The Haunted Halls (19 page)

Chapter Five

Timothy watched the brunette and the redhead lay motionless on the bed, eyes staring blankly at the ceiling, chests rising and falling. He considered his words carefully. While his counterparts may have enjoyed the quick kill, he preferred to play the spider to the fly, or flies, in this case.

“Would you believe me if I confessed my sins?” he said, though neither could answer until he allowed them. He was standing with his back to the bed, staring out at the night. The rain was letting up and the fog was rolling in. Gazing down at the lot he thought the few remaining cars looked like gravestones; the fog, creeping around them, holding mass among the dead. In essence, the empty vehicles would serve as exactly that–markers for the fallen. “I killed two girls I loved very much… Just like I’m going to kill both of you.” He listened to the soft patter of rain, the whispering wind through the trees across the lot. “I was destined to be what I have become from the very beginning. You are both here with me now as it was meant to be.” He turned to them, watched as the wide-eyed pretty things began thrashing on the bed. “Ah…now, now, shh-shh,” he whispered. 

Timothy saw his new face, the Ice Queen’s gift, reflecting off the framed portrait depicting a generic beach setting, hung over the bed. His eyes were like burning embers–pure black surrounded by a fiery, red glow. The skin around his mouth pulled taught revealing an army of canines. His skin–pale and cold–revealing the thick blue veins beneath. He reached out a clawed hand and scraped a set of sharp yellowing nails down the length of Red’s leg; a thin trail of blood seeping in its wake.

“I can tell you want to scream, and believe me, there’s nothing I would love to hear more. However, due to the sensitivity of our surroundings, I think your blood and tears will have to suffice.”

He lifted the clawed hand up, resting it just between Red’s bikini top. Saliva, drooling from his jagged teeth, dripped down onto her flesh as he looked into her eyes. Her emerald greens went wild as he punctured her flesh, ripping his hand down the length of her torso. Blood, spraying like a fountain, covered his face as he tore through the rest of her. The brunette, thrashed madly, waiting her turn.

Chapter Six

The spirit watched the one called Kenneth. She had seen him attack the girl from behind and followed them into the room. The room…she knew this room. Phantoms of her past pulsed behind a hazy curtain. There was something there, something she needed to remember, but she couldn’t. Not yet. She watched the girl fight off this thing, all the while seeing bits and pieces of a forgotten past. The girl was strong, but not strong enough. The spirit needed to figure out a way to help her. The hotel clerk was unconscious on the bed, defenseless to this dark creature’s whim. And he was a creature. She wasn’t sure what exactly. He wasn’t dead, but he wasn’t alive either. The evil one had done this. Somehow, it had made this one and the other. They had to be stopped. All of them.

Watching him undress the girl, she looked at the broken television on the floor. Without touching the device, she made the static screen come to life.

Chapter Seven

“What the–” The hairs on Kenneth’s neck tingled in the charged air
. Eric?
A hint of the old Kenneth, the weak Kenneth, and his penchant for paranoia slipped through. If
she
could bring him back after the big guy’s earlier attack, she could do the same for Eric, but why? “Where are you?” He scooted off the bed, walked to the TV, and hit the power button.  The white noise continued. Kenneth grabbed the TV from the stand, ripped it from the wall, and threw it to the floor. Though muffled against the rug, the white noise continued. Gripping his hair in frustration, he brought his knee up. “Shut. The. Fuck. Up!” His foot came down with each seething word.

The room fell silent.

Knock, knock, knock.

“All right, you big dumb fuck,” he said. “Come back for more, huh?” Kenneth walked to the door, undid the lock, and yanked it open. Complete darkness. He stepped out into a black pocket of cold that felt
alive?

“Sarah?” his voice called, shrinking with his libido.

There was no answer. A light farther down the hall flickered to life, and then grew to an amazing brightness, causing him to block its brilliance with his hand as he moved forward. The bulb shattered in a splash of sparks and glass and the door behind him slammed shut. Stumbling through the black, seeing spots as he went, he reached out for the door knob and heard the lock click back into place.

“Arrrhh,” he yelled, pounding his fists on the door. The light from within, barely registering in the darkened hallway via a sliver at the foot of the door, caught his eye. Resting his forehead against the barrier, he laughed. “Heh, heh, heh, you think you can keep me out?” Stepping back, he ran and kicked the door. The hinges buckled. “Huh? You think you can lock me out, bitch?” He made a second run at the door, landing with another solid kick. The hinges gave a little more. “I’d step back if I were you,” he said, before lunging again. This time, the door gave way, crashing into the room. “Now,” he said.

The girl still lay unconscious on the bed where he’d left her. Kenneth started huffing, the rage building steam. He thought of Timothy.
Maybe he’s fucking with me now, just like Eric.
“No! She’s mine, you hear me? She said this one was mine. And I’m taking her right fucking now.”

Stalking toward the bed, Kenneth stepped over the discarded microwave. The broken TV on the floor came back to life. The static hit his ears like some terrible metal band with a bad drummer, out of place and out of time. “Fuck you,” he said, dropping his pants to the floor. The hallway lights suddenly sparked back to life flashing back and forth between light and dark, life and death. Undeterred, Kenneth mounted the now moaning girl. Reaching down for her panties, he felt something cold shoot through his back.

“Uhhh…” he gasped.  He felt a freezing cold sensation penetrate him like he’d been harpooned by an icicle the size of a broad sword.  He couldn’t move, the crippling cold holding him hostage.

“Arr…arrr..”  His voice was a whisper as the piercing frigidness sapped his strength. His eyes fluttered into the back of his head. Convulsing, he fell from the bed.

…..

Rhiannon opened her eyes and caught a faint blue shadow looming at the edge of the bed. The vision was gone in the blink of an eye. Sitting up, she slipped her butt back against the headboard and gazed down at her exposed flesh.

Her attention was stolen by the stirring, pantless body on the floor. “I don’t fucking think so,” she said as she climbed from the bed. Scanning the floor for a weapon, she spotted the microwave. Kenneth’s arms reached for her as she stepped over him, bent down, and picked up the kitchen appliance. Raising the small microwave over her head, her muscles strained, her arms and lips trembled. She sucked in a quick breath as his eyes blinked open. Onyx orbs glared up at her. Without a word, she slammed the hefty metal machine down onto her attacker’s angry features, the contact sounding like a pumpkin being smashed. Kenneth’s appendages twitched and then stopped.

Rhiannon hacked up a glob of snot and spit it to the floor. It was dark red, a result of her busted nose. She had no idea what the hell happened to Kenneth, or what had stopped him, what had made him cry out at the edge of the bed, but she didn’t care. She was safe, he was dead. She was getting the fuck out of here.

…..

Down the corridor, Timothy Laymon rose from the crimson mess on the mattress. Stepping from the bed, covered from head to toe in the gore of his two victims, he felt electric. He moved from the parade of tattered flesh and bone, running his hands through his hair. All traces of their blood upon him disappeared. The door opened without being touched as he walked on through. He stepped out into the open corridor just as another door slammed shut. Someone had just taken off down the stairwell at the opposite end of the hall.

Run, run little girl.

Two rooms down, a stalky Mexican with a tattoo of a skull sprouting red and black wings across his bare chest came into view. “What in the hell is going on out here?”

Timothy waited as the inebriated man turned to face him. “What the fuck you lookin’ at?” the man said.

His bloodshot eyes, staring into Timothy’s true face, reflected the burning pits of hell. “M-m-m-Mr…” the man mumbled as a bottle of liquor slipped from his grasp, falling to the floor. In a matter of seconds, his throat landed next to the draining alcohol followed by his heavy body.

Stepping over the carcass, and pushing the door open, Timothy gazed upon the sexy Latina lying naked upon the bed. Her perfect ass up and swaying from side to side as she chirped soft little moans watching the skin flick on the TV at the foot of the bed.

“What are you doing Enrique? Come back in here and–”

Timothy didn’t even have to say a word to make her shut her trap. Walking into the room, the TV died; she screamed until he sent her decapitated head smashing through the window.

Chapter Eight

Jeff cradled his third cigarette between trembling thumb and index fingers. Partly from the anxiety over the Meghan-thing they had encountered in the road, partly because of the nicotine. He and Lee were both chain-smoking their way back to the Bruton Inn. He didn’t have a very good feeling about Meghan Murphy, and from Lee’s response, it didn’t seem as though he should.

His eyes itched from the smoke refusing to go out the window. He stared at a piece of the thing they’d hit in the road caught on the edge of the windshield and flapping against the car. The rain, now just a drizzle, hadn’t been able to wash all the gore away.

The last few miles on Route 5 were quiet save for the slapping chunk of flesh and the thumping of the wipers. Jeff tried not to think about what was ahead, but Lee’s shaking left leg kept waving like a flag of nerves in his peripherals. He thought of Rhiannon, alone and ignorant of the gravity of their situation.
Maybe it’s a good thing; at least she won’t have chewed her fingers down to nubs. Then again, she could be in trouble if whatever’s there wants to fuck with her.
The fight or flight conflict arm-wrestled for supremacy within his heart as the Bruton Inn came into sight, standing against a darkness that had settled in for the evening. There was no turning back.

…..

Lee pulled the car around the front, glancing through the lobby doors; he couldn’t see whether anyone was at the front desk or not. He forced the beast of a car to a crawl, purring around the corner of the building, following the parking lot to the back of the property.

“You see that,” he said.

“What?” Jeff tried to find what Lee was looking at.

“Up there, second floor,” he said, pointing with the cigarette between his index and middle fingers. “There’s a broken window.”

“Where? Oh yeah, oh shit. And look, another one.”

Splotch

Whatever they had just run over made the car thump. Lee stopped the vehicle.

“What was that?” Jeff said.

“Hold on.” Lee stuck his half-done smoke between his lips, shifted the car in reverse, and backed up. There was a second, less-messy noise as the wheels rolled over whatever they’d squashed beneath the tires once more.

“What the hell
is
that?” Jeff said.

Lee stared hard through the windshield, and despite the fog now covering the ground, he could see the hair in the headlamp beams. “That’s what they call, a bad sign.” He put the car in drive and drove forward, being sure to steer clear of the severed (and now flattened) head in the lot. He didn’t think Jeff’s mind allowed him to see what the road kill was, and he didn’t say any more of it. He didn’t need the guy freaking out before they even had a chance to get inside.

A great weight was pressing against Lee’s spirit.
Something cold, something dark
.  His own spine was threatening to come undone. Two shattered windows and a decapitated head bordered on too much in his book. Clutching at the wooden figure hanging from his neck, he prayed for the spirits to guide his heart.

Lee pulled the car to the far end of the property, killing the engine. “Open the glove compartment.” Jeff struggled with the latch.

“You have to press the button and pull at the same time.”

The guy fumbled a second longer before the compartment fell open.

“Grab a pack out of that carton.”

“Hope you’re this prepared with your voodoo, too,” Jeff said, handing Lee the cigarettes.

Little shit.

“Yeah, this is sort of what I do. You just try not to piss your pants when we get in there.” Jeff’s lips tightened and his nostrils flaired.

Good, get mad. I’m going to need someone with balls,
Lee thought. “It’s in there,” he said.

“You can feel it?”

“Yes, and so can you.” Lee opened the pack and drew out two more cancer sticks.

“So,” Jeff started, taking the offered cigarette. “What do we do now?”

“First, we need to get in the proper headspace. Get our spirits right” Lee reached over the seat, pulled out the smudge stick and a piece of white chalk from his basket. “Light this,” he said, handing the green bundle to Jeff.

Jeff did as he was told, then went to blow out the flame.

“Not yet!” Lee said. “Let it burn a minute.”

“What’s the chalk for?”

“We all have spirit animals. Power animals–mine’s the wolf. We need to find yours.”

“How do we do that?” Jeff said, waving the burning smudge back and forth, watching the smoke drift up.

Lee pulled a CD from the basket in the back and slipped it into the stereo. The familiar, comforting sounds of Zamfir and his flute filled the air within the car, joining the smoke of the smudge stick. “Blow it out.” Jeff did.  Lee took the stick from him and squeezed it into the space between his cup holder and leather seat. “Sit back and do as I tell you.”

“What the hell are we doing?” Jeff said.

“Trust me. Lean back and try to relax.”

Lee closed his eyes and lay back, letting his muscles rest. He peeked to make sure Jeff was following his lead–he was. With the guy’s wavering attitude, Lee knew he had to stay on top of him.

“Now, I want you to take some deep breaths. Try not to think of anything.” He knew it was a hell of a lot easier said than done under normal circumstances. As Jeff’s breathing began to slow–a good sign–Lee pushed on. “Now, steady your breathing, and try to think of the moon. See it in your mind, bright, full, and sitting high in the sky.” He waited giving his apprentice a chance to form the vision. “Do you see it?”

“Yes.” Jeff sounded neither surprised, nor condescending.

“Now, feel the cold...”

“I, I feel it.”

“Now, lower your vision from the moon. There’s a mountain…”

“Yes,” Jeff said.

“Now gaze upon the mountain, there, on the cliff…”

“I see it.”

“What do you see?”

“It, it looks like a ….like a fox.”

“Okay, you’re on the cliff. The fox is now in front of you. There’s a clearing…”

“Yes.”

“Tell me what you see beyond the clearing.”

“Woods… a forest.”

“Go into the forest.”

“No… no… I’m not going in there.” Fear bled through Jeff’s voice.

“You must.”

“I can’t.”

“Follow your spirit animal. It will protect you.”

“No. There’s, there’s something in there…I see it…I see…
her
…a girl…with red eyes…”

“Go on,” Lee said.

“She’s…she’s…”

“Yes?”

“She’s going to peel your flesh and drag your skin over your fraud of a Grandfather’s grave.”

Lee sat up, gooseflesh covering him. Jeff was lying perfectly still, in the trance, in the vision. “Who are you? What is your name?”

“S-s-s….uhhhh.”

Lee slammed backward against his door as Jeff, eyes closed, vomited down the front of himself. The smell of curdled milk trumped the earthy smudge for superiority.

Jeff coughed, hacking up more puke. His eyes shot open as he threw his hands out, grabbing at the door, and the middle console, trying to get his bearings.

“It’s okay,” Lee said, trying to sound calmer than he felt, placing a hand on Jeff’s shoulder. “You’re okay. Can you hear me?”

“Yeah, yeah…what the hell just happened?  Uh… gross…” Jeff turned away at the sight of the bile. He grabbed the door handle and pushed.

Lee considered stopping him. The preparation ceremony wasn’t complete yet, but he couldn’t blame the guy for wanting to get out and get some fresh air. The first journey into the spirit world can be a real mind-fuck, especially when something evil finds its way in. He wasn’t sure what Jeff had seen or if he would even remember, but he knew they couldn’t wait any longer. They had to get inside.

“Suck it up,” Lee said, holding out another smoke.

Jeff took it, letting Lee light it for him.

“Do you remember what you saw?”

Jeff shook his head. “Yeah, it was…do you see that?”

Lee turned around not sure he wanted to be enlightened. The lights on the second floor were flickering on and off. Lee searched the two windows on the end of the building, there was nothing–“There,” he blurted out. The face in the window of the door disappeared.

Lee looked at Jeff–the man looked white as a ghost–and said, “It’s time.”