And she’d imagined she’d heard him reply on the wind.
Delilah returned to the balcony. She held a hand out, letting the hard rain batter it. There was no sign of the moon - the clouds were too thick - but still, she squinted through the sheeted rain, hoping for a glimpse of desert. Somewhere out there was the little cave with petroglyphs that, once upon a time, she thought of as her very own.
But where? She hadn’t a clue.
“Hey, Steve, I’m back!”
“That was fast.” He looked up from the log book to see Holly dressed in dry clothing - shorts, sandals, and a faded blue T-shirt sporting a grinning Cheshire Cat. Her hair hung around her face like damp curtains. He was honestly glad she’d come back downstairs after changing clothes; he hadn’t enjoyed being alone tonight. He grinned. “I thought you’d be in your robe and slippers.”
“No way. I’m not going back to bed!”
“What about the camping trip?”
“I decided to stay home.” She manufactured a smile. “Becky kinda drives me nuts, you know?”
“She can be … pretty enthusiastic.” He chuckled. “I’ll leave a message for your grandmother, so she knows you’re here.”
“Okay, but not until morning.”
“Sure.”
Holly looked at him. “You don’t mind me being here?”
“Take a guess.” Steve brought two cold Dr. Peppers out from behind the desk. “I got these out of the cooler while you were upstairs. Want one?”
“Do I ever!” She waited while he removed the cap then she took a long pull and stifled a ladylike burp. “Thank you!”
“You’re very welcome.” Leaning against the tall desk, he opened his own bottle, and drank. “So, why did you decide to come back in the middle of the night? Becky doesn’t drive you crazy while you’re asleep, does she?”
“No.” A real smile arrived and fled in an instant. “I couldn’t sleep because I kept hearing a warning in my head. It kept telling me I should come home.”
Steve nodded. “Do you think you were dreaming?”
“Not exactly.” She gazed at the ceiling. “Every time I’d start to close my eyes, I’d hear it. Even with my eyes open, sometimes. And I heard it again when I saw how hard it was raining, when I was wide awake.” She gave him a long, sober look. “It’s good to listen to your instincts, you know?”
“It is.”
She studied him. “Probably, I just wanted to leave, but maybe it was important that I did. I don’t know.”
Steve nodded. “I understand.”
She glanced around, then straightened her shoulders and tried to sound confident. “Anyway, I didn’t want to stay there and I realized I don’t want to go camping. I mean, it sounded fun at first, but …”
“Becky bugs you?”
She shrugged. “No. I don’t know. I feel like I should want to, but I don’t want to leave here.”
“Brimstone?”
“The hotel.” Her eyes were somber.
“Why?”
“It’s like, this’ll sound stupid ...”
“Try me.”
“It’s like I’m not supposed to go.”
“Not supposed to?”
She pushed damp hair behind her ear. “It’s like I’m not even supposed to be at Becky’s house. Like I need to be here. It’s dangerous not to be. Or something.”
Steve nodded, worried that this little girl, with her ability to see ghosts, might be hearing one, maybe one that wasn’t benign like Jack Purdy. “Holly, tell me truthfully. Are you sure it was your own voice you heard?”
She nodded. “Yes. I’ve heard it before.”
All around them, the lobby seemed to be holding its breath. Steve shivered, feeling as if they weren’t quite alone. “What do you say we sit on the bench outside and get a little fresh air? The rain’s about done. I love the smell of the desert after a storm.”
“Let’s go.”
37
In the Shadow of the Beast
As the storm fled the Brimstone Valley, the stars returned, clearer than ever. The sickle moon hung among them so bright in the clean night air that it hurt the eyes to look directly at it.
The town of Brimstone slumbered. Mayor Tom Hasenpfeffer and his wife, Brunhilde, snored peacefully; they had, as was their tradition, shared a bottle of peach schnapps and tubes of Ritz Crackers before repairing to the bedroom for their monthly maritals. Just buying the schnapps and snacks had made Brunhilde’s panties feel tight, and Brimstone Billy at the market had leered at her purchases, waggling his eyebrows in a suggestive way.
At the Wet Whistle, bartender Hedison Heddy Keller shared a few brews with Richie Shaw after the bar closed. The old friends had talked about baseball, politics, and the merits of various brands of beer before Richie finally brought up Ben Gower. “He’s not been coming by much lately.”
“Nope. It’s the old business,” Heddy said as he locked up the bar. The two men started up the empty street. “Whenever he starts staring up at Hospital Hill, he’s got something on his mind.”
“He ever talk about it to you?”
“Not a word.”
Ben Gower sat up in his bed, lamp on, book in hand. His bedroom door was firmly shut, and would stay that way because he had no intention of looking at the old hospital again tonight; he might be a coward, but that was just the way it was.
He stared at the book. It was his favorite from childhood, King Solomon’s Mines. He thought revisiting it might chase away the bad dreams, but tonight, the story couldn’t keep his attention. His mind was on his afternoon conversation with Addie Chance and Delilah Delacorte Devine. He dwelled, too, on his lost love, Carrie, as well as on Dee’s little granddaughter, Holly. She was the very image of Carrie, and the sight of her both delighted him and filled his heart with sorrow.
At the Hala house, young Keith awoke from a nightmare about being drowned in thick cold Jell-O inside a haunted house and that outside, something, maybe a pterodactyl, flapped huge leathery wings as it circled overhead and laughed at him. He came bolt upright, sure he’d screamed in real life, but neither his mother nor grandfather came to him. Glad he hadn’t disturbed them, Keith sipped from his glass of water, then turned on his side and shut his eyes, thinking of Holly and her golden eyes. He hoped she was okay.
In another bedroom, Abner Hala awoke from a dream he hadn’t had since childhood when his grandfather had told him the story of the Hellfire Serpent. In the dream, it flew out of the bowels of the earth, straight up into the sky, then back down to snap up screaming people in its jaws and crush them. It swallowed, mouth dripping fire and blood, then trapped Abner in its coppery eyes and came for him.
Dear old Ike fell asleep minutes after they returned to bed, and he’d stayed that way, sawing logs neatly and efficiently. Addie had never minded his soft snoring - usually the rhythmic sounds helped her fall right to sleep - but tonight was different.
She’d seen the Beast. She and Ike both, but he thought his eyes were playing tricks on him, and she hadn’t argued. Best to let him believe that.
A far-off shadow passed across the moon. Addie rose and peered out the window. The Milky Way spanned the night sky, twinkling like a diamond bracelet, but behind the Brimstone Grand, the sky was solid black save for an occasional flash of lightning. “Stay safe, Holly. Stay safe.” That the girl was spending the night at the Grangers was small comfort; it wasn’t far enough away to be truly safe.
Delilah Devine, having given up all pretense of sleep, was curled up against the forest-colored cushions of her favorite easy chair, her feet drawn up like a little girl’s. The chair sat near an open window and as the cool breeze danced with the sheers, she reflected on memories that were only beginning to draw to the surface.
Outside, the storm had traveled south into the mountains, heading for Prescott. The lightning was unseeable from the living room side of the penthouse, the thunder too distant to rattle windows. She could see the moon, almost feel its brilliant white smil
e as it played among the shadows cast by the gently blowing sheers.
Delilah had thought a lot about her conversation with Adeline Chance and continued to tell herself that what her cousin had said about Holly being endangered by long dead spirits was absolute rubbish.
But try as she might, she couldn’t convince herself of it. She knew Adeline was correct in her assertion that Holly should leave the hotel - and Brimstone - behind. But the moment Addie had spoken the words, Delilah also knew, at last, that she did not want Holly to leave.
A single tear ran down her cheek. Delilah felt torn in half; she didn’t know what to do.
On the fourth floor, in his skinny, filthy room across from the elevator, Arthur Meeks dreamed that a golden-eyed girl with Satan’s hooves and a whipping devil’s tail stood in his doorway staring at him, through him. He was in equal parts frightened and furious, and in his sleep, he turned, rubbing Methuselah against the filthy blanket, excited by his fury, his fear, and the thought of humiliating the golden-eyed daughter of Satan.
Steve and Holly sat on the bench outside the lobby so long that their backs were imprinted with the swirls of wrought iron flowers and leaves. Neither wished to go inside, to feel the still silence of the lobby, to wonder what might visit them there. They counted stars and talked about how man would go to the moon someday soon, as JFK had promised. They talked of alien worlds, of Isaac Asimov, of Robert Silverberg, of anything but ghosts and phantoms. Finally Holly looked at her wristwatch.
“It’s past three,” she said softly. “Ray Bradbury said that at three a.m. you’re the nearest to death you’ll ever be except for dying.”
Steve nodded. “‘By the pricking of my thumbs…’”
“‘Something Wicked This Way Comes,’” Holly finished. “I love that story. Do you think it’s true? About 3 a.m.?”
“I don’t know. It seems like it. Everything’s so quiet.”
For the blink of an eye, something dark filled the sky, blotting out the stars and moon. It was a huge black silhouette, shaped vaguely like a bird of prey. Here and there, it seemed to shimmer with blue incandescence. It’s the dragon from my dream. But it moved too fast to be sure. It flew west, circled above something - Becky’s house? - then swooped down and became one with the darkness.
“Did you see that?” Steve asked.
“Yeah.” She felt suddenly numb and cold. “It looked like a dragon.”
“It did at that.” Steve attempted a smile. “I saw something like it earlier tonight, too, during the storm. It was a lot higher up. I thought it might be some sort of weird weather thing.”
“Do you still?” Holly asked, eyes bright, face pale.
“I … I don’t know. Maybe. What do you think?”
“I think maybe it was the Beast.” She stood up. “Let’s go in.”
The Beast circled the Grangers’ dark house at the top of their long driveway. After a moment, it landed weightlessly on the roof, dissolved into a cold black cloud, and sifted into the house through an open window.
38
In the Morning
After Holly and Steve retreated into the hotel, they’d sat hidden behind the tall walnut lobby desk. Holly said it felt like a fort and Steve had to agree. They were able to relax, and talk of everything except bruises and beasts, ghosts or dragons. Everything sounded normal again.
The switchboard lit up once with a phantom call from Room 329, but they were both too tired to care. Holly soon began yawning, but refused to go up to her room, so Steve retrieved a sleeping bag from the back office and rolled it out behind the desk. Holly climbed in while he dozed in the chair.
He awoke with a start. It seemed like seconds had passed except for the crick in his neck. He glanced at his watch. “Hey, Holly!”
Her lids barely opened. “Hi.” She rubbed her eyes and sat up, looking around, getting her bearings. “What time is it?”
“It’s almost seven. Peg will be here in a few minutes to take over.”
“Okay.” She started to lie back down.
Steve grinned. “Do you want to explain to Peg why you’re sleeping down here?”
“Oh!” Her eyes opened wide and she pulled her sandals on while Steve rolled up the bag. She followed him into the back office where he stowed it back under a table. “Steve?”
“What?”
“Are you going to tell anybody I came here in the middle of the night?”
“That’s our secret. I did leave a message for your grandmother that you came home this morning instead of going on the camping trip.” He smiled lightly. “I just didn’t say what time this morning.”
Holly smiled. “Thanks. The Grangers are probably already gone by now, right?”
“I’m sure. They’re early risers.” He paused. “Holly, are you worried about napping in your room now?”
She shook her head. “No. Nothing happens in the daytime, right?”
“Right.” But he was a little worried. “Listen, look around and come right back if you, you know, see any weird symbols drawn on your mirror or anything.”
“I will.” She hesitated. “That bellhop probably did it.”
“You mean Arthur Meeks?”
She nodded.
Steve rubbed his chin. “You might be right. Maybe he wrote on the mirror with some kind of trick disappearing ink.” The thought brought relief along with a few new worries.
“I bet he did do it.” She gave him a smirky smile. “He doesn’t like me.”
“What makes you think so?”
“Because right before you came upstairs last night I caught him in my mother’s room.”
“You did? You need to tell Miss Delilah. He’s not supposed to be in anybody’s room unless he’s handling luggage.”
Holly looked pleased with herself. “I told him if he ever bothered anybody again, I’d tell on him and get him fired.” She hesitated. “I was a little bit angry, so, well, you saw my eyes right after that happened. They change color when I get mad.”
“So, he saw your eyes? What did he do?”
“He put her underwear back in her drawer and practically ran to his room.” She grinned. “And he wet his pants.”
Steve started to laugh, then cut it off. “He had your mom’s underwear? Holly, this is serious!”
“Cherry wouldn’t care.”
“That’s not the point. Has he bothered you?”
She hesitated just long enough for Steve to worry. “No.” She drew the word out. “I think he was going to peep on me once - I caught him drilling a hole in the wall between my room and the next one-”
“Holly!”
“I blasted his eye with hairspray.”
Despite his concern, Steve couldn’t help laughing this time. “I noticed his eye was red a few days ago. I was afraid he had pink eye and told him to see the doctor - that stuff is contagious.”
She gave him a gamine smile. “No. It was just hairspray eye.”
“Holly, I admire your ability to take care of yourself, but you really do need to tell your grandmother about all this. That man shouldn’t be working here.”
Holly considered. “Probably. You won’t tell her, right?”
“I won’t as long as you promise me you’ll tell her. And soon. I always had a bad feeling about that guy. So, do you promise? I’ll go with you to see her if you want.”
“I’d like that. And I promise.”
The front door creaked. “Good morning!” Peg Moran’s cheery voice echoed into the stairwell where they stood. “Steve?”
“Be there in a sec!” he called, then whispered. “Get going. But come back down if anything’s wrong. I’ll hang around for a few minutes.”
“Okay.” She hurried up the stairs.
Holly wasn’t quite as sure of herself as she’d let Steve think, but she straightened her shoulders and marched up to the fourth floor without hesitation. Last night, when she’d come up to change her clothes, she’d been twenty kinds of nervous, but this morning it really wasn’t bad.
She let herself into her room, flipped on the lights, and opened the drapes and blinds to flood the room with sunshine before looking around. When she did, she was happy to see nothing out of place, no more weird symbols drawn on the dresser mirror, and that her discarded rain-soaked clothing and tote were still in the tub exactly as she’d left them.
She poured a glass of milk, took it out on the balcony, and stared across the high desert. It was starkly beautiful in the soft morning light. To the east, the sun, still low on the horizon, glowed with the promise of another hot day, but right now the air was still nice, even a little crisp, and she almost wished she had pulled a jacket on over her T-shirt. But not quite. Straight down the hill, beyond the ridge of trees, Brimstone was coming to life. She spotted several vehicles moving along the streets like little Matchbox cars. A motorcycle passed a red pickup, its vroom echoing. A horse whinnied somewhere below and Holly thought of Becky, and how, last night, she’d thought, for one brief instant, that the Beast had circled the Granger house. Maybe it was looking for me. She shivered at the thought.
Maybe I should have gone camping with them - then it couldn’t find me!
She remained baffled about why she hadn’t gone - she’d really wanted to. She still had no idea why she’d been driven to come home. It all seemed silly now. Yawning, she went inside, rinsed her glass and plopped down on the bed, not even bothering to close the drapes.
But just as she began to drift into sleep someone knocked on the door. “Holly?”
She groaned and pulled the pillow over her head.
Another knock. “Holly? It’s Frieda. Miss Delilah wants you to come have breakfast with her.”
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