Chapter 1 Natalya
“Welcome to the Mayfield Inn.”
The woman who stands in front of me is doing her best to appear spooky and ethereal as she holds up a black iron lantern with long, slender fingers.
The soft glow enhances the pale makeup and the dark circles around her eyes, adding to the sunken appearance and deathly pallor of her skin.
She’s better at this than similar figures I’ve seen in town.
I bet she airbrushed the skeletal details, including the appearance of teeth over her lips.
Her long hair is left loose and flowing down her back, billowing with a cool, westerly breeze that seems to sweep over us from the nearby cornfields.
A stray strand sticks to her eyelashes, but she doesn’t move it out of the way, continuing with her monologue as if she doesn’t notice it.
The white gown she wears is tattered and worn, stopping mid-calf.
I can see dirty tights on her legs. At one time, they must have been white.
The only thing that doesn’t match are the black ankle boots, far too modern for the old nineteenth-century clothing.
Still, I like the vibe she’s giving off and appreciate her effort. I really hate going to haunted tours and finding the guides aren’t that into their jobs or don’t put much effort into it. If this is anything to judge by, I’ll have plenty of good things to say online when I write my review.
I split my attention between the young woman speaking of the historic hotel and the dark windows facing the front.
There are thirteen floors, and every single one of them contains sixteen rooms. Two elevators are in operation, but one periodically short-circuits and freezes on random floors, according to the staff.
The most common stops? Three, seven, and of course, thirteen.
My gaze sweeps over the dark interior of the hotel.
During the tour, the lights are kept off, and the drapes are pushed open, allowing the moon to infiltrate the shadows.
Candlelight is sparse and intentionally focused in prominent areas, but leaves plenty of dark corners, unlit closets, corridors, bedrooms, bathrooms, and the infamous ballroom.
That’s one of two places I want to visit. The ballroom and room 1307. The seventh and thirteenth floors have the most paranormal activity in the hotel, but according to the owners, the ghosts become more active as you increase the floor level.
I’m here to see that in action.
For fun, and because I can’t resist dragging my younger brother along, Thad gets to enjoy this experience with me.
A scowl draws his brows together as I glance his way, noticing the flicker of boredom as his lips thin into a line, devoid of his usually mischievous smile. “It doesn’t look haunted.”
About five years separate us, but sometimes, it feels like I’m a decade older.
He’s always been the carefree type who doesn’t become concerned with following rules.
A rebel through and through, but still, he’s caring.
At least when it comes to family. And he’s loyal to his friends, sometimes to a fault.
But Thad is the type of guy who’s willing to help anyone in need, even if it means yanking the shirt off his own back.
That’s one of the things I love most about him.
“That’s because we’re only standing outside.”
Thad gestures to the tour guide. “I saw the same dress last week while we shopped for Halloween costumes.”
My lips twitch with a smile, but I hold it back, trying not to snicker. “It’s historic night.”
My brother snorts, and the noise is loud enough to draw a few people’s annoyed stares. “You’re saying the historic old, haunted hotel has a rare historic tour?”
“It’s a themed night,” I reply, a bit defensively, although I’m more amused than anything. “I thought it’d be fun.”
Thad shakes his head, doubting my words, but throws his arm around my shoulders. “Okay. We’ll have fun, Big Sis.”
“Look out for ghosts and share anything spooky.” He rolls his eyes. “I need to write a review for this tour. The owners paid me,” I remind him.
That’s not my only motivation, though, and my brother knows it.
I’ve been obsessed with the Hillside Stalker ever since I learned about his murder spree in Ohio in the 70s, which included numerous deaths in Raven’s Crest. We’re staying at the Hanging Tree Dead & Breakfast because I can’t resist being close to where it all happened.
Thad is indulging me, and I love him for it.
“Yeah, I remember.” He rubs his knuckles over the top of my head, and I nearly squeal. Thad has about six inches of height over me, and I struggle to swat his hands away.
A light chuckle leaves his lips before he hugs me. “Shhh. You’re causing a scene.”
I want to smack him when I see the tour guide glaring at us.
She gestures for everyone to follow her and begins leading the group inside, but we’re at the back. I pause as I wait for people to file inside the hotel. It’s a good opportunity to take in the outside of the towering building and all the long, double-hung windows without the crowd.
Since the Mayfield Inn is thirteen stories, it’s a massive structure.
The architecture is Gothic, like most of Raven’s Crest. With the dark sky painted behind it and slivers of pale moonlight peeking through ominous gray clouds, it’s more than a little eerie.
The odd thing is that there aren’t any other buildings nearly as high.
It makes me wonder if the town intended to grow the population much larger.
At last check, I found it still has fewer than 5,000 residents.
Were people too scared to settle here?
There’s a flicker of movement in one of the windows, and I glance up, catching the shadowy figure of a man.
I can’t make out what he’s wearing or his expression, but his broad shoulders nearly fill the frame.
His gaze seems focused on me, and I blink, nearly jolting when I see he’s disappeared.
He probably doesn’t enjoy the tour or all the people in the hotel this late into the night.
I’m guessing he’s a guest, and not the ghostly kind.
“What are you staring at?” Thad asks, glancing upward.
“Someone was in the window just now.”
“Maybe it’s a ghost.”
“I don’t think so,” I contradict, but can’t deny the cold brush of invisible fingers on my skin.
Thad smirks. “Scaredy cat.”
I’m not. Most of the time. But something about this town and the creepy hotel gives me delicious shivers.
“Come on. Everyone is already inside.”
I rush to follow the crowd, and we enter last, staring at the opulent and richly decorated lobby.
Wood paneled walls, old paintings, vintage furnishings, and burnished brass fixtures snare my attention.
Flickering candles in metal sconces line the walls, brightening up the space enough for us to see that it’s the only area of the hotel with this much illumination.
The dark is barely held at bay, spindly shadows elongating as they encroach on the group gathered in front of the reception desk.
My gaze lands on the grand staircase that leads up to the ballroom. The tour guide is supposed to skip the elevators, especially since our group is so large. It would take forever to move us from floor to floor. We’d be here all night.
As I glance at my phone to be sure it’s on vibrate, I see that it’s already well past midnight.
“You worried about turning into a pumpkin?” Thad teases.
His reference to Cinderella isn’t lost on me. I forced him to watch Disney princess movies growing up, and he knows way more about them than he’d ever admit. “Nope. I haven’t met the prince yet.”
There’s an undignified snort from him in response. “You expect to find him in a Halloween town that’s known for its carnage?”
I don’t give him an answer, focusing on the tour guide, since I prefer to assume his question is rhetorical.
She’s leading us toward the staircase, holding up her lantern to illuminate the way as the lace on her dress slowly drapes each step.
When she reaches the top, she spins with a dramatic flair, and her chin dips as she begins the actual tour, the soft notes of her voice nearly echoing within the quiet interior.
Somewhere, deep inside the hotel, there’s a spine-chilling wail. Half the group jumps in fright, and a few snickers follow. We all know the sound has been orchestrated to increase the fear factor during the tour, but I still love it.
Thad leans down to whisper in my ear, “Need me to hold your hand?”
I swat at his arm. “No,” I whisper. “Hush.”
He gives me a cheesy grin before turning his focus to the tour guide, finally paying attention.
The first stop on the second floor is the ballroom.
As soon as I enter, I feel the air electrify around me.
The hair on my arms and the back of my neck sticks up like a prickle of warning.
All I can see are dark shapes hiding in the corners of the room, the mirrors that face us, reflecting our bodies as we move, and the open windows with sheer drapes that billow in the wind.
Silvery, pale beams of moonlight peek through, trying to cast a glow on the marble floor.
Above us, enormous chandeliers lay dormant, waiting for use as they hover without purpose.
It’s hauntingly beautiful. Exactly as I imagined it would be after reading so much about the Mayfield Inn online. I feel a presence beside me and turn, expecting to see Thad. But I don’t. It’s a stranger.
The man is eerily familiar. He’s wearing a dark hat and pulls it low over his eyes as he stares outdoors, not bothering to move as the drapes blow inward from the wind and plaster against his body.
We stand only a few inches apart, and when he finally turns, I feel the bitterly cold brush of his hand across my arm.
“He’s waiting for you.”
The voice is oddly disjointed, as if it’s out of practice from a lack of use. The low tone nearly rumbles with a gritty timbre. He sounds older than I originally pegged him for, thinking he must have been in his thirties. I’m wrong.
It’s his message that really gets to me. I don’t have a clue what he’s talking about or who he’s referring to. My brother?
“What do you,” I begin, but never finish because he’s gone. The stranger disappeared.
When I look around the room, I see everyone else in the hall. I’m alone. The group is leaving me behind, none of them aware that I probably just stood beside and spoke to a ghost.
I scan the doorway for Thad, and he pokes his head through the opening, waving at me to come closer.
A bit annoyed, I pout when I reach him. “You left me.”
He arches a dark brow. “Huh?” He holds up his phone and shows me the screen. “The hot chick at the front of the group just gave me her number.” He’s stupidly excited about it.
“You missed it. I saw a ghost.”
“For real?”
“Yes, for real. It’s the same guy I saw in the window when we stood outside. He spoke to me.” Now that I had a few minutes to think about it, I remembered.
“That’s cool. What did he say?”
“He’s waiting for you,” I repeat.
Thad scratches the back of his neck. “I don’t think he was talking about me.”
“Clearly.” I don’t bother to hide my irritation.
“Aw, hey, it’s probably a good thing. Maybe this ghost wouldn’t talk to you with me around.”
Yeah, I wouldn’t either.
“Come on. They’re going to the third floor.” I lead my brother away from the ballroom, and we rejoin the tour, staying together for the rest of it.
There’s another eerie wail like the one we heard earlier, and I nearly jump in surprise. It sounds close. We’re on the seventh floor, and I know it’s one of the most haunted areas in the hotel. People have made claims about room 703, which happens to be the door closest to where I stand.
One of the guys in our group holds an EMF detector up to the door. The lights on the device flicker and flash. “Wow. It’s going crazy!”
He turns the emitter toward Thad, and it continues to light up. “Are you real?”
My brother doesn’t appear amused. “Want me to punch you and find out?”
The guy blinks, backs away, and takes his EMF detector to the opposite end of the hall.
“That wasn’t very nice,” I chastise.
“I agree. He wasn’t.”
The guide calls the group to her, and we head upward again, taking the stairs to the next level. We proceed without incident on floors 8, 9, 10, 11, and 12. Nothing happens other than a few cold spots, that haunting female wail, and something howling outdoors beneath the moon.
Thad slaps his hand over his chest, blinking at me. “It’s so scary, Nat!”
I smack his arm. “Shut it.” Ignoring his snicker in response, I begin to climb toward the thirteenth floor. We’re at the back of the group again because my brother likes to distract me.
“Have you seen any ghosts?” I ask as he leaps up the steps beside me and waits at the top.
“Not a one. I’m worried this isn’t real.” He winks.
Why did I decide to bring him?
“He’s still waiting for you.”
We both turn toward the source of the voice and see the man who spoke to me in the ballroom. He walks across the floor in front of us and disappears into the nearest room. It’s 1307. The room with the most paranormal activity in the hotel.
My hand darts out and collides with Thad’s as he grips my fingers. We both squeeze.
“Uh, shit. Yeah. Okay. That was a ghost.”
For the first time, he appears afraid. Or at the very least, unsettled by what we just experienced.
“I’m going to talk to him,” I decide, releasing Thad’s hand. “You coming?”
My brother shakes his head. “Hell no.”
“Scaredy cat,” I accuse with a light laugh before I walk forward, twist the knob, and open the door. As I enter, I close it behind me, wondering who or what I’ll find inside.