The Haunting of Cragg Hill House

by Elyse Salpeter

  Kelsey shrieked and jumped back. What the hell?

  He held up Lady Camille’s head. The back of her skull was missing and her brain was gone.

  Yeah, it was a definite problem.

  Josh shoved the head back in the bag and then tossed the entire thing out into the hallway.

  “What the hell happened to her?” She eyed the blood now pooled on her bedroom carpet in disgust.

  He snatched a bottled water resting on the fireplace mantle, stomped to the bathroom, and washed his hands furiously with soap. “I was still downstairs helping Dr. Cragg and Pago came running down to tell Dooley that after he went to give the Scotts their stinking evening snack, he found their room empty. He was trying to get any of the remaining staff together to go hunt for them. Dooley, that big fat guy, Tooh, and his mother who always wears that red kerchief on her head, took off with him. It just didn’t sound right. Why would the Scotts leave their room? Where in the world would they possibly go? So, when nobody was looking, I went to check, thinking maybe I’d find them lost somewhere and get their selfish asses back to their room. Their door was locked, so I broke in. Instead of them being there, I found a trail of blood from the bed leading straight to the bathroom. That’s where I found Mrs. Scott’s head. Well, part of it.”

  “And the rest of her body?”

  “Gone.”

  “And Ernest?”

  “Gone, too.”

  Kelsey turned to Desmond. “So now there is also a killer and kidnapper running around loose in the hotel. Could that girl who bit you have done this?”

  “Are you kidding me?” Desmond said. “Not a shot. From your description, she sounds like the same girl you met in the stairwell. She shook like a piñata and was stick thin, and the man in the attic, while strong, would never be able to maintain enough stamina to cut someone’s head off. He’s just too ill.”

  Josh’s head bobbed back and forth between the two. “Man in the attic? Who are you both talking about?”

  “No one,” Kelsey said, dismissively.

  Josh jutted his chin at her. “So, even with all this going on, you’re not going to talk to me?”

  She turned on him. “Why should I? You’ve been lying to us all night.”

  His eyes widened in incomprehension. “This bag isn’t enough of a reason?”

  Desmond spoke up. “Why did you poison me?”

  Josh clicked his tongue. “I didn’t.”

  Desmond said nothing.

  “I didn’t shoot at you, either. And I’m not Misterio.”

  “I don’t believe you,” Desmond said.

  “I don’t believe you either,” Kelsey said.

  Josh blew out a harsh breath. “You know what? I don’t really care right now what either of you believes, because it doesn’t matter one way or the other. What matters right now is that we are trapped in a blizzard in a blackout with tons of dead and injured people and now there’s a killer on the loose picking off the guests. Let’s get through this and then you can both accuse me of things I had nothing to do with.” He turned to Kelsey. “Who are those people you were just talking about?”

  Kelsey was sensing a lot of feelings pouring off Josh at that moment. She knew he was still lying about something. Or just keeping something from her. She couldn’t tell which. Mostly, he was just angry. Actually, furious. But not scared, and for that she was secretly thankful. It was one of the reasons she had always enjoyed working with him on jobs for Ari. Josh was a rock, was smart, and nothing jarred him. His temper was his biggest enemy.

  But do I trust him? Will he try to hurt Desmond again? Was he the one who made him sick?

  Josh finally threw his hands up in admission. “Okay, fine Desmond, you’re right. I pinned Misterio on you, it’s true. But, big deal. There’s no proof it’s you, and I just wanted to get him off Kelsey’s tail. But I didn’t slip anything into your drink, okay?”

  “Are you Misterio?” Desmond asked pointedly.

  “No.”

  Kelsey snorted. “But you know who is, don’t you?”

  “Kelsey, let this go. It’s not the time.” He turned back to Desmond. “When we get out of here, I’ll concoct something for Bain to get the heat off you. I’ll tell him we made a mistake and we screwed up. Now, can we please deal with what’s in the bag?”

  Kelsey glanced at Desmond, who rolled his eyes. “Whatever, Kelsey. You might as well go ahead and tell him. Probably better he knows. It’s not like I plan on drinking or eating anything he offers me for the rest of this trip. Or ever, for that matter.”

  While she was still furious with Josh, and still didn’t know what he was hiding, she’d deal with him later. She updated him as quickly as she could and then turned to Desmond. “Where do you think they took them?”

  Desmond thought about it. “If it were the summer, I’d say the shack in the woods, but now, with the fire and cold? We’ll just have to start searching. We should check the closed wings, but I bet they’re in the attic.”

  Kelsey agreed. She moved towards the door.

  Josh stayed her with his hand. “You need to know something before we go. The staff is lying to us.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “When I went to the Scotts’ room, there was a serving cart of food inside.”

  “So?” Desmond asked.

  “So, their plates and utensils were used. They’d obviously eaten their meal. When Pago met us in the lounge, he told us he’d not even served them their food yet. That was obviously a blatant lie that he figured no one would find out about. Why would he do that?”

  Kelsey’s jaw dropped. “What was on the plates?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. There wasn’t a lot left. Maybe a few pieces of ham, potatoes. Why? Does that matter?”

  Kelsey turned to Desmond and he shook his head disbelievingly. “Kelsey, I know what you’re thinking. There is no way. Even if it were, it takes years for any effects to take place. They would have just eaten something. It takes hours to even digest your food.”

  She shook her head. “You can get a reaction to food poisoning in as little as twenty minutes.” She had a weird feeling in her gut. “Josh, when you saw Tooh, was anything… wrong with him? Did you notice anything different about him after he left with Pago to go find the Scotts?”

  “Different? Nothing was wrong with him, except the guy is a major klutz and shouldn’t ever be allowed around knives. He cut himself again in the kitchen and had a big bandage on his hip. Freaking thing wouldn’t stop bleeding and Gerald had to stitch him up right in the lounge. How the hell does someone cut themselves on their hip, anyway? What, did the entire rack of knives topple onto him?”

  Kelsey swallowed hard and turned to Desmond. “You know what I’m thinking?”

  He nodded. “Unfortunately, I do.”

  “It’s possible, Desmond.”

  “Kelsey, you really believe they’re feeding Mrs. Scott to the people upstairs in the attic, don’t you?”

  “But not before they got her sick. Or, tried to.”

  Desmond squinted. “But how? By Tooh feeding part of himself to her? You think that is what the injury is? That’s absolutely insane. That means Tooh has Kuru disease already. It doesn’t make any sense. Not to mention he cut off pieces of his own body willingly to feed to her!”

  Kelsey paced the room, putting pieces of information together. It did make sense. “It’s not insane at all. What if flesh is all that those people can eat? What if their condition means they need to consume human flesh? The girl was eating something like that when I found her on the stairs, and it smelled exactly like what we smelled in the shack. And the attic steps are filled with discarded pieces of meat. She bit your arm, Desmond. She was trying to make you lunch!”

  He tried to keep his voice reasonable. “But that would mean the staff has this disease already and they exhibit no symptoms. Tooh seems fine. And why would people who have Kuru disease need to eat infected people? You haven’t convinced me of anything.
”

  “Look, it’s obvious the people in the attic have a disease. One that little Hope suffers from as well. While the staff seems okay, they are missing body parts and that guy in the dining room stumbled on his feet. What if he’s sick, too?”

  Desmond raised his brows. “You still haven’t explained why the staff would feed themselves to these people.”

  Josh stared at them. “Will either of you tell me what the hell you are talking about already?” Kelsey explained while Desmond walked over and opened the safe to remove his gun. He was about to toss Kelsey his Swiss army knife when she hopped over to her own bag and removed a knife from the side pocket.

  Desmond snorted. “Look at you finally bringing a weapon with you someplace.”

  Josh smirked. “I see you liked my birthday present. I knew it would look good on you.” He eyeballed Desmond. “I gave that to her while you were gone, you know. Benchmade Bedlam. Only the best for my girl.”

  “I’m not your girl, Josh.” She flicked her thumb and the four-inch stainless steel blade flipped out. It was an amazing knife. One of the best in its category. She closed it and tossed it in her right palm.

  Josh took out his own blade. Another Benchmade Bedlam. “Can’t go wrong with these babies, especially when you have a pair, right? Let’s go.”

  Desmond bit back his retort and put on his shoes, before they each took their flashlights and left the room.

  Chapter 15

  It was two am, and the double doors to the Presidential Suite on the fourth floor of the west wing were slightly ajar. Minutes before, Pago had played on his ceremonial flute. The hollow, melancholy notes from its lowest registers had drifted down the long passageways, sounding much like the wind from the blizzard outside.

  Pago could feel the desperation in the suite like a thick, heavy pall. Inside, he, Dooley, and Tooh sat at the kitchenette table. They had lit two fat candles and they illuminated the intimate space with their flickering candlelight. The scent of the candles, a mixture of ferns and straw from the old country, couldn’t mask the odor of what filled the plastic bowl in the sink, or what now filled the tub in the bathroom across the adjoining room. But they didn’t mind the smell. In fact, the metallic, coppery scent was something they were quite familiar with. The flute, with its intricate carvings of lizards and spirit faces, now rested next to Pago’s right hand.

  No guests had used this suite for over fifty years and it was still in the same pristine condition as it had been in the 1960s. The kitchenette was frozen in the style of its time. A vision of white and light blue, with the theme carrying through the blue daisy flowered tile countertops to the painted white maple cabinets and laminate walls. Dusty, fake aqua blue roses rested in a white vase in the corner. Pago glanced into the living room and saw the black couches and glass tables. The wood-paneled walls were decorated with now vintage posters that were the rage of the time. A record player sat on an end table next to a thick stack of record albums that contained the hits of the decade. The yellow and brown shag rug was still as plush as ever and the faintest hint of vacuum marks could still be seen. Heavy, burnt orange velour drapes hid the balcony and mountains from view. The door leading to the bedroom was closed.

  There was a dull thump from the bathroom. Pago glanced towards it, but then went back to his task. The bathroom door was ajar and if any of them craned their heads, they could have seen the bright yellow countertop and sink, the gold polka dotted wall paper, and the mustard colored draped curtains, drawn back from the tub and tied with a matching gold cord to keep them open. They would also be able to see Ernest Scott struggling like a fish on the tiled floor, flapping like a flounder in front of the bathtub. His wrists were secured behind his back and his ankles were bound together. They’d placed a cloth gag into his mouth to muffle his screams. Even if he’d had his monocle, Ernest could not see his headless wife lying in the bathtub beside him, although he knew she was in there. He also knew parts of her rested in a plastic bowl, which now sat on the countertop in the kitchen. He’d seen Pago reach into the tub to remove his wife’s heart and place it in the bowl before he stepped over him and left him lying on the floor, where he’d nearly choked in the horror of what had happened to her.

  Jenella gently closed the doors to the suite and then collapsed her heavy bulk down next to them on the remaining wooden chair. Her eyes were red-rimmed and her face was puffy from crying. She peeked towards Ernest, pursed her lips together, and turned back to the others. “Let me help you, Dooley. If we do this fast, we can get upstairs quicker. Time has become very short and our Spirit Mother is on the loose. She must be desperate searching for a suitable host.” Her breath smoked in the cold air and she briskly rubbed her hands together to warm them up. The stress and exhaustion of the night hung like a pallor on each of their faces. “Pago, can you feel her? Do you know where she is right now?”

  “I’ve been trying all night to call to her, but she’s not answered. Let me try again, Auntie.” Pago stilled and his eyes glazed. He entered a trance and he began to mumble and rock. The others simply watched and waited patiently. This was not a foreign thing for any of them to witness. Finally, Pago’s eyes cleared and focused again. He shook his head. “He does not know where she is and he is furious with us for not having another ready to take her place. Our Spirit Mother is roaming the grounds. It is going to be difficult to rein her back in. Only Roselyn had the training and skill and now she’s dead.”

  “It’s not our fault,” Jenella said. “We were hoping little Anna would grow into her abilities in time, but now she is dead, too. What are we going to do?” Jenella cried.

  Tooh squeezed his mother’s hands. “It will be okay. With Pago’s help, we will catch her ourselves. Possibly in the attic with the girls, if we can set a trap to find her.”

  “I saw her flee from Roselyn into Lila, before Lila threw Anna out the window and then jumped to her own death,” Dooley said. “Can your sister Isa take her in if the other girls are not strong enough?”

  Pago shook his head. “She’s never been powerful enough to hold her for more than a few seconds. She’ll commit suicide, just like Lila did. Only the strongest have the will to hold them in and keep their sanity.” He glanced to the ceiling. “Our Spirit Father says her spirit is wandering the hotel. We need to do this fast or the girls upstairs will die, too. She is going to seek the strongest one. You’re going to have to tie them down so they don’t hurt themselves, Dooley.”

  Dooley nodded. “They’re already tied down and Isa is keeping watch over them until we get there. They will remain that way until we have a suitable host to transfer her into. Then, when this is over, I promise we will shut down the hotel and all pilgrimage back to Papua New Guinea to bring more followers here. We will do what we have to do and everyone on my side of the family will support this. We all must make sacrifices in times like these, including those in the attic.”

  “Your family living upstairs won’t understand. Ellora, Naomi, and Ridley have no say in this,” Pago said.

  Dooley stared at him coolly. “We are all family, cousin Pago. When Ezeral Cragg mated with Mawai, your great-grandmother, he bound our families together. My family is part of yours as much as yours is part of mine. The girls are rarely of sound mind any longer. The flesh did not cure them as we all know, but they can still be useful and do their service for the family. We serve the Spirit Mother and Spirit Father as much as you do. We always have and we always will. It is the only way for any of us to move on to our afterlife and we will do what we must do for the good of our souls. Now let’s stop talking and do this already.”

  Dooley rolled up his shirtsleeves and Pago tied a tourniquet around the upper part of his arm before wiping down the entire area with alcohol. Jenella picked up the needle and blood collection tube, found a spot of skin that was free of bruising or red marks, and tapped his vein for dilation. She was about to insert the needle, when a light breeze blew through the room.

  Pago’s eyes widened and Jenell
a’s hand subtly shook. She froze.

  Dooley blew out a harsh breath and slammed his other hand onto the table angrily. The sound was loud and echoed. “I knew it. You waited too long, Jenella. How long have you been suffering? Dammit, we have no time for this, woman!”

  Pago glanced around. “Our Spirit Father is watching. He wants this done.”

  “Then let’s get this done,” Jenella said. “Quit your badgering, Dooley. I’m fine. Others needed it more,” she muttered. “Here, let me try again.” She reached for his arm again and he pushed her hand roughly away.

  “Stop always being the martyr. You’re not fine. Carla or I, or even Elsa could have helped you.”

  “Oh, just stop it, Dooley,” Jenella shot back. “Elsa can’t do this anymore. She hasn’t been able to for years. She’s too weak. You know that.”

  Dooley scowled. “She would do anything for you, and you know that, too. You are too important to us to act like a fool. Do you understand me? All of you are. You worry about yourselves and I’ll worry about Elsa.” Dooley turned his accusing glare at Tooh. “You should have come to me before it got this far. You know how stubborn your mother can be.”

  Jenella snapped at him before Tooh could respond. “You leave him out of this. I told him not to say anything.” Jenella stared at Dooley and an unspoken volume of words flowed between them. They’d known each other for a very long time, had an intimate knowledge of what was happening, and understood clearly how dire their situation had suddenly become. Not to mention their relationship from years before. When they were still teens, they’d had an affair, resulting in the birth of their son, Gerald Cragg. It bound their families just as much as when Ezerel Cragg bedded Mawai and started the present line of the Papua New Guinean family. Their families were intrinsically linked in many ways.

  The Scotts were the least of their problems at the moment and could be easily hidden when the time was right. All that mattered now was getting the Spirit Mother back under control or everything, and every one of their souls, would be at risk.