I shoved the mask back on. The feeling of... sharing my brain eased instantly, and I sighed, leaning against the wall.What had I done?
I repeated the questions over and over as I lay with Laney that night. She slept peacefully, as a woman who'd just been thoroughly fucked would. It was beautiful to watch. I wished I could do so without the rubber mask between us, but something deep inside told me it was dangerous to be unmasked around her. Whoever had joined me before in my room... wanted blood.
I tried to sleep but was restless. I left Laney’s bed and went to my room. I locked the door and went to my bed, where I slid the mask off. A warm and cold feeling filled my body, but when the voice came, I spoke to it in my head.
"I need sleep."
I closed my eyes and felt the weight of the spirit leave my body, allowing me to rest, and thankfully, not dream. I awoke hours later and quickly reached for the mask, shoving it back onto my head. I could feel an angry energy in the room, but I ignored it. I was safe under the mask for now. I went for my laptop and turned it on. I was going to have to call in a favor if Laney and I wanted to get out of this fucking hotel.
Moth was right. I hadn't acted alone to get out of Cunningham's. I’d brought along a friend. He was across the country by now, but he owed me one.I had intended to flee far, but the draw to return to where I last saw Laney was too tempting. But now I was glad I did go home. She would have been dead already if I hadn't caught her that night before her flight.
I sent an email but was far too impatient to wait. I started perusing the web, looking for him. He had to be here somewhere. The first search pulled articles about our escape, but noleads. I went through pages and pages, trying to find something, anything, but then, something occurred to me.
I typed in the name, Elliott Spencer, and there he was.
Elliott Spencer, his pen name. The name was different from legal filings, but all the photos were of my old Cunningham friend, Les. I quickly made a dummy account on Facebook and shot him a message.
Me: I thought we had an understanding. No SM.
Elliott: What you mean? Who dis?
Me: Let's not do this, Les. I need a favor.
Dots appeared and disappeared for a long time before finally, my laptop lit up with a call from Elliott Spencer. I sighed. Should I answer with my mask on or risk it? I answered the call and waited to see Les appear on the screen before removing the mask.
"Priest?" Les, a short, but stocky blonde man stared back at me, his blue eyes large and in shock. "How did you find me?"
The spirits that inhabited the hotel invaded my body and began screaming commands at me in my mind. I blinked and fought to listen and speak to Les.
"I need a favor."
"Sure, of course. Are you okay?"
"No." The spirit began trying to use my limbs, and my protest caused my arms to shake violently. "I'm trapped at the Vincent Hotel, in New York. I need you to bring a car close, down the hill from it, and wait. Me and Laney need will come down."
"Laney, your sister? Priest, I thought you weren't?—"
"Fucking listen to me!" I snarled. "How far away from me are you?"
"Uh, hold on." He raised his phone and began to type. The entire time, voices screamed in my head, telling me to shut the laptop, that I wasn't going to escape, and Laney would be punished for this. "The Vincent, I can drive, but it's gonna be like three days. And Valentine's Day is Friday.”
"Do this and I'll forget I ever knew you." My body trembled, and I reached for the mask. I needed to get it on now before it was too late.
"Fine. Okay. The Vincent, bottom of the hill. I drive a red Plymouth Fury. I don't know how good it will be in the snow, but I'll be there in three days. If you don't come in twenty-four hours..."
I swallowed the heavy lump in my throat as sweat dotted along my brow. "Assume I’m dead."I slammed my computer closed and shoved the mask back on, falling back onto the bed as the pressure lifted.
Fuck.
"I warned you." I turned my head to see Moth laughing at me from the other side of the room. "Not fun, is it?"
I tried to speak, but nothing came out, so I resorted to thought. Surprisingly, he heard me.
Fuck you. I'm getting out of here.
"Are you? Because based on that call, it sounds like you've only got three days to live, and I'll have fun with every second before I make you like me."
What was the point of killing you, if you can do everything you did in life?
