Yes. There was something very wrong. I could feel it in the air and all around me, but I couldn’t explain whatitwas. “No.”
“Did you change your mind about that nightcap?”
“No.” I tried to think of some excuse for my odd behavior. He hadn’t done anything to make me believe he had ill intent. And if he did, I didn’t want to tip him off.
Thankfully, the couple saved me from having to explain anything. They came down the hall before I could open my mouth. I heard the woman’s voice before I saw them.
“You should’ve stopped at that diner.”
I looked up as they came around the corner, and the man huffed out a sigh. “You said you weren’t hungry.”
I’d never been happier to see two people in my life.
“Well, I am now. Do you think they have anything good to eat here?” Her hand waved through the air.
“I’m sure it’s good enough for you to choke on.”
“God, you’re useless.”
I stepped to the side as they passed by. The man looked at me and rolled his eyes, while his wife or girlfriend continued to berate him.
Their arguing didn’t bother me. It was a nice reminder that I wasn’t here alone. Plus, their presence diverted the ringmaster’s attention.
“Unfortunately, the dining room is closed.” He gave them a frown that was just as creepy as his smile. “Shall I have something sent up to your room?”
While he was distracted, I climbed the last few steps and disappeared around the corner.
Doors lined the hall, most of which were shut. A few remained cracked open enough to show slivers of a dark room. I thought I heard a faint whisper from one, but it was too quiet to be sure. Another smelled like mildew, and one slammed shut when I walked past.
My room was halfway down the hall on the right-hand side.
I stood in front of it, staring at my warped reflection in the brass plate displaying the number.
237.
It didn’t mean anything. It was just a number.
Huffing out a breath, I reached out, unlocked the door, and pushed it open.
I don’t know what I was expecting. A monster or torture dungeon,perhaps. But the room wasn’t nefarious in any way.
The queen-sized bed held four fluffy pillows and a navy bedspread pulled smooth and neatly tucked in at the corners. To the right of the bed stood a four-drawer dresser, with a vase of roses sitting on the top. The carpet was plush and soft when I stepped on it, and the ambience itself was warm and inviting.
Heavy velvet curtains were drawn over the window, shutting out the storm, while the sconces in the room glowed with a soft golden light, not the sickly yellow buzzing in the hall. There wasn’t a single thing that I couldn’t find in any other hotel room, including the open door across the room, which I assumed to be the bathroom.
It was a bit disappointing, honestly. Where were the walls painted in blood or cobwebs and bones? The normalcy of it almost made me laugh. Instead of a horror scene, I got floral patterns and a sweet scent.
Go figure, I had once again worked myself up for no reason. Paranoia would do that to a person. No matter where I was or what I was doing, I always read too much into things that meant nothing. It was my own guilt driving me insane, not some evil ringmaster in a rundown hotel.
Even if there was something clearly wrong with that man, I had no right to judge him. It wasn’t as if I were a paragon of righteousness. Besides, anyone who owned a place like this was bound to be a tad eccentric. I was the one being a hypocritical asshole. If anyone in this place deserved judgment, it was me.
“Get over yourself, Mazie,” I muttered and walkedintothe room, shutting the door behind me.
I dropped my keys on the small vanity sitting across from the foot of the bed. The mirror on it was warped with age, yet polished enough to throw my reflection back at me.
I looked like hell. My dark hair was wet and hanging in limp, dripping locks. There were bags of exhaustion under myblue eyes, and my fair complexion looked extra pale in the weak lamplight. I looked like death drowned in sorrow.
Bending closer, I rubbed my thumb over a smudge on the glass. For a second, I thought the mirror rippled, but it wasprobably just me, swaying on my own feet.
