The Gravedigger's Brawl (31 page)

Ash's hand slammed against Wyatt's wrist before he could grasp the handle. Ash yanked him by his lapels and tossed him into the room, away from the useless methods of ghost repellent.

Wyatt slid across the floor, dazed and slowly but surely giving up hope that he or Ash would survive this ordeal. He wasn't cut out for museum brawls. He called out to the crowd for help, trying to convince them this wasn't part of a show, but they merely laughed and clapped.

He pushed onto his elbows, trying to scoot away from Ash as he followed, his feet crunching glass shards. He had the frying pan in his hand.

“Come on Bobby Lee!”

“Kick his ass!”

Wyatt sat up and swallowed hard, looking into Ash's eyes and desperately trying to find Ash in them.

“Ash.”

“He's not home.” Ash raised the frying pan and Wyatt flinched away, covering his head with both hands. But Ash's body convulsed and he dropped the frying pan with a shout of pain.

Ash's hand burst into flame.

“Ash!”

Ash dropped to his knees, watching in stunned silence as the flames skittered up his arm and enveloped his body.

“No!” Wyatt scrambled for the fire extinguisher near the emergency exit as the crowd began to shout and applaud. They still thought this was some sort of game.

Ash screamed behind him, a blood-curdling, otherworldly cry that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. The entire room fell into stunned, horrified silence.

Wyatt yanked the extinguisher from the wall, turning back to Ash as he tried to figure out how to turn the damn thing on.

But the fire was gone. Ash lay facedown on the marble floor, and not even his clothing was singed. Wyatt dropped the extinguisher and ran toward him, dropping to his knees at Ash's side as he pawed at him and turned him over. His body felt completely lifeless.

Wyatt slapped his face gingerly and whispered to him. “Come on, Ash, open your eyes,” he begged. “Wake up.”

Ash's eyes fluttered open, and Wyatt held his breath. Ash stared at the ceiling for a long while, blinking rapidly. Warm brown, no glaze or glow in sight. Wyatt thought he might cry in relief when Ash turned his head, a look of supreme confusion on his face.

“Ash?”

Ash blinked at him again. “Did you roofie me?” he asked, voice hoarse and incredulous.

Wyatt barked a laugh, half sobbing as he pulled Ash to a sitting position and hugged him. The crowd around them cheered.

Ash clung to him, chin resting on Wyatt's shoulder. “Holy hell, Wyatt, where are we?”

“You won't believe me if I tell you,” Wyatt whispered. He helped Ash to his feet, unable to keep his hands or his eyes off him. “Come on. Let's get out of here.”

Ash leaned heavily on him as they threaded their way through the applauding crowd.

“This is the most awesome museum ever,” someone in the crowd said with relish. Wyatt shook his head as he and Ash limped out of the room. A hundred people had just seen him fight to the death with a murderous spirit, and not one of them knew what they'd witnessed.

“What happened to your exhibit?” Ash asked as he looked around, still dazed.

“You did.”

“Oh. You're so getting fired now.”

“I don't care.” Wyatt held Ash tighter.

“I had the weirdest dream.”

Wyatt laughed in relief as they stumbled down the stairs together.

“Did you . . . hit me with a frying pan?”

Wyatt began laughing again, shaking his head. “No. But it wasn't for lack of trying.”

For some reason, the pile of smoking cinders where Gravedigger's used to be didn't come as a surprise to Wyatt or Ash when they pulled up to the scene.

Ash was gradually beginning to remember what had happened while he'd been “under the influence,” as Wyatt insisted on calling it. It was clear now why he'd burst into ghostly flames.

Gravedigger's had burned to its very foundation and taken the house next to it as well.

Caleb and Noah sat on the curb, staring morosely at the hole in the ground. When Wyatt and Ash joined them, both men merely sank to the curb alongside them.

“What happened to you two?” Noah asked.

“Ash was possessed,” Wyatt answered, not even trying to sugarcoat it.

“I tried to kill him at the museum.”

“In front of everyone there. We crashed the party, destroyed the exhibit.”

“Oh,” Noah said, voice devoid of emotion. “You're so getting fired now.”

Wyatt nodded.

“Thanks for burning down the bar,” Ash added. “Killed the ghost. Saved both our lives.”

“Yeah,” Caleb sounded dubious. “Yeah, because that's exactly what we were aiming for.”

Ash nodded, still staring at the burnt remnants of the tavern.

Wyatt's hand slid into his as they sat there.

“Weird first date,” Wyatt muttered.

“I feel dirty,” Ash added.

“You just got barebacked by a ghost,” Noah said. “You should feel dirty.”

Ash and Wyatt both turned to look at him. He studiously ignored their evil glares.

“What do we do now?” Caleb asked.

“You just had the most epic Halloween party in existence,” Noah said. “The gravediggers can do whatever they want now. You may as well be myth and legend in this town.”

Ash leaned sideways and laid his head on Wyatt's shoulder. “I'll settle for being human.”

“Dr. Case, do you care to explain what exactly happened on Halloween night?”

Wyatt pursed his lips. “I was haunted.”

“This is a serious inquiry, Dr. Case. We would appreciate it if you'd treat it as such.”

Wyatt took a deep breath and shook his head. “My boyfriend and I were haunted by the ghost of a monster that Richmond had forgotten. He took hundreds of lives while he lived, and a handful after he died.”

“Dr. Case—”

“Gravedigger's Tavern burned to the ground because so many people had died there, and the pain finally overwhelmed the building. The history was buried, and it came back to this museum to bite us in the ass. We were lucky to live through it.”

“That's it?”

“I have no other explanation.”

“Very well. You'll understand, then, if we ask that you resign your post, effective immediately.”

Wyatt nodded, but he was already smiling. “I figured as much.”

When Wyatt entered the main lobby of the museum, his friends were all there waiting to hear the verdict. Ryan leaned against a wall in a tattered T-shirt and jeans, and Delilah curled up under his arm, looking entirely out of place in a stunning black lace corset and thigh-high leather boots.

Noah and Caleb sat on a padded bench, their heads bent together, their whispers echoing oddly in the large room. Noah was wearing his square black nerd glasses today, and Caleb couldn't seem to tear his eyes away from him.

Wyatt had to smile. He saw nothing odd about either couple. Caleb had already declared his plan to pick a new city and start fresh, and Noah had every intention of following him. Ryan and Delilah planned to go as well, and Wyatt had a feeling they'd be picking out rings or whips or
something
for each other by Christmas.

His eyes sought out Ash, who leaned against the information desk checking an antique pocket watch chained to his gray vest. When he saw Wyatt, his dark eyes lit up.

“What happened?” Ash asked.

Wyatt shook his head and reached out to snag Ash's vest. He pulled him closer and kissed him until they were both breathless.

“I'm not sure if that's good or bad news.”

“It's okay,” Wyatt whispered. He glanced at the others, then met Ash's eyes with a mischievous grin. “What do y'all think about Charleston?”

“Big St. Patrick's Day town,” Caleb said with a glint in his eye that practically reflected a dollar sign.

“Lots of history,” Noah added.

“To haunt you,” Ash grumbled. He was smiling though.

Wyatt grinned and kissed him again. “At least the ghosts there just haunt you instead of trying to kill you.”

“We hope.”

There's a lot of history included in this book, and with very few exceptions, it's all true. The LaLauries were a real couple, and the things they did to their slaves in New Orleans were so awful that I chose not to include details in this book. You can find out more about them with a simple Google search, or by taking a ghost tour in the city of New Orleans. Their mansion has remained a cursed building over the years, never retaining an owner for more than a year, never successfully hosting a business. The current owner is Johnny Depp, who intends to make it into a hotel. Good luck with that, buddy.

The tales of the Dubois and Fossor families are entirely fictional. No such families ever existed, and neither does Gravedigger's Tavern. But the sights and sounds of Richmond's Fan district are entirely based in fact. The Starlight serves root beer on tap. Monument Avenue is full of Confederate heroes. And Boulevard is a beautiful street to cruise down. Just don't hit a stoner or hipster as you go.

The Virginia Historical Society sits on Boulevard, and the last time I went by there, it was still under construction. Any details of the inner workings, or of the inside of the building, are my imagination. If they've finished all that construction, there's no telling what it looks like now!