Brimstone

by Tamara Thorne

  “What the-” Steve stepped back, unwilling to follow that pillar of cold behind the copper door. Instead, he returned to the elevator and peered inside. It was empty and when he touched the metal grate, he found it cool, no longer frigid.

  He closed the outer doors and used the key switch to shut the elevator down; it wouldn’t be going anywhere until Mike Granger cleared it.

  After a nervous glance at the copper-clad door, Steve returned to the safety of the desk, and checked the old-fashioned switchboard. The hotel was almost empty tonight and the board was blessedly dark. He rang the penthouse and was pleased to hear Delilah and Holly had returned from dinner safely. Frieda told him Delilah had taken a tranquilizer and gone to bed. He wondered if Holly had remained with her, but didn’t ask.

  Grabbing the short stack of out-of-order signs, he trotted upstairs and placed one at each elevator landing. He was back in less than five minutes.

  He thought about Holly, who had seen an actual apparition. What she’d described was something far more interesting than his encounter with a roaming cold spot. He smiled to himself - he had always wanted to experience the supernatural beyond mere elevator sounds or phantom footsteps, and now, with the moving cold spot, he had. I should be grateful! Instead, I’m wishing I’d seen something, like Holly did. Ridiculous. He rose and rounded the desk. If Eddie, his ghost-loving cousin were here - they’d already be investigating the backroom.

  What? Am I afraid to go in alone? Steve rose and crossed to the copper door. His hand shook the tiniest bit as he unlocked it, but he opened it, stepped inside, and left the door ajar in case any guests phoned down or entered the lobby.

  Switching on the lights, he saw that everything looked just as it had when he’d done his rounds a few hours ago. Following his usual route, he walked past the boiler, then to the elevator shaft - he couldn’t see in the pit since the cab was on the lobby floor. Finally, he returned to the front and walked to the generator room, checked the lock, then began his return to the lobby.

  Halfway there, he stopped. The copper door that he’d left ajar was closed.

  He’d paused beside the forbidden entrance to the basement, and now he saw that the big padlock was undone and the basement door hung open a bare inch, the darkness beyond bleeding onto the cement floor.

  “What the-?”

  Steve knew beyond a doubt that the basement door had been locked earlier. It was always locked, and he would have noticed if it hadn’t been - you couldn’t miss it. But no one’s been in here. Tentatively, he pulled on it. Silently, smoothly, it yawned open. He could see the cement stairs disappearing into the dark. Taking one step down, he reached in, feeling for the light switch, wondering if the bulb worked.

  Something cold clutched his ankle. Something so cold it burned.

  Steve looked down, saw nothing, but it felt like a hand - an icy one with an iron grip. Panicked, he instinctively braced his palms against the doorjambs and yanked his leg up - but whatever grasped his ankle held on tight.

  Then it yanked.

  Steve fought for balance, lost, and fell backward, light exploding behind his eyes as the back of his head smacked against the threshold. “Son of a bitch!” Scuttling, he pulled himself back, off the stairs and threshold, and finally the thing - the hand! - let go. Steve jumped to his feet, slammed the door, and breathing hard, put the padlock through the hasp and jammed it home.

  Holly had been disappointed that Delilah didn’t want to talk after they left the restaurant. Instead, they’d taken the stairs and Delilah had seen her to her room. She’d hoped to be invited up but since the quake, her grandmother had become distant and polite; Holly knew she was frightened.

  After exchanging her dress for jeans and a hot pink T-Shirt printed with swoopy psychedelic letters reading “Frodo Lives,” Holly spent the next hour in her room curled up reading The History of Brimstone, the other booklet Adeline Chance had given her. Even though the facts were interesting, it was a pretty boring read - all dates and dryness, just like the history books in school. She drowsed off, only to wake when she heard someone knock.

  “Who is it?”

  No one replied. Maybe I dreamed it. She got up and crossed to the door, standing on tiptoes to peer out the peephole. She couldn’t see anyone, so she cautiously opened the door and looked up and down the hall. There wasn’t a soul in sight.

  She consulted her wristwatch; it was after eleven. Things would be quiet downstairs now, so she grabbed her key, put the Do Not Disturb sign on the knob and headed out. She didn’t know if the elevator was running or not, but either way, she didn’t want to ride. Between Arthur Meeks’ room being opposite it and the ghost she’d seen last night, she doubted she’d ever ride it again.

  Trotting downstairs, she entered the lobby, giving the elevator alcove one defiant glance as she passed it. She approached the registration desk. “Steve?”

  He wasn’t there so she wandered into the souvenir area in front of the desk and was looking through the selection of books and postcards when she heard pounding and Steve’s muffled voice call, “Hello?”

  She crossed to the glass entry doors - they were unlocked - but there was no sign of him. The pounding came again and this time, she tracked it to the copper door. The knob jiggled. “Steve?”

  “Holly!”

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah. I think the door is stuck. Can you open it?”

  She grasped the knob. It opened easily. She stared at Steve, at the smudges of dirt and dust on his clothes and face. “What happened?”

  “Crazy stuff. Holly, you know how we talked about the basement door and how it’s always locked?”

  She nodded.

  “It was open.”

  “I didn’t-”

  “I know you didn’t.” He attempted a grin. “But I wish you had.”

  He stepped into the lobby and shut the copper door, then reopened it several times. It worked smoothly. “I left this door open when I went in. It closed while I was in there, which happens sometimes, but it’s never stuck before. Not until now.” He shook his head. “Weird.”

  She looked him up and down. “But what happened to you?”

  Locking the door, he turned to Holly. “The truth is, I’m not sure, but I’m lucky I didn’t break my neck.” He paused. “Hold down the fort for me for just a minute? I need to wash up.”

  “Sure.” Holly watched him leave - he was limping a little - then went to the lobby entrance and opened one of the doors. The warm scent of sage wafted on the breeze.

  After washing up, Steve saw Holly standing in the open doorway looking out at Brimstone’s night sky. He grabbed a couple sodas from the cooler and approached, trying not to limp. “I could use some fresh air myself.”

  When she turned, her smile betrayed worry. He gave her a grin and opened the door wider then flipped down the doorstop to keep it that way. “Nice night. Soda?”

  “Thanks! Are you limping?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What happened?”

  “That’s what I’d like to know. Let’s sit down.” He nodded at two curlicued iron chairs outside the lobby.

  They settled down and Steve took a pull on his soda before crossing his sore leg over his lap. He pulled up the cuff on his cords while Holly watched. “Did you trip in the backroom?”

  “Something like that.” He pulled down his sock. “Wow.”

  She gasped when she saw the dark bruises. She reached over and lightly touched the skin between the purple-red marks. “Your leg is freezing! Look how white the skin is around the bruises!”

  Steve gave her a sick smile. “It felt like a Frost Giant grabbed my ankle.”

  “Look.” Holly pushed up the sleeve of her blouse and pointed at similar bruises on her arm. “This happened last night.”

  “What in the world?” Steve stared at the dark bruises. “They’re the same. Holly, do you know how it happened?”

  “I dreamed that Pearl Abbott grabbed me. But now I don’t th
ink it was a regular dream. I don’t know what would have happened if I hadn’t woken up.” Holly paused. “My arms were super cold after she touched me. There are fingerprints all over my shoulders and arms. Just like your ankle. So, what happened?”

  “Crazy stuff,” he said. “I don’t know. When I saw the basement door was open, I was afraid someone had broken in so I stepped down onto the top step to turn on the light. And something - like a really strong ice-cold hand - grabbed my ankle and yanked. If I hadn’t been hanging on to the doorjambs, it would’ve pulled me downstairs.”

  “I’m glad you’re okay.” Holly continued to stare at his bruised ankle. “It was her.”

  A long pause. “Pearl Abbott.”

  Steve rolled his pant leg down. “I guess so.” He tried to smile. “I doubt there are two ghosts here with hands that cold, huh?” He shivered, remembering Ben Gower’s stories. Pinching Pearl. My God, she’s really haunting this place.

  She smiled back. “You didn’t hear the elevator again or anything, did you? I mean before you found the basement door open?”

  Steve would never feed stories like this to an ordinary child, but this girl was anything but. “Yeah, I heard it. I don’t know for sure if it was the real elevator or the ghostly one, but the real one opened. I thought a guest had come down and I went to meet it, but the cab was empty and the accordion gate was closed.” He paused. “And freezing cold. Way colder than what we felt last night.”

  “Did you see anything?”

  “No, but I felt something. Have you ever heard of cold spots?”

  “Yes. I read about them in Hans Holzer’s books. Did you-?”

  “Feel one?” Steve took a swig of soda and wished it were something harder. “I did. It was big, maybe the size of a human, I’m not sure. And it was more than cold. It made my hands ache where it touched me.”

  “Cold spots and ghosts are supposed to go together,” Holly said.

  He nodded. “So I’ve heard. “Had you felt any before you came here?”

  “A little. Not like what you’re talking about. Like the little girl at the park I saw sometimes, it was always a little cool where she was, but that’s all.” She paused. “Tonight at dinner, I asked Miss Delilah if she’s ever seen the ghost of Jack Purdy and she said no, but that her sister Carrie could see ghosts. And she said my eyes are like Carrie’s - and my great-great-grandfather’s.”

  Steve blinked at her. “And?”

  “What I mean is, maybe if I’d been here tonight, I’d have seen Pearl Abbott because my eyes are weird.”

  He nodded. “You know who else has eyes like yours?”

  She nodded, smiling. “Adeline Chance. I know she’s my cousin but I promised not to say anything in front of Delilah. You can’t either.”

  Steve chuckled. “Cross my heart.”

  “I’m going to go see her tomorrow and ask if she’s ever seen anything here.”

  “I think that might be really interesting.”

  Holly nodded. “She gave me some books about Brimstone. I read the history one last night. The one about folklore and the Brimstone Beast was better.” She drank from her bottle of soda, then blew into the lip, checking the tone. “It’s like playing clarinet, but easier.”

  Steve grinned and blew a note on his. It was deeper than Holly’s. “So, what do you know about the Beast?”

  “Well, it was this Indian legend…”

  “True,” Steve said. “But your great-great-grandfather claimed he was the Brimstone Beast.”

  “Why?”

  “Henry Hank Barrow wanted people to think of him as a magician. A dangerous wizard. He formed Infurnam Aeris. It was something like a club - like the Masons - but much darker. He was the high priest. It’s said that Pearl Abbott was his high priestess.”

  “So, he was sort of like Saruman in Lord of the Rings?”

  Steve considered. “No, more like The Wizard of Oz.”

  Holly laughed. “You mean he was a fake?”

  “Well, I’ve never met a real wizard, have you?”

  “No, but I guess anything’s possible, right?”

  “Right.” Steve finished his soda. “I’d be very interested in hearing what Adeline can tell you about your special eyes.” He looked straight into them and saw the sparkles. “Maybe it’s true.”

  “Maybe.” Holly sipped. “Steve, Miss Delilah said she remembered Pearl Abbott from when she was little and that she was afraid of her - and of my great-great-grandfather.”

  “I’m not surprised. They weren’t very nice people.” He paused. “You’ve met my cousin, Eddie, I believe? He works at Gower’s Drugs.”

  “Yes. Miss Delilah took me there for a root beer float.”

  “Well, his boss, Mr. Gower, told me something about Pearl Abbott today. She was known as Pinching Pearl.”

  “Really?” Holly’s eyes widened.

  “Ben’s old enough that he remembers a lot about your great-great-grandfather and the old hospital. And Pearl. It might be fun to talk to him about it sometime. I can ask Eddie to see if he’s willing.”

  Holly nodded. “I’d like that.”

  “I did some reading today and there was a rumor that Pearl Abbott killed some of the patients - ones who weren’t getting well, and some crazy ones. And there were rumors that Infurnam Aeris occasionally sacrificed babies born in the hospital. Though that’s probably nonsense.”

  “I guess. Infurnam what?”

  “Infurnam Aeris. It means something to the effect of ‘Copper Hell.’ They wore funny robes and held secret meetings.”

  “What for?”

  “Well, that’s hard to say since it was a secret group.” Steve wished he hadn’t brought it up - Miss Delilah would not approve - but what was done was done. “They probably tried to make themselves rich or influence people at the hospital or maybe win elections.” In all honesty, he thought all those things were likely true, but that Infurnam Aeris boiled down to Henry Hank’s lust for power and greed. He’d gathered that sex was a major aspect of their rituals and beneath that black dress, Pearl Abbott wasn’t the prude she’d have people believe.

  He looked at Holly. “Let’s go in. I want to show you something.”

  A moment later, Holly followed Steve into an open room just behind the lobby desk. She hadn’t noticed it before because it was partially hidden behind parked luggage carts.

  “The hotel lobby used to be the lobby of the Clementine Hospital and the main nurses’ station was where our front desk is now. And this,” he said gesturing around the room, “was H.H. Barrow’s private office.” The walls were white tile and the room held tables, luggage racks, a couple of cabinets, coat racks, and umbrella stands. “Now it houses the hotel safe, guest luggage, and anything else that needs temporary storage.”

  Holly walked up to an ornate safe built into the wall between two tables. It was polished black, trimmed in gold. She ran her fingers over the shining enamel finish. “Wow, that’s really old.”

  “It is. It was your great-great-grandfather’s safe. And your great-grandfather’s after that.” He crossed to another wall. “But this is what I want you to see.”

  It was a framed painting of the hotel. Holly raised her eyebrows.

  Steve lifted the painting off its hook and laid it on the table, revealing an ornate tile mosaic. “Infurnam Aeris,” he said.

  Holly stared. It depicted a coppery-gold X with three narrow bars crossing it horizontally against a black background that glowed cobalt near the symbol. The central bar was shorter and broader than the other two and each end glowed with a ruby gem. A narrow bar at the bottom of the X created a triangle and an inverted cross hung from it. Above the symbol were the words, INFURNAM AERIS.

  “That’s weird looking,” Holly said. The symbol gave her the creeps though she didn’t understand why.

  Steve traced the X and cross bars with his finger. “This is the alchemical symbol for copper.” He outlined the triangle and cross at the bottom. “That’s the symbol for su
lfur - or brimstone, which is associated with the devil. Hence, ‘Copper Hell.’”

  Holly nodded. “What about the rubies on the middle arm?”

  “Those were supposed to symbolize the eyes of the Brimstone Beast.” He rubbed his chin. “I suspect in this case that the Beast was Henry Hank himself. You know, as in ‘his eyes are always watching. ‘But I could be wrong - Holly, are you okay?”

  She stepped back, putting distance between herself and the symbol as the dragon dream came rushing back. The glowing copper-red eyes. Staring at her.

  “I’ve seen it before. The Beast is a dragon, isn’t it?”

  “It’s a serpent in native art, so yes, I guess a dragon is a good description. Holly, where did you see it?”

  “In my dreams.”

  31

  A New Day

  “How are you feeling?”

  Delilah, reclining on her velvet chaise lounge in her darkened bedroom, removed the cold cloth from her aching head and smiled thinly at Vera Kotzwinkle. “A bit better.”

  “Would you like anything? Another compress? Tea?”

  “Tea would be lovely.” Delilah sat up. “Have you already taken care of the fan mail?”

  “No. Not by a longshot. Several more theaters are doing Universal revivals. Your popularity is soaring these days.”

  “I wish they’d revive something other than those dreadful monster movies.”

  “At least they remember you.” Vera paused. “In October, Maisie Hart is going to appear at a monster movie convention in Phoenix. I know you’d like to see her - and I haven’t RSVP’d on your invitation yet. Are you sure you don’t want to go?”