag queen Austin had accidentally dated for a month in Atlanta when he’d broken up with his boyfriend, and Rory was too far away to cry on.
“Bite me,” he said, and she grinned.
“Oh, Sugar, someone already has. And that somebody better be paying to have the sex funk washed off
these expensive linens. If he knows what’s good for him. Now get your damn clothes on and help me close the fucking windows. What the hell were y’all doing that you needed every window in the place open? And someone left the back door open. I’m not pointing fingers. But well, the owners better not be passing the blame down from the top.” She fixed a glare on Heath as he slowly pulled on a sock and he gave up trying to get the other one and stuffed it in his jacket pocket.
Austin went over to the nearest window and closed it, making sure he locked the sash. Heath did the other two. When they were finished on the second floor, they met Jemma on the first floor. She stood in the front entry, her face ashen, her red glossed mouth partly open.
“Did you get all the windows?” Heath asked her, and she jumped. Her shoes hit the floor; the sound startlingly loud in the silent house. There was a run in her stocking. Austin saw the outline of… he blinked, trying not to think about what was under her skirt.
“They are all locked up tight. Like… it’s… freezing in here. And the windows were all open. Even the ones in the tea room. I was going to get the keys to… and I heard something… and all the windows… slammed shut. I think… I need a drink.”
Austin looked at the large grandfather clock in the entry. It wasn’t even six in the morning. The sun wasn’t even up yet. “I do too,” he said, dragging Rory’s jacket on over his shoulders. “Anybody know where they keep the LSD around this place? We should probably know that for next time.”
He left them both standing in the entry and made his way to the back of the house. He didn’t care if the windows were closed or if the place had been stripped clean while they slept. He was getting the hell out of Dodge before he went tee-fucking-totally insane.
Outside, a fine dusting of snow covered the courtyard. The rising sun tried to break through the heavy clouds, tinging the light with silver. The world looked like a fairytale winter scene complete with frozen fountain and glowing gas street lights. He expected a goat-man wearing a red knitted scarf and holding an umbrella to come prancing by. The one he’d lost on the stairs last night.
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