Detective Gemma Cook runs her thumb around her badge while staring at the strange woman sitting across from her. It is not the first time she has had to bring the grinning brunette in for an interview. Even so, the hotel owner’s golden eye-patch continues to give the seasoned police officer a creepy vibe. The black and red dress that reminds her of a gothic noble does not make the situation any more relaxing. Gemma is aware of the theme banquet that has been promoted online for the last two weeks, but she would have preferred that the other woman be less eye-catching. She can already sense that there is a crowd on the opposite side of the one way mirror that is behind her. The glint in her suspect’s green eye is enough to make her bang on the glass and gesture for her coworkers to leave.

“You seem to enjoy an audience, Ms. Addison,” Gemma states while opening a notepad. It takes two clicks to get her battered pen to work, the first mark leaving a small splatter on the lined page. “Now, I have a few questions for you to answer. This is entirely routine, but we have to cover all of our bases. Did you know the deceased?”

“You should really put some color in this room,” Dawn replies while sipping at the tea she arrived with. Pouring herself a fresh cup, the calm hotel owner leans back and puts her booted feet on the table. “Carl came to Heaven’s Nest five times this year and twice last year. He was becoming one of our regulars before he threw himself from the balcony. Poor thing had gone through a terrible divorce that cost him a lot of money and reputation. I offered to make his problem go away, but he declined. Guess he simply had enough and wanted to see if he could hit the pool.”

“That doesn’t really answer my question.”

“I knew him in passing, Detective Cook.”

“What were you doing at the time of his death?”

“My husband.”

Gemma can only stare at the impish smirk on Dawn’s face, the blunt answer making the red-haired cop lose her composure. Pushing her chair back, she begins to pace from one end of the mirror to the other. The attempt to let the tension thicken fails when the suspect yawns and leans forward to put her head on the table. A gentle snoring rolls from the woman’s throat, the noise always cutting off with a sound that resembles a horse neighing. Slamming her hands down on the table, Gemma wakes Dawn and scowls at the innocent smile she receives.

“This is the fifth gruesome death at your hotel and it’s only April!” the detective shouts as she opens a folder. Tossing pictures of the victims on the table, she watches Dawn for any sign of recognition. “One person was cut in two by an elevator while another was mauled by a Seeing Eye dog that nobody ever claimed. Two people have fallen to their death too. Though my personal favorite is the woman who was electrocuted by the pinball machine. Mechanical failure, suicides, and faulty wiring were your collection of reasons. Yet, I really do think it’s strange that so many people have died at your establishment.”

“You remind me of a stubborn kitty. I like you,” Dawn says while nonchalantly moving the pictures around. Putting them in a pile, she tries to use them like a flipbook and giggles at how the bodies seem to twitch. “Accident happen and I compensated the families of those that died. I can’t be held accountable for any of this. Not like I pushed Carl off the building, which is why I wonder why you’re after me again. Ever since my husband and I set up shop two years ago, you’ve been poking at my life. Just like a curious kitten.”

“There’s something wrong about you,” Gemma claims, her skin crawling from being so close to the other woman. A chilling breeze runs through the room, so she bangs on the mirror to get them to turn the air conditioning off. “Your hotel appeared overnight and nobody in this city questions it. You talk about a husband that never shows up in public. These deaths simply add to my suspicions that you’re more than you seem. Then again, I could be wrong and you’re entirely normal.”

Dawn feigns a look of horror and drops her teacup on the floor, the porcelain shattering into jagged shard. “My dear, I am anything, but that. There’s never any fun in normal and I enjoy every minute of my life. Besides, there are simple explanations. My husband is shy and prefers to let me be the public figure. As for our quick arrival, there is so much construction in this city that nobody notices more of it. We didn’t announce ourselves until everything was done, so I can see how you were confused.”

“There is something wrong about you.”

“Well, I haven’t been the same since I lost my unicorn.”

“You see, I want to believe you’re joking, but you come off as serious when you say stuff like that.”

“Losing your unicorn is nothing to take lightly.”

“There is no such creature.”

“Well not any more since I had the last one and he’s gone.”

“Do you understand that we’re here because someone died?”

Wiping a few tears from her eyes, Dawn slides the picture of Carl’s body across the table. “I am well aware, but he did it to himself. The man was drinking a lot beforehand and took one of the waitresses upstairs to continue the party. He ordered a feast from room service, which I assume was a last meal. Guess he couldn’t wait or decided not to subject my employee to being a witness to the act. All of this reeks of going out with a bang. That and cheap coffee, which is the norm for this place. Wait a second. I think somebody else in the world just died. Now another one is gone. I think I just heard a twofer. Do you think I had something to do with all of those deaths as well?”

“I . . . what is wrong with you?” Gemma asks, returning to her seat. Unable to look away from the suspect, she pulls a flask off her belt and takes a sip of coffee. “Let’s talk about the past for a bit. Last year saw thirty disappearances and deaths in your hotel. Normally, that would be suspicious, but nearly every hotel with four and five stars had similar numbers. All of this began when you showed up. I don’t believe in coincidences, but that can’t help me here. For all I know, you’re involved in some hotelier war that the guests are becoming collateral damage in. Sounds crazy, but crazy makes a lot of sense around you.”

“You’re so sweet, kitty,” Dawn replies while she pulls a handkerchief out of her dress. She polishes her golden eye patch, being careful around the smooth edges. “I do feel like I’m being targeted at times. Perhaps this city is less inviting than I realized. Our theme nights and charity shows are rather popular. A slice of Vegas in New York is what a critic said. Not sure what he meant. I certainly didn’t start Heaven’s Nest in Vegas, get bored, cut it out of the ground, and move it here over night.”

The door to the interrogation room is shoved open by Captain Blythe, his eyes locking on Gemma. The towering figure’s mustache is bristling as he points at his subordinate and gestures for her to follow him into the hallway. Scowling at the interruption, the detective gathers the pictures and leaves the room. She gets the distinct feeling that Dawn is staring in her general direction even after the door closes behind her. Taking a few steps to the side, she feels better with a solid wall at her back instead of a window.

“I told you not to call Dawn Addison in because there is no way to tie her to this. Just like the previous times,” the chief whispers, trying his best to keep his voice down. Not wanting to embarrass Gemma, he snaps his fingers at anyone who attempts to eavesdrop. “This woman is only unlucky with these things happening around her. Now, I know you think she is up to something, but I can’t have one of my people holding a grudge over nothing. She has promised not to register a complaint against you, so I recommend that you keep your distance. If there are any other incidents at Heaven’s Nest then I’m handing them over to Max Boros. He’s your partner, so I’m sure he’ll keep you up to speed. That’s the best I can do, Cook.”

“All I wanted to do was check every possibility,” Gemma argues as her boss hands her an envelope. She opens the flap and curses when she sees what is written at the top of the folded letter. “You’re putting me on administrative leave? I know I’ve been pushing your buttons with some of my interrogations, but that’s rather extreme. Not to mention I wasn’t even rough with Ms. Addison. How did she get in contact with you about me since she was brought into that room immediately and I was waiting there for her?”

“I gave her my cellphone number after your last go at her, so she texted me,” the chief answers while putting a hand on the detective’s shoulder. Waving an approaching cop away, he softens his voice to prevent Gemma from getting angry. “You’ve been under a lot of stress ever since the New Year’s Eve incident. I told you to stay home until you were ready, but you refused to listen. Now I think you need a vacation for a week or two. At the very least, you need time away to get your head on straight. Last thing I want is you getting into trouble and losing your job. This isn’t a firing. You can come back when you feel better and have a shrink sign off on you.”

The detective taps at her badge, her blue eyes never straying from the letter. “I’ll go on vacation, but I’m not leaving the city. Also, I get to come back without all that red tape if anything happens involving Heaven’s Nest. That place is my territory and I won’t let Max block me out of the big stuff. Yes, I know you’re going to say that I don’t understand what a vacation is, but I don’t care. Just the thought of sitting in my apartment for two weeks is going to drive me insane. Unless you had a specific place to send me.”

“I’ll take the discarded kitty for a few weeks,” Dawn announces, putting an arm around the other woman’s shoulders. She winks at Captain Blythe, who blushes and takes a few quick steps back. “I have a suite on the thirteenth floor that would be perfect for you. I mean, the room is simply to die for. Do we have a deal?”

“You really want me to stay in your hotel?” Gemma asks, earning an emphatic nod from the friendly hotelier. Ignoring the feeling of fingers tickling up her spine, the cop hands over her badge and gun. “I’ll be checking in tomorrow morning. Guess you’ll show me just how normal and innocent you are.”

“No, no, no, little kitty. That’s not what this vacation is about. After all, there’s never any fun in normal.”

(This starts the special horror story that will run all month.  I will mention that I only did a quick read over for editing.  If you haven’t read the first story Raven’s Hold and are curious then feel free to click on the link for the category.  Hopefully the sequel entertains.)

Slipping his arm out from under the sleeping woman’s body, Carl rolls out of bed and searches for his underwear. Finding them in the bathroom, he tries to remember the drunken escapades that are slowly coming back to him. The sound of snoring causes him to peek around the corner at his companion who he recognizes as one of the waitresses from earlier. A smirk is on his face as he notices the shower curtain is on the floor, a casualty of passion that he is happy to pay for. Running a comb through his thinning hair, the businessman uses his other hand to touch the scratch marks on his chest. Stepping out of the bathroom, Carl finds himself unsure of who was the aggressive one in the one night relationship. Going to the balcony door, he takes in the sight of New York City and decides he does not care. After years of a bad marriage and a month of a brutal divorce, the idea that someone actually wants him for more than his wallet is enough to make him content.

“The wife and none of the others ever made me feel this way,” Carl whispers, not wanting to wake his new friend. Grabbing his cellphone, the man pads his way back into the bathroom and closes the door behind him. “Is this room service? This is Mr. Anders in suite 3069. I know it’s after midnight, but I was hoping to order some food and drink. Thank god I called now then. I would like a bottle of your most expensive bourbon, the fried calamari, two lobsters, a chocolate cake, and two cans of whipped cream. Hold on a second.”

The dripping of a faucet brings his attention to the sink and he moves the handles until the leak stops. A low groan from the wall causes him to jump before water dribbles out of the removable shower head. The lights flicker for a second while the building shakes, which Carl assumes is an effect from the subway that runs a few feet away from the basement. He had been warned by the owner that speeding trains can cause random quakes, but the sensation continues to put him on edge. A loud squawk from his phone reminds him about room service and he wipes the sweat from his brow.

“Sorry about that. I haven’t gotten used to the shaking,” Carl says, taking a seat on the toilet. He stares at a mural of vines and serpents on the wall, which has the effect of movement when the light strikes it perfectly. “No, I won’t be needing a wakeup call. My business is done so the rest of my trip is pleasure. Throw a bottle of champagne and chocolate covered strawberries onto my order. I don’t care about the cost. If I don’t spend my money then the ex-wife and her man-whore lawyer will find a way to get it. Oh, and please let the owner know that I’m very happy with Judy’s work ethic. She deserves a bonus or a raise or whatever waitresses get when people like me compliment them.”

Turning off the phone, Carl heads for the door and freezes when he hears a serpentine hiss from the wall. The sensation of scales against his exposed ankles makes him quickly sit onto the sink, but he is unable to stay up for very long. Crashing to the floor, he scrambles to his feet and grabs the toilet brush while searching for the snake. Seeing movement out of the corner of his eye, Carl swings and hits the harmless picture. The sound repeats behind him and he whirls around to see a long shadow sticking out of the toilet. Holding his breath, the man sneaks forward a few steps before lunging to whack at the serpent that is trying to escape into the sewers. A surge of courage drives Carl to grab it by what he thinks is the tail and yank the beast free.

“What the hell is this?” he asks when he sees that the serpent is actually the waitress’s ripped pantyhose. The toilet makes a low hiss when he moves away, the flush sensor picking up his movements. “This is why I need to stay away from absinthe. Jimmy always said I couldn’t handle that stuff. Then again, he also said my ex-wife was a nice person. Guess nobody has perfect judgement.”

Returning to the bedroom, he is surprised to find that the waitress is still asleep in the messy bed. A wave of paranoia consumes his mind, so Carl tiptoes onto the bed and gingerly puts his fingers to her neck. The strong pulse puts him at ease while her hand grazing his crotch makes him lick his lips. Before he can kiss the slumbering girl, the man’s phone goes off and causes him to leap out of the bed. The waitress mumbles in her sleep and rolls over, the sheet nearly falling off her naked form. Muttering curses under his breath, Carl storms over to where he put his phone and puts it to his head. A second passes before he realizes that he needs to tap the screen, the force of his finger leaving an oily print.

“Swear this thing should have stopped ringing already. Hello?” snaps the irritated businessman before he notices that there is only heavy breathing on the other end. He is about to hang up when a violent cough and the clang of weights being dropped can be heard. “Is that you, Luther? What have I told you about calling while you’re working out? At least wait until you’re in the sauna because I always think you’re one of those creepy stalkers you see in the movies. I know I’m not a sexy teenage girl, so I shouldn’t worry. Speaking of hot, young women, I bagged the waitress from last night. What do you mean that’s crude? I’m sorry, but you weren’t any better. That was your wife you were making out with? Life is treating you very nicely if that’s the case. Fine, I apologize and I’ll pay for drinks at lunch. Guess I should get some real sleep since we have the breakfast meeting. Talk to you-”

Carl drops his phone when a high-pitched shriek and the clanging of metal erupts from the other side. Staring at the device, it takes him a minute to realize that room service is banging on his door. Casting a final glance at his companion, who is entirely exposed, he forgets his fear and hurries to get the food. Instead of a cart with his late night meal, Carl finds an empty hallway that is brightly lit by far too many lamps. Shielding his eyes, he looks down both ways while keeping his other hand on the door frame. The last thing he wants is to be locked out since he does not believe the waitress can be woken up by anything short of a grenade going off next to her. He grins at the thought of himself being the cause of his exhaustion, his chest puffing out with bloated pride.

Not seeing anything, he is about to go back inside when a strange haze on the opposite wall mesmerizes him. The effect stops him from noticing the entrance to his room is opening as far as it can. His attention locked on the swirling distortion on the wall, Carl is left screaming when the door to his room slams shut. All four of his fingers are on the floor and he stares at the damage, the nubs twitching and spurting. He stares at the blood dripping down the frame, his back to the disturbance that resembles the wall being pinched and pulled backwards. When the door opens again, Carl hurries to collect his fingers and tries to remember where the ice machine is on this floor.

Turning around, he stops in surprise at the bizarre effect on the wall before assuming it is a similar illusion to the vines and serpents. Dizzy from pain and what he believes is blood loss, the businessman tries to take a shaky step toward the elevator. With the sound of a snapping rubber band, the distortion expands to release a burst of hurricane force wind. Carl is launched back into his room and toward the balcony, the glass door opening to let him through. He sails over the railing and plummets toward the distant pool. Clutching his severed fingers and screaming, he prays that he is going to hit the water and one of the late night swimmers will save him from drowning. Most of Carl’s body hits the pool with a loud slap, but his head splatters against the wet bricks around the edge.

“Close the doors or I’m going to catch a cold,” the waitress mutters as she curls the sheets around her. On silent hinges, the two doors close and the front one locks itself with a gentle click. “Thank you, Carl. You’re such a gentleman.”