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by Charles W Jones

  He tapped the red sixes on his arm. The furrow on his brow relaxed as he said, “I don’t think I have a choice.”

  “Of course, you do. God made you to always have a choice.”

  “If he’s gone through all this trouble already, what’s to say he won’t make it worse?” He leaned his head against the sofa without removing his focus from her. “Tyler didn’t sound like he was in any trouble when I talked with him. He sounded excited.” A seductive grin formed on his mouth. “Besides, I’ll have you with me.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  For the time past of our life may suffice us to have wrought the will of the Gentiles, when we walked in lasciviousness, lusts, excess of wine, revellings, banquetings, and abominable idolatries.

  1 Peter 4:3, KJV

  Jen was still not sure why she agreed to stay. Shoshoni wasn’t her home, and she had no ties to it, besides, Tyler, but something in the way Mr. Bel had looked at her made her want to stay if she only knew what it was. And the strangeness with Carrie after dinner made her question her decision more. The fine hairs on her arms rose as her body quivered, thinking of the woman’s display. It wasn’t as though there was anything for her to do as the new hotel manager. No guests came to the Shanley. No one came to Shoshoni, except the laborers Tyler had hired. But they were gone before the sun made its final descent behind the horizon.

  She didn’t blame them. After sunset, the hotel felt odd as though it were a strange dream. Voices echoed from the lobby, but when she went to look, no guests were waiting to be checked in.

  Her second night at the Shanley, she had stood behind the desk, listening, only hearing the sounds from behind Bill’s door, which had to be from a TV, but she wasn’t convinced.

  The explanation didn’t tell her why the air had felt electric, stinging her skin. The creaking of the floors above and the thuds and pops from she didn’t know where she attributed to the cooling of the building.

  In the following days and nights, she hadn’t become accustomed to the sounds and the shadows she found no reason for their being and did her best to put them out of her mind. During the day, she was more-or-less alone in the hotel, except Bill who never left his room, she gagged at the thought of the rankness inside, and Tyler when he came in to have lunch.

  The rain had taken a little break since the evening they had spent with Connie and her family, keeping Jen from going outside to explore and leaving her bored and listless in the apartment. TV service had been installed, and a new TV delivered, but nothing she selected kept her interest for more than a few seconds. Her attention kept wandering through the apartment door to the lobby. Turning off the TV, she dropped the remote control on the sofa, deciding it was time to discover what the second floor had to offer.

  The rooms had been decorated similarly; each had the same drab bed and window coverings, scratched wooden floors, a radiator, and wooden chair. The dressers and nightstands, while matched in the rooms, were different in each. Wrinkling her nose, she decided new bedding was needed, and from what she remembered from the bed she shared with Tyler their first night here, new mattresses, too; Tyler had said guests were coming, and she didn’t want them sleeping on anything as old and musty.

  The rooms over the apartment had a single window over the radiator, except the two over the kitchen, they had two; one facing east and the other facing either north or south. At the other end of the hall, nearest Mr. Bell, not all of the rooms had windows. The pair facing north had windows, but the three opposite had none as they shared a wall with the adjacent building, and were claustrophobic with the absence of outside light filling their aged interiors. Additionally, rooms three and five had a connecting door.

  A chill in the air enshrouded her as she crossed into the adjacent room. This room was noticeably colder than any other room in the hotel. Rubbing her arms to ward of the chill, she assessed the meager furnishing in the room. A shiver shook her, and her teeth chattered to the cold. The frosty touch of the floor stung her bare feet. Something brushed across her shoulder, and she screamed, turning her head around, surveying the room. Nothing was there. As she moved back to the door, a cold grip took hold of her arm.

  She spun around, expecting to find Tyler with a smirk on his face and an erection causing the front of his jeans to bulge, but he wasn’t there. The invisible force’s grip released her arm. A gentle touch caressed her cheek, moving softly along her jaw, down her neck, and stopping before the cleft of her breast. Her nipples reacted to the sensation, and she heard herself gasp. A shadow moved toward the bed, its transparent form male. She shifted to the open door. No one stood at the doorway or inside the room, and the door to the hallway was closed.

  “My imagination is getting to me,” she said with a laugh, returning her gaze to the bed.

  The shadow had become translucent, showing her a well-formed man. Though she saw through him, she was intrigued at the spectacle her mind told her wasn’t real. A wry smile pulled up his mouth, and the pale, rosy skin of his face was no longer see-through. The blue of his eyes matched the paleness of his skin. Removing his cowboy hat, revealed dark, wavy hair with the sides and back shorn close to his head. Jen gleamed with excitement.

  His ghostly hands reached to the round stone bolo-tie to loosen its grip around his neck. The tie dropping to the floor didn’t make a sound, but she didn’t notice the absence as she watched his fingers unbuttoning his shirt.

  Once he finished the bottom button, he pulled the shirt loose from pants, then dropped it from his shoulders. The pigment of his alabaster flesh brightened and solidified. He was thin, but not skeletal, with tight, flexing muscles. A trail of dark hair ran from his navel into the confines of his jeans. The pale shirt fell to the floor silently. He extended his hand to her, while the other motioned for her to join him.

  She took one step toward him. He was happy to see her face brighten to the idea of him. He released the belt buckle, then finessed the buttons of his jeans free, allowing them to fall to the floor. As they slid down his legs to cover his transparent boots, his skin exploded with color and detail, matching his torso. His member stood erect, then bounced with the flexing of his muscles.

  Without thought, she pulled her shirt over her head, then reached behind her back, releasing the clasp of her bra. Her full breasts perked to the coolness of the room. A sigh escaped her mouth telling the apparition before her of the pleasure she already felt although they had not yet touched. Sliding her fingers between the waistband of her shorts and her hip, stoked the fire burning her within further. The shorts slid down her muscular thighs, pooling around her ankles. She stepped out of them and closer to him.

  He watched with anticipation, willing her to hurry her task and join him. With a quick flick of his hand, he pulled the quilt from the top of the bed, then sat, legs spread wide with a twinkle in his eye she had dreamt about seeing. The few inhibitions she had, fell away, and she took the final step to stand between his thighs. The coolness of his touch erupted pleasure in her every nerve. He kissed her breasts, fixing his sights on her. With his arms wrapped around her waist, he pulled her on him as he laid back. His deep kisses were warmed by the kisses she returned to his mouth.

  Her hands found their way around his neck. One moved up the back of his head to the crown, then back down, continuing its exploration. In a swift movement, he rolled them over. Instinctively, her legs spread open as she gazed back at him. He knelt between her thighs, massaging and watching her reaction to every touch. Reaching across her body, she grazed the head of his cock with her finger. He moved closer, allowing her to take in her hand what was destined to fill her.

  As she gently stroked him, he leaned his head back with a moan, then gradually brought his favor back to her. The sigh from her parted mouth told him she was ready for him. He leaned down kissing her wet mouth as he slid into her. Her arms encircled his neck, pressing his mouth tighter to her.

  His movements were smooth; never had a man brought her so much pleasure. Their mouths separa
ted as their ragged breaths deepened. Each moan was echoed by the other. Each thrust reciprocated. She felt the power of her body quicken as her back arched, pressing her breasts into him. Their screams of ecstasy echoed through the room as they climaxed together.

  His gyrations slowed, and his mouth returned to her. No longer able to continue the motions, he slid from her to lay on his side. Her lips parted as she ran her hand across his arm, to his hip, then to the flesh which had given her pleasure.

  She relaxed, drifting away into a light slumber. A swirl of cold air tingled her body, bringing her back to the world, and finding him no longer next to her. He lingered near the door, smiling, then stepped through the closed door.

  In a hurry to catch him, she pulled on her clothes, hopping to the door, opening it in time to see him take the first step down to the lobby. Her feet softly padded as she trotted toward him. She hadn’t caught his name. She had promised herself a long time ago to always know his name. By the time she reached the stairs, he had put one foot on the landing.

  A muffled bang startled her; the sound seemed to have come from several miles away. Her head turned toward the sitting area. A woman in a red dress (who she recognized as Dorothy from the bathtub) stood near the chairs. Tears caused black streaks to roll down her cheeks. The gun slid from her relaxed hand, softly clattering on the hardwood floor. Her scrutiny didn’t move from the stairway.

  “Dorothy, what have you done?” Jen screamed, staring at the cowboy crumpled on the landing.

  “She can’t hear you during this part,” the little blonde girl said, standing next to Jen. She took hold of her hand. “Only when she’s done.”

  Abruptly, Jen turned her attention to the little girl, saying between panicked breaths, “I don’t understand.”

  The girl let go of Jen’s hand and moved to her other side to watch Dorothy. Jen reclaimed the girl’s hand, joining her attention to the woman in red. Moving a half pace from the stairs, she watched the woman with bizarre interest. An aftershock sniffle found its way from her as her fear faded, and she looked on as though she viewed a movie with nothing able to harm her.

  The gun Dorothy had dropped on the floor wobbled for a moment at her feet. Jen realized the clatter it made was muffled, like the sound of the shot; it should’ve been more intense, and brighter.

  The faint smell of gunpowder lingered in the air, but not as strong as it should have been for a gun that had fired so recently.

  The woman in red doubled over in anguish. Her arm reached out to the chair back, keeping herself from falling to the floor. A forlorn moan came from her parted lips. Forcing composure, she staggered, breathing heavily with sobs. She found the bathroom between thick tears and disappeared through the door.

  Jen’s brow creased, hearing the bathtub being filled, and glanced at Becki, who beamed happily up at her. In a few steps, she made her way to the closed bathroom door. She tried the knob, expecting it to be locked, but it wasn’t. Her hand pushed the door open a crack, giving her a slight view of the wall and edge of the tub.

  Dorothy’s sobs were quieted by the heavy flow of water filling the tub. Jen pushed the door open more. On the floor, the hem of the red dress teased her vision. Again, she moved the door, stretching her arm to its limit. More of the dress on the floor and half the tub with the curtain on the outside pulled closed was now in her line of vision.

  The faucet knobs squeaked as the water flow lightened then stopped. Dorothy huffed in breaths, but Jen didn’t move. Becki looked on with a smirk. A soft splash from the tub was followed by silence. Jen heard her heart throbbing in her skull. A drip from the faucet broke the silence. Becki returned Jen’s glance, then back to the shrouded tub.

  Pushing her courage forth, Jen stepped into the bathroom. Carefully, she stepped around the dress. Her hand reached for the midpoint of the curtain, feeling its silkiness in her grip. Taking a deep breath, she pulled the curtain open. Dorothy’s face bobbed below the surface of the crimson-tinted water. Tiny bubbles escaped her nose and parted lips. Unblinking, she stared at the ceiling as though concentrating on a particular blemish in the paint of the crown molding.

  “Now I know how she died,” Jen said in a bland tone, losing interest in the woman with slashed wrists lying in a tub of bloody water.

  As she turned to leave, Becki’s grip tightened on her hand, and the girl whispered, “You’ll miss the best part.”

  Jen glanced back at Dorothy’s lifeless body in the tub, wondering how this scene could get any better. A few moments passed, and she began feeling uncomfortable staring at the woman. Then as she resolved to leave again, a gurgle echoed in the confines of the tub. Her brow raised, understanding what Becki considered the best part.

  A few bubbles came from between the woman’s legs, exploding at the surface, followed by another bout of deep gurgles. Exactly three seconds passed before the corpse lying in the tub rapidly expelled air from its anus and mouth and nose, causing the water to churn. Becki broke into laughter, as Jen gaped, speechless. The water quieted, but Becki did not. The girl stumbled out of the bathroom, leaving Jen to stare at Dorothy.

  Dorothy slid up the edge of the tub, looking back at Jen with white eyes, and said, “Shows over.” She reached up, the gash on her wrist fluttering, and pulled the curtain closed. “Stay away from Wayne. He’ll only bring you trouble.”

  Jen blinked at the warning, realizing Wayne was the cowboy. She smirked.

  “What’re you doing?” Tyler asked behind her.

  She jumped with a squeak, turning toward him with blushing cheeks. “Becki and I were talking about things I want to be done in the rooms.”

  “Who?”

  “Becki,” she replied, glancing around the sitting area for the girl. “You know the little the girl who likes to play up here.” He stared at her with a grin. “She was just here, Tyler.”

  “Whatever you say.” He put his hands up in surrender.

  Shaking her head, she stormed past him, glancing longingly at the partially open door of room three. Her skin pocked, remembering the passion she’d shared with the cowboy; Wayne.

  Mr. Bel’s door closed with a soft click. She stared down the hallway, wondering whether he had been spying on her escapade, though she didn’t care if he had.

  Jen made her way down the stairs, pausing on the landing. Near the top along the beaded inner border of the wood paneling, an aged hole camouflaged itself in the grain. She found it strange she hadn’t noticed the hole before. Maybe she’d seen it but didn’t care until now because of its meaning. A surge of sadness washed through her.

  “What’s happening to me?” she whispered, continuing down the stairs with Tyler in tow; he watched her with concern.

  “Are you all right?” he asked, closing the small gap between them in the descent. “You seem…” he paused, wondering exactly how she seemed. “I don’t know…different.”

  “You think?” she snapped at him. “I’ve been whisked away to this place and left alone for most of the day while you run around town getting people to help you restore the damned block. It doesn’t seem fair.”

  He stopped, not wanting to be in striking distance. “You can go out anytime you want. You’re not a prisoner. It’s not like we have guests filling the rooms.”

  “My sentence starts when we have guests? How nice!” Her face reddened brighter than he’d seen it before.

  “No. Jen. I didn’t mean…Come on.” He tried to use his charming smile to reverse her mood.

  She used to love his smile and would do anything for it. At the office, she’d see it and was filled with yearning, making her insides melt. Now it was nothing more than a taunt, a tease. She hated it. She hated him. Her head began to pound. The world around her swayed, as her body felt as though she stood near the boiler. The rush of blood in her ears drowned out his words. A gray veil approached, engulfing Tyler. It came closer, then swallowed her.

  She floated happily in the mist. Nothing mattered here. She didn’t have to do anything.
Nothing was expected of her, except to float. A familiar voice drifted toward her, but its words made no sense. She turned away, not caring what it said. A hand stroked her arm. The touch was cool and gentle.

  Consciousness returned, and she said, “Wayne?”

  Chapter Seventeen

  They are upright as the palm tree, but speak not: they must needs be borne, because they cannot go. Be not afraid of them; for they cannot do evil, neither also is it in them to do good.

  Jeremiah 10:5, KJV

  No disturbances plagued Cody in the next few days; no out of place sounds, no strange shadows drifting away from his bedroom door, and most importantly, no revenant asking for his help. But still, Cody was unsure what to do. He had secured the time off with his boss and sent Tyler a text telling him he was soon on the way.

  Everything Hector had said rang in his mind. Having a high ranking Fallen Angel displaying interest in him was not good. The idea of Hell not being some land below the crust of the earth made him anxious. He glanced suspiciously at people wearing sunglasses, wondering whether they were demons hiding the glow emitting from their hidden orbs.

  The magnitude of trouble he and Tyler were in was disheartening. But what was he able to do? Somehow Tyler had become mixed up in this. Did he have demonic activity in his house, too? Cody wondered. Probably not. Mr. Bel surely knew how gullible Tyler was. If someone told him there was promise for him, he, for whatever reason, never questioned what they possibly wanted in return.

  It blew his mind that this entity had always been in Shoshoni, mostly he had heard people mention his name, except his parents who didn’t speak of him, at least not in Tyler’s and his presence.

  He remembered seeing someone, watching from the upper window of the Shanley, obscured by the reflection of the sky, but never his face. Now, this Fallen Angel wanted them to restore the block, and it made no sense. Why go through the trouble of trying to possess him? Why not just ask?