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So, he walked.
Not many of the other ghosts could melt. It made dealing with shades easier since they tended to stick to one place. Only a few of the clock punchers could do it, like Mrs. Charles, who regularly passed through a wall in the kitchen that hadn’t been there when she was alive.
Thethingin the Eastern Stairs didn’t seem to be capable since it appeared to be trapped in the steps, though it had other miserable abilities.
Like being able to reach out and grab people so they’d fall down and break their damn neck.
Of all the many happenings in the Allan Hotel, the Thing was the most mysterious and the most deadly. Precipitation’s working theory was that it was a demon, an inhuman spirit stuck here as they were, and it was pissed it couldn’t escape.
Huck could understand the frustration of being trapped, but he still didn’t think that was a good excuse for murdering people.
After all, Huck was far from its first victim and probably would not be its last.
Huck had been terrified Grant was going to be next, and he made a mental note to communicate the danger of the Eastern Stairs as soon as he could. That had to be the priority.
Even though Huck was dying to ask him a million questions:
Could he get a message to his parents?
Could he catch him up onWalking Dead?
Was he single?
Okay, the last one was definitely Precipitation’s fault, but it made Huck smile. It was foolish to get his hopes up, but it would be nice to be able to say hi and pretend to be alive for a little while with a very good-looking man.
As for activities of thescrumpingvariety, well, Huck didn’t dare dream of such a thing. He hadn’t had much luck in that department when he was alive, and he had politely declined Precipitation’s many offers. It wasn’t that Huck didn’t experience physical desire now, because he totally did, but it was muted compared to his other wants.
Hugs.
Cuddles.
Holding someone’s hand.
Maybe holding Grant’s hand…
Shit.
Huck had to get this damn crush under control. It hadn’t been a full day yet and he was already losing himself to his silly daydreams. With a heavy sigh, he rounded the corner into the dining room to wait for Mrs. Charles.
He sat in a chair near her table, and he checked the clock up on the wall to see the time. He had arrived early and had about ten minutes left to go. With something as important as the fate of the hotel at stake, he always made sure to give himself a good buffer just in case.
Huck pulled his hoodie down over his face and sighed, anxious to get back to the command center and see what Grant was up to. He could hear footsteps approaching, and they sounded very clear. He suspected it was Precipitation coming over to brag about whatever terrible thing he’d done to scare the hosts. Without looking up, he asked expectantly, “What’d you do this time? Hmm?”
“Hello?” That was not Precipitation.
Huck lifted his head to see who it was, and he grinned from ear to ear.
It was Grant!
Grant was searching the dining room with a small flashlight, and he didn’t seem the least bit afraid. He seemed curious, maybe a little excited, and he reached out to touch the closest table. He glanced around and stopped right on Huck. “Oh! Hi.”
Huck looked over his shoulder just to make sure there wasn’t a living person hiding back there that he hadn’t noticed. It was hard to believe that Grant was actually directing that greeting at him. Huck pointed at himself to be doubly sure. “Me?”
“Yes! You.” Grant grinned. “In the hoodie.”
Huck nearly fell out of his chair. “Uh, right. Me.” He stood awkwardly. He had been thinking about Grant for hours, but he hadn’t put much thought into what he was going to say. “Hi.”
“I’m Grant Mittel.”
