Chapter 2 Natalya
There’s no one in the room. That’s the first thing I notice. The window is closed, and it’s quiet. I don’t hear a sound as I walk across the floor, pass the bathroom, and walk toward the door that connects it to another room. It’s cracked a few inches as if someone left it intentionally ajar.
There’s a part of me that wonders what this ghost wants. I have so many questions. Who is waiting for me? Why? Is this real? Will I find something connecting this hotel to the Hillside Stalker and his followers?
I’ve read the articles online about the murder spree and the supposed cult that follows the serial killer. People speculate that another slew of murders will start soon because the anniversary is approaching. It’s been nearly forty-three years since the last death.
People in the paranormal community really love numbers that end in three, seven, and use triple sixes. I don’t think there’s any validity in it other than trying to force the unexplainable into rational explanations and categories. It’s a waste of time.
But I see it often on my blog. I’m always getting comments about the significance of those numbers.
When I leaked a hint that I might be visiting the site of the Hillside Stalker, my viewership and followers tripled.
People are fascinated by the murders, the serial killer Rayford Allen, his descendants, like the recently deceased Johnathon Allen, and the upcoming anniversary.
Despite the interest, I’ve not gone live since I arrived in Raven’s Crest. I never reveal where I am until after I’ve left a location.
It’s too easy for some weird stalker to show up.
As Thad has pointed out numerous times, you never know what people are capable of and willing to do.
Or if they’ll harm you to gain notoriety.
Not that I’m a celebrity. But I do have a decent following, and my TikTok videos get a lot of views. I actually get sponsors and am paid to visit some of the most interesting places in the U.S. I wouldn’t trade what I do for anything.
My heart is pounding so loud I wonder if the ghosts in the hotel can hear it. When I lift my hand to push the door a bit wider, I hear the rustle of fabric. Like someone is there, waiting, on the other side.
As soon as I step through the doorway, a body collides with mine.
I’m slammed against the wall by a hard, muscled chest that keeps me pinned in place while a forearm rises to press close to my throat.
I gasp as my head tilts back and I connect with a pair of grayish blue eyes.
“Hey!” I yell, startled, but also confused because this man isn’t a ghost.
He’s not the one who spoke to me.
It’s dark in this room, but there’s a candle burning on a nearby dresser, casting shadows across the man’s angular jaw and the stubble growing on it. He’s got the prettiest hair I’ve ever seen. Shoulder length. Natural waves. A chestnut color with varying shades of brown and a bit of caramel.
He’s gorgeous. That doesn’t escape my notice, along with every other detail about him—his strength. Full lips. The scent of sandalwood and whiskey, mixing with what I think is leather. It makes sense since he’s wearing a leather vest with patches.
“Eyes up here,” he growls, obviously not enjoying my perusal.
I struggle against his hold, but I fail to move any part of him. He’s solid and hard, all lean lines and quiet menace. I don’t know what this guy’s problem is, but I need to finish my tour and return to Thad. My brother is waiting for me.
“Remove your hands from my body,” I order with more venom than I intend. Just because he’s handsome in a raw and primal way doesn’t mean he has the right to touch me.
“I will. First, answer a question for me.” His voice is less gruff but no less gritty.
“What is it?”
“How did you find this room?”
Weird. I didn’t expect that.
“I walked into it,” I deadpan, tilting my head to the side. “Same as you, I’d guess.”
He snorts. “It’s not accessible.”
I gesture with my hand. “The door was open several inches.”
He frowns, turning his head to glance at the closed door. “No. I locked it.”
Pursing my lips, I decide I’m not going to argue. “Listen, just back up, and I’ll leave. I don’t want to be in this room any more than you want me in it.”
“How did you find it?” He asks again, adding a growl.
“Like I said, I walked inside after I saw,” I pause, not finishing my sentence. He won’t believe me. There’s no way he’ll accept that I followed a ghost.
“What did you see?”
“Are you going to back up?” I ask with attitude.
“Yeah.” He places a palm on the door and puts a few inches between us. He’s still invading my space, and he knows it. “Tell me.”
“You’re pushy.”
“It’s my fucking room,” he snarls.
I sigh and roll my eyes. What an alpha male. “I followed someone. A guy dressed in black.”
He appears startled for a moment and then moves away from me. “Leave.”
“You might want to actually lock the door this time,” I tell him as I reach for the knob. “There’s a tour tonight. Someone else might walk in.”
His lips curl into a smirk. “Doubtful.”
I huff and turn the knob, yanking open the door. It’s then that I realize this was the only entrance and exit. An adjacent door to the room beside it. Private.
Oops. Maybe he had a right to be an ass.
Just as I enter the other room, I hear the door click shut and lock behind me. A soft sigh escapes my lips as I walk through the first room and pass the window, exiting the same way I entered.
The hallway is empty.
I don’t see Thad, and it doesn’t surprise me.
I’m betting he got bored and decided to find the girl he spoke about earlier.
After several minutes, I feel like eyes are watching me.
I’ve walked the entire length of the thirteenth floor, and I don’t see the tour.
There’s no one around, but I can’t shake the weird sensation that I’m not alone.
I pull out my phone and dial Thad’s number, but he doesn’t answer. After trying two more times and going to voicemail, I click off the call and shove my phone back into the pocket of my jeans.
Where did Thad go? What about the tour?
Staying on this floor alone is silly. I don’t feel like running down thirteen flights of stairs, so I locate the elevator and push the button.
I’m waiting for it to arrive when I feel a cold brush of air on my skin. Every part of me is screaming to turn around and assess the threat. But I don’t. When the doors ding and open, I rush inside.
Spinning around, I stare at the hallway and gasp when I see the man in black. His ghost waves as the doors shut. My heart hammers in my chest, and I struggle to breathe, sucking air into my lungs as I descend.
On the seventh floor, the bell dings again. The elevator stops, and the doors swish open. I stare down the hallway in front of me, hoping nothing happens or anyone appears, as I mash the button on the panel. The doors finally close, and I descend again, stopping on six, five, four, and then three.
This time, the elevator makes an odd whirring sound and jolts to a stop. I slam against an interior wall and decide outside is safer than inside. I rush out of the elevator and run toward the grand staircase, knowing I’m only two floors up from the bottom.
Out of breath, a bit scared, and desperate to find my brother along with the rest of the tour group, I don’t stop until I reach the lobby.
There, gathered around the reception desk, the group listens as the tour guide informs us that the tour is officially over.
She asks us to leave a review online and tells everyone to have a good night.
People begin to leave as I scan the area, frowning because I can’t find Thad.
“Miss Scott?”
I turn at the sound of my name and nearly collide with the tour guide. “Yes?”
“I trust you’ll have an interesting and favorable review for your blog.” She says it kindly, but I catch the hint of irritation in her eyes.
“Yes, thank you. It was even better than I hoped.”
She smiles. “Good.”
“But, I, um, can’t find my brother. Have you seen him? Tall guy, wearing a gray shirt and jeans.”
“He left the group about half an hour ago. I saw one of the young women at the front of the tour go with him.”
Shit.
He left me. For real. To chase ass.
I resist the urge to sigh and overshare about my brother. “Thank you.”
“Have a wonderful evening.”
I’m the last person to leave the Mayfield Inn, and the door shuts behind me. I hear the lock click into place and pull out my phone, glancing at the time. It’s nearly three a.m.
I don’t have much choice left. Standing outside a haunted hotel in the middle of the night, unable to get inside, isn’t smart. I hear a howl in the cornfields and sprint toward my car. I don’t hesitate to pop the locks and slide behind the wheel, pressing the auto lock button as soon as I’m inside.
My gaze sweeps the hotel and then the cornfields. I swear I see two burning red eyes watching me. It’s all the motivation I need to start the ignition and speed away.
By the time I reach the Hanging Tree Dead & Breakfast, I’m twitchy, exhausted, and ready for bed. I don’t breathe easier until I’m in my room. Thad and I decided to share one with two queen-size beds since it saved us money.
I notice his suitcase is still closed on top of the comforter. He’s not come back and probably won’t if he’s getting laid. I won’t see him until he decides to show up, probably late into the morning. He’s a habitually late sleeper.
It doesn’t take long to get ready for bed, and I’m closing my eyes, sinking beneath the covers in only minutes. A yawn escapes. I don’t remember anything else after that.
THAD STILL ISN’T ANSWERING his phone. He’s not come back to the hotel, sent a text, or left any messages. I checked with the reception desk. No correspondence.
It’s nearly two in the afternoon. This isn’t like Thad. He wouldn’t worry me this way, knowing I’d get anxious. He’s called me more than once from a girl’s house or a buddy’s to let me know he’s okay, even in the middle of the night.
Something is wrong.