by Abigail Roux
“I see.” Caleb scowled at Wyatt with the same accusing kind of look Ash had given him. Wyatt was hard-pressed not to laugh.
The team moved around for roughly an hour before congregating once more in the bar room. The man turned his sketchbook around and tapped it to get Ash’s attention. “This man is not happy.”
Ash lost all color as he stared at the drawing—an uncanny likeness of the tintype of Vincent DuBois Wyatt had produced from the museum. Instead of a Confederate uniform, though, the man in the drawing was wearing a long black coat and a top hat. His eyes, even in the charcoal drawing, were intensely disturbing. They seemed luminescent somehow.
Wyatt shivered and looked away.
“There has been much pain here,” Gwynn told them. “There are spirits that need to be freed and we can guide them by doing a cleansing of the structure and showing them the light. Most ghosts are merely the spirit of a person who has died, left in this plane of existence for one reason or another. They cannot see the light when they die for various reasons, whether because of unfinished business, addiction, or a sudden, confusing, painful death.”
“Addiction?” Caleb asked.
“Oh, yes. That’s one not many people know of, but addicts quite often cling to this world. Even in death, they are plagued by their cravings. Bars and taverns, crack houses, and rehab centers are especially haunted places.”
“Huh.”
“Most spirits are harmless, merely confused or lost. This one, however, he doesn’t want to leave,” she said as she pointed to the charcoal drawing the man still held. “A simple cleansing may not be enough.”
“He’s malicious. Very much so,” one of the other women said.
“And he’s fixated on the young man,” Gwynn told Wyatt with a concerned glance at Ash.
“Why?” Ash asked.
“I can only guess. You do look quite like him. You’re a fixture here, a place he still considers his. You’re more sensitive to his presence than others. And I understand you were attacked? He may even see you as an easy target or lost due to your injury.”
“Lost?”
“Yes.”
“That’s the word he used. He said he seeks the lost.”
She nodded, unperturbed. “Don’t worry.” She began taking out twined rolls of what smelled like sage and setting them on the bar. Wyatt knew from his research that they were called smudge sticks.
“It can be risky,” the man said as he set the charcoal drawing down on the table. “There’s the possibility that it won’t work and will provoke him further.”
Gwynn nodded. “And especially strong spirits have been known to insinuate themselves into anyone who is not sober, is unsettled, or is overly emotional.”
Wyatt looked at Ash, thinking that he sort of qualified as all three at the moment.
“It may be best if you leave while we do this,” Gwyn told them.
“I’m sorry, leave?” Caleb said. He bent an ear toward Gwynn like he might have misheard her.
She nodded.
“I’m not comfortable with that,” Caleb said. Wyatt was surprised he was that polite about it, from everything Noah and Ash had said about him.
Gwynn looked at a loss for a moment, but then she brought her hands together and rounded her shoulders. “Well then, perhaps it’s best if you join us in the cleansing. I’ll instruct you and we can each take a room.”
Wyatt and the others looked from her to Caleb. No one in the room seemed to want to do that.
Caleb rolled his eyes. “All right. Let’s get this over with then.”
Wyatt groaned inwardly, but he tried not to let it show. He was there to support Ash, no matter how freaking strange he found this whole thing.
Gwynn gave them each a smudge stick and a plastic bowl, then instructed them to stand in a circle in the middle of the room. Wyatt had to fight not to be cynical about this hippy dippy stuff. While he might believe in ghosts, the rest of it just didn’t wash with him, but he didn’t want Ash to see any trace of that.
Gwynn walked around and lit each of their bundles of sage, and told them to make certain the ashes fell into the bowls. Then she took up her spot in the circle.
“Now. We’re going to stand still and close our eyes,” she said, affecting a calm, almost hypnotic voice. “Focus internally, and imagine a bubble of white light inside of you.”
“Wait, what?” Noah asked.
“Imagine the bubble deep in the center of your body and let it grow.”
Wyatt bit his lip to keep from laughing when he glanced at Noah, who was looking at the woman incredulously.
Delilah shoved her elbow into Noah’s ribs and glared at him. “Would you just try it?”
“I don’t even know how to make my brain do that.”
Ash snorted, but his eyes were closed.
As the woman continued talking, valiantly ignoring the peanut gallery, Wyatt closed his eyes as well, trying to do as she instructed.
“Imagine this bubble expanding, filling your body and moving past it, pushing negative energy away from you. Let the bubble grow until it is filling the room, and all the negative energy has been pushed out through the doors. In your mind, command the white light to stay and fill the room, right up to the walls, and tell it to stay in this room and protect it.”
The scent of sage wafted around them, and while Wyatt could feel it growing warmer, he was pretty sure it was because he was embarrassed to even be standing there listening to this, much less attempting to do it. He didn’t have a bubble in him.
He cracked one eye open to peer sideways. Ash was biting his lip, his head lowered and his eyes squeezed shut. He was either taking it very seriously, or he was trying not to laugh, and Wyatt didn’t think it was the latter. A shiver ran through Ash as Wyatt watched him, and Wyatt felt a sympathetic chill slide over his skin. The room was growing colder. Wyatt opened both eyes to look up, not sure why his gaze was drawn that way. There was nothing out of the ordinary, and certainly no giant white bubble chasing evil out of the building.
“This is ridiculous,” Ash muttered.
There was a fine line between believing that the bar was haunted and standing here trying to form a thought bubble to chase away evil beings. Wyatt also had a feeling that the others were all just as nervous as he was. The only outlet seemed to be laughter. Caleb cleared his throat as they all began to snicker. “You know, maybe it’s better if the professionals take care of this.”
“I believe that’s best,” Gwynn agreed.
They filed out onto the patio to wait. Wyatt sat next to Ash, whose knee bounced so rapidly that Wyatt thought he might get seasick just watching. His nerves were starting to spill over, and Wyatt felt like they were spreading to the rest of the group too, making everyone tense and edgy. Delilah paced, her arms wrapped around herself. Ryan was going from table to table, straightening chairs, the grating sound of metal on the concrete adding to the edgy heft in the air.
“Ryan,” Caleb finally said through gritted teeth. “Sit down.”
“Please,” Noah prompted. He put a calming hand on Caleb’s shoulder.
“Sit down, please. Now.”
Ash snorted and shook his head as Ryan found a chair and slid into it. Ash leaned closer to Wyatt’s ear. “Noah and Caleb need to reproduce and make little Buddhist ninja babies.”
Wyatt laughed before he could stop himself.
It took another twenty minutes before Gwynn appeared in the doorway. She was still holding a smudge stick in one hand and an abalone shell bowl in the other. She snuffed out the smudge stick in the convex shell and held it there until she had smothered out the embers and it was no longer smoking. Then she took the ashes and sprinkled a line across the doorway.
“Health code violation,” Caleb grumbled under his breath.
Wyatt glanced at him, but his attention was drawn back to the woman when she spoke. “I went through each room on both levels, and Frederick addressed the root cellar. It’s hard to tell if there is still
a presence here now. Give it perhaps a week or two, and if you’re still experiencing things, we can return and try something more aggressive.”
“Like burning down the house?” Wyatt asked, smiling gently.
“Sometimes, Dr. Case, that’s all you can do,” Gwynn said, and again it was difficult to tell if she was joking. “Blessed be,” she said with a bow of her head, and she and her three companions gathered the bags they had brought and departed.
Ash rubbed his hand over his face. “That was weird. This is weird.”
“You’re weird,” Noah said.
“Stop,” Caleb said before the discussion could degenerate further. “What now?”
Wyatt shrugged, and no one attempted to answer for a long time. The wind picked up and pushed leaves and bits of paper around their feet. The ash along the doorway began to scatter. Wyatt looked up at the house, for the first time feeling uneasy about the whole business. It felt so anticlimactic.
“I guess . . . we wait?” Ryan finally said.
Wyatt met Ash’s eyes, seeing the same uncertainty there. They all seemed to feel as if something still hung over them, waiting to be untethered and fall.
“Great.” Caleb grunted as he stood. “I’m going home to get laid.”
Noah raised his hand like a child in school and pushed himself out of his chair to follow. “That’s me.”
Ash smacked his forehead and Ryan groaned. He offered his hand to Delilah, and just like that, the group dispersed, leaving Wyatt and Ash sitting there alone.
Wyatt reached out to take his hand. “Feel better?”
“No.”
Wyatt snorted. “Hey. How would you like a private tour of the Virginia Historical Society?”
Ash smiled gamely and raised a sardonic eyebrow. “You think a creepy old deserted museum will make me feel less haunted?”
Wyatt winced. “Not when you put it that way.”
The wind picked up again, plucking at Wyatt’s pants legs and ruffling his hair.
Ash squeezed his hand and gave him a more genuine smile. “If you’re the one giving it, Dr. Case, I’d love a creepy tour.”
The museum was dark and quiet, heavy with the sense of time and history that inundated every corner and crevice of the buildings. Wyatt loved the museum at night. He loved the fluttering feeling in his belly that came from knowing he was the only one there, that he had the entire sprawling sanctuary to himself.
Only this time it was ten times better, because he wasn’t alone.
Ash looked around in the dim illumination that came from the few lights still on. “I have to tell you, Wyatt, this is one of the more impressive dates I’ve ever been on.”
Wyatt grinned and wrapped an arm around him. “I’ve never brought anyone here like this.”
A fond smile curled Ash’s lips. “You can be quite charming, you know that?”
Wyatt turned to face him, letting his hands settle on Ash’s hips. “Thank you. I didn’t deserve a second chance, but you gave it to me anyway. I promise you won’t regret it.”
Ash smiled, eyes warming, biting his lip as he stepped closer. “I don’t regret it yet.” He kissed Wyatt briefly, then gave him a tap on the chest. “Okay, show me the creepy parts so we can go find your office and do unseemly things that will make it smell like sex.”
Wyatt burst out laughing even as his body responded to the suggestion. “Come on.”
He led Ash toward the hall where the new exhibit had been set up, holding his hand and letting his fingers play over Ash’s. Ash had surprisingly strong, callused hands. But then, Wyatt assumed he had to, considering some of the things he’d seen Ash do with a flair bottle.
Wyatt skimmed over most of the exhibits, realizing that the displays were inordinately creepy at night while the museum sat in otherworldly silence. Ash seemed grateful to be able to hurry past most of them.
Wyatt stopped him at his favorite display, though, turning to Ash with a proud smile. “This was all your idea.”
Ash looked over the case, taking in the various and sundry tools of the ghostbusting trade. Just as Ash had suggested to him, Wyatt had implemented a display that went over the ways to rid a house of ghosts and to repel spirits, both good and bad.
There were smudge sticks and a plaque describing what they were and how to use them. There was a vial of salt and another plaque that outlined why it was effective: supposedly, a ghost couldn’t cross a line of salt. There was a clove of garlic, a jagged spike of pure iron, a large door painted red, sticks of incense, and a bowl of holy water on a shelf.
Ash looked over all of it, nodding and sighing heavily. “Where’s the white mind bubble?”
Wyatt laughed and slid an arm around his shoulders. “I’ll have to add one.” He turned his head to nudge his nose against Ash’s cheek. “Are you okay?”
“I’m not sure. I’m uneasy. I feel like nothing’s settled yet.” He met Wyatt’s gaze, his eyes weary and imploring. “Will you take me home with you?”
“Of course.”
“I’m sorry, Wyatt, I thought I’d be okay. But it really is freaking creepy in here. Makes me feel like there’s someone looking over my shoulder.”
Wyatt laughed and nodded as he turned Ash toward the exit and started walking. “It is. It’s better during the day.”
“I’d like to come back and see it. I know how much work you put into this.”
“We’ll do that. But for tonight . . .”
“Tonight, I’ll let you take me home and do peculiar museum-type things to me.”
Wyatt laughed, and the happy sound echoed through the lofty halls, reverberating back to them as a more sinister noise. Wyatt waved to the poster of Thurston he had hung near the entrance to the hall as they passed it, and they headed out of the museum into the chilly October night.
“I’m closing down the bar for the week.”
Ash looked to Ryan before turning his attention back to Caleb, who stood behind the bar with boxes of liquor and other supplies.
“Why?” Delilah asked.
All three of them were sitting on barstools, looking at Caleb with their mouths hanging open. It was the third week of October. They were through Oktoberfest, but they still had Halloween. The Gravedigger’s Brawl. Even the World Series. It was the month that paid a year’s wages.
“Well for one, Ash is fucking losing his mind.”
“I am offended by that statement,” Ash said. He could still smell the sage from yesterday’s cleansing.
“I don’t bloody care. And you’re high, you can’t flair anyway.”
“Can’t, my ass.”
“Ash is losing his mind, the fucking appliances are breaking down one by one—even the new ones—and has anyone noticed that the electricity has been doing odd things?”
Delilah shook her head and Ryan grunted a negative.
Caleb walked over to the electrical box hidden behind a wooden panel at the end of the bar. He opened it and flicked one of the switches. Sparks flew out of it and Ash jumped as he watched them sputter through the air.
“That can’t be safe,” Ryan said, standing to peer down at the floor where the sparks had arced and landed.
“Really?” Caleb said. “You think? You think that’s not safe?”
“So what do you want to do?”
Caleb ran his hand up along his neck, wincing. “We’ll close for a week, rip the place to shreds, and redo all the wiring.”
“Are you serious?” Ash said before he could stop himself.
“It’s a better option than having the place go up in flames.”
“You really think faulty wiring is doing all this?” Delilah asked.
“All what, Lilah? Making Ash lose his fucking mind?”
“Again,” Ash said, “I am offended by that.”
“A week won’t hurt us. You two will be gone three days as it is to that Flair Vegas competition, so it’s not much longer.”
“Caleb, we’re right in the middle of our biggest month of the year,”
Ryan said as he drew circles on the bar with his finger.
Caleb growled under his breath.
Ash cleared his throat. “Look, let’s get through October, close it down after the Brawl, and do everything you want to do during November. We’ll be back up and running by Thanksgiving and cash in on all the family drinking angst.”
Caleb snorted and pursed his lips, looking between the three of them.
“Please, Caleb,” Delilah finally said, batting her purple false eyelashes.
Caleb rolled his eyes and slammed the electrical panel shut. “Fine. But if I hear one more word about ghosts, electrical fires, or watered down beer, I’m burying all three of you in the basement too.”
Ash pressed his lips together and nodded. Above them, a rumbling noise started in the attic. They all looked up with the sense of impending doom that had hung over their heads for the last few weeks, and Ash half expected to see a string of ghosts doing the rumba on the ceiling.
The rumbling became a growl, and the cord of lights hanging from the ceiling began to vibrate.
“Okay,” Ryan said, sounding defeated. “I am not going up there this time.”
“What the hell is that?” Delilah asked. Her hand landed on Ash’s forearm.
A dark stain began to spread on the ceiling, barely discernible from the shadows and ambient light of the room, but Ash could see it getting bigger as they stared. To his horror, a drip of blood red liquid formed out of the center of the stain, and it took its sweet time as it bulged out of the ceiling and finally plunged to the floor. When it spattered on the worn hardwood, it was the color of a bruised tomato.
“Oh my God,” Delilah whispered. Her fingers dug into Ash’s arm.
“Good call on closing the bar,” Ryan told Caleb as another drop joined the first. “I’m down with that.”
Ash nodded as he watched, almost numb to the spectacle. The pool spread until it was a literal stream from the ceiling.
“I’ll write up an announcement,” Caleb said.
“I have to tell you, Dr. Case, I wasn’t sure you would be able to pull this off,” Emelda said as she and Wyatt stood at the entrance to what the interns had been calling the Haunted Hall.
