by Krista Wolf
By the time he looked down she was already gone.
Twenty
Kara paused, kneeling in the darkness of the strange little room. Dust swirled everywhere. It danced chaotically through the diffused beam of her phone’s flashlight as she stopped to take it all in.
A head bumped roughly into her ass.
“Ow!” cried Jeremy. A pair of hands slid upward, two big palms closing over both her asscheeks. “Keep moving!”
She crawled into the room and stood up. Jeremy followed, still rubbing his head.
“My ass hurt your head?” she asked snarkily.
Jeremy stopped the pretense of rubbing and grinned. “Mayyyybe.”
Kara sighed and looked around. They were in a small, dust-choked room. The air was stale — no, stagnant was the word for it. It felt thin and tinny in her lungs, like no matter how much she breathed in, there was just no oxygen to it.
“How long you think this has been closed off?” asked Jeremy
“Forever, probably.”
Yellowed wallpaper hung in tatters, curling down from the walls. Kara examined it in the places it wasn’t. She saw the faded shape of a rocking horse. Tiny hearts. Balloons and ribbons…
“Look at that!”
Jeremy was pointing to the other side of the room. Butted up against the wall was an antique, turn-of-last-century, wrought-iron crib.
Kara looked quickly, then turned away wincing.
“Is… Is it…” Between the dust and the lack of air, she couldn’t form the words. “Does it have—”
“No,” said Jeremy thankfully. “It’s empty.”
Relief washed over her, replaced quickly by curiosity. Kara opened her eyes and scanned the rest of the tiny room. She saw an old wooden chest, open and empty. A rocking chair, draped with cobwebs.
“Well this was obviously a baby nursery,” she said.
Jeremy grunted in agreement. He grabbed the frame of another doorway off to the left, plastered over on the opposite side.
“This opening once led your room,” he noted. “Before it was walled off.”
She took a step forward, and that’s when it began. It started off as a tingle at first… an itch at the back of her head, right at the base of her brain. The room grew lighter, even in the darkness, and then suddenly Kara felt the familiar ‘whoosh’ of being thrust forward. Of being pushed through something… although she was never quite sure what.
She was still in the room, only now it was daytime. Light streamed in from the open doorway. A woman in a blue bonnet sat rocking her baby, gently humming. The chair was in a different place but the crib’s location was the same.
Kara peered closely, trying to focus. Using the best of her concentration techniques to discern details…
It was the woman from their room last night.
Everything blurred. Everything moved quickly. It was like watching a movie on fast-forward; an entire film in just a handful of seconds. Two films. Three. A dozen. The woman changed clothes, the baby grew bigger. Rocking, crying feeding… over and over and over again. And then all of a sudden, the woman was gone. A man took care of the baby now, an older-looking man with thinning hair and kind eyes. He rocked, he fed, he did everything the woman in the bonnet did.
But the woman never came again.
Eventually the baby and man both disappeared, lost in a blur of motion and time. The ‘whooshing’ noise reversed itself, like playing a recording backwards, and then Kara was spit crudely back into her own consciousness.
Darkness. Total, inky blackness.
Her chest heaved, her eyes hurt. She could feel her pupils re-adjusting.
“KARA!” Jeremy was shouting at her. He was shaking her by the shoulders.
“I— I’m okay.” She tried to take a deep breath and then coughed violently. The dust was too much.
“What just happened?”
He was holding her against his chest now, ensconcing her within two long, very strong arms. Her first instinct was to pull away, to stand on her own. But there was comfort there, so Kara didn’t object.
“I saw her,” she said. “I saw the woman. Her baby… she was taking care of it. Here. In this room.”
Jeremy held her quietly in the darkness, allowing her to search her feelings. It was the best possible move and he knew it. It gave Kara a stable emotional platform, allowed her to maximize her remembrance of the details in the crucial moments after an episode.
“I… I think she died. Here, at the hotel.”
She could feel Jeremy’s heart beating, deep in his chest. The sound was slow. Warm. Rhythmic.
“I think she died, but the baby grew up without her. Someone else took care of it. Maybe the grandfather.”
Jeremy stroked her hair absently. “Maybe that’s why she was screaming.”
Kara pulled back to look at him. “What?”
“The child,” he said. “Her baby grew up, her baby left. And she stayed here. Or rather—”
“She’s stuck here.” The realization crept over her in a wave of sorrow and dread. It was more than just a theory. Kara felt it.
“Yes.”
“That’s why she’s angry,” said Kara. “She never got to raise her child. Something happened and they were parted. Never to be together again.”
Jeremy drew in a heavy breath. “Not even… after?”
“No,” said Kara. “And only because she’s stuck here.” She looked up at him, her expression drawn with certainty. “She can’t leave the hotel. Can’t pass on to wherever her child already has.”
They stood in the room for another minute or two, holding onto each other. It was so absolutely silent Kara could only hear the ringing in her ears.
“You’re still shaking.”
“I always shake after it happens to me,” Kara said. “You’ve seen me like this before. Lots of times.”
“Not this bad though.”
His hands were warm against her skin. As good as it felt, she felt the sudden need to be out of the room.
“Let’s get out of here,” said Kara.
“You read my mind.”
They turned to leave, Jeremy once again moving aside to let her go first. Just before they knelt down though, he stopped.
“Wait a minute,” he said. “Look at this.”
On a table near the crib, a silver candelabra sprouted four tapered candles. Jeremy picked it up and blew the dust off it — a terrible mistake.
“Why the—” Kara coughed, “—the hell would you do—”
“Kara look!”
He held the candelabra out with one hand so she could see it. With the other, he held his phone’s flashlight over it.
“What exactly am I looking for?”
Jeremy tapped one of the candles with the tip of his finger. Kara rotated it in its holder, and then suddenly…
“The symbol!”
Etched into the candle was the same triangular symbol they’d seen earlier: the one in Rudolph Northrop’s ritualistic photograph.
“Think it’s the same one?”
“Has to be,” said Jeremy. “But c’mon. Let’s get it out into the light and check.”
They backtracked through the maintenance closet, this time without a touchy-feely incident. Jeremy rolled the mop bucket back inside and closed the door.
Together they slipped back into Kara’s room. Once again in the daylight, things took on a whole different perspective.
“God you’re filthy,” Jeremy told her. He patted off her back, then even her backside. As his hands traveled over her ass, she stiffened up.
He’s taking an awful lot of liberties, thought Kara.
“You’re not exactly clean yourself,” she chuckled. Then she did the same for him.
It’s not like you’re stopping him, either.
When they were finished, a small cloud of dust hung in the air. Kara sneezed.
“You still have the photo?”
“The original’s back in my room,” said Jeremy. He pulled o
ut his phone. “But right here…”
They sank down on the bed together, side by side, while he pulled up a digital image of the actual photograph. Pinching it larger with two fingers, he zoomed in on the candle on Northrop’s table. Next to the phone, he held the actual candle in his free hand.
It was unmistakable. The symbols were a perfect match.
“That’s creepy,” Kara shivered.
“What is?”
“I mean, looking down at it in a hundred-year old photo is one thing,” she shrugged. “But actually holding it our hands like this…”
Jeremy nodded. “I know. I feel exactly the same way.”
Just then, the door to the room pushed open somewhere behind them.
“Feel exactly the same way about what?” Logan asked.
Twenty-One
Logan walked in like he owned the place, or at least like he lived there. Which up until a few hours ago, he had.
“Look what we found,” said Kara.
Jeremy held up the candle. Logan went to take it from him, but Jeremy held onto it just a little too long.
“Be careful with it.”
The smirk of disdain on Logan’s face masked the promise of a secret ass-kicking. He tore the candle from his fingers. “Relax, chief. It’s a candle, not a Faberge Egg.”
He turned it over in his hand, running a thumb over the deeply-etched symbol. While he did, Kara told him all about their discovery, from the maintenance closet to the hidden nursery to her entire retrocognitive episode.
“That’s nuts,” Logan finally agreed. He handed the candle back, but to Kara not Jeremy. “I mean… what are the chances? We now have two of the items from the photograph, out of four.”
Jeremy’s eyes narrowed. “So?”
“So maybe we’re supposed to find them. Maybe that’s why the woman screamed in Kara’s face while we were in bed last night…”
Kara noticed immediately his emphasis on the word. She swiped the candle from him.
“I was in bed,” she corrected him. “You were on the couch.”
Logan shrugged. “Whatever.” He smiled wanly before continuing. “Point is, maybe the woman that once lived here wasn’t just showing you her baby’s nursery. Maybe she was trying to show you what was in it.”
Kara thought about it for a moment. Some of it made sense. Jeremy however, wasn’t sold.
“What you saw was just a residual haunting,” he said. “A mother passing through a common doorway, to take care of her baby. She probably did it hundreds of times while she stayed here. You only saw echoes of it.”
Logan shook his head. “You weren’t here. You didn’t see what we saw.”
“He might be right,” Kara jumped in. “The woman… she interacted with me. Like she could see me. Like she knew I was there.”
“So it wasn’t residual…” Jeremy appeared lost in thought.
“No, definitely not. Maybe Logan’s right. Maybe she was trying to get our attention, to specifically show us that room.”
The wind picked up outside. The snow swirled, as the window on the other side of the room rattled noisily.
“Okay,” said Jeremy. “Let’s assume you’re right. She wanted you to find the candle. Now what?”
They sat in silence for a moment, listening to the howl of the storm. The room was cold… drafty. Kara was beginning to regret her decision to sleep there alone.
Suddenly she had a thought.
“What if whatever ritual Rudolph Northrop came here to perform never got finished?”
Jeremy shifted on the bed. Kara was hyper-aware of his thigh pressing against hers. Her eyes shifted upward. So apparently was Logan.
“What if we could find out what he was doing,” she went on quickly, “and where he was doing it. And—”
“—and finish the ceremony!”
Jeremy’s voice had that excited, eureka moment that Kara loved so much about him. She’d witnessed it many times before, back when the two of them were exploring the Manor together. Back when almost everything they did was a fun adventure.
Logan scratched his chin. “Alright, I’ll bite,” he said. “How would we go about doing that?”
Jeremy pointed into his phone, being careful not to tap the screen. “Look: the book, the candle, the bell, the scrying crystal. They’re laid out evenly across the table. All of them important. All of them necessary.” He reached up and adjusted his glasses. “We already have the first two. If we can locate the second two, and if we figure out exactly what ritual he was performing, maybe we could finish what he started.”
It was logical, methodical thinking. Classic Jeremy. But it was also reaching.
“Hang on,” Logan jumped in. “I thought we decided that whatever this guy Northrop did on the winter solstice caused more spiritual activity.”
“We could be right about both,” offered Jeremy. “Northrop comes here and he’s the real deal — has actual spiritual powers. Only he screws things up. He doesn’t finish his ceremony, or does it all wrong. Instead of making things safer for the Averoigne, he makes them more dangerous.”
Silence. More thinking.
“So we finish his ceremony and make it safe again?” asked Kara.
“Sure.”
“Or we finish his ceremony and a portal to hell gets torn open,” Logan offered. “Swallows us all.”
Kara laughed inwardly. That would suck.
“We’d need to find out what’s in the book,” she countered. “And specifically which ritual he was performing.” She looked over at Logan. “Any more word from Xiomara?”
“Not yet.”
“Then our next step is the third floor,” Kara said.
Logan nodded. “I’ve already asked around. Jonathan’s shift doesn’t start until later tonight. I think he cleans the hotel while the guests are asleep. They offered to wake him for me, but…”
“No,” Kara said. “This is even better.”
Jeremy looked confused. “Better? Why?”
“Because we can meet up with him later for the key, then explore the upper floor when it’s the most active — at night.”
“And in the meantime?” Logan yawned.
His yawn triggered hers. “I think you just answered your own question.”
Twenty-Two
Sleeping away the snowy afternoon was a great idea, or at least it seemed that way at first. Kara was beyond tired, mentally and physically drained. They could get some rest, all of them. Be prepared for tonight.
It’s too damned cold in here!
It was odd too, because last night the room had been so oppressing hot. Now it seemed like cold radiated from anywhere and everywhere. The floor, the walls, and especially the constantly rattling window — all of it gave off a draft that had Kara pulling her covers up to her chin.
She also didn’t feel secure, although she’d never admit that to either of her exes. Kara had the door safely locked, the curtains pulled tight. The room was dim, but not dark. And still…
I could call him. Tell him to come join me.
She expected the little voice in her head to tell her no. To scream at her that she was being stupid again. Rather than tell her that, it decided to screw with her even more:
Call who?
It was a good question. A great question, actually. Alone and cold as she was, and stripped right now of all inhibitions? Kara could admit to herself she had certain feelings for both of them.
I could call Jeremy…
That would be easy. He was already staying on her floor. She could invite him into her bed, have him keep her warm. Set the alarm on her phone, throw him out shortly before they were to all meet up in the downstairs lobby. Logan would never even know.
And hell, why should it matter if Logan knew at all? She wasn’t committed to him. She owed him nothing — not the slightest bit of explanation. Not even after last night.
Yes, Jeremy was the safe choice. Then again, Logan was somehow more familiar. Carnally familiar, Kara reminded
herself sharply. Although her mind — or body for that matter — really didn’t need much reminding.
Or I could stay here and suck it up, she told herself. Stop acting weak for once.
She flipped her pillow over. It was cold on the other side, but she did it anyway. An anger started welling up within her, a frustration at wanting something she shouldn’t want. Needing something she shouldn’t need.
The phone probably has no service anyway, she remembered. Or very little.
All at once she decided to let that be the decision maker. She wouldn’t use the hotel line. She’d let her own phone decide…
Kara rolled over and punched the button. The screen flicked on. One bar… one little bar. She was lucky.
Or unlucky, she didn’t know which.
She paused for a moment, her arms cold and covered in gooseflesh from being outside the blankets. Kara typed out a message, deleted it, then typed it out again. Then she stopped. Debated. Her finger hovered over the send button…
Fuck.
The little bar she had was gone.
I’m an asshole, she thought to herself. And now I’ll be an asshole without any sleep.
Kara stared at the NO SERVICE message for a long time. She was about to put the phone down when the one tiny bar suddenly appeared again.
She typed like mad and hit the send button.
Come sleep with me.
She heard the ‘bloop’ as the message went out. The little flag above it read ‘delivered’. Ten seconds went by, then twenty. Then a half minute. A minute…
Shit, what if he’s already asleep?
The very thought freaked her out. She’d already sent the message — on her end, the die were cast. If he were already sleeping, he wouldn’t see her text until he woke up later. That would be the worst. He’d know she’d been weak, know she couldn’t handle being alone. It would be thoroughly embarrassing. Humiliating…
BLOOP.
Kara sighed in relief. She looked down at her phone.
Be right up.
Twenty-Three
The knock was low, almost inaudible. Kara threw back the covers. The floor felt like ice against her bare feet as she opened the door.