Chapter Seventeen
FLYNN couldn’t believe they were back at the hospital. And that it had been his idea. He knew they needed it, though; they needed some closure. Besides, he was pretty sure the danger was gone. They’d uncovered what had really happened and dealt with the murderer. Christian’s and David’s ghosts could rest.
He just needed to go and see room 204 for himself and be sure.
Hell, with all the trouble, he’d never even been in here. How was that possible?
It was amazing how quickly it got dark once they were in the hospital. And Flynn had to work not to get spooked. They headed upstairs and crept along the hallway, all five of them sticking close together.
“Are you sure this is a good idea, Blaine?” Will whispered, and Blaine shook his head.
“Flynn needs to do it. Psycho.” The smile Flynn got was warm, though, and Blaine didn’t look worried.
“Yeah, yeah. We all need it—not just me. This needs to be closed for us. Besides, I bet you we can edit a hell of a show together out of what we’ve got, except we don’t have a way to end it. This gives us one.”
“I’m going to send it to a producer in Toronto,” Jase said. “He wants to see it. He likes the blog.”
Flynn looked over at Jase in surprise. “Seriously? That’s so cool! We should have a party when we’re done here.”
“I’m all over that. We’ll have a wrap party.”
He smiled at Blaine. “We can host it at the barn.”
Then he turned his attention back to room 204. The good news about the producer wanting to see their stuff and the party had him feeling far less freaked out by their environs, and he pushed the door open without any trepidation.
It looked the same—empty and bare and dusty. Old.
He looked around, half expecting to hear that voice screaming room 204. There was nothing, though. No voice, no cold spots, no specters or unexpected movements.
It was almost anticlimactic.
“Should we do some EVPs or something?” Jase asked.
“Can you guys not see that?” Blaine sounded shocked.
“What? Tell us what you’re seeing, Blaine.” Flynn looked around wildly, trying to spot what Blaine was witnessing.
“It’s right there.” Blaine grinned. “I hope we made it better. We tried.”
“So I take it you’re seeing Christian or David, or both of them?”
Come on, Blaine. Talk for the camera.
“It’s just a shape. A fuzz.”
“But you think it’s someone in particular?” Flynn pushed.
Blaine shrugged. “Do you want to talk to someone?”
Flynn gasped as he suddenly felt something. He couldn’t even describe what it was. Passing through cobwebs was the best he could do.
“Flynn? Flynn! It’s on you.”
He sidestepped and moved over toward Blaine, trying to get away from it.
Blaine grabbed his hand and tugged. “What do you want? Flynn’s mine, you know. My lover.”
“He knows.” Flynn blinked, but the words that had come out of his mouth were true. He didn’t know how he knew it, but he did. “I feel gratitude. He’s grateful.” Okay, this was freaking him out.
“Good. Good. Grateful is way better than vengeful.”
“I think he wants us to have a long life together.” Okay, it was still freaky as fuck, but at least the spirit didn’t want to harm them. Blaine was right; this was way better than it had been.
“Well, if you want to say something, I’ve got the recorder right here. You can speak right into it.”
Flynn snapped his mouth closed. He wasn’t talking for this thing anymore. It was going to have to speak on its own.
“Just let yourself talk. It’s okay. Christian told us. We know you were murdered, man. He told us.”
Flynn’s mouth opened without his volition, and a voice came out. A voice that wasn’t his. “You got him. Thank you.” Flynn stood there, his eyes huge. It was like someone had taken him over so he couldn’t get his own words out, just these that didn’t belong to him.
“You’re welcome. Now. Please. Out of my Flynn, because that’s creepy.”
“Don’t let it happen to you. You represent us.”
Flynn suddenly felt like himself again, and he gasped, almost falling. “Oh my God. I never want to go through that again!”
“Can we fucking go? Now?” Darnell was gray, which was quite a feat, as dark-skinned as he was.
Flynn put a finger in the air and circled it. “Wrap it up first, because we are not coming back here. Ever. Just say something to wrap us up.” He wanted out of here in the worst way possible and was trying to decide whether running out as soon as Blaine was done would be unmanly.
“That was probably the scariest thing we’ve experienced in days, and now we need to go back to the office and see what, if anything, we’ve recovered.”
“Say something witty about the haunting of the hospital. Because I swear to God, I don’t care what wrap-up shot anyone says we need to come back and tape, I’m not doing it. So we’d better have our bases covered.” Flynn was done with this place and its body-jacking specters.
Blaine grinned with a glint in his eyes, looking tickled. “We’ve experienced all sorts of things here—from possession to spectral lights to voices. Hopefully we’ve helped lay all these ghosts to rest. I guess you could say we were going for a spiritual healing.”
That actually made Flynn want to laugh, and he bit his lower lip to avoid it. Wouldn’t do to appear glib and joking if they used that for the end of the potential show.
They all waited a few minutes. Then Will cackled. “A spiritual healing. That’s what we should call it. ‘The Haunting of the Eugene Thurston Memorial Hospital: A Spiritual Healing.’”
“Works for me,” Darnell said. “Now can we get the fuck out of here and go home? I’ve had enough of hospitals for a lifetime.”
“Amen to that,” Flynn agreed.
The others all said something similar, and they headed out together, eager to have the Eugene Thurston Memorial Hospital behind them.