The Secret of the Aurora Hotel

by Danny McAleese

  There's a loud pop and the record skips, returning to the beginning. It replays the same song, the same lyrics, then skips back again in an never-ending loop. Eventually you lift up the arm and place it back in its cradle. The player immediately stops spinning.

  "Did you turn it off?" Evan asks.

  "No."

  "Weird." Somehow he's produced a pencil and a tiny, palm-sized notepad.

  "What are you doing?" you ask.

  Your cousin's hand moves fluidly across the paper. "Writing this down." He doesn't look up. "I write everything down," he shrugs. "It's what I do."

  The rest of the room is empty. According to the manifest, you have two choices:

  If you decide to enter room 103, HEAD TO PAGE 56

  If you try your luck with room 105, TURN TO PAGE 153

  96

  As you watch, the darkness within the shattered globe separates. Tendrils of shadow spin outward. Each forms its own distinct thread, twisting through the air as they make their way toward the nethergate. Some rush headlong into it. Others seem to resist, but even those are eventually pulled into the churning void.

  When the last of them is gone, you turn back to the table. A second shadow escapes the open book, this one thicker and darker than the rest. This time however, the nethergate's pull is too powerful. With an almost human-like shriek, even this final thread is yanked backward and hurled through the glowing portal.

  Everything stops. There's no more wind, no more whispers. A warmth settles over the room, driving away the cold. Your cousins stumble forward, finally released from whatever held them. Jenna is down on one knee. You rush over to help her when she glances over your shoulder and her eyes go wide.

  "Look!"

  Standing beside James Roakes, right where the mirror-mists were coalescing, is a tall, bearded man. Dressed in a full suit jacket and tie, sporting thick, curling mustaches, there's only one person it can possibly be.

  "Alastair!"

  The man from the photograph is bent over his great grandson. He slaps him lightly on the cheek a few times, until James's eyes flutter open.

  "Wh-what... happened..."

  "I'll tell you what happened," Alastair Roakes says, using his actual voice for the first time in over a hundred years. "Your friends here completed my ceremony. They've driven the souls from this place, banished Warrick, and brought me back to the world as well."

  You're awestruck. Covered in goosebumps. Your cousins, likewise, are in total shock. James Roakes pulls a flask of water from his pocket and sips from it. He looks up at Alastair and blinks a few times as if seeing a ghost.

  Then he springs right out of the chair and bear-hugs him.

  97

  "H-how?" is all James Roakes can manage. He says this over a lump in his throat the size of a baseball.

  Alastair takes the flask of cold water from his ancestor and takes a long, deep pull. "Ah," he sighs. "Oh, how I've forgotten how good that feels!"

  You're still standing there in stunned silence. Ditto for Evan and Jenna. There are a thousand questions you want to ask all at once.

  "I suppose you want to know the whole story," Alastair says. He pauses to take the longest, deepest, most satisfying breath anyone has ever taken. He lets it out with a wistful smile. "It was 1909, and the owner of the Aurora hotel had written me a letter. Word of my spiritual abilities had preceded me, and I was invited here to rid this place of lingering souls. When I first arrived here, I was skeptical. Most people who claim to see ghosts are only working themselves up over knocks and shadows."

  Alastair stretches his body, staring down at his hands, his arms, his legs. He pats himself as if to make certain he's not dreaming before he continues.

  "But no. The Aurora was different. The hotel was haunted not by one spirit, but by many. And they were here well before this place was built. Which meant--"

  "Which meant," Evan interrupts, "that the hotel was built over another site!"

  Alastair smiles broadly. "Yes. In fact, it was." He gestures to the surrounding chamber. "All of this was here before the Aurora, as the basement of another home. A home owned by a self-proclaimed medium and amateur sorcerer. A man by the name of Warrick Accardis."

  "The bad guy," Jenna says. "Right?"

  "Yes," Alastair laughs. "Very." He pounds his chest theatrically. "Warrick was a foul man to begin with. He considered himself a magician of sorts, but all he was really doing was dabbling in darkness. Many of the forces he claimed to command were well beyond his control. He died here, trying to open a portal into the spirit world." Alastair points to the wall. "That very portal you all just witnessed."

  "And you came here to close it," you say. "This 'nethergate', as you called it."

  "Precisely. But I was foolish about one thing..."

  98

  "You see," Alastair continues, "Warrick perished badly. His body was consumed by his own dark ritual, yet a portion of his enraged spirit still remained. It was trapped there," Alastair points, "within the pages of that book. His book."

  Jenna's face dawns with realization. "His house was right here," she says. "But once Warrick was gone, they demolished it. Built the hotel over it. Am I right?"

  Alastair nods. "Partway through the construction, this sub-basement was discovered. The builder left access to it, intending to use it as a root cellar, for storage. It was here that the book was uncovered."

  Evan scratches his head. "But if it was his book," your cousin asks, "why did you include it in your ceremony?"

  Your cousin's words are met with a long, silent pause. "That," Alastair sighs, "was my one mistake."

  "He came for you, didn't he?" Jenna asks. "And probably when your guard down."

  Again Alastair nods. "When Warrick interrupted my ceremony, I thought I was ready for him. I wasn't." The man's words are slower now, laced with bitter memories. "I was too proud. Too arrogant. I allowed him to take hold of me during the ritual, and before I could close the nethergate he pulled me through to the other side!"

  James stares at his great grandfather. It occurs to you that physically, Alastair is a good decade younger than him. "H-how are you here right now?" he asks. "Make no mistake," he grins, "I'm thrilled! But... how?"

  "I'm here for just one reason," Alastair says. He points to his right hand. "This."

  "The ring?" Evan asks. "It saved you?"

  "A part of me, yes. But I've also been trapped here since then. Stuck within the confines of the Aurora, unable to leave."

  Jenna looks uncomfortable asking her next question. "Do... do you know what year it is?" she asks gently. "Do you know how--"

  "How long I've been gone?" Alastair finishes for her. His voice goes low. Melancholy. "Yes, young lady. I've experienced every minute. Been forced to watch the years and decades march by, staring jealously at guests who come and go." He points to the mirror. "It was like looking through glass. I could see everything on the other side in total clarity. Yet I couldn't reach through..."

  99

  "Well you're back, now!" you say, trying to be cheerful. "You're here for good, right?"

  "Yes," Alastair smiles. "And I have you to thank for that." He holds up the ring. "You were wise enough to realize it was the one thing missing."

  Jenna's face suddenly lights up. "So it's over? The hotel isn't haunted anymore?"

  "No," Evan says. He looks at Alastair slyly. "It's not. And I think I know why."

  "Pray tell," Alastair says with a slight bow.

  Your cousin points to the table. "That was your crystal globe," Evan says. "You brought it with you. During the ceremony, you planned to gather every last one of the Aurora's spirits within that ball. Then you'd ring the bell and send them back -- channeling them through the nethergate before closing it."

  Alastair crosses his arms, thoroughly impressed. "Go on."

  "So we just finished the ritual," Evan says. "The one you started in 1909. The ring anchored you here while the globe shattered, sending every last restless spirit bac
k through the portal."

  "Every one but you," Jenna finishes.

  James Roakes looks suspiciously back at the book. "Um," he starts carefully. "Warrick included?"

  You note a smirk of triumph on Alastair's face. "Yes, even him. His soul was the last to go, and certainly not willingly. The book is nothing now. It's just... a book."

  100

  "Well," Jenna says, "as far as I'm concerned this leaves only one question left unanswered." Everyone turns to regard her curiously.

  "What will you do now?"

  James and Alastair glance at each other. They look almost like twins. A lot passes between them, wordlessly.

  "Quite honestly," James says, "there's only one thing to do."

  Alastair finishes the thought for him. "We leave."

  Back in the silent world of the hotel lobby, Alastair Roakes looks like he was painted into the architecture itself. From his clothes to his stance to his very presence, he's the epitome of 1900's style -- every bit the turn-of-last-century gentleman.

  "Are you sure you won't stay here?" Evan asks. "Even for a little while? I'm sure if I talked to my father--"

  "No," Alastair smiles. "Thank you, but even the Aurora will agree I've far overstayed my welcome."

  James Roakes stands beside his younger great grandfather, which is something you still can't get over. Two very large suitcases rest at his side.

  "You're going to have fun," Jenna smiles, tapping Alastair awkwardly on the arm. "Think of all the things you still have to discover! Television, the Internet... riding around in cars..."

  "Oh, I've already ridden in automobiles," Alastair says.

  Just then a yellow cab pulls up outside. "Not in that you haven't," Evan points.

  Alastair looks through the window and lets out a nervous chuckle. "What I really desire," he says, "more than anything else, is to travel by airplane."

  "Which we will," James adds. "There are a lot of Roakes out there I've lost touch with over the years. And I'm determined to visit them all."

  You're left standing there with your cousins, waving through the front doors as the cab pulls slowly away. Its tires spin crazily as it struggles to gain traction. Though the storm has stopped, there's still a good deal of snow on the ground.

  101

  Eventually the taillights grow so faint you can no longer see them. The lobby is utterly silent again, except for the occasional sound of Agnes's snoring.

  "Well," Jenna says, blowing a bubble. "That was fun."

  "And dangerous," Evan adds. "But yeah," he admits. "Fun too."

  You stand centered between the twins. "Hotel purged? Evil sorcerer banished?" you cry. "Yeah, I'd say we did alright!" Suddenly and without warning, you throw them both into a playful, simultaneous headlock.

  "We saved dad's hotel," Evan says.

  "We saved a life," Jenna reminds him.

  "Hey, the next time you guys need help," you grin, "remind me to--"

  "To say no?" Jenna teases.

  "No," you laugh. Mid-chuckle, you release a savage yawn. "Next time remind me to get more sleep!"

  CONGRATULATIONS!

  YOU HAVE REACHED THE ULTIMATE ENDING!

  In recognition for your battle against ghosts, spirits, and the possibility of permanent residence at the Aurora, you are hereby granted the title of:

  Savior of the Spirit-World!

  You may go here: www.ultimateendingbooks.com/extras.php and enter code

  JR56367

  for tons of extras, and to print out your Ultimate Ending Book Five certificate!

  And for a special sneak peek of Ultimate Ending Book 6, JUMP TO PAGE 161

  102

  The corridor gives way to the hotel's massive dining hall. At the moment, most of the tables and chairs have been stacked off to the sides, presumably for cleaning. But dead center of the room, seeming to float an inch or so above the ground...

  "Whoa," Jenna breathes. "I've never seen that before!"

  A long, massive table runs down the middle of the hall. High-backed chairs carved with ornate designs sit perfectly arranged, each in its own distinct spot. Still, everything about it seems... off. The color especially, which seems to glow a ghastly blue in comparison to everything else in the dining room. Curiously you find yourself drawn to it. As you do, you pass a tremendous mirror on one wall, also glowing blue.

  "... was good that I wore it..."

  "What?" you say abruptly. You turn to Jenna. "Did you say something?"

  "No," she replies distantly. Her eyes are fixed on the table in fascination. "Why?"

  "I don't know. I thought I heard--"

  "... had a hand in my own salvation... "

  You start to open your mouth again, but before you can speak something stops you both dead in your tracks. It's a procession. A procession of ghosts! They sweep into the room, men and women dressed in clothing that's unmistakably over a hundred years old. Another ghost floats in to set the table, putting out fancy place settings before each phantom diner. You hear the clatter of silverware. The faint clink of glasses.

  "Do you... do you see..."

  "YES!" Jenna exclaims. But her look isn't one of horror at all. Your cousin appears thrilled. Exhilarated! She points to the end of the table, where two of the chairs sit completely empty. "Come on!"

  103

  You watch uneasily as Jenna slips into one of the open spots at the dining room table. She pats the seat beside her.

  "What are you doing?" you hiss. It occurs to you that keeping your voice intentionally low so that 'ghosts' don't hear you is simultaneously hilarious and stupid.

  "They want us here," Jenna says plainly. "Look." Sure enough, one of the ghosts across the table seems to be beckoning you over. The thought it can actually see you sends a chill down your spine. "See?" Jenna says. "Maybe this is what we're supposed to do."

  Gingerly you lower yourself into the last empty seat. Even as you're doing it, you can't even believe it. Another pair of ghosts enters through a wall. They carry platters of glowing blue food. As they circle the table, serving everyone, you can see ghostly steam rising from some of the hot plates. Glasses are filled with a pale amber liquid.

  "This is crazy," you whisper to Jenna. Your wide-eyed cousin answers by picking up a fork. You do the same to a spoon, half expecting your hand to pass right though it. It feels cold. Like one of those chilled salad forks you might get at a fancy restaurant.

  The ghost who beckoned you over smiles and nods at your food. Spread before you is a bowl of creamy soup, a strange-looking salad, and a thick slice of roast beef. Some of it actually looks quite appetizing.

  Okay, here's your bravery test!

  If you'd like to try the cream-of-something soup, HEAD TO PAGE 135

  If you'd rather try the freaky-looking salad, FLIP ON BACK TO PAGE 65

  If the roast beef looks more appetizing, TAKE A BITE OVER ON PAGE 152

  If you'd rather just take a sip of the amber liquid, TURN TO PAGE 55

  Of course, you can also eat nothing. If so, avoid the ghost food and GO TO PAGE 64

  104

  The roof of the Aurora hotel is a beautiful frozen wasteland, lit by the spilled silver light of the almost full moon.

  "Wow," Jenna breathes. The steaming fog of her breath is instantly snatched away by the wind. "It's gorgeous up here!"

  You're forced to agree. From up here the world takes on an entirely different -- and much more serene -- perspective. Only Evan, still suffering from his fear of heights, can't appreciate the view.

  "You wanna grab my arm?" you offer.

  Evan shakes his head. "No, I'm okay. Let's just... go slow."

  Moving together, the three of you crunch through the snow. There's ice beneath in some places, making the footing even more treacherous. The smallest slip would send you skidding toward the roof's edge, only to drop you three stories to the ground below.

  "W-where do we go f-from here?" you ask, teeth clacking together. The wind at this height is savage,
and your T-shirt offers little protection. You think back to the big fireplace you saw in the main lobby. And a cup of hot chocolate has never sounded so good in your life.

  "There's a window over there," Jenna says, pointing. Sure enough, a tiny window is set into a mound of snow on the roof. It looks big enough to crawl through.

  "Or we could check out the cupola," Evan shouts into the storm. "At the very least it would get us out of this wind, until we decide what to do next."

  105

  Well, what's it going to be?

  To climb through the strange window set into the snow, GO TO PAGE 142

  To get out of the snow, and check out the cupola, TURN TO PAGE 150

  106

  You're still not sure which is the right door, but blue has always been your favorite color. Might as well try that one...

  "Ready?" you ask Evan, your hand over the knob.

  "I guess so," he shrugs. You can tell he's still not totally on board with the whole idea.

  "One... two... THREE!"

  Your hand clamps down on the doorknob. It takes under a second for you to realize it was the wrong move.

  The knob frosts over, fusing your skin to the metal. It's so cold you can't even feel it... until you jerk your hand away and look at the circular black mark on your palm. Your fingers have marks on them too; the dead, blackened tissue of instant frostbite.

  "ARGH!!!" Your scream is one of shock -- only a reflex, really. That's because you can't even feel the pain yet, although you know the pain is coming.

  Evan rushes over as you sink to your knees. With some quick medical attention you'll eventually be able to use your hand again. But for now, this is undoubtedly