B&B Read online

  It's me.

  She struggles to get free, but I hold her down. No matter how hard she tries to get back up, pure panic compels me to keep her under me. At least she can't see my face, not in the darkness. I briefly consider warning her, but somehow the words won't leave my mouth. I'm not quite sure why she's out there, but suddenly I spot movement in one of the nearby windows, and I look up just in time to see the bandaged woman standing in the window, watching us.

  Watching both of us.

  For a moment, three versions of me are staring at each other. Filled with a sudden sense of fear, I finally clamber off the version on the ground and run away into the darkness, desperate to get as far from this hellish place as possible. I hurry along the next street, gasping for breath, before finally dropping to my knees in the snow. I take a few seconds to get air back into my lungs, and then I raise my head and look up at the inevitable sight before me.

  “I can't get away,” I whisper, feeling a flood of resignation in my chest as I look at the front of the B&B. “You won't let me, will you?”

  I stare at the door for a moment, before spotting something glinting in the snow. Staggering forward, I reach down and find a set of keys frozen in the snow. It takes a few seconds for me to dig around the edges, but finally I pull the keys out and see that they're attached to a plastic fob.

  Room four.

  These are the keys I was given when I first arrived. The keys I was somehow given by another version of myself. I guess I must have dropped them on one of the many occasions I slipped on the icy steps at the front of the building. I stare down at them for a moment as they rest in my hands, and slowly I start to realize that there's no way I'm ever going to get away. I can run all night, but the night will never end, not until I surrender. I can't beat those odds. I have to go back inside and find my suitcase.

  Grabbing the railing, I carefully make my way up the steps, taking care not to slip on the ice. My hand is trembling as I slip the key into the door, and then I hesitate for a moment before pushing it open.

  Ahead, the dark hallway seems to be waiting for me. Despite the immense pain in my ankle, I limp back inside.

  Ten

  Everything is calm. Quiet. Peaceful. I don't hear any voices, or any struggles, or any footsteps on the stairs. It's almost as if the entire B&B has suddenly put its toys away and begun to hold its breath.

  Limping along the hallway, I reach the door to the office and look through. My clothes aren't on the chair, and the metal poker is still leaning against the wall. I've completely lost track of what point I've reached in this endless, repeating night, but evidently I'm not yet at the point where my earlier self comes rushing through to dry her clothes and to wrap lotion and bandages around her face. That part of the madness is yet to come.

  A moment later I hear a bump below, and I look down at the floorboards. Maybe an earlier version of me is in the boiler room right now, or maybe I'm in the breakfast room. Maybe I'm also upstairs in one of the rooms, perhaps talking to the strange little boy who one day grew up to be Lloyd. Maybe I'm in all those places at once. No matter how hard I try to keep the whole thing straight in my head, I still can't quite make sense of it all, and I finally realize that I don't even need to try. Besides, the edges of the various incidents probably don't even match up perfectly.

  I'm not here to understand.

  I'm here to get the suitcase, and to leave the B&B, and then I have to go to the train station. And then... Despite the fear in my chest, I know that I won't be taking the train to London. I won't be trying to survive on a bundle of cash that would inevitably run out one day anyway. I'll be going home, and I'll be giving the money back, and I'll be facing up to whatever punishment awaits me.

  I'm finally going to do the right thing.

  First, though, I need to figure out where I left the suitcase. If it's not in the office, I guess the most likely place is room four. Rather than stopping to untangle all the conflicting threads, I start limping up the stairs. If I run into people, then I run into them, although I guess I'd remember if that had happened earlier. Sure enough, when I get to the landing, there's no sign of anyone, although a moment later I hear a very faint creak on the next flight of stairs.

  I look over just in time to see the timid woman creeping down, but once again she stops as soon as she sees me, and then she slowly starts backing up again.

  “Wait!” I hiss, stepping over to her, but she's already gone.

  I look up the stairs for a moment, feeling a shiver pass through my chest.

  “Who are you?” I whisper, hoping that she might come back. “Are you Betty? Are you Elizabeth?”

  I wait, but finally I realize I have to keep moving. Some mysteries just have to remain mysteries forever. Turning, I head over to room four and unlock the door, and then I slip inside. The room is empty, with the neat bed still undisturbed. It's almost as if I was never here before.

  I'm so tired, I feel like I could sleep forever. In fact, for a moment the clean white sheets seem almost to be calling me. I stumble over and stop at the side of the bed, thinking back to the moment when I arrived at the B&B. All I wanted was somewhere to sleep, and now I'm exhausted. I guess it couldn't hurt to set my head down on the pillow, just for a moment, just to regain a little strength. I won't sleep, I'll just rest my tired, aching body. Besides, the sheets really do seem to be luring me down, and I can't help myself as I sit on the side of the bed and then roll onto the clean white expanse.

  Heaven.

  I could just close my eyes and sleep peacefully, and ignore the madness of the B&B and hope that somehow I wake up refreshed and alert in the morning. Maybe the whole situation will resolve itself without my input. Maybe I can just let the world take care of itself while I get some sleep.

  No.

  I can't do that.

  And yet slowly, my eyes flicker shut. The bed is pulling me in.

  Suddenly I hear a faint creaking sound. Startled, I sit bolt upright and see to my shock that Lloyd is standing at the foot of the bed, smiling at me.

  “Don't get up!” he whispers, keeping his voice low as if he's worried about making too much noise. “You paid for the room, didn't you? Take a load off and catch forty winks.”

  “What are you doing in here?” I ask, feeling as if my heavy head is already pulling back toward the bed. “What -”

  Before I can get another word out, I slump back down against the pillow. I want to get up, but my body feels so horrendously heavy. I immediately try to get up, but every bone is exhausted.

  “What do you want?” I gasp.

  I hear him stepping around the bed, but I can't even keep my eyes open.

  “You've had such a long night,” he purrs, his voice sounding like a lullaby. “I hope you'll enjoy your stay here at Castle Crown, Roberta. Breakfast is served downstairs in the basement room from seven until ten, or from eight until eleven on weekends. There's a tea and coffee machine available for use free of charge, along with a tray of biscuits and other snacks. I hope you'll feel free to help yourself if you get peckish during the night.”

  “Wait,” I whisper, trying to sit up, only to feel an enormous weight holding me down against the bed. I try again, but I think I'm starting to fall asleep.

  “We have one bathroom,” he adds, slowly making his way around the bed, as if he wants to view me from all angles, “and that's on this floor. There's a shower and a bath, but please consider the needs of other guests in the morning and remember that we have twelve rooms here. I'm afraid it can get a little busy, but for your convenience there's a second toilet down in the basement, next to the boiler room.”

  “Stop,” I gasp, forcing my eyes open and seeing Lloyd smiling down at me.

  He stops at the bottom of the bed.

  “If you have any further questions, or if there's anything you need at all, don't hesitate to come and knock. I'm here all day and all night, every single day, and I'll only be too happy to help. Castle Crown has been in my family for ma
ny years, and I consider it a matter of personal pride that every guest is made to feel welcome. We're like a little family here. But I should let you sleep now. As you'll no doubt have noticed, we have very clean, very bright white sheets. In fact, I believe they're the whitest money can buy.”

  He hesitates, staring down at the bed as if he's mesmerized.

  “So white,” he continues, his voice dwindling to barely more than a whisper. After a moment, he reaches down and runs a hand over the sheet. “So beautifully unspoiled. Not a drop spilled. Nothing but white.”

  “You're him,” I stammer.

  He glances at me. “I beg your pardon?”

  “You're the one who...” I feel myself slipping away, but somehow I manage to find the strength to stay awake. “You're the one who kills those people,” I continue. “You're the Snowman.”

  “Have you ever seen blood spilled on a pure white sheet?” he continues. “You can't imagine it. I mean, you can try, but you can't fully understand unless you actually see it with your own two eyes. It's just not possible to describe the way the red starts to darken as it sinks into the fibers of the cotton, and the way it spread under the covers. I saw it twice when I was younger. First when I found Daddy, and then again when I found Mummy. And now, every time I see such beautiful white sheets, I can't help myself. I have to think about what they'd look like with blood seeping through the fabric, and then I have to think about whether...”

  I gasp as I feel him running a finger along my left hand, up to my wrist.

  “I can control myself most of the time,” he says after a moment, his voice filled now with a sense of determination. “I'm not weak, you understand. I'm perfectly capable of keeping my urges in check. It's just that when the snow falls outside, and the whole world becomes white, there's nowhere left for me to look. The whiteness is all I can think about, and it starts burning through my chest. There's only one way to stop it... Fortunately, the snow always brings a stray visitor to the door. Always.”

  Suddenly he drops down to his knees, out of my field of vision. I try to tilt my head so I can see him, but I'm still too weak. I can feel his hand on my wrist, though, pressing harder as if he's trying to feel the veins and arteries. He's whispering something under his breath, too, although I can't quite make out the words.

  Something about Mummy and Daddy.

  Something about them leaving him all alone, many years ago.

  Finally managing to turn my head, I look over at the window and see flurries of snow coming down. The weather looks worse than ever, and for a moment it occurs to me that maybe this is what I deserve. I should die here, alone and hated, becoming the latest victim of the Snowman. I'm a liar and a thief, and this is what happens to liars and thieves.

  “It won't hurt much,” Lloyd gasps, as I feel his fingernails starting to slice through my flesh. “A little pain can produce a lot of beauty.”

  Blood is starting to dribble down to the palm of my hand now.

  “These sheets are so white!” he hisses, his voice throbbing with anticipation. “I can't -”

  Suddenly I let out a pained cry as I force myself to turn and roll off the bed. I slam down against the carpeted floor and then turn just in time to see Lloyd getting to his feet. I was about to go under, I was about to let him do whatever he wanted, but now my heart is pounding and I know I have to get the hell out of here. If I don't get away, I'll never find the suitcase and I'll never get the money back to the Chadwells.

  “Are you fighting back?” Lloyd asks, already stepping around the bed. “That's noble. Futile, but noble. Besides, it's not like there's anywhere left for you to run to. Running was what brought you here in the first place, I believe?”

  I roll under the bed and quickly emerge from the other side, but Lloyd steps back around to block my way again.

  “Just sleep, Roberta,” he continues, as I roll back under. “That's what this room is for. It's what this whole building is for. Most people fall asleep as soon as they arrive. You're the first guest who's ever left her room and explored the B&B. Perhaps guilt kept you awake.”

  He steps around the bed again. Realizing that I can't stay under here, I roll out the other side.

  “You can't fight it,” he adds, coming over to me yet again. “Others have tried before you. It's just not possible.”

  Letting out a grunt of anger, I throw myself forward, slamming into his legs and then scurrying to the door. Once I'm out on the landing, I race to the stairs but quickly stumble, crashing down and thudding to a halt next to the plant pot. The room's soporific effect is weaker already, but I'm still not free yet.

  “Help!” I gasp, although I'm already starting to feel weak again. “Somebody! Anybody! Where are -”

  Suddenly Lloyd steps into view at the top of the stairs. Panicked, I turn and start scrambling down, hurrying to the hallway and then over to the front door. When I try to turn the latch, however, I find that somehow it must have been locked. I try a couple more times, before realizing that I have to try the back door instead. I turn and run back past the foot of the stairs, just as Lloyd comes strolling down.

  “Where do you think you're going?” he calls after me. “You're just tiring yourself out more and more. I'll only end up dragging you back up to the bed. Silly girl, you can't die until you're on the sheets. Try to remember that. We can't waste all that pretty blood.”

  Lunging at the back door, I find that here too the latch has somehow been locked. I pull frantically, trying to find some way out, before turning as I hear footsteps getting closer.

  “Help me!” I shout, convinced that one of the others has to hear me, but after a moment I turn and race down the stairs that lead to the basement. I trip halfway, falling forward and tumbling to the bottom. I land hard, cracking something in my left shoulder, but at least the pain forces me awake.

  There's no sign of anyone down here, so I run to the boiler room and pull the door open. Once I'm inside, there's no time to search for a light-switch, so I stumble through the darkness and try to find the stairs. It takes a moment, but finally I grab hold of the railing, and -

  Suddenly the lights flicker on above me.

  I turn, just as Lloyd grabs my collar and slams me against the wall. The impact is strong enough to force the air from my lungs and send the back of my head thudding against the breeze-blocks. He quickly pushes me down onto the dusty concrete floor, leaving me gasping as I feel a sharp pain in my chest. When I try to breathe, I feel as if I can only fill up a tiny portion of my lungs at a time.

  “I must admit,” Lloyd says as he comes closer and stops to tower over me, “I was a little surprised when I looked in your suitcase. That's a lot of cash you're carrying around in there, Roberta. So much, in fact, that I can't in all honesty believe that you're completely on the level. You're hiding something. Don't worry, though. I'm not going to waste my time trying to figure out what you did or where you come from. None of that matters. All that matters is that you're here, and that you're guilty, and that yet again I found someone to come through the front door on a cold, snowy night. Funny how that always works out, isn't it?”

  Rolling onto my back, I feel a sharp pain slicing through my chest. I think I might have fractured a couple or ribs.

  “Of course,” he adds, “I usually open the front door to welcome new guests. But since you chose to explore a little, I didn't even have to do that this time. It really has been a long and strange night, hasn't it?”

  Suddenly Lloyd reaches down and tucks something into the upper-left breast pocket of my uniform.

  “The Castle Crown business card,” he explains, as he steps over me. “Not many people find it. You should consider yourself lucky.”

  I roll onto my other side and watch as he heads over to a table in the corner. My suitcase is open on the table, and it's clear that he's been going through my things. After a moment, however, he picks up a rusty old hammer.

  “It's funny how the world works, isn't it?” he continues, seemingly lost
in thought for a moment as he examines the hammer's head. “Souls in need invariably get what they want, even if it's not what they think they want. The tectonic plates of the universe simply shift beneath their feet, delivering them to wherever they should be. And that's how, I guess, a guilty little girl on the run ends up on the steps outside my humble home.” He smiles. “Now you get to become one of my pet ghosts.”

  “Your ghosts?” I stammer, wincing with pain as I try to drag myself away.

  “I was shocked when it first happened,” he replies. “The first time I killed one of my guests, I dragged her body a long way from the building, so that I wouldn't be suspected. Then I saw hints of her presence when I got back. As I killed more and more over the years, I became increasingly certain that the souls of my victim were somehow becoming stuck here. I didn't mind. They weren't disruptive, at least not until I killed Mrs. Denham. Three months later, after the police had given up trying to find her, I was shocked by the sudden arrival of her husband. He didn't suspect me of anything, of course. He simply needed somewhere to stay while he poked around. And then, rather poetically, more snow came and I killed him, and then I had both their ghosts around me.”

  “Ghosts aren't real!” I hiss, forcing myself to sit up. Looking around, I try to spot something I can use as a weapon. I need to buy a little time. “They can't be! You're just crazy!”

  “If they're not real, who have you been talking to tonight? Apart from me, at least.”

  “They weren't ghosts,” I stammer, trying to drag myself toward one of the tables.

  “Their dead bodies would surely disagree.”

  “They can't be ghosts,” I whisper, trying to take slow, careful breaths. “It's not possible.”

  “Major Denham's death was when the problems started,” he continues. “His ghost and his wife's ghost found one another and began to mingle. Evidently this set off some kind of chain reaction, and soon all the ghosts here at Castle Crown became aware of one another. At first, I thought it was the end of me, but over time they simply began to socialize. They were haunting each other, instead of haunting me! All except the first, Elizabeth, who seemed scared of the rest, but she just lurks on the top floor. There were some unforeseen side-effects of this arrangement, though. One of which was that sometimes, in this house at least, the perspective of the living becomes affected by the needs of the dead. Events occasionally get stuck in little loops here, as I'm sure you've noticed by now. Even the lives of the living can become entangled in the ghosts' way of doing things.”