Read Online The Bone Orchard by Abigail Roux - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Abigail Roux
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killed?”
Ambrose nodded, his smile fading. “I heard talk in the saloon. Two members of the jury been murdered in gruesome ways, both in saloons around town. I worked it out that Jennings can’t go too far from the gallows, so those folks who stay away, they’re safe. Until he gets stronger, that is. I reckon we have some time now if we intend to stop him. He’s done killed everyone he can.”
Ezra swiped a hand over his mouth, nodding. “Well. The good news, I suppose, is there are now two of us. We can overpower him.”
Ambrose grinned again. “That we can.” He paused and looked Ezra up and down, narrowing his eyes like he might when examining a horse for purchase.
Ezra actually felt himself blushing. “What?”
“I think you could stand a few rounds of sparring first.”
“Sparring? You think you need to teach me to fight?” Ezra asked, incredulous until he saw the shimmering glint of mischief in Ambrose’s eyes. “Oh. Oh! Sparring .”
Ambrose clucked his tongue and took Ezra’s hand, lifted it to his lips and kissed Ezra’s fingers. “Call me a selfish bastard. But I think it’s our first order of business. Until you’re accustomed to being a ghost, that is.”
“You won’t find me arguing that.”
“I know a nice private room upstairs. Won’t no one rent it since the last two guests died up there.”
“Clever. Morbid, but clever nonetheless.” Ezra followed along without another word of complaint. His stomach roiled with excitement and nerves, and he was pleased that, even dead, he seemed to be able to feel those little joys of life.
It wasn’t until they reached the closed door to the room that Ezra saw the flaw in their plan. He rested his head against the wall and sighed heavily. “What now?”
“Turns out, you can teach an old dog a new trick or two,” Ambrose drawled. His eyes were still shining when he winked at Ezra. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and blew it out. Then he reached for the doorknob and gripped it, turning it until the latch popped and the door creaked open.
“You’ve learned how to move things?” Ezra blurted.
“I worked it out that if you think about something that makes you feel something, you don’t have to work so hard to move it.”
“Makes you feel what? Sad, angry?”
“Or happy.” Ambrose glanced at him, a blush rising on his cheeks. “Love works mighty good. I just thought about you, and I could do it.”
Ezra stepped closer without realizing he was moving, and wrapped his arms around Ambrose’s waist. He shoved Ambrose into the room, kicking out behind him. His boot caught the door and hit it solidly, slamming it closed.
Ambrose looked at it with wide eyes. “How’d you do that?”
“Lust works too, apparently,” Ezra said before delving into a demanding kiss.
Ambrose managed to fight his way free long enough to shout, “Am I the only ghost here doesn’t know how to ghost?”
Ezra cackled. He was pulling at Ambrose’s clothes, pleased when they came off and stayed off. He left them in a pile on the floor at the end of the bed, dust floating in the air above them. When he got to Ambrose’s belt buckle, he finally earned Ambrose’s attention; Ambrose gave up glaring at the door and turned his efforts toward Ezra’s attire instead. They kissed long and often, lingering over each touch and thriving on the ability to finally be able to do it.
“I feel as if dying should have been a sadder affair for me,” Ezra murmured against Ambrose’s warm lips. Ambrose’s mustache was a minor nuisance when his lips were as soft and talented as they were, and Ezra was willing to work past it.
Ambrose clutched at Ezra’s bare skin, pressing their bodies together. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save you,” he whispered. He kissed Ezra gently, and it felt like an apology. “I’m so sorry.”
“There are worse ways to go than in your arms,” Ezra insisted, and led Ambrose toward the bed. “And there are certainly worse
Ambrose nodded, his smile fading. “I heard talk in the saloon. Two members of the jury been murdered in gruesome ways, both in saloons around town. I worked it out that Jennings can’t go too far from the gallows, so those folks who stay away, they’re safe. Until he gets stronger, that is. I reckon we have some time now if we intend to stop him. He’s done killed everyone he can.”
Ezra swiped a hand over his mouth, nodding. “Well. The good news, I suppose, is there are now two of us. We can overpower him.”
Ambrose grinned again. “That we can.” He paused and looked Ezra up and down, narrowing his eyes like he might when examining a horse for purchase.
Ezra actually felt himself blushing. “What?”
“I think you could stand a few rounds of sparring first.”
“Sparring? You think you need to teach me to fight?” Ezra asked, incredulous until he saw the shimmering glint of mischief in Ambrose’s eyes. “Oh. Oh! Sparring .”
Ambrose clucked his tongue and took Ezra’s hand, lifted it to his lips and kissed Ezra’s fingers. “Call me a selfish bastard. But I think it’s our first order of business. Until you’re accustomed to being a ghost, that is.”
“You won’t find me arguing that.”
“I know a nice private room upstairs. Won’t no one rent it since the last two guests died up there.”
“Clever. Morbid, but clever nonetheless.” Ezra followed along without another word of complaint. His stomach roiled with excitement and nerves, and he was pleased that, even dead, he seemed to be able to feel those little joys of life.
It wasn’t until they reached the closed door to the room that Ezra saw the flaw in their plan. He rested his head against the wall and sighed heavily. “What now?”
“Turns out, you can teach an old dog a new trick or two,” Ambrose drawled. His eyes were still shining when he winked at Ezra. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and blew it out. Then he reached for the doorknob and gripped it, turning it until the latch popped and the door creaked open.
“You’ve learned how to move things?” Ezra blurted.
“I worked it out that if you think about something that makes you feel something, you don’t have to work so hard to move it.”
“Makes you feel what? Sad, angry?”
“Or happy.” Ambrose glanced at him, a blush rising on his cheeks. “Love works mighty good. I just thought about you, and I could do it.”
Ezra stepped closer without realizing he was moving, and wrapped his arms around Ambrose’s waist. He shoved Ambrose into the room, kicking out behind him. His boot caught the door and hit it solidly, slamming it closed.
Ambrose looked at it with wide eyes. “How’d you do that?”
“Lust works too, apparently,” Ezra said before delving into a demanding kiss.
Ambrose managed to fight his way free long enough to shout, “Am I the only ghost here doesn’t know how to ghost?”
Ezra cackled. He was pulling at Ambrose’s clothes, pleased when they came off and stayed off. He left them in a pile on the floor at the end of the bed, dust floating in the air above them. When he got to Ambrose’s belt buckle, he finally earned Ambrose’s attention; Ambrose gave up glaring at the door and turned his efforts toward Ezra’s attire instead. They kissed long and often, lingering over each touch and thriving on the ability to finally be able to do it.
“I feel as if dying should have been a sadder affair for me,” Ezra murmured against Ambrose’s warm lips. Ambrose’s mustache was a minor nuisance when his lips were as soft and talented as they were, and Ezra was willing to work past it.
Ambrose clutched at Ezra’s bare skin, pressing their bodies together. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save you,” he whispered. He kissed Ezra gently, and it felt like an apology. “I’m so sorry.”
“There are worse ways to go than in your arms,” Ezra insisted, and led Ambrose toward the bed. “And there are certainly worse
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