by Amy Cross
Copyright 2019 Amy Cross
All Rights Reserved
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, events, entities and places are either products of the author's imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual people, businesses, entities or events is entirely coincidental.
Kindle edition
First published: April 2019
September 12th, 1987. Stephanie Lawson wakes up and prepares to start another ordinary day working at Harper's Hotel. But how many times has she started this same day? And why is a strange girl named Hannah playing chess in the hotel's lobby?
A knot has been tied in the universe. The fate of reality itself rests on what happens in this hotel on this day. The universe keeps resetting, desperate to avert disaster, but everything depends on one thing. Stephanie Lawson has to die in a certain place, at a certain time.
As the day continues to repeat, however, Stephanie is starting to notice strange things. She's starting to remember events that can't possibly have happened. She's hearing voices that can't be real. Soon she discovers that the whole of reality is threatening to fall down around her. Can she and Hannah discover what's wrong before it's too late? Or is Stephanie really destined to die in room 119 of Harper's Hotel?
Harper's Hotel Ghost Girl is the fourth book in the Death Herself series.
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Epilogue
Harper's Hotel Ghost Girl
(Death Herself book 4)
Prologue
I can hear it coming closer.
Hiding behind the door in the hotel's pantry room, I try to hold my breath. Everything's pitch-black in here, and the only sound is a kind of low, rumbling growl that's coming from the main part of the kitchen. A moment later there's a faint bump, as if the creature hit one of the counters. Then I hear a saucepan crashing to the floor, followed by a faint snarl.
I squeeze my eyes tight shut.
I'm shaking so hard, I'm surprised I can't hear my bones rattling. After a moment I have to take a brief, snatched breath, just a gulp of air that'll keep me going for a little longer. Was that enough to let the creature hear me? I wish Mommy and Daddy could come and rescue me right now, but I saw what happened to them in the dining room. I saw Mommy's throat get cut open by the creature's claws, and I heard Daddy cry out as the creature did something to him behind an upturned table. I think it ate part of him. There was a lot of blood.
If Mommy and Daddy can't come and save me, what about Hannah?
The last time I saw her, she was in the main reception area. She was trying to get to me, but the chandelier had fallen right on top of her and she was struggling to drag herself clear. The lights had gone off in that part of the hotel, just like they've gone off everywhere else, and there were some flames. I want Hannah to be okay, but I don't understand why she hasn't come to help me yet. I think she would have been here by now, unless something really bad had happened to her. Maybe she got eaten too.
I take another gulp of air.
Half a second later, I hear the creature growl again, and I let out a gasp as I realize that it sounds so much closer now.
And then it starts to sniff.
I remember hearing this once before, when the creature was first in the dining room. I think it's finding me by my smell, and my smell isn't something I can turn off. I probably smell really scared, and I have blood on one of my hands. I remember seeing a show on TV about animals that hunt by smell, and it's almost impossible to get them to go away. Squeezing my eyes tighter shut despite the tears, I realize that my bottom lip is trembling, and I quickly tell myself that I'm not allowed to cry. If I cry, the creature will definitely find me.
Suddenly the door bumps against my shoulder, and I realize that the creature has begun to come into the pantry room. There's a fusty smell in the air, and I continue to hold my breath as the door bumps a couple more times. I pull back against the wall, but I already know that there's no point hiding. The creature has found me and now I have to try running again. I force myself to open my eyes, but in the darkness I can't really see anything at all. Can the creature see in the dark? It might be looking at me right now, and I wouldn't know until -
Someone cries out in the distance.
It's not Mommy or Daddy, and I don't think it's Hannah either. It sounds like a woman, sobbing with pain, and a moment later I hear a heavy growl from the creature as the door bumps again. I gulp in some air, and after a few more seconds I realize that the creature seems to be leaving. It must have heard the woman, and it's going back to finish her off. I've seen what it does to people, the way it chews them up and eats parts of them. I've heard the sound of bones cracking and splintering, and the sound of too much blood being squeezed out through small holes in the skin. Whoever the crying woman is, the creature will eat her next, and then I might be the only person left alive in the whole hotel.
I wait until I can't hear the creature, and then I realize that I have to try to run away.
After a few more minutes, I creep out from behind the door and look through into the kitchen. There's some moonlight coming through the window and I can see that the creature doesn't seem to be around. A moment later I realize I can hear a very distant crunching sound, which I realize must be from the creature as it chews through the woman's bones. She hasn't cried out for a while now, so I think the woman must be dead. Soon the creature will be done with her, and then it'll come for me again.
I hurry through into the kitchen and head straight to the back door. Right before she was attacked, Mommy told me that this was our best way out, so I turn the handle. When I try to open the door, however, I find that it won't budge. I try the handle a few more times, turning it harder and harder each time, but the door must be locked and I don't know where to find the keys.
Looking up to the right, I spot an open window.
If I could climb up and get through that, I'd be able to get away.
Suddenly I hear a scraping sound nearby, and I turn to see the creature's hulking silhouette stepping into the far doorway. Immediately, I can tell that it's looking straight at me, and I can see its tail swishing this way and that as it waits to make its move. For a few seconds, the creature looks like a large, black tiger, but then – just like before – it changes in an instant and looks like a man in a dark suit. Still silhouetted in the doorway, the man stares at me and then takes a step forward, and as he does so he changes – again, faster than the blink of an eye – back into the tiger-like creature.
Turning, I climb up onto the counter and reach for the window. My hands are trembling as I try to get to m
y feet, but I force myself to be brave and I start pushing the window open so that I can climb out and -
Suddenly I feel a hand on my shoulder.
I freeze, too scared to move, but finally I turn slowly and see the silhouette of a man standing right behind me. In the moonlight, I can just about make out two dark eyes and a mouth that's curled into a very faint smile.
“Please,” I whimper, “don't -”
Before I can finish, he flickers slightly and becomes the creature again, and now it's a large, heavy paw that's resting on my shoulder.
“Please,” I sob, “I just want to go home.”
The creature flickers back to look like the man again, and then he tilts his head slightly.
“Please -”
He roars and lunges at me, slamming me against the glass and then throwing me across the room with such force that I slide along one of the other counters and then go crashing over the edge. As soon as I land on the floor, I feel my left wrist snap under my weight and I cry out, but then I turn just in time to see the nearest counter getting ripped out of the way. The creature steps into view, looming above me, and I can smell its disgusting breath as it leans closer.
“Help me!” I scream. “Hannah! I'm in here! Hannah, you have to -”
Suddenly the creature snaps and bites my face, and I feel a clawed paw pressing against my chest as the creature starts chewing my face off. Blood rushes into my mouth and a long fang slices into my left eye, shattering the socket and ripping all the way through to my brain. I can hear myself screaming, and I can feel hot blood spraying up through the back of my throat, and I can hear the sound of my skin getting torn apart like thick fabric. And then, just as the pain starts to swallow my mind, everything goes blank.
Chapter One
Ashford, England - September 12th, 1987
Suddenly I open my eyes and let out a shocked gasp.
Sitting up, I'm momentarily lost. My heart is racing and I'm sweating, and it takes a few more seconds before I realize that I'm in my bed. I was dreaming, that much I know, but all my memories of the dream have slipped away, leaving me with only the sensation of running, of being scared, of hiding and then...
Then what happened?
This is stupid.
I wipe my brow and feel sweat running down my forehead. Glancing at the clock by my bed, I see that it's already 6.01am, which means there's no point trying to get back to sleep. I rub my eyes, and I try one more time to remember the dream, and then I climb out of bed and head through to the en-suite bathroom. Once the light's on, I take a moment to start filling the sink and then I look at my reflection. I look tired, but my skin's okay this morning and that cold sore on my lip is starting to fade. Small mercies.
Once I've washed my face, I slip out of my pajamas and head back through to find my uniform in the wardrobe. I still feel a little discombobulated. It's funny how a dream, even if you don't remember the details, can leave you feeling strange. Fortunately, I don't really have time to obsess over these things, so instead I quickly get dressed and then I sit on the side of the bed and start trying to fix my hair. I can see myself in the mirror on the table opposite, although after a moment my gaze shifts to the photo frame nearby. I bought that yesterday, on payday, and now I need to put a photo in. I'll do that tonight, after I've finished work. I promise.
Finally, once my hair is sort of presentable, I check the clock again and see that it's 6.10am. I'm a little early still, but I guess it won't hurt to go down and see if I can lend a hand. I'm sure there'll be something for me to do in the kitchen. As I get up and head to the door, however, I can't shake the feeling that I've forgotten something. I open the door and then I hesitate for a moment. There's definitely something that I've done wrong, so I wait as the nagging sensation continues. After a few seconds, figuring that it can't be anything that important, I turn and step out into the corridor.
And then I remember.
Pushing the door back open, I reach over to the nightstand and grab my name-badge. Ordinarily it'd be still on my uniform, but I had it cleaned last night so I took the badge off. As Ms. Plympton always remind me, “one must always wear one's name-badge, so that residents of the hotel know how one should be addressed.”
“Close call,” I whisper with a smile, as I pin the badge to the front of my uniform, and then I let the door swing shut as I head out and along the corridor toward the top of the stairs. And then, after just one step, I spot something glinting on the carpet.
I crouch down and pick the object up, and it turns out to be a small, colorful enamel bin badge in the shape of a butterfly. I look around, wondering where the badge might have come from, and then I smile as I pin it to my uniform. Perhaps, as I go about my various tasks today, someone will recognize it and claim it as their own. And if I can't reunite the butterfly with its owner, I guess I'll just have to keep it for myself.
Okay. Enough faffing about. Time to get to work.
Chapter Two
“Stephanie, can you make sure that 209 got their newspaper this morning?”
“On it, George,” I reply, turning to head back across the kitchen.
“And ask in reception about that asshole from last night. He'd better not have made a formal complaint. It was one hair in a bowl of soup! One!”
“I'll check.”
“Some people just like to rant. It's like their only hobby.”
I smile.
“And Stephanie?”
Reaching the door, I turn to see that George is stirring two pots at once on the stove while leaning over to check a third.
“How many more are there?” he asks.
“More what, George?”
“Assholes wanting breakfast. Please tell me that after this order, we're done.”
“Two more rooms haven't come down yet,” I reply, wincing slightly. “Sorry. That's two rooms of two.”
He sighs.
“It'll be fine,” I add, before grabbing the two plates of English breakfast from the counter. “Maybe they won't want anything cooked. Maybe they'll just go to the cereal bar. Either way, there's only half an hour to go, then you can scream all you want.”
“I might scream sooner,” he replies as I head out into the dining room. “I promise nothing.”
Still smiling, I carry the plates across to the table in the far corner, and then I set them down for the elderly couple who ordered a short while ago.
“I hope everything's okay with your tea,” I say, trying to be friendly. “If there's anything else you'd like, please don't hesitate to let me know.”
The man glances up at me with a sour, unimpressed face. That's fine. Some people really just want to be left alone, so I turn and head over to the double doors.
“Excuse me, young lady?”
Turning, I see the man's wife scowling at me.
“I left my pills in our room,” she continues, her voice creaking with the apparent effort of speaking. “They're on the nightstand in room 121, and my legs are so bad. I was wondering, could you go up and fetch them for me? I'd wait, only I'm supposed to take them with food and... well...” She looks down at her English breakfast. “I'm supposed to take them with food,” she says again. “That's all.”
“Of course,” I reply. “Please, it's fine. I'll be back before you even know that I'm gone.”
She smiles. Sort of. I think. And then, slowly, she leans toward me, peering at my chest.
I look down, and it takes a moment before I realize that she's looking at the enamel badge I found earlier.
“What's that?” she asks. “It looks like a tiger.”
“No, it's a butterfly,” I reply, looking down at the badge. “I -”
Suddenly I freeze as I see that she's right. I'm wearing an enamel badge that's in the shape of a tiger, with bright orange showing beneath the black stripes. I swear this was a butterfly earlier, but I guess I must have just been confused. It must have been a tiger, and I simply didn't pay close enough attention.
“I'
ll be right back,” I say, trying not to show the fact that I'm feeling a little befuddled. “Wait right there.”
Heading out through the double doors, into the hotel's reception area, I hurry toward the large staircase that winds up through the heart of the hotel.
“Ms. Seymour?”
Stopping at the foot of the stairs, I turn to see Manfred glaring at me from being the main desk.
“Where are you going?” he asks. “Breakfast isn't over for another thirty minutes.”
“One of the guests asked me to fetch something for her from room 121,” I explain. “It won't take a moment.”
“Can George spare you?”
“I'll be two minutes at most,” I point out. “George has everything under control in there.”
He mutters something, but I can tell that he's not very impressed. He doesn't say anything else, however; instead, he looks back down at the guest book, and I take that as my chance to get away. Manfred's a nice guy, but he has a tendency to grumble at length about minor matters. Sometimes I don't mind that, but on days like today I really need to get my ass moving, so I start making my way up the staircase.
As I walk, however, I suddenly notice a figure in the distance.
There's a girl sitting in the far corner of reception, in one of the large red leather chairs next to the fireplace. The fire isn't burning, not this early in the morning, but the girl is staring at the chessboard on one of the small tables. She seems to be engrossed in a game, although the other red chair – on the other side of the table – is unoccupied. I can't help slowing my pace a little, watching the girl and wondering why she's sitting there and seemingly playing chess with herself. A moment later, she reaches over and moves one of the pieces, sliding it across the board, and then – as if she'd suddenly sensed my gaze – she looks straight at me.
She's young, but her eyes look so deep.
I hesitate, feeling as if I can't turn away. No, it's more than that. It's almost as if I'm not allowed to turn away. The girl – she looks to be in her late teens, or perhaps early twenties at most – is staring at me with a magnetic gaze that seems to be holding me in position. I've slowed on the stairs now, barely daring to walk at all, and after a moment I force a smile in the hope that the girl will simply smile back and then look away. She does nothing like that, however. Instead, she continues to stare at me until I struggle up another step and lose sight of her.
