There was a crumpled figure on the landing beneath the first flight of stairs. I recognized him immediately, but thank god, it wasn’t Isaac.
It was Mr. Partridge. He usually left his room to ask for room service in the middle of the night. He must have fallen.
Or been pushed.
The closer I drew to Mr. Partridge, the more his injuries concerned me. He had a long cut along his forehead, and there was blood on the sharp stairs where he must have smashed his head. What was he doing on the stairs? I’d never seen him use the stairs before in my three years of working here.
“Is that Mr. Partridge?” gasped a familiar voice. A breathless Isaac was coming up behind me. The instant I turned and saw him, I was soothed. I tried, but I didn’t know how to handle this alone. “I heard someone scream-”
“Go back to your room. Call the front desk.” I hated sending Isaac away, but this was the one time I needed Ben around. He was a nightmare, but he couldn’t brush this off as me overreacting.
Mr. Partridge’s eyes were closed. I pressed my fingers to his throat. He had a steady pulse.
“Mr. Partridge?” I said tentatively. I knew that the longer someone with a head injury stayed passed out, the more serious the risk of brain damage. I rolled Mr. Partridge onto his side, into the recovery position, and listened for his breath. I hoped he regained consciousness soon. I hoped Isaac would find someone who could help.
“What’s going on?” murmured Mr. Partridge.
Thank god. He was awake. I tested for memory loss with some basic questions. “Mr. Partridge, can you tell me who the president is?”
He groaned. That might have been an answer in itself.
I tried another question. “What’s your address?”
“Room 1406, the Cressley Hotel.”
He was accurately telling me what year it was when Isaac came sprinting back down the stairs. “I called an ambulance,” he said. “Then I called Ben.”
“Okay, Mr. Partridge, the paramedics will be here soon,” I said in a soothing voice. “Can I help you into a more comfortable position?”
“I’m fine,” he said. He struggled upright. He clearly wasn’t fine. He was too old to shake off a fall like that. I gripped him by the shoulders to help him sit up and lean against a wall.
“Does it feel like anything’s broken?” I asked.
“My head hurts,” he said.
“That’s to be expected. How are your hips?”
“Just because I’m old doesn’t mean I have weak hips, young man.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. It was clear Mr. Partridge wouldn’t show any weakness around me. I would leave the first aid to the EMTs, who were trained on how to deal with people like this. I remembered reading that head injuries could make some people agitated and aggressive. Then again, this wasn’t out of line with Mr. Partridge’s personality.
Ben came up the stairs, puffed and sweating, his cheeks bright red. “Mr. Partridge! I’m so sorry for what happened here.”
He glared at me. How was this supposed to be my fault?
“I don’t need an entourage,” Mr. Patridge grumbled. But his face had gotten paler, and he was breaking out in a clammy sweat. He needed a hospital.
“The ambulance will be here soon,” said Ben.
“I don’t need a stinking ambulance.”
“Mr. Partridge, please be calm,” implored Ben.
“This is bullshit. I’m fine.”
“Did you fall?” I asked. I wished I’d been able to ask these questions before Ben showed up. When someone falls down a haunted stairwell, there are things a ghost hunter needed to know.
“Of course he fell, Roman,” growled Ben.
Mr. Partridge puffed up like an angry bird. “You both assume that because I’m old, I can’t keep my balance?”
“I was trying to work out what happened-” I started.
“That’s not your job, Roman,” said Ben. “Get back to work.”
“I have ten minutes of break time left.”
A tight muscle in Ben’s jaw twitched. “Don’t ask any questions,” he growled.
“I didn’t fall,” said Mr. Partridge. “I was pushed.”
He was a doddery old man desperate for attention. I couldn’t believe his word. But I was inclined to, anyway. The EMF meter didn’t lie.
“I’m perfectly limber.” Mr. Partridge stood up to demonstrate his point. His face paled, and he fell to the ground again, eyes closing. He fumbled at his neck, as though he couldn’t breathe.
This time, I was able to catch him mid-faint. I lowered him carefully to the floor. His eyes fluttered. “This is out of the ordinary,” he said.
“It’s the blood loss,” I said. Mr. Partridge’s head wound was still bleeding heavily. I knew that head wounds bled a lot, but it was alarming, especially on Mr. Partridge’s heavily creased face. The blood seeped into his deep lines and trickled down his wrinkles.
There was a smudgy puddle on the floor where Mr. Partridge had landed. The blood there was already starting to turn brown. He seemed alert enough, but given his age and fragility, his injury could be dangerous.
I didn’t want to leave Mr. Partridge alone with Ben, even though Ben was giving me a glare it was impossible to misinterpret. I wouldn’t risk anyone’s safety for my job security.
I crouched to the ground next to Mr. Partridge. “Did you see anything before you fell?” I asked. “You can tell me, no matter how strange it sounds.”
“Bula,” growled Ben. He didn’t try to say my last name correctly; he pronounced it like “baller”.
“I want to make sure he’s safe.” I glared at Ben.
“You’re talking about ghosts again.”
“Did you see anything?” I repeated to Mr. Partridge. Ben wasn’t important right now.
“Maybe- I- I felt very cold, and before I knew what was happening, I smashed my head and then you were waking me up.”
“Very cold.” I made a mental note of that. I crouched on the floor next to Mr. Partridge, keeping an eye on his vitals.
“I can do that,” said Ben.
“I have three first aid qualifications. I’m doing it.” I wasn’t going to waste time arguing about this. I was the best suited to sit with Mr. Partridge. I could monitor his pulse and his pupil dilation, then I could give information to the EMTs. Ben didn’t have those skills.
I was glad when the ambulance arrived to whisk Mr. Partridge away, but they didn’t have good news for us. They were apprehensive about his condition — he’d lost a lot of blood. I felt sick with worry. Isaac must have seen my face, because he reached out to touch my arm. The electricity of his touch brought me out of panic, back into reality.
A terrible part of my brain circled selfish thoughts. If Mr. Partridge died tonight, Isaac would never have the chance to interview him. Mr. Partridge had been at the Cressley longer than anyone, and I needed to know what he knew before he died. I felt bad for thinking that way.
It was my fault this had happened in the first place. I’d been so focussed on Isaac that I hadn’t thought enough about the other people on this floor. I shouldn’t have let myself be so distracted by the butterflies in my stomach. I should have spent more time strategizing against the Cressley spirits and less time imagining running my fingers through Isaac’s golden hair.
As soon as Mr. Partridge was taken away, Ben glared at me. “My office. Now.”
I grit my teeth. This was going to be bad.
***
Ben didn’t have an office, despite what he claimed. He referred to the break room as his office and intimidated away anyone who wanted to use it for its intended purpose. It was a way he could act more important than he actually was and a way to dissuade people from taking breaks. Classic Ben.
Only Lance took breaks in the break room with Ben. Like attracts like, and assholes attract assholes.
What Ben and Lance didn’t know was that us staff had a secret break room set up in room 3001, and it was miles better than his �
��office’.
“What did you do, Roman?” Ben glared at me across the stained, once-white table.
“I didn’t do anything.”
“Then why were you lurking on the fourteenth floor when he fell?” He bared his teeth at me.
“You don’t honestly think I pushed him.”
“I told you not to go up there.”
“If I hadn’t gone up there, I wouldn’t have found Mr. Partridge. You know what’s happening, Ben. The Cressley Hotel is haunted.”
Ben laughed bitterly. “Are you actually mental?”
“You can’t claim everything’s a coincidence-”
“You can’t bother the guests with ghost stories! Don’t think I haven’t noticed all the time you’ve been spending with Isaac Baker-”
“Isaac isn’t relevant to this conversation. There are ghosts in the Cressley Hotel,” I said. I glared at him. “And they’re dangerous. They came after Mr. Partridge, they might come after Isaac, and who knows who else-”
“You’re fired.”
I stared at him blankly. “I’m what?”
“You’re fired. I’ve tolerated your bullshit long enough, but now you’re ranting and raving about ghosts to our guests, and-”
“I’m not ranting and raving!” I knew I sounded hysterical, but what was I supposed to do about that? I was totally out of control. All I knew, all I could think, was that I couldn’t get fired. Who knew what would happen if I were fired? “There are people here who are in danger.”
“In danger from a lunatic, maybe.”
“I didn’t push him.”
Ben shrugged. “We’ll see. Either way, you’re done at the Cressley Hotel.”
“I need this job. I need to keep people safe.”
“People are as safe here as they are in any other hotel.”
“Their blood will be on your hands, Ben.” I rarely got this emotional. I kept my feelings firmly locked away like a disturbed ex-wife in the attic of my mind. When they broke free, every primal instinct was set ablaze. My emotions were pure destruction.
“Is that a threat?”
“It’s a warning.” My lips were numb, my voice dark.
“You need to leave, Bula. Before I call security. And don’t come back to this building, or I’ll get a restraining order.”
It felt like he was reaching into my stomach and tearing out my intestines. This was a nightmare. The ghosts at the Cressley were becoming more dangerous, and I was being kicked out. What was I supposed to do? How was I supposed to fix this?
Before I could protest, change tack, and beg Ben to let me keep my job, there was a knock on the door.
“Hey, babe,” Isaac’s voice called through the thin wooden door. “How long are you going to be in there?”
Babe? What was he doing?
Ben spoke through clenched teeth. “Is he talking to you?”
I was a bad liar, but I tilted my head slowly up and down, hoping against hope that Isaac knew what he was doing. I knew my eyes were bulging wide.
“Roman, sweetie?” said Isaac.
“Come in,” I said gruffly.
Ben’s eyebrows were raised and his eyes were narrow. He looked like a bird of prey about to go in for the kill. The pressure felt like it was crushing my bones. All I could do was hope Isaac knew what he was doing.
He floated into the room like he didn’t have a care in the world, walked over to me, and sat in my lap.
The feeling of Isaac’s body against mine was pure fire. I instinctively looped an arm around his waist and held him steady. He pressed a kiss to my jawline. My heart pounded. My skin throbbed. It felt like a flock of wild butterflies had exploded through every atom of my body. I was confused, I was overwhelmed, and if I wasn’t mistaken… I was horny, too.
“What’s up, guys?” said Isaac. He leaned into me. Why did his head have to fit so perfectly against my shoulder? He slotted against me like we were two linked puzzle pieces.
“I didn’t know you two were-” The look on Ben’s face was similar to a look I’d once seen in the bathroom mirror after eating a bad street taco.
“Banging?” said Isaac brightly. “Yeah, we’re banging. Hard. So even if you fire Roman, you can’t ban him from the building. Not when he’s seeing me.” I couldn’t see his face, but I could hear his smirk.
“I-” Ben’s face pinched and he scraped his hand over his bristly beard. “You-”
“Uh-uh.” Isaac tossed his majestic hair, and it brushed my collarbones, feather-light. I almost melted into a puddle of desire right there in my seat. “The customer is always right, right?”
“I don’t want to know about this,” said Ben. He stood up and shook out his limbs. “Stop being creepy, Bula. And stop coming into work. I don’t care who you’re-” He shuddered. “Banging. You’re still fired.”
He left his ‘office’, leaving us sitting there alone. Isaac didn’t get up from my lap, and my heart didn’t stop pounding.
“Were you listening at the door?” I asked.
“Aren’t you glad?” He could have gotten up. Instead, he leaned back into me. Incense clung to his clothes and his hair, overwhelming me. He was so delicate, so smooth, right there on my lap, ass almost touching my cock. It would be almost too easy to shift closer, and I had a feeling Isaac wouldn’t object. Not with the way he was leaning against me, baring his silk-soft throat to my lips.
No. I stopped myself. I wasn’t going to try anything with Isaac. “Thank you for giving me an excuse to come back to the Cressley,” I said.
“You’re welcome,” said Isaac, his tone amused.
“Why did you help me?” I asked. “I thought I annoyed you.”
“You do. But I haven’t had an adventure in a while.” He shuddered. “The suburbs are boring.”
“Ghost hunting isn’t supposed to be fun. It’s-”
“Yes, I know, it’s very serious business.” He sniggered. “But you asked why I’m helping you, and my answer is: if a handsome ghost hunter wants to team up with me, why not?”
I registered all his words, but my mind stuck on ‘handsome’. Isaac thought I was handsome? I wasn’t your traditional kind of tall, dark and handsome. I was built well, and I didn’t have any problem getting laid. Men used plenty of sexy words to describe my body. But never ‘handsome’.
The only person who ever called me handsome was my mother.
“You do still want to team up, right?” said Isaac. I realized I’d been staring into space for a few seconds too long. Now that I’d let a few emotions free, the rest of the bastards were emerging with a vengeance. I shut them away. I had to focus. This was serious.
“Yes. You’re my ticket into the hotel,” I said.
“Right.” Isaac scratched behind his ear, got up off my lap, and brushed himself down. His floaty, tie-dyed pants were bare of lint or dust. I had made him uncomfortable.
“So you’re my fake boyfriend now?” I checked. Was I following this correctly?
“Yeah.”
“How long have we been fake-dating?”
“It was love at first sight the moment you took my luggage.”
“I didn’t take your luggage. You checked in on my night off.”
“Fine, well, it was love at first sight since you came up to my room with a muffin and warned me about ghosts. Does that work better for you?”
My mouth had gone dry. “Yes.”
“Do you want to come up to my room, boyfriend?” he said.
“Fake boyfriend,” I reminded him. “And no. I need to talk to Elliot.”
“Are you sure?” said Isaac. “The fake sex is excellent.”
I stared determinedly at a spot of ground-in dirt on the floor. I didn’t want to leave Isaac alone, unprotected, but I couldn’t stick by his side 24/7. “Elliot and I have hidden cameras in the stairwell. The footage goes straight to Elliot’s server. I need to review Mr. Partridge’s fall.”
“You bugged the Cressley?” Isaac smirked. “Roman, I never knew you were suc
h a rebel. Isn’t that against the rules?”
“Technically, there’s no clause in my contract that says I can’t hide cameras here. I’d never put them in the guest rooms.”
Isaac’s grin didn’t falter. “I still think you’re a deviant,” he teased. I hated that sparkle in his eyes, hated the way it sucked me in and made my breath catch in my throat. I rubbed the smooth stone of my necklace to calm myself down, and it hit me:
My necklace.
“You need protection,” I said sharply.
“I have condoms in my bag-”
“No!” I yelped like a dog with a trodden-on tail. “I mean you need supernatural protection-”
“I know what you mean.” He leaned against the wall, cool as ever. “But I like to watch you squirm.”
I reached for the leather strap around my neck and tugged it up over my head. The peridot sparkled like dirty seafoam in the light. I felt naked without it against my chest, but Isaac needed it more than I did.
“You want me to wear your jewelry?” said Isaac. His pale eyebrows were so high they almost reached his hairline.
“Yes. It’s peridot. It’s supposed to protect against spirits.”
Isaac chuckled. “Do you honestly believe in crystal magic?”
“No, but I don’t know that it isn’t true, either.”
“‘It might not be a bullshit’ isn’t anything to base faith on.”
“I’m agnostic. I believe that there are some things science hasn’t explained yet, but I’m not going to deny that they might be real.”
“Even magic rocks?”
“If crystals do work, and you get hurt because of our egos, I couldn’t forgive myself.”
“And people call me a hippie.” Isaac scoffed.
“Please wear it. It will make me feel better about leaving you alone.”
“Don’t you think it’s weird, me wearing your jewelry? You haven’t even taken me on a date yet.”
My gut simultaneously lurched uncomfortably and flipped with excitement. Yet? I told myself that Isaac was being Isaac — a flirtatious, charming victim I had to keep safe. “Humor me.”
The New Paranormal Page 10