Olivia eyed me over her drink.
I flashed a smile. “I think Roman has made it his mission to protect me, so even if ghosts were real — which they’re not — I’d be fine.” I’d caught Roman lurking on my floor with some ghost hunting gadgets a few days ago. Before I had the chance to ask what he was doing, he gave me a shocked look and ran off as though I’d caught him masturbating.
“Roman?” asked Olivia.
“The bellhop.”
“You know his name?” Olivia smirked knowingly at me.
“I have his business card.”
“So you have his number?”
“It’s not like that,” I protested. “Why do you think he’s my type? He could be an old married Republican for all you know.”
“No, I know you think he’s cute,” said Olivia confidently. “Your tells haven’t changed in three years. You scratch behind your ear when you’re embarrassed.”
I wanted to contradict her, but how could I, when I was literally scratching behind my ear right now? I snatched my hand down to the table.
“He’s hot,” I admitted, “but we’ve barely had one conversation, and that was him trying to evangelize about ghosts to me. There’s no chance.”
“I know you, Isaac. All you have to do is smile at someone to get them into bed. There’s always a chance.”
“Not with this guy. Trust me. He’s got a one-track mind, and it’s headed straight for ghost town.”
Olivia chuckled. “You attract the most interesting situations. One week back in Seattle and you’ve already checked into a haunted hotel room and discovered a sexy ghost hunter.”
I laughed and took a sip of beer, enjoying the way the alcohol warmed the tips of my toes. Olivia said I attracted interesting situations, but for the past three years in the suburbs, my life had been the opposite: stale and boring. Why had I let Sasha keep me caged up for so long? My life felt as though it had been put on pause, but now someone had hit play again.
“I’m not in a haunted hotel room,” I said. “I’m on an allegedly haunted hotel floor.”
“Do you know what happened on the floor?” asked Olivia in a hushed voice.
I sighed and launched into an explanation of what Roman had told me about the murders and ‘accidents’ that had happened on the fourteenth floor of the Cressley Hotel.
Olivia listened with increasing entertainment. “Has anything spooky happened to you?” she asked.
“Nope,” I said.
“Come on. You must get creeped out sometimes.”
“I do not,” I said, but before I could catch myself, I caught myself reaching for my ear. Crap. I needed to work on hiding my tells better.
“Aha!” said Olivia. She pointed animatedly at me. “You so do! What happened?”
“Confirmation bias happened. I’ve been waking up to these noises every night-”
“Creepy noises?”
“Thumping sounds. Sometimes the walls creak. Honestly, Olivia, it’s nothing. I’m only creeped out because Roman made me think I should be creeped out. It’s not paranormal, it’s basic psychology.”
***
Thump. Thumpthump. Thump.
I didn’t bother looking at the time. I knew it was 3:03. I woke up frozen from another nightmare. I couldn’t remember much of it, except the feeling terror.
My imagination was out of control. I’d been here for two weeks here, and no matter how much I protested, the rumors about the Cressley were getting to my head. It wasn’t that I believed the place was haunted; I wasn’t that naive. But at night, when I was alone save for Hannibal (who had developed a habit of hissing into the darkness, which did nothing to settle my nerves), it was easy for irrational thoughts to creep up on me.
Thump. Thump. Creak. Thump.
“Would you stop that?” I groaned, shoving one of my moth-eaten pillows over my face. It didn’t help. The thumping was so loud, it sounded as though it was inside my own head.
The noises I heard overnight at the Cressley seemed to be getting louder every night. Sometimes I woke up wheezing, so cold it felt as though all the air had been sucked from my lungs while I slept.
Hannibal pawed insistently at the pillow over my face. I pulled it away, finding myself staring directly into his pumpkin-orange eyes. He smashed his face into mine. I rubbed that sweet spot right behind his ears, and he purred like a little motor.
Creak.
The purring stopped. Hannibal sat up, alarmed, and jerked his head around, ears pointed sharply forward. I sat up and stroked the soft fur on his back.
“You’re okay, buddy,” I murmured.
But Hannibal wasn’t okay. He slunk away from me to the end of the bed, staring intensely at nothing. His tail puffed out — he was in predator mode.
So what? This hotel was a mess. A cockroach had probably triggered his hunting instinct. Cockroaches, unlike ghosts, weren’t imaginary.
I turned on the light next to my bed. When the room flooded with light, I felt like I could breathe again. The imposing shadows that had loomed over my bed vanished.
“See?” I told Hannibal. “Everything’s fine.”
But Hannibal didn’t stop pacing on the bed.
“Everything’s fine,” I repeated.
A sharp spitting noise came out of nowhere. The light above me flickered then it went out completely, swathing me in darkness again.
Okay. So this wasn’t an ideal situation. If I’d been a more superstitious man, I would say it was spooky.
But it was a coincidence.
“Let’s just try to sleep,” I told Hannibal.
I lay back down, closed my eyes, and a sharp knock rapped on my door.
Despite myself, I gasped and sat bolt upright. “Who’s there?” I yelled.
I thought I heard a murmur, but I couldn’t make out any words. The knock came again, more emphatic this time.
I tentatively got out of bed, trying to ignore the shiver that crept down my spine and the way my skin broke out in goosebumps. I couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching me.
It felt as though I was wading through air three times thicker than normal. It took an eternity to get to the door. The knock became more insistent until the door was shaking on its hinges. I balled my hands into fists, wishing I had a sturdier weapon.
What was wrong with me? I was Isaac Baker. In my darker days, I’d faced down dangerous criminals, cops, and even the alt-right. Who, behind that door, could be more terrifying than a loan shark who wanted to break my kneecaps or a homophobic nazi?
With trembling hands, I reached toward the doorknob. A wave of cold shot through my body as though a bucket of ice water had been tipped over my head. I could feel it dripping down my spine.
The power of suggestion could do wild things to a man.
My hand closed around the icy door handle. It was stiff, reluctant to turn.
The door swung open.
The corridor was completely empty. Grimy old light fittings full of dead moths shone weakly down from the ceiling to illuminate the ragged carpet.
“Hello?” I called out meekly. “Is someone there?”
Silence. I couldn’t hear anything from the other rooms on this floor. Everything was painfully, eerily quiet.
I glanced over my shoulder, back into my room. Hannibal’s eyes glinted like gemstones from where he was sitting on my bed.
“Roman?” I asked. If anyone was knocking on my door in the middle of the night, I hoped it was him. I was being paranoid, but I couldn’t help but think I would feel safer if Roman was here with me. He was strong, protective. Safe. And if he happened to swing by and babble about paranormal nonsense, I would be faced with how blatantly ridiculous he sounded, and I would feel righteous in my skepticism again. Because right now, I could see why people thought this place was haunted.
But Roman didn’t respond. He wasn’t anywhere to be seen.
“Is someone out here?” I asked the empty hallway. My voice sounded hollow and thin. I hated h
ow frightened I sounded. I wasn’t frightened. I knew this had to be a ding-dong-ditch sort of thing. I was about to close the door when a whisper breezed past my ear, too distorted for me to make out what it was saying. It creeped me the fuck out.
“What the hell?”
I jumped back inside my dark, slightly less spooky room, and closed the door behind me.
“Okay,” I told myself. I leaned against my door and took a deep breath. “Okay…” I didn’t know where to go from here. How was I supposed to reassure myself?
It had to be a prank. Some bored teenagers were playing tricks on me. That was the rational explanation. Teenagers could be ingenious, and who knows what kind of high tech equipment they could get their hands on these days?
It was a prank. Just a prank. I sucked in more air and exhaled slowly. I was frozen — I couldn’t bring myself to step away from the door and go back to bed. What was I doing? I’d never been afraid of the dark.
One foot in front of the other.
I had made it halfway across the room before Hannibal started hissing in my direction.
“Buddy, it’s me-” I started to soothe him, but then I felt the unmistakable touch of a sturdy hand on my shoulder. I let out a shriek that would put a B-grade horror movie star to shame and bolted to my bed, practically launching myself under the covers.
I fumbled for my phone to turn the flashlight function on.
Hannibal’s tail puffed out like an angry toilet brush. I pressed my back against the wall next to my bed and shrouded myself in blankets so as little of my body was exposed as possible.
Someone was in this room with me.
The bright, white light from my phone shone eerily around the room, casting long shadows off the furniture and sending them like long, grasping tendrils over the floor.
My room was so small, you wouldn’t think there was room for anyone to hide. But what other explanation was there? I shot a glance toward the bathroom. I hadn’t heard the door open or close, but there was nowhere else an intruder could be.
Hannibal, who had finally stopped hissing, followed me to the bathroom. I cast the light from my phone around me as much as possible, checking for anything at all that seemed out of the ordinary.
Nothing. Nothing except my panting breath and the feeling that someone was watching me.
I balled my hands into fists as I prepared to open the bathroom door.
Nothing.
“What the hell?” I muttered. None of this was making any sense. I couldn’t tell if I was awake or asleep anymore — was this another weird nightmare?
Hannibal weaved around my feet, looking up at me with huge eyes.
“Let’s go back to bed,” I told him. In my solitude, I was becoming the sort of man who had lengthy conversations with his cat.
Hannibal leaped gracefully onto the bed and sat primly on my pillow.
“You’re a good guard cat,” I told him.
I plugged my phone in and left the light on while I attempted to sleep. I was unsure if that would be possible, considering the adrenaline rushing through my veins, but I would try nonetheless. In the morning, after some real rest, I would be able to look at tonight’s events rationally.
The moment my eyes closed, the knocking on my door started again.
Fuck this.
Despite my better judgment, I picked up the business card on my bedside table and dialed Roman’s number.
Chapter Six
Roman
I stared at my laptop screen and took nothing in as I browsed through the latest issue of my favorite parapsychology journal. It was hard to focus on a study about academic bias regarding ESP when all I could think about was Isaac Baker and his emotional bias regarding his own safety.
Isaac had tormented my thoughts since the day I met him. Every time I glimpsed his silky golden mane around the Cressley, I imagined how it would feel to run my fingers through it. What perfume would fill my nose if I ever got the chance to breathe him in?
Those rare moments when he met my eyes, the smug look on his face made my blood boil and my heart race. The longer he remained petulant, the more danger he was in.
Elliot kept telling me there was nothing I could do for Isaac unless he asked for help, but that didn’t seem fair. He needed help already. I’d watched the bags under his eyes grow darker and more puffy before me. I knew a man who wasn’t sleeping when I saw one. Isaac was haunted.
I glanced at the corner of my laptop screen to find the time. 3:48. As a ghost hunter, it was practical to remain nocturnal, but I should probably rest my body soon. Sleep was an inconvenient necessity if I wanted to stay a well-oiled machine.
As soon as I closed my laptop, my phone buzzed rhythmically on my desk. I didn’t recognize the number.
“You’re speaking with Roman.”
“Roman- I, uh-”
“Who am I speaking to?” I asked, grabbing a pen and paper.
“It’s me- It’s Isaac.”
Isaac? My heart leaped. Something was seriously wrong. This was not Isaac’s self-assured, confident voice. The man on the other side of the phone sounded terrified. “I didn’t think I’d hear from you.”
“I don’t know who else to call.”
“What’s going on?” I was already tugging on a black V-neck, sizing up my cargo pants to pull on over my boxers.
“It’s probably nothing-”
“I’ll be over in fifteen minutes.”
I couldn’t swallow a niggle of panic in my throat. I didn’t know much about Isaac, but I knew things must have been seriously wrong for him to call me. I practically sprinted to the Cressley, making it there in less than eight minutes rather than the usual quarter hour.
This was the reason I worked out as hard as I did. I barely tossed a nod at Kyle behind the front desk before I dashed up the steep stairs up to the fourteenth floor, taking them two at a time. By the time I was at the door to room 1405, I had broken a slight sweat, but my breath was steady.
Before I could lose my nerve by thinking about Isaac and my inconvenient attraction to him, I knocked sharply on the door.
“Roman?” Isaac’s voice was high. “Is that you?”
“It’s Roman,” I confirmed.
There was a scuffle of footsteps, and then the door swung open. I tried to stay professional. Don’t stare. But even I, with nerves of steel, struggled not to gape at the half-naked vision in front of me.
Isaac was slight and small, but he was wiry. A soft outline of abs was drawn over his tanned stomach, and his biceps were hard and well-defined. Angelic golden curls trailed down from his belly button into his colorful boxers.
I swallowed. I had no idea what I was supposed to say, how to remain professional.
“Thanks for coming,” said Isaac before I opened my mouth at all. He stepped aside to let me into room 1405.
“That’s my job,” I said gruffly.
The only light in Isaac’s room was the glowing red numbers on a small digital alarm clock next to the door. 4:01.
“It’s dark in here,” I noted.
“Uh, the light bulb blew earlier, when…”
“When you were being haunted?”
Isaac laughed. “Come on, dude.”
“You called me, remember?” I said.
He started to argue, but I cut him off. “Try the light switch again.” It was common for ghosts to mess with electricity, but sometimes things went back to normal after the worst of the haunting was over.
“That’s not going to work,” Isaac said.
In the dark, all my other senses were sharpened. I could hear the fear in his voice as easily as anyone
“Humor me.”
Isaac sighed. I heard a small click, and the room was light again.
He audibly gasped. “What the-?” He sank onto his bed and hugged his arms around his naked torso, the whites of his eyes bulging.
A small black blur darted across the room to join him. Isaac’s cat put its paws on his knees and butted his elbow w
ith its head. Isaac mustered a shadow of a smile as he pet behind its ears.
I knew what fear looked like, and it was written plainly on Isaac’s face. I was struck by the peculiar desire to take a seat next to him and wrap my arms around his trembling shoulders. I wanted to hold his body against my chest and whisper that things were going to be okay and that he was safe now that he was with me.
But he wasn’t safe as long as he stayed here, no matter what I did. I wasn’t a liar any more than I was a physically affectionate man. I didn’t even know Isaac. I was sexually attracted to him, but that was no reason I should treat him any differently than any other guest at the Cressley. I would leave comforting him up to his cat.
“Ghosts are most active between three and four in the morning,” I explained.
“Ghosts…” He shook his head and stroked his cat. “Unbelievable. I can’t believe I’m listening to this.”
“You called me,” I pointed out again.
He slumped and buried his head in his hands. “Oh my god, what was I thinking?”
“You were thinking sensibly.”
Isaac scoffed. His nose wrinkled, and his eyes hardened into a glare. Skeptics never took it well when they were faced with the supernatural.
“Do you need anything?” I said. “A cup of tea? Coffee? Cocoa?”
“I don’t have any teabags-”
I unzipped my leather belt bag and pulled out three small baggies. “Would you like chamomile, green, or regular black tea?”
Isaac looked at me quizzically. A slight smile twinkled in his eyes. “Do you carry teabags everywhere you go?”
“I try to be prepared for everything.”
“In that case… Regular black tea?”
I filled the electric kettle and paced the room while I waited for it to boil.
Isaac perched on his bed, and his cat perched on his knee, watching me judgmentally.
The New Paranormal Page 5
