“They can’t do that forever.”
Wyatt had yet to take his eyes off the two men. Noah was right. It was all very athletic and involved. Surely they couldn’t go for more than a few minutes at a time.
Caleb, who was standing behind the bar, tossed a new bottle into the air at Ryan’s waist, and Ryan caught it, juggling three bottles so high that they almost grazed the ceiling. All three bottles were open, Wyatt realized, but somehow they didn’t spill as Ryan tossed them around. They seemed to have mastered the angles and the centrifugal force it required. Wyatt was beyond impressed.
Ash began tossing the glasses he had been juggling at Ryan, and Ryan tossed his bottles at Ash. The bottles spun in slow circles, and the lights caught the cuts of the heavy highball glasses. They mixed as they juggled, somehow managing to pour the liquor as they held the bottles in odd places: the crook of an elbow, sitting atop a shoulder. Ryan caught the first glass and then tossed it to Caleb, who caught it without ever turning it upside down. The next glass Ryan caught and held in his left hand as he tossed the last bottle to Ash.
In the end, Ash was juggling all three bottles and Ryan was holding two glasses of amber liquid. Ash caught the bottles and held them all in one arm like a pageant winner would hold a bouquet of flowers, and Ryan tossed him a glass. He caught it, and they turned in unison, holding up the glasses triumphantly, and then all three men kicked back the shots that had been poured and bowed.
The little crowd cheered. Noah and Wyatt stood staring in patent disbelief as Ash and Ryan climbed down off the bar.
“That’s inhuman,” Noah said as the music died down and returned to the slower, more intimate tunes Wyatt remembered from the other night.
“There’s got to be a trick to it,” Wyatt said. He was reminded of the Thurston poster in his office. He wondered if Ryan and Ash were using the same sleight of hand that the master magicians had used.
“Still pretty cool,” Noah said as he began making his way to the bar.
Wyatt hesitated, dreading the look on Ash’s face when he saw him. Finally, he sucked it up and followed, figuring he deserved what he might get.
Noah knocked on the scarred wood of the bar and got Caleb’s attention.
“Hello, lad,” Caleb said, smiling warmly as he walked up and leaned his hands on the bar. They greeted each other with the sort of flirtatious intimacy of a new couple. Wyatt looked away to give them some privacy.
“What can I get you?” Caleb asked as he nodded in greeting to Wyatt.
Wyatt smiled uncomfortably, wondering if Ash had told his friends what had happened.
“We want information,” Noah growled.
Caleb laughed and inclined his head, waiting for Noah to explain.
“We’re prepared to bribe.”
“Now, that’s interesting.” Caleb smirked. “What sort of information? And more importantly, what sort of bribe?”
Noah leaned in closer, telling Caleb what they were thinking with the museum exhibit as Wyatt looked around for Ash. He’d disappeared after hopping off the bar. He saw Ryan, though, who waved at him and smiled as he made his way through the thinning crowd. Delilah was there too, delivering food and taking orders.
Ryan shouted as he got closer. “Hey, Wyatt. How are you? You come to see Ash? He’s out on the patio whoring himself for tips.” He shook Wyatt’s hand and patted his shoulder distractedly. “Good to see you, man. Talk later.” He stepped away and slid through the little swinging door that let him behind the bar.
Wyatt snorted in amusement. A hand came to rest on the small of his back as someone slid by him, and Wyatt turned to find Ash standing right beside him.
“Hey,” Wyatt managed to say, though his heart had just jumped into his throat.
“Back for more, Dr. Case?” Ash asked in a flat, low voice that still managed to carry through the noise.
“Yeah . . . I mean no!” Wyatt said, flustered as he got a close-up look at Ash. The kohl around his eyes was an amazing way to enhance them. Wyatt had never thought he would find such a thing attractive. The tips of Ash’s gelled hair looked like they could probably pierce armor, but it somehow suited him. “I mean . . . sort of.”
Ash met his eyes, looking like he was fighting a smile.
“Hey, Ash,” Caleb said before Wyatt could stutter through any sort of explanation. “Tell these two what happened to you this morning.”
Ash looked between Wyatt and Noah. “Why?”
“They’re researching ghosts.”
Ash peered at Wyatt again, and when Wyatt shrugged, Ash walked around Noah and stepped behind the bar to stand beside Caleb. “You want ghost stories?”
“What happened to you this morning?” Noah asked.
“Nothing,” Ash huffed curtly as he picked up a clean towel and draped it over his shoulder. “Why are you asking us?” he asked without looking at Wyatt.
“We were thinking about taking the ghost tour to get some ideas,” Noah answered. “We were wondering if maybe you guys knew some stories or something to tide us over.”
Ash turned to Wyatt. “You’re running with the ghosts and legends idea?”
“We’ll make it worthy.”
Ash pursed his lips. Beside Wyatt, Noah smirked and pulled himself closer to the men on the other side of the bar. “We’d be more likely to make it worthy if we had help. You’re a Child of the Night, right?”
Ash glanced at him and snorted in amusement. “Extortionist.”
“You know it.”
“Child of the Night?” Ash added.
“What?”
“Children of the Night are prostitutes and vampires, numbnuts.”
“Oh.”
Ash moved out from behind the bar again. “Come on,” he said with a long-suffering sigh as he headed for the kitchen.
“Well it sounded all . . . gothy,” Noah said to Caleb before turning.
Caleb grinned. Wyatt couldn’t help but smile as he followed.
Ash was speaking to the evening cooks when Noah and Wyatt pushed through the door. He finished hearing their complaints about the stove that continued to refuse to work and promised he would fix it before turning away.
“Either of you know how to fix shit?” he asked in annoyance. They’d remodeled the entire kitchen just a few months ago and already things were going wrong. He gestured for them to move toward the back door, where he set up several milk crates and sat on one of them with a groan. How it was possible to be sore three days later and still have enjoyed it, he didn’t know. His guess was that the alcohol had helped.
“Not as such, no,” Noah said. He took one of the milk crates and gestured for Wyatt to sit as well. Wyatt hesitated.
Ash looked between them with narrowed eyes and then sighed. “You told him, didn’t you?” he asked Wyatt in exasperation. “I told you I wouldn’t say anything.”
“Wyatt’s conscience is fairly pervasive, makes him do all sorts of stupid shit,” Noah said as Wyatt opened his mouth and closed it again without speaking. “We’re really not here for that, though.”
Ash looked between them suspiciously, but then decided Noah wouldn’t bullshit him. “Okay. So you want ghost stories.”
Noah nodded. “Ghost stories, unexplained happenings, urban legends.”
“And you want the truth behind the popular story?”
“If you have it,” Wyatt said in his soft, gruff voice. Ash fought the urge to be attracted to it. “If not, we’ll research it and see if we can find it. We’re only using stories we can tell the real history behind.”
“What if the real history is unexplainable?” Ash asked.
“History doesn’t have to be explainable,” Wyatt responded, looking confident for the first time since he’d been in Ash’s bed. “The real history states the facts. We make from those facts what we will. If the events are unexplainable, that’s not history’s fault.”
Ash stared up at him, intrigued with the man again despite himself. Finally, he nodded and waved his hand a
t the third carton. “Sit down, huh? You’re making me nervous hovering.”
“Sorry,” Wyatt mumbled. He pulled the carton closer and sat.
His knee brushed Ash’s, and Ash looked at him from under lowered brows, wondering if he was really as ingenuous as he seemed or if it was just a very good act. Ash didn’t like to think he’d been played. Wyatt had seemed sincere. He still did, which was why Ash still found himself attracted to him.
Ash cleared his throat and looked away, meeting Noah’s eyes and frowning as Noah smiled at him sympathetically.
“Okay. I’ve been working here about five or six years now,” he said. He leaned against the wall behind him, trying to ease the ache of his muscles. “Working in a place like this, you hear things. People tell us stories trying to impress us, thinking we’re all obsessed with death and stuff.” He sighed as he ran his hands through his hair and belatedly realized it was practically plastic tonight. “Ugh,” he muttered as his hand came away with a sticky combination of sweat and reanimated hair gel.
Noah chuckled and Wyatt bit his lip against a smile. Ash reached out and wiped his hand on Noah’s arm as he tried to remember some of the things he’d heard over the years.
“A lot of the stories have to do with disaster and mass deaths. You know about the Richmond Theatre fire of 1811? And the Church Hill Tunnel collapse in 1925?”
Wyatt and Noah both nodded. Noah was smirking at him.
Ash rolled his eyes. “Of course you do, you’re historians. Well, Byrd Theatre is supposed to be haunted as all hell. The former manager, I think. The ladies bathroom does all sorts of weird things. And there’s a vampire story that goes with the tunnel collapse.”
“Vampire story,” Wyatt repeated.
Ash nodded. “You’ve heard of the Richmond Vampire?”
“I thought he was supposed to be in Hollywood Cemetery,” Noah said.
“He is, along with a dog statue that comes to life at night. But the Richmond Vampire story started with the tunnel collapse.”
“How so?”
“Story goes that, after it happened, as workers were rushing to help the men trapped by the collapse, a creature crawled out from the wreckage. Legend says its mouth was covered in blood and its teeth were pointed. Strips of decomposing skin were hanging off its body.”
Wyatt exhaled. “Lovely image.”
“Family exhibit, woo-hoo,” Noah singsonged. Wyatt snorted.
“Anyway. The story says that the creature ran away from medical attention, toward Hollywood Cemetery. He hid himself in a crypt that had a date of death chiseled into it but no birth date, and was never seen again. After that, the Richmond Vampire sightings started.”
“Creepy,” Noah said.
Ash shrugged. “Now, to me the possible truth behind that one is pretty plain. When the tunnel collapsed, a lot of people were injured. There were fires, people were bleeding. Someone crawling out of the tunnel with blood all over them and their skin falling off from severe burns sounds pretty reasonable, right? Being in shock and running off into oblivion only to keel over where your body gave out sounds like it might be reasonable too.”
“Yeah, that one’s a good anecdotal one,” Wyatt said with a nod. He was jotting notes down on a pad of paper. Ash watched the pen move for a few seconds before snapping out of it.
“There’s all kinds of stories about the Dismal Swamp area. And all of northern Virginia. Arlington, especially. Are you doing all of Virginia or just the Richmond area?”
“Anywhere that’s viable, really. The whole state.”
Ash clucked his tongue and closed one eye to peer at Wyatt through the other. “I have a few books at home that talk about the state. I’ll hunt them up for you.”
“I’d appreciate that,” Wyatt said, sounding so sincere and grateful that Ash sort of wanted to smack him.
“Another rare one I’ve heard is about the DuBois family. You know them?” Ash asked.
“Sounds familiar,” Noah said as Wyatt frowned and nodded.
“Well. It’s kind of like the LaLaurie family from New Orleans. I grew up there.”
“Now, the LaLauries I know,” Wyatt said. “They were a wealthy Creole couple in the early 1800s. Eighteen-thirty maybe?”
“Yeah.” Ash nodded. “There was a fire in their mansion in the French Quarter one night, supposedly started by their cook to escape their cruelty. When the firemen got the flames put out, they found a hidden room in the house, full of the mangled bodies of slaves. They’d been tortured and experimented on, stuff that would have given the Nazi doctors pause. Some of them were still alive and begging to be killed.”
“That’s . . . really horrible, but what does that have to do with Virginia?” Noah asked.
“The LaLauries escaped New Orleans just ahead of an enraged mob. They were never brought back to New Orleans. Some rumors say that they stayed in New Orleans, but others tell that they went as far as they could get. France. New York. One rumor says they came here to Richmond briefly before moving on, under the name DuBois.”
Wyatt shifted on his carton. “Really?”
“You’d have a hard time researching that one, I’d bet. I’ve heard they died in France, but not much about the interim. All those records you have access to, though, you might solve a historical mystery,” Ash said with forced cheer.
Noah smirked. “What else have you got?”
“There’s a bigfoot and/or werewolf near Lake Chesdin.”
Wyatt smiled and Noah barked a laugh.
“There were Indian ghosts spotted out on the Pocahontas Parkway a few summers ago. I remember newspaper articles about it. The whole town of Occoquan is haunted. The plantations down on the James are all said to be haunted and Civil War stories and ghosts are all over the state. You could also do a section on how to handle all the things you’re talking about. Like how to get rid of ghosts, how to repel them, that sort of thing.”
Noah was nodding, but Wyatt just kept gazing at Ash and smiling wistfully as he talked. Ash was both enjoying the attention and worried by it. He would just have to remember to stay away from the drink tonight, to make sure he didn’t end up in the same position he had found himself in four mornings ago. But if Wyatt planned to stick around . . .
Ash shook his head, having distracted himself into forgetting what he was saying.
“You okay?” Noah asked.
“Yeah.” Ash rubbed at his temple. He’d had a dull headache for the last couple days that he couldn’t get rid of.
Noah leaned in closer. “Caleb told me you hit your head the other day.”
“What? I didn’t hit it. He hit it for me!” He pointed over Noah’s shoulder, where Caleb was walking toward them. “Asshole. And I’m fine.”
Caleb approached, lighting a thick cigar behind his cupped hand. “How’s storytime going in here?”
Noah grinned. “Your bartender is a veritable font of creepy information.”
Ash smiled as he watched Noah’s eyes light up. At least he’d gotten one thing right over the weekend.
“His shift is also about to start and Ryan is getting antsy,” Caleb told them.
Ash looked at his watch and cursed.
“Your shift?” Wyatt echoed. “I thought you worked early and he worked late?”
Ash shook his head and clenched his jaw. “We take two hour shifts, normally, but we split them when we flair. If we didn’t, we’d both fall over from exhaustion after two days. He covered for me the other night when you were here.”
“Oh,” Wyatt said.
Ash sighed and stood up. “Look, I’m not going to be able to talk at all for the next two hours or so. After that, I’ll be taking the tables when Delilah gets off. If you want to go on that ghost walk thing and then come back and have a late dinner or something, I’ll be around. But you’re going to be better off getting this somewhere else, you know? I’ve pretty much told you everything I remember off the top of my head.”
“Do you work tomorrow?” Wyatt asked as
he stood.
“Yeah.” Ash looked from Wyatt to Noah and felt his resolve faltering. Damn the man, why did he have to be so cute and enigmatic? He hit every one of Ash’s buttons. “But . . . call me, I guess. If you have more questions. Noah’s got my number. And I’ll let you know if I can dig up that book.”
Noah reached out and took his hand, pulling him into a one-armed hug. “Thanks, Ash.”
“No problem.” Noah patted him on the back and then released him. He turned to Wyatt with a sudden blast of nerves and didn’t let himself think before he offered his hand to Wyatt as well. He hugged him awkwardly, pulling him close and acknowledging the attraction he still felt as he put his arm around him. Wyatt smelled like leather and vanilla, and flashes of sultry kisses played through Ash’s head.
“Thanks,” Wyatt whispered into his ear.
Ash shivered and released him. “Yeah.” He sidestepped Caleb and grabbed up the flashlight that sat near the door. He clicked it on and opened his mouth, shining the light onto his tongue as the others watched him.
“What the hell are you doing?” Noah asked.
Ash removed the flashlight and gave them a sheepish smile before opening his mouth to reveal the tongue ring. “It needs light to glow.”
Wyatt was grinning crookedly, but Noah just stared at him with a raised eyebrow, his mouth ajar.
“What? Shut up,” Ash grunted. He put the flashlight away and retreated to the bar where he knew he and his pride would be safe.
He tried not to notice an hour later when Noah and Wyatt left with the ghost tour. The sense of simultaneous relief and disappointment was disconcerting, and Ash chastised himself before he could get too distracted.
He lost himself in his work, giving the patrons the top-notch show they expected when they came to Gravedigger’s. The lights were low and several of the bottles Ash used glowed in the dark. Patrons were getting well-lubricated and loose, having a good time and tipping well. It was with relief that Ash stopped noticing when the door opened.