by Krista Wolf
“Can I help—”
“Kara LoPresti,” she told the woman. “I’m expected by the owner.”
The woman, ‘Fran’ according to her name-tag, turned open a comically giant ledger. Kara almost expected her to blow a layer of dust off of it before perusing it with one venerable finger.
“Ah, yes. I have you here, with…” she looked around. “With—”
“Logan Rhodes,” she said begrudgingly.
“Yes, that’s it.”
Almost on cue, Logan appeared behind her. Kara shifted over to give him a wide berth.
‘Fran’ pressed a button at one end of the desk. Nothing happened. “The owner’s on his way,” she announced mechanically.
They stood in silence for a minute, then two. Then three…
“Your clock’s wrong,” said Logan nonchalantly. He nodded at the big old timepiece mounted high behind the front desk. “It says one-eighteen.”
Fran cleared her throat. “It’s broken,” she explained. “Been stuck on one-eighteen since the day I started working here.”
Logan put up one finger and started to say something sarcastic but Kara threw him a dirty look. Wisely he let it slide.
It turned out that ‘on his way’ meant almost ten minutes. Kara spent that time sizing up the old hotel, and ignoring her unwanted companion. The architecture in the lobby was old, made older by worn finishes and threadbare textiles. The gold leaf had rubbed away on many of the lower finials. Silently she wondered how magnificent the place might’ve looked in its heyday.
“Check that out,” said Logan. “A glass elevator.”
Standing proudly at the other side of the lobby, a brass-framed elevator was set with large vertical panes of glass. It looked like it could even be original to the building. Either way, it was ancient.
Back at the front desk, Fran had returned to the same catatonic state Kara had found her in. Her thick-rimmed glasses had slid down to the tip of her nose. Her chin rested on her chest.
“I would’ve thought all the Frans were extinct by now,” Logan mumbled. He leaned in confidentially. “You know, like the Ethels and the Mildreds. And the—”
Kara poked him. “Don’t be an asshole, Logan.”
It was kind of funny though. Even Kara had to admit that. And Logan always had a way of making her—
“Hello!”
A heavyset man approached them from the opposite side of the lobby. He had tired eyes and sleep lines still criss-crossing his face. “Travis Radcliffe,” he said as he shook Logan’s hand. He reached for Kara’s next. “Welcome to the Averoigne.”
“Thanks,” said Kara. “I was hoping—”
“I know why you’re here,” the man spoke quickly, “which is why I wanted to greet you both personally. Away from the guests.” He looked around.
“Away from the—”
“At this hour I know that seems silly,” he said. “But we should talk more, in the morning. In my office, of course.” His face opened up in a bone-cracking yawn. “Until then…”
Mr. Radcliffe turned to Fran, who handed him a long bronze key. Attached to it was a blue plastic disc with the numbers 207. He held it out, between them.
“The key to your room,” the man said. “Your things have already been brought up. And if you—”
“The key to our room?” Kara snarled.
Mr. Radcliffe went suddenly silent. It was the first time she’d seen him with his mouth closed.
“We require two rooms,” Kara stated evenly. Her voice was low and tense. As an afterthought, she forced herself to add: “Please.”
“I— I’m sorry,” said Radcliffe. “The storm has us overbooked. We’re at full capacity right now, both floors.”
Kara fumed. Logan squinted back at the owner for a moment, before pointing upward. “Then give us two rooms on the third floor.”
“Sorry, can’t do that either.”
“And why not?” Kara asked.
“We don’t rent rooms on the third floor.”
They stared back at the round-faced owner. Radcliffe’s expression had gone suddenly serious. He shook the key, which he still held out at arm’s length. “For obvious reasons,” he shrugged.
Grumbling, Kara swiped the key from him. The owner looked relieved.
“Alright,” she grunted. “Tomorrow. Your office. First thing in the morning.”
Travis Radcliffe yawned and nodded. Then he disappeared the way he came.
She was still fuming when Logan started walking away. “Where are you going?” she called after him. “The stairs are over this way.”
“Ever been in a glass elevator?” he asked.
Kara sighed and shook her head.
“C’mon then. Me neither.”
Five
Stepping into the old glass elevator was like stepping backward through time. Dust swirled. The floor creaked. The car itself dipped significantly as they shifted their full weight inside.
A chill ran though Kara as Logan pulled the door closed behind them.
“Go on. Push the button.”
There were no buttons. Only a series of old levers jutting out of the floor.
“Maybe this thing is out of service,” Kara suggested.
“Nah,” Logan said dismissively. He closed two hands over a pair of handles. “We can figure it out.”
He pulled on something and the car lurched uncomfortably.
“Oops. Not that one.”
Kara noticed a lever marked with a red handle. She pointed to it, and Logan disengaged the brake. Slowly, shakily, the elevator started to rise.
“See?” he said. “Nothing to it.”
They stared down together, through the old wavy glass. The lobby looked smaller almost immediately. Off in the distance, Fran was still asleep at her desk, dozing away from a standing position.
She glanced up to find Logan staring down at her. He was smiling now, not smirking.
“Wow,” he said with a low whistle. “It’s almost like you’re having fun.”
Kara started to roll her eyes at him… but then something stopped her. A nagging, sing-songy voice went off, somewhere in the back of her head.
Maybe you’re being a bit of an asshole?
The little voice admonished her harshly. It always had. Kara tended to disagree with it mostly, but in the end, the voice almost always ended up being right.
Lighten up.
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. That always seemed to do the trick. But here, in the elevator… this close to Logan…
SQUEEEEEEAK!
The elevator shrieked loudly as it approached the second floor. Kara could feel the gears grinding to a halt, and then…
“Whoa!”
The car dropped. First an inch, then a whole foot. The two of them looked at each other, just as—
“OH!”
It let go all at once — the entire glass elevator! With the brakes disengaged the car fell straight down, free-falling back to the lobby…
Kara remembered bracing herself against the glass walls, then just as quickly yanking her hands away. She imagined deep slashes across her wrists and fingers as the entire car shattered into a million glittering pieces.
Then, suddenly, darkness. She was enveloped in something hard yet soft. The car bumped hard against the floor, slowed only by the screech of metal on metal, and then everything was still again. She opened her eyes.
She was in Logan’s arms.
Sometime during the fall, he’d wrapped his whole body around her. Kara sniffed, inhaling the smell of leather and oil and steel. It was a familiar smell. One that her nineteen-year old self had always thought was—
“Are you alright?”
The elevator was on a slight angle now, and Kara pushed herself to an upright position. Logan’s arms were even stronger than she remembered them. She twisted away from the security of his leather jacket and brushed herself off.
“I think so.”
“Good.”
His body had protected her, but Logan himself had taken the brunt of the impact. A small trickle of blood streamed down from above his left eye.
“You’re bleeding.”
Kara reached out and brushed the hair back from his forehead. It was a small cut. Small enough that she regretted the movement.
“It’s nothing,” said Logan.
One after another, they stepped out of the ruined elevator. The frame was intact, but two of the glass panes were now spider-webbed with a series of oddly beautiful cracks.
“OH MY GOD!”
The voice belonged to Mr. Radcliffe, who’d come rushing up from out of nowhere. He looked a lot more awake now than he did just minutes ago.
“What happened?”
“Your elevator tried to kill us?” Kara remarked snidely.
“That’s not our elevator!” Radcliffe declared. He pointed to a small alcove on the other side of the lobby. “That’s the elevator! This thing hasn’t work since… since…”
“The 1980’s?” Logan smirked.
The owner’s eyes went wide. “Something like that, yeah!”
“Ready for this idea?” said Kara. “Put up a sign! OUT OF ORDER. Something like that, no?”
Mr. Radcliffe looked absolutely stunned. “I— I just thought it went without saying.” He backpedaled quickly as he noticed Logan holding one hand to his forehead. “I mean, a couple of kids have been caught playing on it from time to time. But no one’s ever tried to—”
“Save it for the morning.”
Kara was tired, her body stiff from the long ride. If she didn’t get some sleep soon, there wouldn’t be any. Without looking back, she stormed off in the direction of the modern elevator. Almost immediately she could hear Logan falling in behind her.
Great, she thought to herself.
Six
The room was extremely small.
That part Kara could live with. Small was something to be expected from a hotel built in the late 1890’s. What she couldn’t live with however, was the fact that the room had only a single bed.
“Looks like you’re on the couch,” she told Logan.
Her companion frowned down at the tiny piece of furniture. “That’s not a couch. That’s a loveseat.”
“Well then start loving it.”
The bathroom was no better. A small pedestal sink and an old mirror made up half the amenities. The other half was a tiny shower stall and vintage toilet, the kind where the basin was mounted high up on the wall. A greasy-looking pull-chain dangled beneath it.
The place was quaint. Most people would agree it had charm.
She hated it anyway.
Kara unzipped a tiny travel bag and began brushing her teeth vigorously.
“You sure this place is haunted?” Logan called in to her. “I mean, I could think of much better places to be spending my afterlife.”
“Oh yeah, like where?”
“Like the Plaza. Or the Four Seasons. Or—”
“You read the file,” she said, spitting into the sink. “You tell me your theory on why this place has so much paranormal activity.”
Kara cocked an ear, but Logan went silent. For once it was disappointing. After spending so much time with the file, Kara was hoping he’d actually had an idea. She really didn’t want to read the file herself.
When she re-emerged from the bathroom, she stopped instantly short. Logan was standing at the window, one arm up, looking out into the raging snowstorm. He’d already changed. And by ‘changed’, he’d stripped down to nothing but a pair of loose-fitting boxer shorts.
Jesus Christ.
He was every bit as dashing as she remembered him. Broad, well-defined shoulders. Strong, corded arms. And his chest… his chest was bare and beautiful. Memories came flooding back to her, completely unbidden. Memories of sleeping on that chest. Of feeling it crushed against her…
“Y—You’re sleeping like that?”
Kara regretted the words immediately.
“Of course,” he replied. “How else would I sleep?” Logan examined her expression, and his mouth stretched into a knowing smile. “Besides, you’ve slept with me dozens of times. You know what I like to sleep in—”
“Alright, alright.”
“Besides,” he said, turning back to the window. “This room’s like a million degrees.”
That much was true. Kara was amazed at how much heat the old cast iron radiator in the corner of room 207 was giving off. She didn’t see a thermostat either. Nor had she expected one.
“Want me to open the window?”
“No,” Kara said. “Fuck the window.”
Normally she’d sleep in her panties and a T-shirt. In this case, she’d thrown on a pair of sweatpants for good measure. Kara sank to the bed, ass-first. The mattress was old but firm, the way she liked it.
“Uh… that bed is kinda big,” Logan hinted. “You sure we can’t—”
“NO.”
It was hot. Way too hot to sleep.
This is bullshit, thought Kara. She’d abandoned the sweatpants long ago. For the last half hour she’d been staring up at the ceiling, wondering when the sun would come up. It was still very dark outside. She still had a few hours, but not many. And without any sleep…
She regretted telling Logan not to open the window. Right now she’d do just about anything for some fresh air. She debated calling out to him, asking him if he was asleep yet. But she also didn’t want to deal with him any more than was necessary.
You’re being an asshole again, she told herself. Or you’re being lazy. Just get up and—
A cool rush of wind tore through the room. Which was stranger than anything, because the window — and the door — were both securely closed.
“Logan?”
Somewhere in the shadows, her companion stirred. Or at least she thought he stirred…
No.
A shiver ripped down Kara’s spine. Her eyes locked on a sudden swirl of darkness at the foot of her bed. There was life there now. Motion.
That’s not Logan.
The swirling sped up and slowed down. Moving in some sort of cycle.
It’s not there, she told herself. It’s only a vision.
A ‘vision’… that’s what Kara had always called it anyway. Xiomara would reprimand for the term, because her precognitive episodes weren’t really visions at all. They were more recordings than anything else. Still…
This wasn’t one of her visions. Kara was almost certain of it. For one, the edges were all wrong. Plus, and maybe she couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but it just didn’t feel like one…
“Logan!” she whispered.
She heard him groan. As Kara looked on, the pulsing shadows coalesced into a shapeless, formless mass. It grew darker in color, then lighter again. And each time it did it, it became more opaque. More… substantial.
“LOGAN!”
Now he actually did stir. From the corner of her eye, she saw him uncoil himself from the tiny loveseat.
“Huh?”
“Do you see that?”
He stretched. Rubbed at his eyes. “What?”
“That!”
She pointed to the foot of the bed, where the unmistakable form a woman now stood. Or rather, she floated. Her form seemed wispy, even ethereal, but not entirely. It was difficult to make out the details, but it appeared she wore a long flowing dress…
“Do you see her?” Kara hissed. She was desperate for confirmation. Determined to know whether what she was seeing was an actual apparition, or if she were only experiencing one of her precognitive episodes. “Tell me you see her!”
Logan had both feet on the floor now. He was staring upward, exactly to the spot where the woman hovered. Her hands moved to her face, and she began sobbing. Weeping.
“Yeah,” Logan confirmed. His voice was strong now, and soberingly awake. “I see her too.”
Seven
The apparition floating before them wasn’t just crying, it was wailing. The sound com
ing out of its mouth — if that’s what it was — was absolutely horrible.
“Hello?” Kara shouted out to it. The noise was grating now. Nails on a chalkboard. “Hey!”
The ghost-woman still ignored her. Her wailing grew louder, into a high-pitched screech.
“Make her shut up!” Logan cried.
“I can’t!”
The specter continued screaming at a frequency that vibrated deep within Kara’s chest, like a cold hand closing over her heart. She found herself covering her ears. It did no good at all.
“Who are you?”
At that the woman actually turned. Her chin tilted downward, and all of a sudden Kara was face to face with her.
Her eyes were wrong. That was the first thing she noticed.
Something’s wrong with the way she—
The woman screamed once more, this time the loudest of all. The sound sent a spike of terror through Kara’s soul.
“STOP IT!”
There were tears streaming down the apparition’s cheeks — tears that were almost mirrored by the abject fear in Kara’s eyes. Then, strangely, the woman turned and stomped off. She moved with a halting, shuddering gait that was definitely not of this world.
At the other end of the room, the ghost-woman passed straight through the wall.
Silence settled in again, almost like it had never been broken. There was a strange ringing in Kara’s ears.
“You got that, right?” she asked when she could finally breathe again. “Tell me you got that.”
Logan shook his head slowly back and forth. “Sorry, no. My phone’s still charging. Plugged into the bathroom outlet.”
SHIT.
Kara drew her legs against her chest. She was suddenly very cold. Logan approached her cautiously. When she didn’t protest, he settled onto the bed beside her.
“You okay?”
“No.” Kara looked down at her bare legs. She was shaking all over. “Not even a little bit.”
Gently he folded his arms around her. She didn’t stop him. They felt incredibly good right now… warm and strong. The skin on skin contact made her feel safe. Protected.
