The Unhallowed

An awkward laugh, carrying real mirth yet weighed down by other things, passed through her lips. "You're not so bad. Sometimes." The beginnings of a smile. "Every now and then, like right now, you're downright tolerable. Why is it again that you're still single?"

My turn to laugh. "Number once complaint seems to be that I'm a mama's boy."

"Hmm," Cass said. "Fair, honestly. And, yeah, that's a lot to deal with."

"You suck at this," I said.

"At what, cheering you up? Isn't that what you're supposed to be doing for me?"

Still had our costumes on. I could think of a few ways to make my sister forget about her husband for an hour or two. To convince myself that overattachment to our mother did not necessarily mean my love life was doomed, though fulfillment would probably only be found closer to home. The expression on her face told me Cass was thinking the same thing.

And not in horror.

"Will, we can't---"

Already on my feet, I went to my bag, found some clothes suitable to sleep in. "Gonna change." I glanced over my shoulder. "Spell breaks when you take the costume off."

"Shouldn't it be at the stroke of midnight?"

"That's when you turn into a pumpkin."

One of her nice, shiny heels sailed across the room. "You and pumpkins."

When I came back out, I saw that Cass had changed as well. Still looked good, unfortunately for me. How had I never noticed that? I mean, I'd been vaguely aware that my sister met conventional standards of attractiveness reasonably well, that some of my friends had wanted to date her, that if she'd settled for Jake that had more to do with her self-esteem than a genuine lack of options, but I'd also heard countless complaints about how she couldn't lose weight, her hair never did what she wanted it to, and yet another guy had ghosted her. If you'd asked a thousand guys to rate her on a scale from one to ten, I probably could have guessed the average with as much accuracy as she could for me. In short, I knew my sister was hot, not smoking hot but hot, yet had never felt the heat myself.

Until tonight.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" she asked from behind a pillow.

"Like what?"

"Seeing me for the first time. Some shit like that."

With a sigh, I sat down on the other bed. Nowhere near her. "There's something weird about this place." Understatement of the year. And another entry on the list. "Don't know if I'd say it's haunted, and those definitely weren't ghosts down there, but I don't like it."

"Me either," Cass said. "Are you sure they weren't ghosts?"

Mostly. "What did you two fight about?"

"What do you think?"

"Your crazy family? Whether it'd be okay for him to go back down there and have another drink? Who's ahead by how much in your running game of Told You So?"

Again she hid behind a pillow. "Don't want to talk about. Put a movie on. Something scary, as long as it's not about vampires. I'm sooo over vampires."

#

Someone was trying to throttle me. I flailed about, trying to shake them loose.

"Will! Will, stop it! Get the fuck out of bed!"

Only Cass. And she wasn't trying to hurt me. "What's going on?"

"Jake never came back. Neither did Dad. Mom's freaking out."

"What time is it?"

"Almost eleven. Time to check out."

I bolted upright. "What? How could I sleep so late?"

"I don't know!" My sister was practically screeching. Under the circumstances, I suppose it was hard to blame her. "Know how many times I tried to wake you up?"

Too many. "Has anyone spoken to the manager?"

Fist on hip, Cass asked if I was serious without opening her mouth. "You know who our mother is, right? You have met her? Seen her in action?"

Right. Right, right. "What did they say?"

"Not a whole heck of a lot. Nothing that makes any sense."

#

The door closed behind Sam, who was not a clerk but had dressed as the grim reaper last night. He gestured for us all to sit down, sighed when our mom refused to, which meant that Cass and I refused to, and took a seat himself. "As I said, you're welcome to call the police, but they won't let you file a missing persons---"

"Fuck the police," our mom said. Huge N.W.A. fan, apparently. "Fuck missing persons. You know something. I'm not going anywhere until you tell us what."

"Well, then can I offer you some coff---"

A stomp of her foot, nothing more. Might as well have been a gunshot. Poor Sam nearly fell on the floor. "What. Aren't. You. Telling. Us?"

Always gave me the chills when she bit her words off like that.

"I've told you everything I can."

Mom shook her head. "See, that right there was a careful dodge. Technically not a lie. You are hiding something, but you'll get in trouble if you don't keep hiding it, so---"

The weariest of sighs interrupted her. "I'll tell you. But you're not going to like it."

Now she sat down. So did my sister. Only two chairs on this side of the desk, though, so I remained standing. Hovering over them like some sort of bodyguard.

And why not? I had no training, was no more violent by nature than my father, but if that's what it took to protect my mother and my sister? To find our father? Heck even a husband Cass was probably better off without? Yeah, I could smash some skulls.

"They're trapped in the hotel," Sam said. His voice was incredibly calm. Not the practiced and professional detachment of a doctor delivering bad news, though. The sound of someone who just didn't care. Who was only telling us this because he believed my mother when she'd said she wasn't going to leave until he did. "There's a reason we say this place is haunted," he continued, in that same tone. "Your husband is now part of that reason."

"Bullshit," Mom said, though I could tell she believed him. Didn't want to, knew propriety demanded that she not, yet did. A feeling, a cold ache in the pit of her stomach, something had told her he was going to say that before he actually did.

"He's not all gone. Not yet. The house needs time to tighten its grip. When I tell you what it would take to save him, though, you're going to wish I'd lied just now."

"I'll be judge of that," my mom said.

Another sigh. "Guests who give into the temptation our ghosts present join their ranks."

Numb. I felt numb. We all did, judging by how silent and still the other two were.

It made a certain sort of sense. Given enough time, I'd probably have worked that out on my own. Yet hearing it said aloud, by the hotel manager no less, had my mind reeling.

"Your husband was warned, repeatedly," Sam said, no longer calm but condescending. "By your son. He chose not to heed the warnings. Chose to be unfaithful."

"It's not for you to decide whether he got what he deserves," I said, earning an appreciative nod from my mother. "Just as it wasn't for me to---"

Reaching up and around, my mom patted my hand. Told me there was no need. It wasn't my fault. And if she thought it was, we'd talk about that later.

Fair enough. But I still felt guilty.

"Don't want you going in with blinders on is all," Sam said. "Should you choose to walk out that door, you're life will return to normal." Sensing that my mom was going to interject, he raised his voice and barreled on. "Well, as normal as it can be, given the circumstances. A sharp contrast to what will happen if you choose to remain."

"Why is that? What happens if we stay?"

"You will join the ranks of the nearly lost, though you won't be as far gone as your husband. You'll retain your physical form---better, actually, as you'll look the way you did while wearing the costumes even when dressed casually---whereas he can only manifest now for a few hours at a time. Which, of course, he is only allowed to do during cocktail hour."

"Hold up," my mom said. "You just told us he's not that far---"

"No, I told you he's not completely gone."

"This is bad," Cass muttered. "Bad, bad, bad."

Girl had a point.

"Should you choose to join their ranks, and manage to seduce the right number of guests, some of whom know what they're getting into, those poor souls will take the place of your husband. Of you and your children. You'll all be free to leave."

Some of whom. I'd wondered why my parents had brought us, whether they'd had any idea what kind of place this was.

For a while, all my mom did was seethe quietly. Just as the paint was starting to melt off the walls, though, she said, "How many?"

"I'm sorry to say the house does not play fair," Sam said without anything approaching sorrow. "You will have to doom three souls for each one you wish to free. Give yourselves over first, even partially, which is what I'm describing, and that number jumps to twelve."

"Six," Mom said immediately. "My children will not be part of this."

"What about Jake?" Cass said. "I'm not just gonna leave him here."

Though perhaps she should. I know, I know, til death do us part and all that. Still, none of us had been crazy about him before he'd cheated on Cass.

"Fifteen," Sam informed us.

"Six," our mom repeated.

My turn to silence her with a hand. "You're not doing this alone."

"Will---"

"I'd sooner die than abandon you. Even if that means condemning others to the same fate." I looked at Sam. "They have to give in, right? We can't take anyone who doesn't?"

"Correct."

The look my mom gave me was inscrutable. Gratitude? Frustration, tempered by resignation? Perhaps all of the above, and thus confusion. "I can't ask that," she whispered.

"Then don't. I'm volunteering anyway."

"Me too," Cass said. "For Jake."

Did she mean that? Believe she meant that? Or was she only saying it because she knew she ought to, knew it would make her a horrible wife in the eyes of many if she gave up that easily? Dad needed her too, so there was plenty of time to decide that enough was enough.

"When you say fifteen, or twelve, or whatever, you mean individuals, not couples?" I asked Sam. "If only one gives in, that still counts?"

He looked at me the way a teacher does a particularly slow student. "Your father would not be in the trouble he's in otherwise. And some of our guests come alone."

"Good to know," I said. "Are we allowed to warn them?"

Again with that condescending look. "If they ask the right questions, and the warning is sufficiently vague, it does not appear as though punishment is likely. I would, however, advise you to err on the side of caution in this regard."

"What if we don't feed enough souls to the house by Halloween?" Cass asked. "Are we trapped here for another year? Forever? Is there a time limit on this escape clause?"

"I'm afraid there is."

Great. So we had two weeks to seduce twelve people between the three of us. Maybe four; wasn't clear whether Dad could still help, limited as his ability to "manifest" apparently was.

"Classic fucking pyramid scheme," I said. Did it help anything to vent my frustration like that? No. What was Sam going to do, though? Take our father away from us? "Find another sucker, find three suckers, and you wouldn't be left holding the bag."

The only reaction I got was a nod. One that made me wonder if Sam had been a sucker too. One who'd managed to climb a few levels, perhaps, but had yet to escape.

Assuming that was even possible. Assuming he hadn't lied to us.

"You'll find that some of our guests require very little tempting," Sam said with none of the sadistic glee that would have made me feel good about hating him. "It's the ones who came only in search of a haunted hotel that are the most challenging. "

"Why do you even accept reservations from the unsuspecting?" my mom asked, trying yet failing to hide her outrage. "Why not cater exclusively to perverts and deviants?"

"House doesn't play fair," I answered for Sam. "I'm sure he agrees that it's better to trap those who came with the worst of intentions, but there aren't enough of those?" I shrugged. "Oh well. In the end, all that really matters is numbers. "

At long last, I earned myself a smile. Didn't particularly want it, but I got it.

"Why is wanting to have sex the worst of intentions?" Cass asked. "Don't get me wrong, I hate everything about this. There's no excuse for cheating and casual sex did not appeal to me when I was single. But you make it sound like the house is meting out justice. Inflicting pain upon rapists and murderers. Unless I missed something, that's not what's happening."

Again, she had a point.

"Was mostly just trying to explain his reasoning," I mumbled. Why was she eyeing me skeptically? Did my sister really think I was more of a prude than she was? After I'd sort of made a pass at her the night before? "Doesn't mean I agree."

A grunt suggested my sister sort of believed me, sort of didn't. And mostly didn't care.

"So is that all?" our mom asked, grabbing her purse and preparing to stand. "Or do we need to sign our names in blood? On parchment made of human skin?"

For once, Sam actually chuckled. "Don't even need to change rooms." An upraised finger told us there was a caveat. "I will, however, need you to consolidate. Doesn't matter which one you choose, and you'll have access to all unoccupied rooms when feeding the hotel, but I'm going to need you to check out of one of them."

"And return the costumes?" I said, dripping sarcasm on the carpet.

"Already done."

Figures. And that didn't mean someone had been sent to retrieve them. They'd probably sublimated, the gaseous vapor making its way through the air vents down to the changing rooms. Or perhaps they'd never been that real to begin with.

"Anything else?" Mom asked impatiently.

A smile, nearly as devoid of mockery as sincerity, from Sam. "Enjoy your stay."

The door hadn't even closed behind us when both Cass and our mother started crying.

#

Unless I'd missed something, we hadn't died. Something had certainly changed, though.

And I don't just mean that the physiques bestowed upon us by costumes the night before had made a return. That was not unexpected, of course; Sam had told us that would happen. Nor were any of us complaining. Weren't complaining about any of it, technically.

More than anything, we were baffled.

Not having eaten since the night before, we should have been ravenous. It's not like were disgusted by the thought of food, though, nor had we developed unnatural cravings. Weren't about to start feasting on brains or biting necks and drinking blood. Talk of the buffet table piqued our interest, as well it should have. Just not as much as it should have.

At the same time that our caloric needs were dwindling, the need to rest had become overpowering. All three of us spent the afternoon, and much of the early evening, in bed.

Not in a fun way either. Get your minds out of the gutter.

If all biological processes and constraints had weakened, perhaps we could have made sense of it. There would at least have been some consistency. Instead, we were left to wonder what made our condition any better than that of those who could only "manifest" during cocktail hour, as it seemed the three of us wouldn't be good for much else either.

We were free to explore the hotel, which I guess is something. Couldn't leave it, though. Cass and I tried. Door wouldn't even open. Yet as we stood staring at each other in disbelief, a young couple came in, practically knocking us over. Which, yeah, could and would have happened, had our reaction times been a bit slower. We hadn't become translucent or incorporeal or whatever the fuck; normal people did not pass right through us.

Again, not ghosts.

But definitely trapped.

"You're an idiot, you know that?" Cass said to me later, when we were sitting in the hallway on the fourth floor with our legs stretched out for no real reason. Other than that we no longer needed reasons. No longer had options. "Not a regular old idiot, either. Pays for premium when his car runs best on eighty-seven. No, Will, you're a special kind of idiot. The kind that's smart enough to know better yet somehow still doesn't."

What do you say to that?

"Um, thanks?"

She kicked me. Not very hard. I knew from experience that my sister was stronger than she looked. "Mom and I never had a choice. Can't just abandon your husband. But one of us ought to walk away from this, and it's now looking like none of us will."

"That conclusion seems premature."

"Does it?"

What I wanted to do was wrap an arm around her shoulder. I'd have settled for patting the back of her hand. With our backs against opposite walls, though, neither was an option. The smart thing to do, then, would have been to use my words. And only my words.

But for some reason, I grabbed an ankle, and started giving her a foot rub.

Rather than ask what the heck I was doing, she raised an eyebrow at me.

"Tell me where it's written that abandoning your parents, your siblings, as more forgivable than abandoning a spouse," I said as I worked my knuckles into a tough sole. Into a layer of thick cotton stretched over a tough sole. Not even stockings.

I shuddered. Why did I think my sister should be wearing stockings? Not just that it was a possibility, which it really wouldn't have been before last night, but the proper state of things? Like it was somehow unusual, even wrong, that she wasn't?

"Nowhere," she admitted. "But we'd have understood."

"Would you? I wouldn't have."

Her expression changed. Less why-is-my-brother-being-so-obstinate than he-deserves-better-than-this. One could almost think she liked me. That her opinion as to whether Satan had left me on our parent's doorstep to solely punish my yet-to-be-born sister had changed at some point in the last twelve, thirteen years.

"Cocktail hour's starting soon."

"Don't think we're supposed to get there at seven," I replied. "Gotta give the guests time to down a few drinks, lower their inhibitions, memorize a few faces."

"Right. When we proposition them, they can't be in a state where they might actually refuse. The Unhallowed wouldn't want that. But it's also important that they know we're not like the other guests, that we're the ones they were warned about. "

"Exactly," I said, prompting my sister to roll her eyes.

"Do you hear yourself?"

I gave her a flat look. "Do you not pay attention when you watch horror movies?"

"Not really, no. I only ever do when I'm humoring your or Dad."

Fair enough, I supposed. "There's a logic to these things, convoluted as it might seem. Do we wait until they're vulnerable? Heck yeah we do. Do we target anyone who never stood any kind of chance? No. Can't. Doesn't work like that."

A sigh echoed down the hallway. "Where'd you learn to give a foot rub?"

"Why? Does it feel good?"

"You're horrible at it." So horrible that, after yanking her foot away, she scooched down the hall enough to comfortably place the other in my lap. Then closed her eyes and let out another sigh, a rather different sigh, as I went to work on it.

If she kept that up, it would soon be my mouth instead of my hands. Not on her foot, but between her legs. Or maybe I'd start with her toes, work my way up to her earlobes, spending a lot of time with her chest, and end with her vadge.

Bad thoughts. Welcome thoughts, but still bad.

"Think an hour's enough time? Or should we go watch a movie then head down?"

Was that her way of saying we could use some privacy? Most of the rooms on the third floor were empty, unfortunately for The Unallowed, and thus I suppose for us, but there was still some risk of getting caught. You know, if we were to do anything. Of course, it was also entirely possible that she actually meant what she'd said.

"Not a bad idea. But I'm picking again."

A lopsided grin appeared, just before she called me a jerk.

#

"Sorry to see you again," Igor said in a jovial tone.