"Let me see your hand."
He cleaned me and wrapped it tight. The entire time his face was hard and cold. His eyes had an almost lifeless look to them as he worked. When he was done, he helped me to bed, putting the covers over me and repeating his initial order for me to stay put.
While my body still hurt, my hand felt better with the compression, and I fell asleep.
The next morning, I was awoken by Priest coming into my room, with wet hair and only a towel around his hips. Knowing what was under the towel sent my heart and body ablaze.
My name and nothing else.
"I want you to shower, then we're going downstairs."
I did so quickly, and when I came back to my room, he redressed my bandage. We left the suite and went down to the dining hall.The room was deathly silent as we came in. Only Annie and Juniper were at the table. They didn't look up when we came in.
"What's going on?" I asked. "Where's Tristan?"
Annie and Juniper's heads shot up together. Annie glared at me and Juniper began to cry. I furrowed my brow in confusion. What had I missed?
"Tristan is dead," Annie snapped. "You were too busy getting railed by your model boyfriend to come down last night."
I shook my head. "Dead? No. How?"
Juniper sniffled and used a napkin to wipe her tears. "We're not sure exactly. Annie was walking across the lobby when he fell from one of the upper floors. The impact was so hard it..."
"It splattered his insides all over me!" Annie screamed and stood. "Something isn't right. Tristan is the one leading this all. He's not supposed to die. What are we going to do?"
Juniper stood up and went to a hysterical Annie. She puther arms around her and tried to soothe her."It's fine. We're going to figure it out."
"No, we're not!" Annie shoved Juniper off of her. "Everything is fucked up. Half of the guests didn't show. The virgin isn't a virgin anymore. And now Tristan's dead!" She stepped away from the table toward the door. "We're all gonna die now. And it's your fault, Delaney!" She pointed at me as Juniper shoved her out the door.
I turned to Priest, who made himself a bowl of cereal and was digging into it as if it were a normal day.
"Did you know Tristan was dead?" I asked, my chin trembling. He didn't respond, so I asked again. "Priest."
"Yes, he knew. He was there when it happened." Moth's ghost appeared, sitting across from us. "Care to share the story?"
Priest continued eating. I looked to Moth for answers.
"I'm so confused. How is any of this my fault?"
"Did you know that at one time my ancestors lived here?"I jumped when Tristan walked into the room. He looked just as he had when he was alive. If I hadn't just been told otherwise, I wouldn't know the difference.
"I didn't."
"Yes. My great-grandfather helped build the Vincent. He worked right with Mr. Vincent to create and make this place just as grand as his vision was. But with perfection comes a price."
"A price?"
Tristan sat beside Moth. They exchanged a look and turned back to me.
"Mr. Vincent was willing to do anything to have his dreams come true, even mess with the dark arts. When he called upon the spirits that inhibited this place, one answered. An evil being, who agreed to give him success and wealth and the perfect hotel, so long as he kept the walls red."
I remembered... someone saying that. "What does that mean?"
"It means that the next morning Mr. Vincent woke up, took an axe off the wall, went up to my great-grandfather's room, and proceeded to swing down, painting the suite walls with blood."
I gasped.
"Yes. Mr. Vincent brutally murdered someone to ensure that the Vincent could be all it was meant to be. Mr. Vincent thought he'd done his end of the deal. A full year went by and the hotel was completed, people stopped getting hurt, and guests were aplenty. Everything was perfect until suddenly it wasn't again. The demon wanted more. And if it didn't get more, then the bloodlines of every person who worked on the hotel would be snuffed out one by one."
