The Ghosts of Lakeforth Hotel Page 27

  “That's her,” Steve continues. “It has to be. She's been trying to manifest a more solid form, but she's not very good at it. Most of the time, she's just a specter in the air. I'm worried she might fade away entirely if her anger isn't stoked. I need to keep her around, but I need to make sure she can't take her body back. Hence the bars.”

  “Why are you doing this?” I ask, feeling a cold shudder run through my chest as I continue to stare at the girl's dead, bloated face.

  “People will pay millions to spend a night in a haunted hotel, Beth. I'll only allow a very select few to attend. Jobard Nash thought that ridding the hotel of ghosts was the key to its success, but he simply lacked the necessary vision. He didn't understand that human nature is something to be used for profit.”

  “You're sick!” I shout, turning and hurrying to the main doors, pulling to get them open but finding that they're locked. “Let me out of here!”

  “Not a chance,” he replies, heading back across the lobby toward the stairs. “I lied when I said I hadn't been here for a long time, Beth. I was here just last week, overseeing some improvements to the security of the place. You won't force your way out, not through steel-reinforced doors with state-of-the-art locks, and certainly not through strengthened windows. Better to accept what's happening and adjust to your new role. You're part of the hotel now.”

  Still desperately trying to get the doors open, I pull harder and harder on the handle before finally hurrying to the window. I grab a vase from the floor and throw it at the glass, but the vase simply falls back and crashes against the floor, shattering as it lands.

  “I'm going to check on Ruth's progress,” Steve calls out to me. “Please, Beth. Entertain yourself for a few minutes. We'll talk again once you've tired yourself out.”

  I turn just in time to see him disappearing up the stairs. Figuring that I need to find a way out of here as quickly as possible, I run across the lobby and through to the dark dining room, although I find that the double patio doors are securely locked. I look around, hoping to find something I can use to smash the glass, but a moment later I realize I can hear a faint sobbing sound nearby.

  Turning, I see a woman crumpled on the floor, holding her hands over her face as she weeps.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  “Who are you?” I stammer, taking a step toward the woman. “Are you...”

  My voice trails off as I realize that the woman's clothing looks distinctly old-fashioned. There's something strange about her appearance, as if she's almost shimmering slightly in the darkness of the room, and I feel the air getting colder all around as I get closer.

  “We have to get out of here,” I tell her, and now my chest is tightening with fear. No matter how hard I try to remind myself that this woman can't be a ghost, I'm starting to realize that she looks like the woman from the photograph Steve showed me the other day. “Are you... Are you Ellen Nash?”

  She pauses, before slowing lowering her hands to reveal a pale face. Her eyes are bulging from their sockets, and I take a step back as I remember that Ellen Nash was found hanging in her room at a psych hospital.

  “Please,” she sobs, “don't let her come to me again. I can't bear to see her awful little face!”

  “What are you talking about?” I ask. “I don't know what you've been told, but -”

  “I never wanted to come back here!” she blurts out. “I just wanted to stay at the hospital forever! Why am I back here?”

  Forcing myself to step closer, I once again feel the air getting colder. By the time I'm standing next to the woman, I'm almost shivering, and I can see now that there's a thick red mark around her neck.

  “I don't know who you really are,” I continue, “and I don't know if this is some kind of trick, but we have to leave! Right now! Do you know a way out?”

  “I'll never get out,” she whimpers. “We're all trapped here forever. There's nothing but the misery of this hotel for the rest of time.”

  She looks up at me, and after a moment I realize her eyes are bulging further and further from her sockets, while the red mark on her neck is tightening as if an invisible noose is squeezing hard. Hearing a faint cracking, splitting sound, I watch in horror as her left eye pops completely out of the socket.

  “Wait,” I stammer, “you -”

  “Help me!” she shouts, stumbling to her feet and reaching for me, grabbing my arm with an icy hand. “Don't make me stay here!”

  Suddenly an ear-piercing scream rings out from elsewhere in the house. I turn and look toward the door as I realize that the scream seems to be coming from a child, and a moment later I feel the cold hand leave my arm. Turning, I find that the woman has disappeared, although I can still feel the sensation of her cold fingers against my flesh.

  Hurrying to the door, I look through to the darkened lobby as the scream continues, and I swear the noise seems to be getting louder and louder. I put my hands over my ears, trying in vain to force the scream from my head, as I step out into the lobby and -

  “Do you hear her?” Steve hisses, grabbing me and pulling me to one side, while placing a knife against my throat. “She's seen what I'm doing. She's seen the wonderful work I've begun, and she's doing exactly what I wanted. Now imagine a handful of the world's richest people here in the hotel, hearing that scream. They'll pay millions for the chance to encounter a real ghost.”

  “Make it stop,” I stammer, as the scream gets even louder. “Please...”

  “Ruth Maywhistle is the perfect ghost,” he adds excitedly. “Perfect in every way. The others are just window-dressing. They can haunt the place, and that's fine, but Ruth is the showstopper. She can't actually hurt anyone, not while she's just a specter, not while her body is safely caged. You're impressed, Beth, aren't you? You're finally ready to admit that this is a good thing.”

  “You're insane!” I sob, feeling as if the scream is loud enough make my ears bleed. “You're a monster! You killed my sister!”

  “Can you still not get past that?” he asks with a sigh, as he drags the knife's tip down past my throat and onto the front of my shirt. “You're still stuck on that part of it, huh? Well, maybe you're not the girl I thought you were. I promise you, there are others out there, girls who'll appreciate me and realize that I'm a great man. I really, truly hoped that you'd be that girl, Beth, but there comes a time when I have to cut my losses. If all of this doesn't impress you, then maybe you won't make a good wife after all.”

  I flinch as he leans closer, and suddenly he kisses the side of my neck.

  “But you might make a good ghost for the hotel,” he whispers.

  Before I even have time to cry out, he drives the knife deep into my belly. As the little girl's tortured scream comes to an abrupt halt, I feel Steve pulling the knife clear, and then he pushes me forward until I stumble and trip. Landing hard on my knees, I put my hands over the fresh wound, and I feel hot blood running between my fingers.

  “You can't say I didn't give you a chance,” he continues, stepping around me. “That's all you can really do for a person. Give them a chance, and then hope they take it. But you've disappointed me, Beth. You've let me down. A great man requires a great wife, and you're not up to the task. Maybe I...”

  His voice trails off as I start dragging myself forward. The pain in my belly is extreme, and I can feel smeared blood beneath my body as I haul myself across the lobby.

  “Where are you going, Beth? You're not still fighting, are you?”

  I scream as I feel the knife slicing into my left thigh. He pulls it out quickly, and I hear him stepping over me.

  “You need to suffer,” he explains, as I once more start pulling myself across the floor. “You're a nice girl. A little boring, a little vanilla, but very nice. Nice ghosts don't interest people, though, so I'm going to have to make sure your death is nasty. That way, you'll come back mean and angry. You won't fade away like your sister.”

  “No,” I stammer, “please, don't -”

  I scream a
gain as he drives the knife into my shoulder. I try to pull away, but he quickly pulls the knife out again and steps around to my other side. Letting out a pained cry, I hold my hands up, trying to protect myself from another strike, but this only makes him laugh.

  “The ghosts of Lakeforth Hotel are going to make me millions,” he continues. “I'm going to succeed where Jobard Nash failed. His ghost has been helping me a little, but most of the work has been mine!”

  I reach forward, trying to pull myself toward the door, but suddenly I freeze as I see a figure up ahead. I stare, barely believing that it can be true, and a moment later Steve steps around me and stops just in front of my hand, staring down at me.

  “Ruth,” I whisper.

  “She'll still be the main attraction,” he mutters, “but you'll be a decent number two.”

  “Ruth,” I gasp, pointing past his legs and toward the cage, where the rotten, decomposing corpse of the little girl has begun to rise from the plinth. “She... She's there...”

  He turns, and we both watch as the dead girl stands. It's impossible to make out her features in the darkened room, but she's silhouetted against the cracked plaster wall and I can tell she's looking this way as fluid and chunks of rotten flesh fall from her body.

  “Well, it's about time she was reunited with her bones,” Steve says, stepping toward her, almost as if she's no longer interest in me at all. “You wanted your body hauled up from the depths, little girl, and I was only too pleased to oblige. Do you remember me? Do you remember that night you freaked me out on the jetty? I bet you never thought that one day I'd be in charge of the place, huh?”

  I watch in horror as he walks all the way to the cage, and it's clear that he's not scared at all. He's still holding the knife, and he seems genuinely fascinated by the girl's appearance. A moment later, he heads over to the reception desk and grabs a set of candles, lighting them with matches so that finally we can both see the girl's rotten face.

  Her eyes are black pits, with flakes of desiccated flesh at the edges, while part of her cheek has been worn away to reveal her teeth. Most of her flesh is covered by the fabric of her muddy dress, but her face and hands are bloated and swollen, with patches where gray bones have already worn through. After a moment, she opens her mouth, letting out a faint, growling gasp.

  “What's that?” Steve asks, cupping a hand against his ear. “You'll have to speak up!”

  The gasp continues, and I hear a creaking sound as Steve walks past the front of the cage and the dead girl's head turns to watch. Clearly, he has her attention.

  “Look at you,” he says, tapping the bars of the cage. “You don't have to be in there, you know. You can haunt the corridors all you want, you don't need to be in that rotten old sack of a body. I hope you'll shake things up a little from time to time. I don't even know why you've been so desperate to get your body back, it's just a pile of putrefied meat and bone and hair, there's nothing really important there. I suppose you're just sentimental.”

  “You're torturing her,” I gasp, trying but failing to get up.

  “By all accounts, she was a lovely young girl,” he replies, as I start dragging myself toward the door. “Amazing how death changes a person.”

  He taps the bars again.

  “Isn't that right, Ruth?”

  Suddenly the girl lunges at him, snarling and grabbing the bars of the cage. He doesn't pull back, he just smiles as she stares out at him, and as she slowly reaches a rotten hand toward his face.

  “She's so beautiful,” he says softly, as that bloated, decomposing hand brushes against his cheek. “So cold, so -”

  She tries to grab his throat, but he pulls back and smiles. After a moment, he leans just a little closer, letting her brush her fingers against his neck.

  “It's like putting your head between the lion's jaws,” he continues. “So dangerous, but at the same time... How can you resist? She'll soon learn that she can't hurt me. Maybe she'll even come to see me as her master, as -”

  Suddenly she grabs him again, and this time she manages to take hold of his collar and pull him closer to the cage. He lets out a startled cry, and it takes a moment before he's able to pull himself free and step back.

  “Nice try,” he says, clearly a little shocked. “Obviously you can't be trusted just yet.”

  The girl pulls back from the bars, still staring at him with pure hatred in her eyes.

  “It's fascinating to see these things up close, isn't it?” Steve continues, turning to me. “The anger is truly impressive. Then again, I suppose I'd be an angry ghost, if I'd been killed the way she was killed. She's faced with a dilemma, isn't she? Haunt the hotel as a horrifying vision, or inhabit her body and stay caged like this. I suppose I'll be able to advertise a two-for-one show.”

  He taps the bars again, before turning and coming toward me I drag myself closer to the doors. As he walks away from the cage, the little girl's rotten face turns to watch him.

  “I've been trying to understand ghosts,” he explains, “and it seems that very few people have the necessary anger or sorrow to stick around for very long once they're dead. Most just fade away, but some of them can't let go. I wonder if you'll be a lingerer, Beth. You should be, considering how much I'm making you suffer.”

  Suddenly he puts his boot on my leg and presses down, and I let out a cry of pain as I feel him pushing on one of the knife wounds. Grabbing my hair, he pulls me head back until I'm looking up at him.

  “I see a spark in your eyes,” he mutters. “Yeah, you definitely have potential.”

  He laughs as he lets go and steps back, and I immediately start dragging myself forward again.

  “Where do you think you're going?” he asks. “You've already tried the doors, Beth. Nothing's going to have changed there. I have the only key, and it's around my neck so don't think for one moment that anything's going to happen there. And it's too late for you to beg for my forgiveness, so don't even think about trying that. You must realize what's going to happen. Your spirit will linger after death, so there's no need to be scared. It's just the fleshy, bony sack you call a body that's going to die.”

  “Go to hell!” I hiss, turning and looking up at him.

  “What was that?” Again, he cups a hand around his ear. “I didn't quite hear.”

  “Go to hell!” I stammer, although I'm starting to shudder now as the air cools all around me. I feel as if only pure anger is keeping me going. At any moment, I could slump to the ground and lose consciousness. “Go to hell, Steve. That's where you belong.”

  “But I've got plans, Beth. Big, big plans.”

  Turning to look up at him, I feel for a moment as if the whole world is spinning around me. As the dizziness settles, however, I look past Steve and see that suddenly the cage is empty. There's no sign of the rotten little girl at all, although a moment later I realize I can see something stepping up behind him.

  “The more I understand the rules about how ghosts work,” Steve continues, coming closer, “the more I realize that this hotel is going to be a massive money-spinner. I don't want fame, that's not what this is about. The last thing I'm after is masses of penniless yokels queuing up outside, wanting to pay ten quid a pop to see a real ghost. This place is going to be exclusive. A well-kept secret. Maybe even millionaires won't cut it, I might restrict the experience to billionaires. A billion pounds a night to stay here. How does that sound?”

  I open my mouth to tell him that Ruth Maywhistle is right behind him and getting closer, but somehow the words catch in my throat.

  “Your preserved corpse will go on display, of course,” he adds, as if I'm supposed to be proud of that fact. “Part of the lobby exhibition that welcomes people before they get ready to spend a night here. I need to remember the importance of showmanship, don't I?”

  “You're...”

  Struggling for breath, I can't get any more words out.

  “I'm what?” he asks with a smile. “Brilliant? Impressive? On the verge of being the
richest man alive?”

  “You're...”

  He waits, clearly keen to hear how I finish that sentence.

  “Tell me,” he continues, as the rotten girl steps closer and closer behind him. “What am I, Beth? How do you see me?”

  “You're...”

  I pause, before taking a slow, deep breath.

  Reaching down, Steve grabs my collar and hauls me up, while grinning wildly. A moment later, he slashes the knife against my cheek, causing me to let out a gasp of pain.

  “What am I?” he asks with a laugh.

  I try to open my mouth, but he cuts me again, this time across the forehead.

  “A genius?” he continues.

  I flinch as he slices the knife down my other cheek and onto my neck. The pain is intense, but I'm too weak to cry out.

  “A pioneer?” he adds, as he runs the blade onto my collarbone. “A showman?”

  “You're oblivious,” I stammer finally. “You haven't even noticed she's out of her cage, have you?”

  “Don't try that one,” he replies. “She can't get out, she's my -”

  He stops suddenly, and I see a flicker of fear in his eyes, as if he's finally heard the faint creaking sound that's coming from just over his shoulder. He seems hesitant, almost as if he doesn't quite believe it could be true, and then finally he starts to turn.

  Letting out a horrific scream, the rotten corpse of Ruth Maywhistle lunges at him, pushing him back and landing on his chest as he slams down against the marble floor just a few feet from me. At the same time, Steve lets go of my collar and I crash against the wall before slipping down.

  Turning, I immediately start crawling away, but I can already hear the girl's scream getting louder.

  “Stop!” Steve yells, his voice filled with panic. “You can't do this! You can't hurt me! You can't even get out of the cage! It's impossible! I know the rules, how did you -”

  Suddenly his scream replaces hers, and I turn just in time to see that Ruth has bitten hard on his neck. Blood erupts from the wound, and I watch in horror as Steve tries desperately to push her away. Her teeth tear through his flesh, finally ripping thick strips away as more and more blood pumps out from the wound and splatters against the floor.