Ghosts of Averoigne

“The 1980’s?” Logan smirked.

The owner’s eyes went wide. “Something like that, yeah!”

“Ready for this idea?” said Kara. “Put up a sign! OUT OF ORDER. Something like that, no?”

Mr. Radcliffe looked absolutely stunned. “I— I just thought it went without saying.” He backpedaled quickly as he noticed Logan holding one hand to his forehead. “I mean, a couple of kids have been caught playing on it from time to time. But no one’s ever tried to—”

“Save it for the morning.”

Kara was tired, her body stiff from the long ride. If she didn’t get some sleep soon, there wouldn’t be any. Without looking back, she stormed off in the direction of the modern elevator. Almost immediately she could hear Logan falling in behind her.

Great, she thought to herself.

Six

The room was extremely small.

That part Kara could live with. Small was something to be expected from a hotel built in the late 1890’s. What she couldn’t live with however, was the fact that the room had only a single bed.

“Looks like you’re on the couch,” she told Logan.

Her companion frowned down at the tiny piece of furniture. “That’s not a couch. That’s a loveseat.”

“Well then start loving it.”

The bathroom was no better. A small pedestal sink and an old mirror made up half the amenities. The other half was a tiny shower stall and vintage toilet, the kind where the basin was mounted high up on the wall. A greasy-looking pull-chain dangled beneath it.

The place was quaint. Most people would agree it had charm.

She hated it anyway.

Kara unzipped a tiny travel bag and began brushing her teeth vigorously.

“You sure this place is haunted?” Logan called in to her. “I mean, I could think of much better places to be spending my afterlife.”

“Oh yeah, like where?”

“Like the Plaza. Or the Four Seasons. Or—”

“You read the file,” she said, spitting into the sink. “You tell me your theory on why this place has so much paranormal activity.”

Kara cocked an ear, but Logan went silent. For once it was disappointing. After spending so much time with the file, Kara was hoping he’d actually had an idea. She really didn’t want to read the file herself.

When she re-emerged from the bathroom, she stopped instantly short. Logan was standing at the window, one arm up, looking out into the raging snowstorm. He’d already changed. And by ‘changed’, he’d stripped down to nothing but a pair of loose-fitting boxer shorts.

Jesus Christ.

He was every bit as dashing as she remembered him. Broad, well-defined shoulders. Strong, corded arms. And his chest… his chest was bare and beautiful. Memories came flooding back to her, completely unbidden. Memories of sleeping on that chest. Of feeling it crushed against her…

“Y—You’re sleeping like that?”

Kara regretted the words immediately.

“Of course,” he replied. “How else would I sleep?” Logan examined her expression, and his mouth stretched into a knowing smile. “Besides, you’ve slept with me dozens of times. You know what I like to sleep in—”

“Alright, alright.”

“Besides,” he said, turning back to the window. “This room’s like a million degrees.”