A short one shot for Halloween. In an old hotel in New Orleans two lovers continue to love even though they have been dead for two years now. Their haunting story will bring tears to your eyes and leave hope for a love that surpasses time itself.

The Lost Lovers of Suite 601

"This is the room Miss Brandon" said the snappily dressed man as he slipped the key card into the door. Throwing the door wide he stepped to the side to let the small woman enter.

The room was large with the typical New Orleans high vaulted ceiling. The bed hugged the back wall; it was a dramatic king size rice bed draped with gauzy mosquito netting, an assortment of decorative pillows in muted colors lay against the pillow shams. The room seemed frozen in time, dust motes danced in the light that filtered through the hurricane shutters.

"Alice," her voice startled the young man from the silence

"Pardon?" he whispered. It seemed a sacrilege to speak with a normal voice in the room.

"Just call me Alice; I will need you to stay near the door until I call for you." Alice said distractedly. She walked to the center of the room, the large boards on the wood floor creaked as she crossed to the sitting area. "Nothing here", she said absently. "The bed reeks of energy, though"

"It's been two years since the incident. We kept it hushed up at the time, but we cannot keep a client in here overnight. They check out the next day swearing never to return," he whispered. Alice turned her face to him as he spoke. "It's even worse if it's a young couple. We had a honeymooning couple check out in tears one night," She walked to the foot of the bed and ran a hand along the duvet.

"Don't tell me everything yet, let me get my walk through. The bed feels," she hesitated and thought a moment, "betrayal, loss," she ran her hand along coverlet as she walked toward the head of the bed. "Oh," her voice caught in her throat and the rest almost came out a sob, "heart break."

She turned and with her hand extended in front of her she walked toward the bath area. Walking through the open door she said, "Beautiful, but there is so much sadness in the room..." It was large; three times the size of a normal hotel bath, and again it had the high vaulted ceiling. A large claw foot tub sat in front of an arched window, sheer curtains and the hurricane shutters assured privacy for the bather. The vanity area held an antique lighted mirror and a floral boudoir chair. In complete contrast to the old world atmosphere there was an ultra modern shower area, large tiles and multi head shower nozzles. This was where Alice turned and walked.

Opening the door with a cringe she stepped inside. Her breath caught and tears came to her eyes. "Desolation, heart break, hopelessness, fear," she spoke quietly but the last word came out louder than the rest, "Despair, this is where it ended." Walking out of the shower she called to him. "You can come in here now please." She stepped to the bathroom door and beckoned him into the room. "Now tell me the story"

/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\

Two years earlier.

Tan walls behind a four poster bed with white mosquito net gauze wrap. Curtains are similar lace blowing in the heated southern breeze. The hurricane shutters keep out the sun and give privacy. Faintly in the background you hear a shower running and down below on the street "Love in a Hot Afternoon" is playing.

On the wood floor by the bed there is a wine bottle spilled with a shattered crystal glass nearby. Red wine puddles on the floor and looks like blood stains in the dim light where it fell from the bed.

There is a hand hanging off the side of the bed, it drips blood. The man on the bed looks as if he is asleep, bronze hair tousled. Sex hair, the women call it and many find it irresistible. His eyes if you look close are cracked and glazed in death, once they were a vibrant green. The bed is rumpled and the room smells of sex, blood, and death. A faint misty outline of a man stands in the corner of the room looking toward the bed. It is similar to the man on the bed but lacking color. He turns toward the bath and walks without a sound or a footprint.

Through the steamed glass shower door you can see a girl sitting on the floor. The misty figure walks through the glass to hover near the girl. The water is hot and scalding, the exposed skin on her arms and legs are an angry red. Brown hair turned black by the water curtains her face. She is fully clothed in khaki shorts and a white sleeveless blouse. Her body shakes with sobs. From her both arms run rivulets of blood. One hand clutches a Harpy hunting knife; its sharp curved blade is slowly loosing the stain of gore in the shower spray. Her other hand is holding a small Tiffany blue box with a diamond ring in it. The tears are quieting and blood flow is slowing, you can see the struggle she is having as she attempts twice to put the ring on her finger. When she is finally successful the hand drops and her body slowly folds to shower floor.

/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\

"He was some sort of hit man, met her down here, fell in love and wanted out" his tall form hovered in the door frame. "His owners killed him while she was out, picking up their breakfast" said the tall man as he hovered in the doorway. She could tell he did not want to enter the bath area.

"Mister, I'm sorry I don't remember your name," she smiled up at him, "what was it again?"

"Jasper Whitlock, mam. I've been with the hotel now for three years." He ran a hand trough his dark blonde hair pushing it back from his forehead. He made no attempt to enter into the room. "I was here the morning they were found, second one in the room before the police."

"I can feel their love, it is still so strong." She had tears in her eyes.

"So what can we do? The maids will clean the suite and walk out and when they come from the next room the sheets are rumpled like two people were on the bed." Again he ran a hand trough his hair, it must me a nervous habit she thought. "One maid said she could faintly hear "Love in the Hot Afternoon" playing."

He continued, "Sometimes you will hear a shower running and someone crying. I've actually heard that one myself." He stepped nervously back into the main room and she slowly followed.

"Sit with me," she moved to the love seat and sat gracefully. "You are probably not going to like what I am about to say."

He looked up nervously at that. "Why?" he asked.

"I want you to do nothing." She smiled.

"What? Nothing, this is a business!" His voice was loosing the reverence it held for the room when they first entered.

"They won't give each other up, and they won't pass." Her face held a worried look. "It is probably because they will be going into two different directions if they do." She looked sad as she said this.

"But still," he left it hanging.

"Maybe there is something I can do. But I will need help, I can get with the rest of my coven and maybe we could get them to try life again, start over and try find each other again." "But," she looked at him sternly, "If you get a priest in here to exorcise them they are damned" she leaned toward him and clutched at his arm. "Please, what ever you do, please don't do that."

His hand slid toward hers and he replied, "I can hold off for a while," He smiled into her eyes, "For true love, I think any man would wait."

"Thank you Jasper, thank you so much"

/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\

Epilogue:

Mobile Press Register

We would like to mention that today's babies are really special. They are all Blue Moon Babies.

Tiny hands, tiny feet, there's someone new we want you to meet at Spring Hill Medical Center

Isabel Blue Demouy

Daughter of Lane and Hadley (nee Wren) Demouy

August 31, 2012, 10:13 p.m.

5lb. 4 oz.

The Times-Picayune

Ochsner Baptist Medical Center

Edward Robert Whitlock, son of Jasper and Mary Alice (nee: Brandon)

Born August 31, 2012, 10:13 p.m.

9lb. 5oz.

Authors Note: This is the result of a week without the internet and my fan fiction addiction. I was starting to twitch from withdrawals and decided to get off my lazy rump and put some of my ideas to paper. This was inspired by two songs John Meyers Assassin which is a wonderful song. You can really see the scene he describes. I would love to see someone make that into a multi chapter fic. Oh the possibilities. The other song is a classic called, ta dahhhhh, Love in the Hot Afternoon. I've heard it all my life but once along time ago I heard it playing during the quite morning hours on Bourbon Street. If you can stomach the genre, give it a go and listen to the picture it paints. Beautiful. Oh and on a personal note, Isabel Demouy was my great grand's name.