The Gravedigger's Brawl

  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.

  “I’m still not sure we have.” Wyatt glanced around uneasily. The exhibit was done, and it looked good on the surface. Things like this should take months of preparation, and Wyatt wouldn’t exactly say he was proud of what had been done here. But there were droves of people here on a weekday for the invite-only preview, and they weren’t just filling up the Haunted Hall, but filtering out into the rest of the museum. That alone made the hit to his professional integrity worth it.

  They had yet to discern whether the exhibit was enough of a success to save Wyatt’s job, but it was out of his hands now.

  Emelda put a hand on his shoulder. “I can tell there’s somewhere else you’d rather be.”

  Wyatt turned to look at her, surprised by the words and wondering if they were true. It seemed like his entire life had been about the museum for so long, he’d never wanted to be anywhere else. But now, his thoughts drifted more and more often, ambling down the road to the tavern and to Ash. They had spent last night and the night before tangled together in Wyatt’s bed, their first night together in which neither of them had to get up and go right after sex. Waking up to find Ash next to him, all warm and sleepy and oddly sweet, had been enough to whet Wyatt’s appetite for a lifetime of more.

  “I wouldn’t say I’d rather be there,” he said, eyes taking in the exhibit. “But it has become an intriguing alternative.”

  “I daresay that’s a good thing, Dr. Case. Whoever he is, he is a lucky young man. I must be going,” Emelda said with true regret. “Once again, this is a remarkable example of pulling something out of your ass and calling it gold. I applaud you,” she said, a smirk pulling at her lips as she turned away.

  Wyatt laughed as he watched her go. She was right, of course, but only Emelda Ramsay could call it that and not offend anyone.

  A shout from the far end of the exhibit ripped his attention away from her retreating form, and Wyatt hurried into the crowd of people, following the commotion. He weaved his way through them and finally found the source of the problem near the barely completed witchcraft display. Noah stood with one of the interns, holding a mannequin’s head under his arm and waving a crooked broomstick in the other.

  “I’m telling you, Dr. Drake, it moved,” the kid was saying as Wyatt came up on them.

  “Of course it moved,” Noah said. He shoved the broom into Wyatt’s hands without otherwise acknowledging his appearance and held up the mannequin to show the intern. “It’s a creepy mannequin, they always come to life when you’ve been awake for thirty straight hours. Go home and sleep. Lay off the energy shots.”

  The intern nodded, giving Wyatt a sheepish glance as he retreated through the staff door at the side of the display.

  Noah turned and flopped his hands. “Your damn exhibit is wigging out all my interns.”

  Wyatt tried not to laugh, but only half succeeded as he took the mannequin’s head from Noah and stepped into the display to replace it.

  “He said the head turned as he walked past so he took it upon himself to jump into the display and swat it off its shoulders with its own broom.”

  Wyatt reattached the broom. “Other than that, how’s it going?”

  “So far, so good.”

  “Nothing unusual or spooky?”

  “The whole exhibit is unusual and spooky, Wy.”

  Wyatt snorted. He stepped out of the display case and Noah closed the glass door and locked it up. They turned together to survey the hall, which held everything from ghost stories and local myths to witches, magicians, and the art of ghost hunting. He’d given Thurston and his fellow masters of magic a section of the exhibit, just because he could. The colorful posters were a splash of vibrant, vintage color amidst a sea of otherwise drab and dreary displays.

  “What did Ash think of it?” Noah asked as they walked through the exhibit together.

  Wyatt winced. “He was more impressed with the, uh . . . legit exhibits.”

  “Uh-huh. Which one did you screw him in?”

  Wyatt couldn’t help the shocked look he gave Noah.

  “Oh come on! New relationship, deserted museum, tongue ring. You do the math.”

  “We did not screw in any of them, thank you. Mind your own business.”

  “Not even in your office?”

  “We went home and did that.”

  “Ha!”

  Wyatt grinned, but it fell quickly. “Ash called and told me they’re closing down the tavern for the week. But I didn’t have time for him to tell me why.”

  “Caleb said he was thinking about closing up shop,” Noah said. They made their way through the main lobby and headed for the break room downstairs. “He called me an hour ago all pissed off. They had talked him into waiting until after Halloween, and then as they were sitting there, the ceiling started dripping blood.”

  Wyatt stopped mid-step and grabbed Noah’s arm. “What?”

  Noah laughed. “That’s what he said. Apparently the new fridge they got had an accident. They didn’t set up the ice maker thingy right. It leaked all the hell over everything. Started dripping through the ceiling. It seeped through the floorboards, right? So it picked up all this wood stain and paint and ended up a nice bloody color by the time it started dripping on their heads.”

  Wyatt closed his eyes, snickering.

  “He said they had a lot they needed to do. They’re going to rewire a lot of stuff, repaint, and everything, so they closed down for a week. They’re doing it all themselves instead of hiring. Caleb’s a cheap bastard. He’s lucky Ash and Ryan can do everything they can.”

  “Yeah,” Wyatt said. “How did Ash take it?”

  “Closing down?”

  “No, the dripping blood.”

  “Oh. About as well as the others did, I think. Caleb said Delilah was ready to quit right then and there, but he convinced her to take a week’s vacat
ion instead. Even Ryan doesn’t want to go upstairs now. It’s getting spooky over there.”

  “That is their bread and butter.”

  Noah hummed and they continued to the break room. Wyatt couldn’t help but worry about Ash, though. Despite the perfectly legitimate explanations for all the weird things happening at Gravedigger’s and for the things Ash had seen after the knock to his head, Ash was probably seeing ghosts behind every odd sound and unfortunate accident now.

  They had just sat down when Noah put his hand on Wyatt’s arm. “Are you worried about him?”

  “A little.”

  Noah grinned and shrugged. “Let’s go check it out right now. Maybe they haven’t cleaned up the blood yet.” Before Wyatt could protest, Noah was out of his seat and dragging him up and out of the break room.

  When they got to Gravedigger’s, the windows and the glass in the door were covered over with paper grocery bags from Ukrop's, but they could hear music coming from inside. To Wyatt’s surprise, Noah produced a key and unlocked the door.

  “Wow, look at you.”

  “What?”

  “All domesticated.”

  Noah gave him a goofy grin, then bit his lip. “I love him.”

  Wyatt patted his shoulder. “I’m glad.”

  Noah glanced at him, still grinning. He pushed the door open, taking care to make certain there was nothing like a ladder standing in the way.

  Wyatt followed him into the darkened bar, and the sight that met them seemed to freeze his blood. Ash was on the floor, spreading out a white sheet across the wooden floorboards. He held an old screwdriver in his hand as he smoothed his fingers over the white material. Red paint had seeped through a corner of it. It was a scene from one of the old photos they’d found, brought to life.

  The door opened wider and the cowbell dinged. Ash looked over his shoulder and straightened up onto his knees as he looked at them. “Hey,” he said in surprise.

  “What are you doing?” Wyatt asked, voice muted as he tried to get over the moment of stunned horror.

  Ash looked down at the screwdriver in his hand and then pointed to a can of paint near the edge of the canvas by a large ladder. “We almost got the ceiling done before we overdosed on paint fumes and broke for lunch. What are you doing here? Isn’t it the exhibit preview or something?”

  Wyatt stared at him. He couldn’t shake the shock of seeing what had been haunting his dreams. He wondered if Noah and Ash had noted it and chosen to ignore it, or if it was so far removed from them now that they’d put it past them.

  “We heard about what happened this morning. We came to see how you’re doing.”

  “Oh.” Ash looked back down at the screwdriver and then placed it on top of the paint can before standing up. He brushed the dust off his knees and nodded at Wyatt. “I’m fine.”

  “Interesting color,” Noah said as he peered up at the mostly black ceiling.

  Ash shrugged. “Matches the wallpaper. Shut up.”

  Noah began to laugh. “Is Caleb here?”

  “He’s taking the air out back,” Ash said, making a sign with his fingers that Caleb was smoking. Noah sauntered off to the kitchen and left them alone.

  Ash pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes at Wyatt. “You came to see if the blood dripping from the ceiling sent me back on the crazy train, didn’t you?”

  Wyatt thought over his answer for a moment, then said, “A little, yeah.”

  “I’m fine.”

  Wyatt nodded and took a step closer. He studied the canvas warily, but there was nothing unusual about the scene now. They were painting the ceiling, after all. “There’s another reason I came.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “The gala opening of the exhibit.”

  “Gala? That sounds all fancy, congratulations.”

  Wyatt smiled. “Thanks. I was wondering if you’d be my date.”

  Ash raised one eyebrow and smiled, giving him that same air of innocent mischief Wyatt had been intrigued by when they’d first met. If Ash ever thought about getting that chip in his tooth fixed, Wyatt would have to protest.

  “It’s a costume party,” Wyatt said, trying to entice him.

  “Sounds fun.” Ash grinned wide, then looked down at his feet as he licked his lips. “But I can’t. We’ve got so much to do before we can get up and running, and we lose money every day we’re closed.”

  Wyatt smiled to hide the disappointment. “I understand.”

  “I’m sorry I’m missing your gala.”

  Wyatt laughed suddenly. “It’s okay. Hopefully there will be others.”

  Ash nodded. “You think you’ll keep your job?”

  “Only time will tell.”

  “Well, if not, we can always use an extra busboy here.”

  “Ha.”

  They stood in a silence that bordered on awkward until Wyatt straightened suddenly. “What if I came to help? Could you take a few hours away then?”

  Ash narrowed his eyes. “You want to help?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You want to help us tear down stuff and rewire stuff and build stuff and paint?”

  “Yeah? Why, what’s wrong with that?”

  Ash smiled crookedly. “I don’t know. It’s weird.”

  “Well. I don’t really want to help do any of that,” Wyatt admitted. “What I really want is to spend more time with you. If I have to paint to do it, then so be it.”

  “Wyatt. That’s kind of sweet.”

  “Is it working?”

  “Yeah.” He bit his lip, but continued to smile. “Oh yeah, it’s working.”

  Wyatt wasn’t accustomed to hard labor, that much was obvious to Ash as they worked into the wee hours every night, trying to get Gravedigger’s Tavern back into shape. The only time they took a break was to attend the grand opening of Wyatt’s exhibit.

  It was a basically just an excuse to throw a huge costume party. Ash was delighted when Wyatt told him to come however he wanted, and he got quite a few compliments on the steampunk-inspired outfit he pulled together.

  Wyatt kept him by his side, his fingers brushing the small of Ash’s back or lingering on his palm whenever someone approached to speak to them. And when Wyatt introduced Ash to someone, he never flinched when he added the title of boyfriend.

  Ash found himself oddly at home amidst the tweed and tails of the museum set. He was just as comfortable amidst Wyatt’s peers as Wyatt seemed around his. Wyatt pointed out the trustees, making certain to note the evil little toad who wanted Wyatt’s blood.

  By the end of the night, Ash was ready to drag Wyatt into a storage room and do horrible, wicked things to him.

  The exhibit went off without a hitch. At least, as far as Ash could tell. There was music and laughter. Wealthy patrons writing checks at a table in the lobby. Exceptionally creepy mannequins in the display cases.

  When it was over and they’d come back to Gravedigger’s, Wyatt was still obviously worried, even though the exhibit had seemed successful. Ash assumed that was why Wyatt was here now, painting in the middle of the night. He needed the distraction.

  They were tired and sore by the time they halted work a little after midnight. They sat drinking beer with the others and discussing what had been done and what needed to be done. They’d gotten an amazing amount of work accomplished in the three days since they’d shut the place down, but there was still a ways to go.

  The entire building had been rewired by a customer with a license, and they had just finished repairing the drywall where needed. It had been long, tedious work, but now they had to let the patching on the walls dry before they could begin painting them.

  They had torn down the wallboard that had once enclosed the stairs, and Ash was surprised by how much it changed the look of the barroom. The old stairs really were beautiful, and once they got the upstairs in working order, it would create whole new possibilities for the bar and the business.

  Despite a lingering sense of unease, Ash was excited about the prospect
s.

  He knocked a knee against Wyatt’s as they sat together, and Wyatt rewarded him with a game smile.

  “You can go home, you know. You don’t have to stick around.”

  “No, I’m good. You stuck through my stuffy exhibit opening last night, I can do this.”

  “Wyatt. You actually have a job to go to in the morning.” Ash leaned closer. “Your effort is noted and you will be laid for it.”

  Wyatt snorted and looked sideways at Ash again. His blue eyes darted to look past Ash, above and over his shoulder.

  Wyatt’s eyes widened and he lurched to his feet.

  Ash froze, panic burgeoning. “What?” he managed to ask, his voice a harsh whisper. A chill crept over his bones, but he couldn’t move or even turn to look behind him.

  “I thought I saw . . .” Wyatt exhaled slowly, his eyes darting back and forth. “I thought I saw something.”

  Ash clutched at his pants leg. He forced his head to turn, letting his peripheral vision take in the empty space behind him. “What did you see?”

  Wyatt’s eyes were still wide, and he’d gone completely pale.

  “You saw him, didn’t you?”

  Wyatt was shaking his head before Ash had finished asking the question. “No. No, it was just a shadow or something. From a passing car or . . . I think I’m just tired and weird right now,” he said quickly. He rubbed his eyes and turned away.

  Ash stood, glancing over his shoulder again. “Could you do me a favor, Wyatt? Just . . . next time you see something weird, don’t react, okay? What I don’t know won’t hurt me.”

  Wyatt cleared his throat and nodded.

  The floor above them creaked and moaned, and they both looked up to follow the footsteps.

  “It’s just Caleb and Ryan. They went to hook the fridge back up,” Ash said, telling himself just as much as Wyatt. Wyatt exhaled hard.

  The door to the kitchen pushed open and Caleb stepped out, carrying an armload of stair railing. He raised an eyebrow at them. “Who walked over your graves?”

  Ash looked back up at the ceiling. “Must have been Ryan,” he answered with a grunt.

  “What?” Ryan said as he followed Caleb through the door.