Escape From Hotel Necro

  Copyright 2019 Amy Cross

  All Rights Reserved

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, events, entities and places are either products of the author's imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual people, businesses, entities or events is entirely coincidental.

  Kindle edition

  First published: October 2019

  When Katie Johnson arrives at Hotel Necro for a romantic weekend with her husband Jason, she thinks she's going to enjoy a few days of uninterrupted peace and relaxation. On the first morning, however, she wakes up feeling slightly ill, and with a strange scratch mark on her waist.

  Soon, Katie and Jason are plunged into a nightmare. Something dark and sadistic lurks beneath the calm of Hotel Necro, something that leaves Katie horrified by her own potential for evil. Can the couple break free from the hotel's ominous grip? And if they can, will they ever be allowed to leave?

  Escape From Hotel Necro is a dark horror story about a hotel with a twisted secret, about one woman's attempt to break free, and about the lengths we'll all go to in order to prove that we're good people at heart.

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Epilogue

  Escape From Hotel Necro

  Prologue

  I make my way across the room, while keeping my gaze fixed on her terrified stare. She starts shaking violently again, more violently with each step that I take toward her. I feel more powerful than I've ever felt before in my life, and as I stop and stare down at her face I realize that there's nothing holding me back. I can slash and rip and burn, I can tear her to pieces, and I don't even have to care.

  Reaching down, I run a finger's edge across her belly, up over her breasts and then onto her neck. As I move my finger to her jaw, she lets out an anguished, muffled whimper and turns her head away, as if she thinks that can somehow save her.

  As if she thinks I might suddenly change my mind.

  “I want a razor-blade,” I say finally, causing the girl to struggle yet once more against her restraints. “It doesn't have to be big. In fact, I think a smaller one might be better. I can be more... accurate.”

  I run my finger up the side of her face as tears run down her cheeks.

  A moment later, I feel a nice, small razor-blade being placed in my right hand, and I hold it up for her to see.

  She struggles again, with such force this time that the chair seems to be at risk of coming loose from its bolts.

  “This is going to hurt,” I explain, “and it's going to last for as long as possible. But that won't be any fun if you still have that thing in your mouth.”

  Reaching around, I loosen the knot at the back of her head, and then I pull the gag away.

  “Help me!” she screams, as blood sprays from her mouth. “Somebody help me!”

  “Who do you think is coming?” I ask calmly, as I turn the razor-blade around between my fingers. “There's no-one out there. No-one cares. But don't worry, I'll save your eyes for last. I want to see them as I'm doing all the other things.”

  I hold the razor-blade out and set its edge against her left nipple.

  “I'll kill you!” she snarls, pulling harder than ever against the restraints. “When I get out of here, I'll kill you!”

  “You won't be getting out of here,” I reply, with the faintest twitch of a smile. “Didn't you realize that yet? You have no chance of leaving this place.” I lean closer to her. “Welcome to Hotel Necro!”

  One

  Two days earlier...

  “How do you sleep at night?”

  As I grab my suitcase from the back of the taxi, I feel Jason's hands on the sides of my waist.

  “Seriously,” he continues, “you're so hot, you should be illegal. How do you sleep, knowing that you're such a total babe?”

  I set the suitcase down and turn to him, and then I raise a skeptical eyebrow. He's so cute and so sweet, and sometimes he goes way overboard.

  “When I get you into this hotel room,” he says with a sly grin, “I'm going to -”

  “You're going to take a shower,” I tell him, “because that two hour flight did you no favors in the under-arm department. If you know what I mean.”

  Furrowing his brow, he sniffs his left armpit.

  “I smell fine,” he says plaintively. “Don't I?”

  “You smell lovely,” I tell him, “but you could smell... less.”

  He sniffs his other armpit.

  “It's nothing,” he says. “I smell great. Anyway, I'm only going to work up a sweat with you later.”

  “I appreciate the comments,” I continue, “but you're trying just a little bit too much.” Reaching up, I touch the scar in the left side of my cheek, and I can still feel the rippled edges of skin that had to be sewn back together after the accident. Incident. Whatever. “I meant what I said the other day. I'm not having some kind of crisis of confidence about my looks. It's only a small scar, and it doesn't bother me.”

  He smiles.

  “I'm more concerned about this hotel you booked,” I add, grabbing the handle of my suitcase and looking past Jason. “Hotel Necro? Is that seriously its name?”

  “What's wrong with that?” he asks as he hands some money to the taxi driver. “Necro's pretty cool, right? I think it's something to do with magic. We're gonna create a lot of magic ourselves this weekend. Between the sheets, if you know what I mean.”

  “I'm pretty sure Necro refers to death.”

  “Huh?”

  “Necro relates to death,” I say again, before leaning closer and giving him a peck on the cheek. “But don't worry about it, Jason. The name probably just got lost in translation, and it does look like a nice hotel. Actually, it looks really nice. Are you sure we can afford something this classy?”

  He steps around and puts his arms around me, hugging me tight. As he does that, the taxi pulls away.

  “Nothing's too good for you,” he says, as he kisses the side of my neck. “After everything that happened to you, you deserve a chance to rest and relax. Despite the slightly odd name, Hotel Necro is one of the most popular and exclusive boutique luxury hotels in the whole of Turin, and you're going to have the best weekend of your life. And that's an order.”

  Smiling, I realize once again that I'm so lucky to have Jason. Without him, I don't know how I'd ever have managed to get through the past few weeks. Getting out
of New York was probably a really good idea.

  “You need this,” he continues, before kissing the other side of my neck. “We both do. We need this vacation, or we're gonna go crazy.”

  Two

  “And Ms. Katie Johnson,” the receptionist says as he takes a look at my passport. “Welcome to Turin, Ms. Johnson, and welcome to Hotel Necro.”

  “Thanks,” I reply with a smile, although deep down I can't help wondering what he's thinking.

  He must have noticed the scar. After all, I don't have it in my passport photo, but it's kind of hard to miss the mark on my cheek. The e-passport gate at the airport spat me back, and the guy on the desk there seemed a little embarrassed. I knew exactly what he was thinking. Now this receptionist, whose name badge declares him to be called Henri, isn't doing a very good job of hiding his thoughts. In fact, he's kinda staring.

  “Is everything okay?” Jason asks.

  “Of course, Sir,” Henri replies, setting the passport down and starting to type on his keyboard. “I'll see if it's possible to find you a free upgrade for your stay.”

  Jason glances at me, and I can see from the look in his eyes that he noticed what just happened. I just hope he doesn't say anything. Sometimes he tries way too hard to be chivalrous and protective. I'd rather just get to the room.

  “This place looks really lovely,” I say, hoping to lighten the mood a little and change the subject. “I never saw it mentioned in any of the guides to Turin. You've got a nice little secret hotel hidden away here.”

  Henri glances at me and smiles, but he quickly gets back to his work on the computer. Great, now he seems to not want to look at me at all. I'm not sure what's worse.

  Behind, Jason's hand slides onto my butt, but I quickly reach back and ease the hand away. I love him for everything he's done lately, but he's trying a little too hard to make me feel that I'm still attractive. As I look at the mirror on the facing wall, I see my reflection staring back and I tell myself that the scar really isn't that bad. It's fairly fresh, too, which means that it still has time to heal some more. Maybe one day, with a little make-up, it'll barely be visible at all.

  “I have for you the perfect room,” Henri announces, as he takes a plastic key-card and places it on the sensor. “In fact, you're in luck. I can put you in the best room in the entire hotel, all for no extra charge.”

  “See?” Jason says, nudging me with his hip. “That's a good omen. It shows that things are finally looking up. The world's on our side again.”

  Three

  “Wow, look at this room!” Jason calls out as he makes his way toward the windows and looks out across the city. “Are you kidding? How good is this? I've never stayed anywhere so cool in my whole life!”

  “It's certainly swanky,” I reply, setting my suitcase down and then letting the door gently swing shut. “I know I shouldn't keep asking, but... Are you sure we can afford this place?”

  “I told you, everything's covered.” He turns to me, and he hesitates for a moment. “Did you take your pills, honey?”

  I nod.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.”

  I unzip my suitcase.

  “I didn't see you do it,” he adds.

  “I did it on the plane,” I reply, glancing at him. “Relax.”

  I start rooting through my case, hoping to find a few of the dresses that I packed for the weekend. I was expecting sunny weather, but now there's a forecast of rain possibly arriving on Sunday.

  “Maybe you should put your pills out in the bathroom,” Jason says after a moment, “so you know you won't forget to take them at the proper times.”

  “I won't forget.”

  “It might be good to just... make sure.”

  “I haven't forgotten to take one so far,” I reply, trying to hide the fact that I'm slightly annoyed. After all, I'm a grown woman, I can be trusted to take my medication. “Besides,” I add, “I have you to remind me. And you're being very careful to do that twice a day, right on schedule.”

  “It's only because I love you,” he points out. “I just want you to be okay.”

  “I'm better than okay,” I reply, as I hold up two dresses for him to see. “Now, onto more important matters. We're eating here at the hotel tonight, right? So which one of these do you think fits in better with the decor of the magnificent Hotel Necro?”

  “You're so beautiful,” he says.

  “Look at the dresses, Casanova,” I say firmly. “Which one would you like me to wear for dinner?”

  Four

  “You look absolutely stunning,” Jason says as we sit at a table in a corner of the hotel's restaurant. We're the only diners here so far, and classical music is being piped into the room. “I'm the luckiest guy in the world.”

  “Scallop sashimi,” I say, focusing on the menu and trying to change the subject a little. “Have I had that before?”

  “Not with me.”

  “I don't remember ever having it,” I reply, “but it seems familiar somehow.” I pause for a moment, and I quickly realize that there's a strange sensation in my mouth. “It's like I can somehow remember the taste, even though I don't think I've ever eaten it. Is that weird?”

  “I don't know.” He hesitates. “Not really. I guess. Maybe. I guess memories are pretty weird. But hey, why not have the duck egg as a starter instead?”

  “I love duck eggs,” I reply, “but I'm kinda curious about this scallop sashimi. I think I want to try that for a change.”

  “Why not just stick with an old favorite?” he asks.

  “We're on vacation. Isn't it good to try new things?”

  “It's good to have things you like, too.”

  I hesitate, before realizing that maybe he's right. This is a fancy restaurant and I should just go with a fancy version of something I know I like. It's a good job Jason thought about that, otherwise I might have ended up sitting here with twenty euros of cold seafood that I don't even like.

  “There's that look in your eyes again,” he says suddenly.

  I look at him.

  “Like you're a million miles away,” he continues. “You know, sometimes I really wonder what's going on in that head of yours. You just seem like you're in another world, like there's a part of you that's always... away, somehow.”

  “I'm not away anywhere,” I reply, suddenly feeling guilty. I reach across the table and touch his right hand. “I'm right here. With you, which is the only place I want to be in the whole world.”

  He smiles, and I think I might have managed to get through to him.

  “I'll prove it to you later,” I continue, squeezing his hand slightly. “I promise.”

  Five

  He lets out a gasp as he finishes. He explodes inside me, and I squeeze his shoulders tight and feel the muscles contract. There's a moment of absolutely stillness, as if the wheels of the universe have briefly stopped turning, and then slowly he slides himself out and rolls onto his back.

  “That was amazing,” he says breathlessly, staring up at the ceiling. “That felt so good, like... I don't know, it was just the best ever.”

  “Totally,” I reply, as I close my legs and pull the ruffled sheets over my naked body.

  “It was good for you too, right?”

  “Of course.”

  “Did you finish?”

  “Yeah,” I reply, but I already know that I sound less than convincing. I turn to him. “It's not only about the climax,” I add. “I don't always have to have an orgasm. Sometimes I like just... feeling you inside.”

  He stares at me, as if he's a little disappointed that he couldn't make me finish. I know that expression so well. For the longest time now, I've struggled to be everything he wants in bed. I've tried to fake the pleasure, and that was a complete disaster. Now it seems that being honest isn't working too well either.

  “Next time,” I continue, reaching up and touching his right hand, and slipping my fingers between his. “You know I have trouble getting to that point,
but I really enjoy trying. Like, a lot.”

  He pauses, and then he smiles before leaning over and kissing me on the cheek. I know he's not entirely happy, but we've had this conversation so many times before. These new pills are having a few unexpected side effects, one of which is that I just can't seem to climax during intercourse. Jason says he understands but, once again, I know that deep down he feels like a failure. I guess that's natural. It doesn't matter how many times I try to convince him otherwise: he feels as if he's not satisfying me.

  “I just want you to be happy,” he says finally, still trying to get his breath back. “That's all. In every way, too. Emotionally. Intellectually. Physically.”

  “And I am,” I tell him. “Honestly. You don't need to keep checking.”

  “Annoying, huh?”

  “Sweet,” I reply, before giving him a peck on the cheek, “but unnecessary. And now, if you'll excuse me, I need to take a little trip to the bathroom.”

  “Don't forget your pills,” he says as I climb out of bed. “I took the liberty of setting them out next to the sink.”

  “Thanks,” I reply, stifling the urge to tell him that I really don't need the help. “That's so sweet of you.”

  Six

  I look so different in the bathroom's stark electric light. Older, somehow, and a little sickly. I know that's mainly due to the bulbs they use, but for a moment I can only stare at my face and wonder whether it's really me staring back.

  I manage a faint smile.

  My reflection does the same.

  Reaching behind my head, I gather my hair into a bunch and then I slip a hairband into place. Jason keeps telling me how much he likes it when I wear my hair down, but I think maybe I'd like to have it up tomorrow. Just for a change. I don't mean to get all vain, but I think having my hair up suits my face a little better. It makes me look a little smarter, a little more switched on. More modern.