“What on earth-”
Holly’s vision went microscopic. She could see every tiny particle of the cold black mist. “Come with me, Gram. Now!”
Delilah obeyed. The two of them ran out of the path of the frigid cloud, halting by the front desk. “What is that … that cold?”
“Henry Hank,” Holly said, watching the mass hover then disappear into the backroom, leaving hoarfrost on the copper door. “Come on, Gram. Let’s get upstair-” Pinching Pearl Abbott, stern and upright, glided out of the elevator cab and headed toward the copper door. Holly held her breath.
“What do you see, Holly?” Delilah asked.
Suddenly, the spirit halted.
Holly gasped as the phantom turned its head backward and pinned her with its glittering black eyes.
Then, with a howl of outrage, Pearl shot toward them. Holly concentrated on driving her back, but there wasn’t enough time and the spirit plowed straight into Delilah, who began screaming as red welts appeared on her arms and neck.
“Leave her alone!” Holly demanded, her power beginning to flow.
Pearl Abbot hesitated.
“Go away!” Holly cried. “Get out of here!”
The ghost wavered then shot into the backroom.
“She’s gone,” Holly said.
Delilah ran behind the desk, grabbed a small ring of keys, scribbled something on a memo pad, and cried, “This way!”
They ran through the elevator lobby, past the far staircase, and down the long hall toward the garage.
Arthur Meeks was descending the stairs when he heard the screams. He ran down the last flight and entered the lobby. The place was deserted and very, very cold. He looked around. “What the goddamn hell?”
The violet Phantom Aero Coupe gleamed in the dim glow of the garage lights. “Holly, come help me get the garage door open!”
Holly ran to Delilah’s side and together they pushed at the heavy door sideways. At first it didn’t want to move - a blob of muddy gravel clogged the track. Holly snagged it out with her fingers and the door rolled open easily.
“Get in the car!” Delilah cried.
Holly climbed in while Delilah put the key in the ignition. “Damn, I wish Max were here. I haven’t driven in years.” She glanced at Holly. “Don’t worry; it’s like riding a bike. You never forget how.”
The engine roared to life and Delilah turned on the headlights. “As soon as we get to town, we’ll call the police to get the guests out.”
“It’s okay, Gram. They’re not interested in the guests.” She hoped Fluffy was safe.
Delilah nodded as she put the car in gear and inched forward.
“Where are we going?”
Delilah glanced at her. “We’re going down to the Daisy Hotel for the night. It’s too dangerous here.” She pulled further forward and hard rain pounded the tip of the long hood, just past the naked lady ornament.
“But we can’t leave! Fluffy-”
“I left a note so that Steve can call us as soon as they get back. He’ll see to Fluffy.” She looked at Holly. “If they’re successful, these ghosts will be gone, isn’t that right?”
“Right.”
“Good.” She gave Holly a sidelong glance. “I hope it works.”
As Delilah began inching the Phantom further into the rain, Holly knew something was wrong. “It’s getting cold in here, Gram. I think we better hurry.” She saw her breath.
Delilah pushed the gas too hard and the car lurched forward, its long nose halfway out now. Stomping the brake, she stalled the car. “Damn it.” She put the Rolls back in neutral and turned the key again; the engine came back to life. “We’ll be downtown in a few minutes.”
The car lurched another foot, the cab growing colder.
“Gram? It’s really raining. Are you sure we should-”
Delilah eased off the clutch and tapped the gas just right, and the car moved forward at a snail’s pace. “We can’t stay here. It’s not safe.” Her breath formed white ghosts around her lips.
“We can go upstairs. It’s safe there.” Holly clung to the door. “It’s not safe here!”
The itch in her brain was back; she realized Henry Hank was trying to get into her brain. She concentrated, willed her eyes to turn to gold. NO! Get out!
The garage door creaked and began rolling toward them as if shoved by an invisible force. “Watch out!” Holly yelled.
Delilah stomped the gas but the heavy wooden door slammed into the side of the Phantom, crunching into the long nose of the car only two feet from the passenger compartment. Wood splintered and Holly shielded her eyes as the windshield cracked and shattered.
Delilah gunned the engine until the car roared like a mad beast caught in a trap. The motor died and refused to start again.
An explosive sound rocked the car. “Someone’s shooting at us!” Delilah pushed Holly down and covered her. There was another blast, then two more and the car rocked and sank. Then it was quiet; only the icy cold remained.
The scratchy itch in Holly’s brain redoubled, but the intrusion angered her and helped her focus.
“Stay down.” Cautiously, Delilah sat up, opened the driver’s door, and peered out. She looked back at Holly. “It wasn’t a gun. The tires are blown.” She shivered. “I don’t understand. How did the garage door shut on us? That can’t be! And the tires! It doesn’t make sense.”
“He doesn’t want me to leave, Gram.” Holly’s words were solemn and her eyes, preternaturally sharp in the dark. She could see the blackness looming beside the car now, could feel its rage and greed. Keeping her mind closed to his, she spoke. “He won’t let me go. I have to stay here. He’ll hurt you if we try to leave.”
The chill began to lift. As Holly hoped, Henry Hank had heard what she’d told Delilah. “Gram, open your door and get out. I’ll follow you. It’s okay, we can go upstairs now.”
Delilah slid out of the Phantom and helped Holly out after her. “How do you know?” she whispered.
“Because the cold went away. We can go in now. He wants me to stay here.” She hesitated. “We’ll be okay as long as I do. Let’s go upstairs.”
They reentered the hotel the same way they’d come. The temperature felt normal in the lobby. Delilah stopped walking. “I’d better see to the front door.”
Holly hung back while Delilah locked up. The air wasn’t cold, but it felt prickly, electric. She looked at the copper door, saw frost, and knew the spirits were nearby.
Delilah rejoined her. “Ready, Holly?”
“Yes. I’d like to go to my room and get Fluffy, clothes, and some other stuff.”
“How about we both go? I can help you carry.”
“Thank you, Gram.”
Fluffy clothes? What the hell are fluffy clothes? Standing behind the half-closed door in the back office behind the front desk, Arthur Meeks had been happy when Little Miss Fancy Pants had come back inside, but was now royally pissed off because the Queen was going to 429 with her and evidently moving her to the penthouse tonight. Goddamnit, how am I going to give that little bitch what’s coming to her?
Staying out of sight, heart pounding, he followed them upstairs. He hid behind the landing, watching them turn off on the fourth floor, and after they headed into the girl’s room and shut the door, he had an idea. As quick as a fox, he tiptoed to his own room, grabbed a rag and the bottle of chloroform. He gave a little groan as Methuselah throbbed to life; he wasn’t sure if his plan would work, but the thrill of the hunt was worth the risk.
Stuffing the rag and bottle into his pockets, he opened his door slightly and peered
down at room 429, waiting. Hoping.
A moment later, the door opened and the Queen Douchebag came out carrying the little slut’s suitcase and a cardboard box. She turned and spoke into the room. “Do you want me to come back down to help you with the rest?”
He couldn’t hear Fancy Pants’ reply, but his heart began to float on a wave of hope when Delilah said, “Okay, just
get what you need for the night and hurry on up. I’ll be waiting for you.”
The door to 429 closed and she left. As her heels clicked up the stairs Arthur got to work. He moved down the hall and stopped behind two large potted palms near 429. There, he opened the chloroform and poured it on the rag, stoppered the bottle, and ditched it behind the planter. Then, he waited.
When Little Miss Fancy Pants finally came out, Methuselah strained against his navy corduroys. He couldn’t see what she was carrying, but her hands were full, making her an easy target as she locked her door.
Arthur wasted no time.
He crept up behind her, his arm coming out and around her head, covering her mouth with the chloroformed rag.
It didn’t happen as quickly as he’d hoped.
The little bitch began fighting and, horrified, Arthur saw the cat in her arms. Ears back, it yowled and climbed her shoulder as the girl struggled against him, against the drug. Growling, the orange monster bared its fangs and hissed - the lion will come and eat you if you’re a bad boy! Black spots floated in his vision and Arthur nearly swooned as the yowling cat came closer, closer, across her shoulder, its front paws on his chest now, digging in. He was so scared he was barely aware of the crushing pain in his balls.
Holly, dizzy and shocked, remembered what Cherry had told her to do if she ever got grabbed by a man. “Twist his nuts off!” Her mother’s words came to her just as she thought she was going to pass out, and now, hearing Fluffy’s howls and growls, she yanked the cloth off her face, and pulled away from Arthur Meeks’ limp hands just as Fluffy leapt from her shoulder. She stared.
The cat clung to the bellhop’s face, claws dragging over his forehead and down his cheeks. Blood spurted as Fluffy sank his teeth into Meeks’ nose. Powerful hind feet and claws pounded his mouth, turning his lips to raw liver.
Meeks made tiny terrified noises as his hands finally came back to life and flew to his face, grabbing at Fluffy, trying to tear him off. But the cat wouldn’t budge.
Then, down the hall, the elevator dinged and the air went suddenly cold.
Fluffy pushed off and ran in the opposite direction. Arthur Meeks took a dozen staggering steps toward the elevator then stopped and just stood there.
54
In the Cellar
The air was dank and heavy with dust and things long dead. Abner led the way down the cellar steps - thank heaven they were cement - into what felt like another world. He thought of the tales of the portal and the Hellfire Spirit and, in this massive vault of death, he realized there was truth to the stories. It felt as if something horrifying might rise out of the ground at any moment, as if eyes were on him, on all of them.
Halfway down, he paused to play his flashlight around the cellar. It was nothing but a huge crypt, the size of the house itself. There were open barrels, boxes, and trunks lining the edges of the room, and in the center, were two simple cement stands about two feet tall and four feet apart. Each held an ornate wooden casket blanketed in a thick coating of dust.
Abner did not want to keep going, but he did. He had to. Exchanging a glance with Steve, a pace behind him, he descended the stairs.
“Oh.” Addie gasped the word, her hand tight on the bottom of the handrail.
Abner and Steve stepped onto the hard-packed earthen floor, then turned. Addie and Ike remained on the bottom step. Addie was staring across the room, looking at something the rest of them couldn’t see.
“What is it?” Ike’s arm circled his wife’s waist.
“So many died here.” Her voice trembled. “They’re still here, bound to this place. Young women, babies, children.” She put a hand to her mouth. “Some are sobbing. Some are screaming.”
“Do you see them?” Abner asked.
“A little. They’re calling out, but they’re so afraid that they’re hiding behind the boxes and barrels, and in the trunks. They’re peeking out at us. They’re angry, too. So angry.” She raised her voice. “We’re your friends and we’re here to set you free.”
Abner concentrated, saw nothing, but he thought he heard something. It’s just the storm.
“It’s okay.” Addie spoke to the room. “You’re among friends. We mean you no harm.”
“I might hear something,” Steve said, his voice tentative.
“They’re here and they’re listening.” Addie lowered her voice. “They’ve been trapped here so long that their fear and anger has changed them. Be careful, be kind.” She raised her voice again. “They want us to hear, to see, to know. Come on.” She led them toward the boxes and trunks along one wall.
Steve shone his light into one of the wooden barrels and gasped. There was a skeletal hand poking up from what might’ve been a nurse’s uniform.
“She says her name was Emma,” Adeline told them. “And here,” She trained her beam on the delicate skeleton of an infant, its ribs caved in. “This one is in great pain. She’s so young she has no idea where she is and all she wants is her mother.” A tear rolled down Addie’s cheek. “She would kill to get to her mother.” Addie moved away from the infant. “There are so many. So many. Henry Hank Barrow was a monster. I had no idea how evil he and Pearl really were.”
“Addie, if we destroy Barrow, will his victims be freed?” Abner walked along, illuminating horror after horror; grinning skulls and skeletons and bodies mummified by the desert air, still with hair, red, blond, black. He now heard the phantom murmurs of women and the whimpers of babies, and realized the others did as well. How strong their pain that we all hear them.
“They will be freed, and Holly will be safe,” Adeline said. “But both Henry Hank and Pearl must be destroyed. Pearl is an able jailer of these lost souls.”
55
The Uninvited
Pearl Abbott glided out of the unlit elevator, her eyes as black as her dress and hair, her high cheekbones as severe as a Victorian schoolteacher’s. Those burning eyes were on Arthur Meeks, who stood oblivious in the center of the fourth floor hallway. Holly ducked down between two big planters and peered between the leaves as the black cloud - Henry Hank - sifted into the corridor, a pulsing darkness beside Pearl. The electricity in the air prickled up goosebumps on Holly’s arms and neck.
The ghosts advanced on Meeks, but Holly knew they were looking for her. Realizing they would soon sense her, she forced herself to remember Addie’s most important lesson: No fear. Ever. They feed on fear. Be resolute. Always. You have the ability; you will prevail.
Meeks shivered and gawked around as if sensing something as the spirits bore down on him slowly, almost regally. With his torn, bloody face and shocked wide eyes, he was a pitiful-looking thing. I should warn him, Holly thought, then took it back. He didn’t deserve a warning. He had stolen from her, attacked her, invaded her privacy and she knew he wanted to do to her what he’d done to those other girls.
She concentrated until her eyes sharpened to that crystal clarity that told her she had called up her abilities. Holly waited, her focus so great now that she could see the weave of Pearl Abbott’s dress and the sifting darkness beneath her skin that betrayed her status as a spirit. She saw tiny red and blue sparks in the blackness that was the broken soul of H.H. Barrow, a glimmer of the Beast’s red and blue lightning.
Pearl reached Arthur Meeks first. He gasped as she wrapped her arms around him and began pinching, pinching, pinching. Screeching now, Meeks flailed and Holly heard Pearl’s dark laughter as she let go of him. He stumbled straight into the black cloud and struggled to move as if he were underwater. Everything was in slow motion and Holly listened to his muted, strangled cries with no pity. An endless moment passed then he popped out of the cloud as if it were Jell-O, fell, struggled to his feet, and stumbled toward the elevator.
At that instant, Pinching Pearl’s cold gaze found Holly. She felt the invisible eyes of great-great-grandfather upon her as well. The phantoms slowly moved nearer.
You can do this. Holly, all but oblivious to the bellhop, walked to the center of th
e hall. I have the ability; I will prevail. She stared at Pearl Abbott, locking her pinpoint vision on the phantom as it glided closer. They feed on fear. I will prevail. She shivered once as the hall grew colder. Somewhere behind the spirits, Meeks was screaming in terror. Resolutely, Holly stepped forward to meet the ghosts.
56
Desecration
Steve stared at the caskets on their cement pillars. “Are we really going to do this?”
“We are,” said Abner.
“Then I guess we’d better get to it.” Steve felt unreal, outside himself, as he stepped toward the ornate boxes. The murmur of the dead grew louder, angrier, in his mind. He raised his sledgehammer and began banging away at the locks that sealed one. Abner brought his own hammer down on the other. Metal clanged, echoing through the vault as they hammered and beat. Steve was out of breath and working up a sweat. It took a few more good hard whacks, but at last, the lock broke off.
Abner’s lock broke a moment later.
Addie’s flashlight flickered, almost went out, then returned to life.
“We’d better hurry.” Steve didn’t look forward to what came next. And, judging by their faces, neither did the others. Ike joined Steve, and Ben joined Abner and they lifted the casket lids in tandem.
Steve recoiled from the smell of dust and fetid death, as the cloying, almost sweet reek of ancient rot reached deep into his lungs. Swallowing the urge to gag, he aimed his flashlight and forced himself to look down.
The corpse within was dressed in a cobalt robe, trimmed in red and gold, with the Infurnam Aeris symbol on the breast. A pointed hood covered the face, making it impossible to tell if this was Henry Hank or Pinching Pearl. Steve looked at the signet ring on a withered finger and the thin chain around the neck that held a lapis medallion set in copper, a blood-colored ruby in the center of the stone. Stomach turning, he pulled back the hood and stared into the mummified face of H.H. Barrow; there was no mistaking that huge mummified hawk nose.
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