by Abigail Roux
Wyatt stared breathlessly, rooted to the spot as Noah made his way through the crowd.
Ash waved to him as Wyatt remained where he was. Wyatt cleared his throat and forced himself to move.
“Nice costume!” Noah was saying as Wyatt got closer.
“They’re pretty kickass, right?” Ash said with a grin.
He had little nubs of horns under his hairline that seemed to be sprouting out of his forehead, just like Caleb’s only much smaller, and a long tail that moved with him as he danced to the music. He opened his mouth to show off his elongated canines—without any chips—and the stud in his tongue, a long black strip that held three balls and gave the impression at a glance that Ash’s tongue was forked. His clothing had an old, mottled velvet quality to it, and it seemed to fall away from him in strips but still hug close enough not to catch on his bottles. It was a brilliant outfit.
“We’re imps,” Ash said, still grinning.
“Caleb was the Devil,” Noah said, laughing raucously. “I love it.”
“Nice uniform, Colonel,” Ash said to Wyatt with an approving leer.
Wyatt could hardly answer, he was so preoccupied with Ash’s eyes. And tongue. Ash lowered his head to pour and then looked back up at Wyatt from under lowered brows. He was smirking, and Wyatt shivered as his eyes once again glowed a milky blue for a moment. It seemed to Wyatt that Ash knew why he was staring.
“Cool!” Noah exclaimed, leaning closer. “Contacts?”
“Yeah. I warned the guy he wouldn’t get them back ’cause I’m going to rip them out of my eyes and toss them away. I can feel them wanting to crawl into my corneas already, but he told me to try them anyway. But they’re pretty sick, right?”
Noah nodded enthusiastically and Wyatt found himself staring at Ash suspiciously. Were they really contacts?
“What can I get you?” Ash asked them. “You okay?” he added as he frowned at Wyatt.
“You just . . . you look great.”
Ash raised one eyebrow and then smiled at him. “I know what your problem is,” he said, laughing as he poured a drink for Noah. Noah toasted him, then dissolved into the crowd, probably going back to find Caleb.
Ash flipped over a sign that said, “Go Next Door, Bitch” and came out from behind the bar. He took Wyatt’s hand and tugged him through the crowd, then ducked under a velvet rope that closed off the staircase to the attic.
The thumping of the music grew softer as they climbed, and when Ash pushed open the door at the top of the staircase, the noise had settled to a dull roar.
“Hey, stranger.” Ash flicked on the attic lights and turned to face Wyatt.
“Hi,” Wyatt said, relieved that it wasn’t scary up here. Just messy and full of old paint and furniture and ladders.
“I would kiss you, but it would fuck up the wicked makeup I’ve got going.” Ash smiled. “You want to tell me what’s going on?”
Wyatt swallowed and then exhaled in a rush of words, “I’m freaking out a little.”
Ash blinked and took a slight step back. “What? Why?”
“You! First the thing with the . . . I’m not allowed to say the word.”
“Oh.”
“And then finding you on that sheet. Did you ever see those pictures? You looked like you were about to . . .”
“About to what? Paint?”
“No,” Wyatt said through gritted teeth.
Ash looked genuinely confused. “What, Wyatt?”
Wyatt bit his lip and looked away, unable to meet Ash’s eyes. “You looked like those pictures.”
“Meaning? What, you thought I was about to kill myself? Come on, Wyatt!”
“I’m sorry!”
“You know better. You’re the one who said you didn’t believe in any of it. Hell, I’m not even sure if I do now. It was just a knock on the head.”
Wyatt nodded, unconvinced.
Ash gave an almost amused huff. “What happened to change your mind?”
“I found your keys.”
“Oh, yeah? Where?”
“They were at the corner of the building, where you said he was standing.”
Ash frowned thoughtfully. “That’s . . . slightly disturbing.”
“Tell me about it. And then I kept seeing—”
“Look,” Ash interrupted with a heavy sigh, “I’m scared, okay? But I don’t want to dwell on this. It’s taken up too much of my damn life already.”
“I know. But they said people who are drugged or drunk are more susceptible, and when we did that cleansing you were all drugged up.”
“Wyatt.”
“And I keep seeing him around you! They said—”
“I know what they said,” Ash snapped. He met Wyatt’s eyes and shook his head, his expression softening. “I’m sorry. It’s just, I think I’d know if I was . . . possessed or something.”
“Would you?”
Ash’s head jerked up and his eyes flashed in the light of the bare bulb above the door. Wyatt gasped and tensed despite the fact that he knew they were contacts.
Ash examined Wyatt for a moment. “Are you scared of me?” he asked.
“A little. Maybe. Yeah,” Wyatt stuttered. “Right now, yeah.”
To his surprise, Ash laughed. Softly at first, almost disbelievingly, and then harder.
“It’s not funny,” Wyatt muttered.
“I’m sorry, but it kind of is.” Still laughing, Ash placed his hands on the door on either side of Wyatt’s shoulders, careful of his uniform. “I’m nothing to be scared of. I promise.”
“Say that to me again without the contacts or the forked tongue or the horns or the fangs, okay?” Wyatt requested, though the knot of tension began to dissipate.
Ash laughed again, and it was the same deep, rich sound Wyatt remembered.
“How about I tell you again in the morning?” Ash leaned closer and brushed his lips over Wyatt’s. The chaste touch had the desired effect; Wyatt’s entire body flooded with warmth. He cursed the makeup Ash had on that was keeping the man from touching him.
Ash ran the tip of his nose against Wyatt’s cheek. “You up for your last chance?”
Wyatt shivered. “Do I deserve it?”
“I’m a charitable imp.”
Wyatt nodded and smiled as relief began to seep through him. “It’s still not funny.”
Ash grinned. “In a year, we’ll look back on all this and laugh.”
Wyatt smiled as he met Ash’s eyes. Ash was thinking long-term. It gave Wyatt the most incredible feeling, and he told himself that he was being silly. Ash was right. There was nothing to be afraid of and everything to gain.
It was past four in the morning when the staff of Gravedigger’s finally swept the dregs of the party out of the bar and locked up. The reveling continued in the streets, but Ash, Ryan, Delilah, and Caleb stayed behind to clear away the largest of the messes.
They closed the upstairs, making certain there were no stragglers locked in closets or between couch cushions, and then trudged downstairs to find Wyatt and Noah waiting for them.
“Ready to go home?” Noah asked Caleb with a smirk. He rolled his shoulders and his wings waved. Caleb laughed and, to Ash’s surprise, wrapped Noah in his arms, bent him backward, and kissed him soundly. There was something amusing and slightly obscene about watching the devil grope an angel.
“Nice,” Ryan snickered. He glanced at Delilah, who was dressed in a feminine version of Ash and Ryan’s imp costumes: a skirt that was almost too short, and a corset that displayed her slim waist and highlighted some extremely impressive curves. Her hair fell in soft waves, dyed jet black with purple streaks. Her horns were buried amidst the glitter sprinkled through it.
She was probably the fiercest thing Ash had seen in the Brawl that night, and she’d won the costume contest on the strength of her cleavage alone.
“If I take you home, will you promise to wear that all night?” Ryan asked her as his eyes raked her up and down.
She grinned, showi
ng her fake fangs.
“Everything but those,” Ryan corrected.
She laughed and nodded coyly, sashaying toward the door with her tail in hand. Ryan watched her go, biting his lip in anticipation. “I’ll be there in a minute,” he called after her.
“We’re going home,” Caleb growled. He pulled Noah toward the door. Noah snickered as he was dragged out of the bar. “We’ll clean up tomorrow,” Caleb ordered as they left.
Ash glanced at Wyatt and grinned. “Everyone’s getting laid tonight.”
Wyatt waggled his eyebrows, and Ash laughed.
“You ready to go home, General?”
“Whenever you are,” Wyatt said, smiling serenely. Ash could tell that he was slightly tipsy, which was just the way Ash wanted him tonight. The tension had dissipated, and though Ash knew it would take some time, he hoped this was a start to something resembling normal for them.
“Y’all walking?” Ryan asked as he looked into the mirror behind the bar and removed his contacts. He blinked and set them in their containers. His costume was similar to Ash’s: horns, fangs, and forked tongue. Ash snickered as he watched him try to pull one of the horns off. There was some serious glue in use.
“You’re going to need some WD-40 or something for that,” Ash said. He’d discovered as the night progressed that the makeup was pretty damn resilient.
Ryan pulled at the horn again to no avail, and Ash laughed. Wyatt walked up to lean on the bar behind them.
“Did you drive?” Ash asked Wyatt.
“We walked from the museum.” Wyatt cleared his throat and pushed away from the bar. “I need air.”
“I’ll give you guys a ride,” Ryan offered. “Just no cock-blocking, understand? Come on, Wyatt, you can help me find my car. And my date.” He stepped out from behind the bar and took Wyatt by the elbow.
Wyatt turned to Ash. “You coming?”
“I’ll be right out. Just have to take these things out and close out the register ’cause Ryan pretends he doesn’t know how to do it.”
Ryan smirked and led Wyatt toward the door.
Ash waited until the cow bell dinged and the door fell shut before he began collecting the overflowing glass tip jars. He didn’t bother counting the money; he would do that in the morning. He just laid it out on the back shelf and then placed both hands flat on the wood. He looked up into the mirror.
His eyes flashed as the light hit them and he held his head still, looking over his shoulder at the spot where a face had once stared at him. His eyes reflected the same milky sheen as the apparition had. It was sort of funny, now that he’d chosen not to worry about it anymore.
He knew he should be ashamed of the spectacle, but he was still scared and he could blame it all on the head injury and not feel too weird about it. Everyone else had moved on, and he was trying to as well.
He emptied the last jar full of cash and placed a heavy bottle over the stack to keep it from fluttering away. When he glanced up again, his heart skipped a beat and his body went cold as he locked eyes with the man in the mirror, standing at his shoulder and glowering with eyes that glinted a faint blue.
Ryan and Delilah were just barely restraining themselves from groping each other in the car, so it was with intense relief that Wyatt saw Ash leave the bar and head toward them.
When he climbed into the back of the car, he looked shaken.
“Everything okay?” Wyatt asked.
Ash nodded, licking his lips. “It’s kind of spooky in there, all quiet.”
Wyatt reached his hand out, and Ash slid over and rested his head against Wyatt’s shoulder. One of his horns poked Wyatt, and they both laughed. The tension seeped out of them as they headed toward the museum. Ryan weaved in and out of the partiers still crowding the streets, yelling out the windows and tossing Halloween beads from the sunroof.
Wyatt and Ash wished the two lovebirds a good night once they were in the employee parking lot. Ryan burned rubber leaving the lot, and Wyatt and Ash laughed, watching beads fly from the sunroof as the car trundled down Boulevard. Wyatt slipped his arm around Ash’s waist, and they walked to his parking spot.
Ash hummed and nodded at the museum. “It looks like it’s open.”
“It is,” Wyatt said with a grimace. “The exhibit is open. They’re having an all-night party trying to drum up business.”
“How crass,” Ash drawled, a smile following the word. “Let’s go in. I’d like to see your exhibit again.”
“Really?”
“No.” Ash stopped and turned to him, his smile somehow foreign with the fake fang covering that chip in his tooth. “But I’d like to go in anyway.”
Wyatt raised an eyebrow. “Okay,” he said suspiciously. “May I ask why?”
“You’ll see,” Ash murmured, and the hand he rested on the small of Wyatt’s back urged him forward.
“You want to have sex in some unusual place, don’t you?”
“And here I thought my subtle hints would go unheeded,” Ash whispered into his ear.
A shiver ran down Wyatt’s back and he led Ash to the employee’s entrance. He held the door for him, watching him as he passed by. Something was different about him, but Wyatt couldn’t place what it was.
They could hear the music playing on the floor above, giving the halls they walked an eerie quality.
“Faust,” Ash said as he raised his chin.
“Appropriate, if my date is an imp.”
Ash turned and began walking backward, holding out a hand. “Dance?”
Wyatt bit his lip. He had the very distinct feeling that he was being seduced. He supposed this was their first real date, though, and he sort of enjoyed that Ash was treating it like that.
He took Ash’s hand, laughing as Ash pulled him close and started into a waltz, using the strains of “La Danse Macabre” as their guide through the lower hallways of the museum. As the song came to an end, Ash turned Wyatt and slammed him against one of the concrete walls. He pressed against him to kiss him hungrily, and Wyatt could barely fend him off as he tried to return the kiss.
When they broke, they were both breathless, bodies pressed together, and Wyatt was definitely interested in whatever unusual dalliance Ash had planned. Wyatt stared into his eyes, trying to make out his expression in the semi-lit hallway. When Ash tilted his head, his eyes caught the light and flashed.
Wyatt shivered violently. “I thought you took the contacts out.”
Ash’s smile was slow as he lowered his head, looking at Wyatt from under lowered brows. “I did.”
Noah climbed out of Caleb’s ’57 Chevrolet Bel Air and grumbled as he tried to pull his other wing off.
“Where did you leave it?” Caleb asked as they headed for the tavern to search for Noah’s missing phone.
“I don’t know. When we get in, we can call it,” Noah said. He finally plucked the wing off, surprised it hurt to rip all that glue off his skin. “Son of a bitch.”
“I told you I’d help,” Caleb said through a grin as they rounded the corner to the front of the building—
And stared in horror at flames licking at the upper windows. The fire cast a glow on the street below, and a smattering of people had gathered to point and stare, some of them calling the fire department, others merely gawking.
Caleb fumbled for his keys and rushed for the front door.
Noah lunged for him and grabbed at his elbow. “What are you doing?”
“I can’t let it burn down!”
“Caleb, no! It’s probably an electrical fire, it’s already out of control!”
“It’s all I have, Noah! Help me!”
Noah watched him fumble to find the right key, his green eyes flickering in the light of the fire raging above. Noah cursed, then bent to pick up the potted plant near the door and swung it at the glass.
Caleb stared for a moment, shocked, and then they both dashed through the shattered door into Gravedigger’s.
It took Wyatt too long to comprehend what was going on
. He blinked at the face of the man he’d fallen in love with. It was not possible that this wasn’t Ash. It just wasn’t possible.
“I’m disappointed, Wyatt. I thought you’d be more fun,” Ash said. But it wasn’t truly Ash’s voice. It was deeper, almost resonant.
Wyatt pushed against the wall, trying to step away, but Ash grabbed him and shoved him into it again, pinning him with arms that were too strong.
“You’re Vincent, right? Vincent DuBois?” Wyatt asked, feeling stupid despite all the evidence.
“Not anymore. I’m Ash Lucroix.” His hand was at Wyatt’s throat before Wyatt could flinch, fingers colder than death, squeezing hard. “And all I need tonight is to be rid of you. I’d hoped for some entertainment first, but my dreams have been dashed before.”
Wyatt grabbed at Ash’s wrist as those fingers squeezed harder.
“He’s mine,” Ash whispered. “You tried to take him from me, but he’s mine now.”
Wyatt shook his head, lashing out and knocking Ash in the side of his face. They both toppled sideways, and Wyatt took off at a sprint for the stairwell. A hand brushed at his coattails, and he hit the stairwell door as if the hounds of Hell were on his heels. He was halfway up the first flight when he heard Ash come through the door in pursuit.
He had no idea what to do, but he knew where he was headed. He sprinted out of the stairwell toward the Haunted Hall and the display in the far corner, the one that instructed museum-goers how to get rid of pesky spirits and ghosts who were possessing their boyfriends and trying to kill them.
Noah and Caleb weren’t the only brave souls who entered the bar to try to save it. People streamed out of neighboring buildings, houses and businesses alike, to help fight the flames. In a neighborhood like the Fan, if one building went down, all of them went down.
The flames had started upstairs, letting all Hell break loose on old, untreated wood that was dry as kindling.
Smoke swirled and flames licked at the walls as they attacked the fire with extinguishers and damp towels, creating an otherworldly scene in which devils and angels fought side by side with pirates and fairies, cats and vampires, witches, and one very convincing Waldo.
