Ultimate Supernatural Horror Box Set

Chapter 34

The panel entitled “Christianity and the Paranormal” had gone about as well as could be expected, meaning the few true believers who approached hunting with a missionary zeal were not stoned by the hardcore atheists in the crowd. Burton had to admit, Wayne had done a good job of balancing the panelists, with an Episcopal minister, a physicist from Westridge University who viewed supernatural phenomena as dimensional disturbances, a member of the Eastern Seaboard Skeptics Society, and a Jewish scholar who specialized in the Old Testament. Despite Martin Gelbaugh’s repeated heckling, the divergent viewpoints had filled the hour and entertained the attendees.

With the audience dividing up for break-out sessions on EVP technology, Ghosthunting 101, and ectoplasmic detection, Burton had a couple of hours to round up Roach, sober up Wayne, and find out why Cody had a bug up his ass, but first he had to clear all the keys for the evening’s hunt locations.

At the front desk, he encountered the same gum-popping teenager who’d worked the night shift. From the way she slumped in her chair, the magazine curled to the shape of her grip, she could have perched there around the clock.

“Excuse me,” he said. “Is the manager in?”

She scarcely glanced up from her magazine. “We don’t know where she is.”

“Someone on your staff has been locking the doors behind us. We were told all the hunt locations would remain acessible.”

“Nobody could be locking the doors. The only set of master keys belongs to our maintenance supervisor, Wally Reams, and he’s off today.”

“Both 302 and 218 are locked. And we were promised—” He looked around, lowering his voice in deference to the guests. “Look, I’m okay with the staff playing tricks. I know it’s all part of the haunted-house show. But we’ve already got some pissed-off clients, and if they miss out on any more hunts, we might all be looking at some refunds.”

He glanced around the shabby foyer. “And I don’t think either of us can afford that.”

“I’m sorry, Burton,” she said, reading the name stenciled on the left breast of his uniform. “The maids are gone for the day. No one else would have access, and the locks require a key.”

Burton fought an urge to reach over the counter and slap the magazine out of her hands. “I can’t—”

“Excuse me,” An attractive young woman stepped from the alcove behind the clerk. “Are you having a problem?”

The gum-popper said, “Violet, this man says we’re locking doors on them.”

Burton recognized her. She was the one who’d shown Wayne around during yesterday’s set-up. “Look, we have a lot of hunts scheduled tonight, and we can’t have any accidents that will throw us off track.”

“Please come to my office,” Violet said.

“Janey’s going to kill you,” the desk clerk said.

“I’ll take my chances.”

The gum-popper shrugged and went back to her magazine. Burton rounded the corner and entered the office via a short hall. The fluorescent lights flickered and buzzed, giving their skin a seasick look. The space was cluttered, but Violet took a stack of papers from a chair and indicated that he should sit.

“I can’t stay long,” he said.

“This won’t take long.”

“About the keys. Wayne told me you guys were playing along, setting up stuff so our guests will think they’ve had supernatural encounters. You know, a little knocking on walls, whispering in the air ducts, messing with the electricity. We’re fine with that. I have to admit, you’re putting on a good show. Those projected images went beyond the call of duty.”

“What projected images?”

“You know, in the hall. That ‘Jilted Bride’ thing.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Violet had settled behind the warship-gray desk. She lit a cigarette.

“I thought you had a ‘No smoking’ policy,” he said. She held her cigarette with an easy familiarity, though she winced at the strength of the smoke.

“There’s an exception to every rule,” she said. “I’m the exception.”

“We can’t have problems with the keys.”

“There’s no problem. You’ll get where you need to be, when I need you to be there.”

Because she was attractive, Burton had extended a little extra patience. But her blank, cold eyes offset the pleasing angles of her face. “I want to talk to the manager.”

“I’m afraid she’s unavailable.”

“Doesn’t she have a pager?”

“It wouldn’t matter if she did. She’s gone.”

“Gone? Gone where?”

“If I knew that, all this would be pointless.”

Violet flipped her palm, but Burton couldn’t tell whether “all” meant the conference or the hotel. He also couldn’t believe the manager would skip out on the biggest event the White Horse had hosted since the Eisenhower administration. “Someone must have a master key.”

“Only the Master.”

Burton edged forward, only now noticing the corrupt odor of the office. The mop bucket in the corner was the likely cause of the stink. A greasy snake of unease slithered in his gut. “Look here, Violet.”

“I’m not Violet.”

Burton slapped the arms of his chair. “Fine. Just be ready to find another job next week.”

“Thank you and please come again.” She smiled but the gesture was disconnected from the rest of her face.

“The rooms better be open, or you’re going to have sixty unhappy campers on your hands.”

“Please enjoy your stay.”

Burton’s walkie talkie hissed and broadcast Cody’s voice. “Burton, you’ve got to come see this.”

As he was leaving, he glanced down into the mop bucket. The liquid in it was dark and thick, almost like....

Nah.