The Unhallowed

"But if something were to happen between us---"

"I know," I cut in. That she'd entertained the thought, even to dismiss it, gave me a thrill. Yet that path scared me as much as it excited me. "Wasn't asking."

A skeptical look, a slow but approving nod.

"And your sister?"

"Do we really need to talk about her?"

Took a while for her to respond. "Suppose not."

"Probably best if you don't sleep in the same bed."

"Gah, Mom, I never---obviously not sharing a bed. I'll sleep on the floor---"

"We can take turns. No reason for you to bear the brunt---"

"Whatever. Cass and I are not sharing bed. Nor would either of us want to."

Another nod. "Well, she won't be here tonight, so you can take the other one. Think I might get under the covers of this one. Kinda tuckered out."

Being at the center of a gangbang will do that to you, I suppose. A gangbang that lasts for over an hour. With a haunted hotel draining you same way you're draining the men.

#

Once again, I slept later than the two of them. Which is probably why I only took a brief nap in the afternoon whereas Cass crawled into the second bed as soon as I vacated it and didn't wake up until five, by which point Mom had been out for almost two hours and probably wouldn't be up again until it was time for us to crash the cocktail hour.

"So, uh, Mom tells me things got a little weird here last night?" Cass asked after we stepped out of the room. She glanced over her shoulder as if expecting the woman in question to wake up just to remind her that she wasn't supposed to say anything.

"When did she tell you that?"

A flat look. "When you were taking a nap. When do you think?"

"Thought you were asleep too."

"Got up for a bit."

Taking her by the elbow, I led her down the hall, to the elevator. Would our mom have heard us if we'd stayed where we were? Not if we kept our voices down. Could probably have stayed in the room. Some risks are not worth taking, though.

"She's afraid you're gonna make a pass at me," Cass said while we traveled between floors. "Didn't tell you already did." She grabbed the front of my shirt, gave it a jerk, flashed a smile. "Can't control yourself, can you? You little horndog."

What part of me did my sister think was little?

"Didn't tell her that, but I did tell her not to worry," she said, smoothing out the wrinkles she'd created. "I'm not the least bit tempted and you're the kinda guy who needs to know that she's as into it as he is, so you'll never act on it."

Was that an insult? A compliment?

"What? You are."

"I know. Just not sure how to take that."

Her laughter was intoxicating. Belittling too, I suppose, but I'd take that over feeling as though I threatened her, made her uncomfortable, any day of the week. "You're such a dork." Without warning, she went up on tiptoes and planted a kiss on my cheek.

Voluntarily. Not because we hadn't seen each other in a while and it was sort of expected, because the only thing more awkward than making skin contact with her brother was not doing so and having to deal with the questions our mom might ask. Was everything okay, were we getting along, was there something she didn't know about.

"It's a good thing," Cass said. "Waaay better than the alternative."

I nodded. Put my hand on the small of her back, pulled her a little closer, kissed the top of her head. "Thanks for saying so. I've been told I need to be more aggressive---their words, not mine---so it kinda feels like there's no winning."

"The thing about rape culture is that it doesn't just affect how men think." She slid away, subtly. Not as a rebuke. "We're told we should want to be pursued. Aggressively. I'm not surprised they used that word. Told that's just what men do when they're interested, and there's nothing worse than them not being interested. Gets to the point that you can't help wanting that, from time to time, even if you know where it came from and think the whole damn system is really shitty. Worse than shitty and needed to change yesterday."

Not much I could say to that.

"Would I want Jake to be as careful as you are? I honestly don't know. But as your sister, rather than someone who wants to sleep with you, I think it's awesome."

Rather than someone who wants to sleep with you.

What has to happen to a guy's head for him to take that as an insult? For him to react the same way to his actual sister hitting him with the "like a brother" line as he would any other woman? Because whatever it is, it's happened to me.

The doors opened onto the fourth floor. Hallway was empty but we still fell quiet. Walked side by side, though not holding hands, don't know why that image even popped into my mind, stopped at the bend, sat on the floor. Legs close enough to touch, but only just. Like it was an accident neither of us saw fit to correct.

"I lied."

"About what?"

"To Mom. When I said I'm not the least bit tempted."

Oh.

You'd think my head wouldn't spin, seeing as she'd already admitted that. There are things people say when they're on the dance floor and have had a few drinks, though, that they either don't mean or will never say again even if they did. The revelation wasn't so much that Cass found me attractive, it was that she was willing to admit that she did. Now, during the day. Without any alcohol in her system.

"Almost waved you over last night. Wasn't thinking straight, heat of the moment and all that, figured no one there even knew we're brother and sister so what the heck? Then I remembered who the woman less than five feet away from me was. The one who hadn't given up on competing for the attention, who could keep up with me."

"Um, not for nothing Cass, but I'm not sure you kept up with her."

A wry smile. "I'm not sure I did either. Point is, I wasn't going to tell you to join in with Mom right there. Who knows how she would've reacted."

By playing along? Pretending I was no more her son than Cass's brother?

What a night that would have been.

If it ever did happen, and I guess there's no harm in hypotheticals, I'd want them all to myself. At least that first time. Would I be wiling to share after that? Knowing that whatever happened in the ballroom, they'd fall asleep by my side? One to either side? That if one of them left with somebody else, they'd come back to me as soon as they woke up? Wouldn't love it at first, I'm sure, but it'd be selfish not to. Unfair to them and to my dad, whose life was still on the line. But the first time? First time had to be special.

Go ahead, call me a hopeless romantic. A guy who makes a better friend than a boyfriend and will never be a fuck buddy. Someone who's destined to be alone. You wouldn't be wrong.

"No point to all this if I'm going to wreck my marriage in the process." A finger went up. "Buh-buh-buh, I know what you're gonna say. That I'm doing that anyway. Maybe so. I just think it's at least possible that he'll forgive last night and nights like it."

A chance, sure. And it wouldn't be a small one if he wasn't such an asshole. If he wasn't the sort of guy who'd cheat on her for no better reason than because he'd felt like it, because they'd gotten into a fight and that was his way of getting the last word in. Guys like that have a way of ignoring pesky details like my sister doing what she was doing to save him, and doing it with guys she'd never see again, that no one ever would.

"As long as they don't involve your older brother."

"Exactly."

I nodded. Told myself to leave it there. Didn't listen. "Only gonna ask this once, but are you absolutely sure you want him back? Dad, sure, that goes with out saying, but Jake?"

"Only gonna ask it once," she said with a scoff. "That's already the second time."

My scowl did not faze her. I paused, reran the tapes. "May have thought---"

"What you did was passive-aggressively throw the number twelve out there when we all know you can do basic math." There was no anger in her voice. If anything, she was proud of herself. She had me by the balls and she knew it. Almost didn't matter what the argument was about. "That was your way of saying I should at least think about it."

"Picked up on that, huh?"

She kicked me. Not very hard. Was getting to be a habit. "I let you have that one, because you have a point. Believe it or not, I am aware of that. That point has been made, though, so I'd kindly ask that you keep your mouth shut and your dick in your pants."

Translation: I may come around to your way of thinking, but not if you push me. If you want it to happen, and you do want it to happen, who wouldn't, have some patience.

Wishful thinking? The look she was giving suggested not. Suggested my sister knew exactly how I'd interpreted that and felt no need to issue a correction.

"Should we wake Mom up? Or let her sleep?"

"I get to jump on her bed," Cass squealed as she scrambled to her feet and took off toward the elevator. Twenty-two going on seven, my sister is. "You're too heavy."

#

The door to the changing room was locked, and no amount of knocking convinced Igor to open it. Assuming he was even there. Or went by the name of Igor.

Just as I considered applying my shoulder, Cass and Mom rounded the corner. "Women's too?" I asked, as though the answer wasn't obvious.

"Let's go to the front desk," Mom said.

Didn't love the idea. Didn't have any others.

Sam was waiting for us. In a costume, though not the grim reaper. Or any of the ones we'd seen in the ballroom. This time, he was a mad scientist, wearing a lab coat, rubber gloves, and over-sized goggles. His hair couldn't have been wilder. Or whiter, though it had been brown yesterday. "My favorite family," he said without emotion.

"How are we supposed to feed the hotel if we can't get to the ballroom?" Mom asked.

"No reason to," Sam said. "No one there."

That was about the time I realized I hadn't seen anyone roaming the halls, hadn't heard a sound from any of the rooms. No, actually, I had, one or two, but we weren't the one former guests who were now pretty much part of the staff. The guests had all checked out.

Those who hadn't been fed to the hotel.

I shivered, though the lobby remained a comfortable seventy degrees. It hadn't troubled me that we'd never seen more than twenty people at one time in a hotel large enough to could accommodate sixty, a hundred with every room booked and none by singles, because The Unhallowed didn't come up on Expedia or Travelocity. Didn't have much of a presence online at all, and what presence it did have warned of ghosts. Today was also Sunday, a rough day for the travel industry. The place wasn't just under capacity, though. There wasn't a warm body under its roof who wasn't trapped, with varying degrees of hope for escape. For the first time, The Unhallowed was starting to feel like... well, what it was.

What we'd came in search for, then mistakenly believed we hadn't found.

"What about the other ghosts?" my mom asked. "The ones who can only manifest for cocktail hour? Can't we share a drink with them?"

Sam scowled. "How would that benefit the hotel?"

Right, everything had to be filtered through that lens. You'd think a financial analyst wouldn't need to be told that. Should have realized Mom wouldn't be allowed to talk to Dad until it was over, that the only reason the three of us were allowed to be together was because of what was already happening. If we decided to spend our days practicing skills we used at night, gave in to temptations we shouldn't have felt and really shouldn't have acknowledged, temptations that were not less easy to predict, would the impetus to save the ones we'd lost not wane? Was it not waning already in the case of Jake?

Maybe that gave the hotel too much credit. Buildings were not sentient, let alone masterminds, whether they housed ghosts or not. The intelligence at work here had once been human. Either Sam or, more likely, whoever was above him, someone whose face we hadn't seen, not even with a mask in front of it. And that someone might have known we'd have taken the deal despite the terms, but it was ludicrous to think that three-way incest had been part of their plan from the outset. If continuing down that path happened to work in their favor, well, that was whatever the opposite of serendipity is, nothing more.

Either way, it would be foolish.

Had there not been very good reasons to put my mother and my sister in their own separate category, one that said Do Not Touch, before all this had started, though? Fancy arguments about the conditionality of moral judgments aside, there were still the laws of men, the matter of their husbands, and the very real risk that we'd all end up hating each other. Yet that hadn't stopped things from getting this far. From my sister telling me maybe, if not in those exact words, and my mom telling me she was flattered.

What would happen when we went back up to the room? If not tonight, then the next night? Or at some point in the next two weeks? Was that even a question?

"Tell me you have bookings during the week," Mom said, giving no indication that her mind had gone to the same places mine had. "If the next cocktail hour isn't til Friday---"

"Tuesday," Sam said.

"Tuesday," Mom repeated. "And what are we supposed to do until then?"

My cock twitched. Dang thing has a mind of its own.

"Use the weight room. Swim in the pool. Rent some pay-per-view movies." A wan smile. "Not like you'll be paying the bill through standard means."

The look Cass gave me caused both excitement and shame. "Don't even picture me in a bathing suit or a sports bra," that look said. "Though I'm sure you just did."

No pool then. No weight room.

"In that case, send a bottle of your best wine up," my mom said. "Make that three bottles. And glasses. Actual glasses. I'm not drinking out of a plastic cup."

Sam nodded. "Very well. Is there anything else I can do for you?"

"Yeah. Let me speak to my husband."

"I'm afraid I can't do that."

"Then you can go hang yourself."

#

Denial is a coping mechanism. A surprisingly powerful one in most cases. It got us through an entire movie---about a haunted hotel, because the description made us all smile, though the details couldn't have been more different.

Once Mom suggested we take a break from ghosts and watch something steamy from Skinemax, though, it was only a matter of time before one of us broke the rule. Which rule is that? One no one had spelled out yet we'd all been complying with. The one that required us to act as though everything were normal. Failing that, as though we were normal even if the situation wasn't.

When the horror movie had started, I'd been in the chair by the window, Mom and Cass on different beds. When the skin flick had, the two of them had been next to each other, a safe distance from me. But around the time the neglected wife decided to accept a dinner invitation from her husband's boss, I accepted my own invitation.

Started at the edge of the bed, practically falling off so as to minimize contact with my mother. She got up to get more wine, though, and saw how precarious my position was.

So it was that I had my sister's head on one shoulder, my mom's the other, my arms trapped beneath them and in serious danger of losing circulation, though that was a small price to pay to continuously fondle their soft bottoms, while the three of us watched a married woman fellate a waiter because her dinner companion had instructed her to do so. While the waiter bent her over the table, hiked her dress up to her hips, and fucked her from behind. While the rich boss unzipped himself and gave her something to suck on.

"These plots are ridiculous," Cass said.

"Can't decide whether I love that or hate it," Mom replied.

"And why you never get to see their dicks?" I chimed in, hoping to show how sensitive I was, that I was capable of separating myself from the male gaze. "Get to see her body, boy do we get to see her body, even if it's just a shower scene, but never theirs."

"Do you want to see their dicks?" my sister asked.

"Her boobs and butt," our mom said, "not her cooch." She sat up, took a sip of wine, offered me the glass, then laid back down. "This is cable TV, not Pornhub," she added. Because my mom knew what Pornhub was even though she still said cooch. "You watch these movies when you're in a certain sort of mood but don't want to admit that."

"Yeah, no one faps to this stuff," Cass said. "They're meant for laughing."

Yet none of us were. And at least one of us had noticed the possibly-accidental-but-probably-not admission. In a certain sort of mood but don't want to admit it.

"Can we talk about something else?" I asked after an awkward silence. The woman was now bouncing in the boss's lap, no sign of the waiter, and everyone was breathing a little heavier. Their chests swelling against mine was all sorts of distracting.

No reply. Might have missed an exaggerated moan.

"Sure, sweetie," Mom finally said. "What do you wanna talk about?"

"Our situation."

Cass groaned. "Your timing sucks."

Perhaps, but the scene had just ended. I hoped Cass hadn't been waiting for a cum shot. This wasn't porn, after all. According to her, it was some sort of comedy.

I sat up. They both did the same, though one was less happy about it than the other. And that did not rest a hand on the thigh nearest her the way the other one did. "Just think we need to at least consider the possibility that Sam's lying to us."

"About what?" Cass asked. "Don't tell me you think there's a rational explanation for all this, that the hotel's not haunted, that the bodies are beneath the parking lot."

How would he even get them under the asphalt?

"About there being a way to get Dad back," I said. "And Jake," I hastened to add, recalling our earlier conversation. And thereby earning a snort. "What if they're already gone? What if they can't manifest at all?" I paused, considered stopping there. Was already hard to breathe. Sometimes, though, it's best to just rip the bandage off. "What if the hotel decided they weren't useful and will only keep us around as long as we are?"

Now there were no hands on me. Crazy how big a difference that made. And why. Much as I liked knowing that they were attracted to me, that being in close proximity to my hard body did to them something roughly similar to what their soft bodies did to me, the withdrawal of my mother's hand made me realize it was intimacy, connection, that I craved most of all. Because in that moment, I felt utterly alone. Even though they sat right beside me, facing me, close enough that I could hear their breathing.

"Okay, what if?" Mom said, sounding a little angry. Like the time I'd asked if we really needed to celebrate Christmas now that Cass and I were grown. "What are we supposed to do about that? Make a run for it? You know the doors won't open for us. You two were the ones that tried that. And if you think I'm going to dig a tunnel with a spoon---"

"Of course not. Wouldn't even work."

Cass scoffed. "What then?"

I sighed. "Way I see it, we have exactly three options."

"Those being?"

"We can opt out. Try to starve the hotel, or at least not be responsible for feeding it."

Both women frowned, but it was my sister who said, "And that ends well for us?"

"No, it doesn't," I admitted. "Meaning we either stick to the plan as of yesterday, hold up our end of a bogus bargain then act surprised when the hotel eats us too---"

"Why would it, though?" Mom cut in. "If we're doing its bidding, wouldn't it want to keep us around?" Her cheeks flushed and the idea of hiding that behind a wine glass came to her a little too late. "Not sure if this something to brag about, but I suspect Cass and I did more for it last night than anyone else has in quite some time."