Lora lunged for freedom, toward Oliver, but the door slammed between them, leaving her in the dark.
"Lora!" Oliver pounded on the wooden panel.
"Oliver!" Lora's fingers brushed the wood as cold tendrils wrapped around her waist and lifted her away so she hung in the air.
"Looooora," a voice whispered. It came from every direction at once and repeated in different tones and volumes.
Faint thumps on the other side of the door gave her hope. Oliver hadn't left her. She flailed in the air, scrabbling for something, anything to hold on to. All she did was exhaust herself. The banging on the door stopped.
"Oliver." Lora's spirits plummeted, and she was in no mood for games. "Just get on with it." Hatred still burned hot in her blood. She refused to be easy prey anymore, and sent her magic out with aggression, wanting to hurt before she was hurt again.
No lust.
No...
anything.
Well, no emotions. But there was something else for a moment. Some sort of... energy. It felt warm and malleable. Could she use that? Before she could try, it vanished.
The ghostly presence moaned. "I thought you were the one I needed yesterday, but I had to be sure. I've been waiting for someone like you for a long time. I want to speak with you. If you promise not to wail or flail, I'll set you down. Truce?"
Trapped in midair, and with no emotions or that puzzling energy to latch onto, she didn't really have a choice. "Truce." Lora retracted her magic as she landed gently on her feet. Her rage drained away, but she couldn't help the bitterness in her voice. "You could have helped me
yesterday
."
"I'm sorry. I wanted to." His sorrow seemed genuine. "I'm not as powerful during the day, or outside my territory. I lose most of my strength when I cross that threshold."
She wasn't sure she believed that. "Oliver and the Doctor are terrified of you."
"They're right to be frightened. I've killed many of them over the years. But you need not fear me. We can strike a bargain. I need your help. Follow me and we can talk about it."
"Wait. Oliver. Is he still at the door?"
"No. He is no longer in my territory."
Lora tried to quash her disappointment and squinted into the dark. The faint outline of a man hovered in front of her. A ghost. Perfect. She sighed, rummaged in her backpack for her flashlight, flicked it on, and played it around the darkness as she walked behind the ghost.
Dust covered everything and stirred into the air with her boot steps. Heavy curtains closed out light and she stepped over random pieces of wood scattered on the floor. "What do you need my help with?"
"The woman I love."
Lora missed a step. "The woman you... What?"
"Not all of us trapped here are alike." He sounded weary. "You've had the unfortunate luck to meet two of the worst right away. The vampire believes the only way to get anything is to force someone to give it to him. The doctor, well, honestly, I'm not sure he's ever thought of anyone as a person rather than an experiment, and he only gets worse the longer he's here."
"And you're what? The friendly ghost?" Lora scoffed.
He laughed. "I've forgotten my manners. My name is Nikolai."
"Nikolai, what is it you think I can do for you?"
"You'll see. She's not far away. Come on."
Lora shrugged her pack higher on her shoulders and crept after the ghost. This was a terrible idea.
Don't talk to strangers.
Don't accept candy from strangers.
Don't follow ghost strangers through the dark in haunted hotels in crazy vortexes.
Rules to live by.
Her gaze shifted, trying to see into every nook and cranny. She couldn't help feeling this was some sort of ambush, and she was walking right into it. Her flashlight beam landed on a staircase leading up to the next floor. Pieces of wood formed a haphazard stack at its base.
No. Not wood. She swallowed the lump in her throat and halted.
"Bones. That is a pile of bones!"
Nikolai's faint outline swung around to face her. In the more direct beam of her flashlight she made out broad shoulders and dark, curly hair, but his face was eerily blank. "Yes. I should have warned you about them. You'll find them strewn around this floor. What I want to show you is just upstairs in the attic."
"But why are all these bones here?"
"They tried to take my Damia away. She escaped from them and sought refuge with me. We fell in love over the years she's been here. I protected her when they came for her."
Years she's been here.
A shudder ran through Lora.
She mounted the staircase. The attic space ran the length of the floor beneath, and she walked upright through rooms, past curtained windows and a few closed doors, navigating a maze of crates and sheet-covered furniture.
He tapped on a closed door, swung it open, and waved for Lora to enter. "Damia's in here."
The tiny bedroom sat in a corner of the attic with windows on two sides and a slanted ceiling. An ornate canopied bed stood between two windows. A square table held a pitcher, a glass, and a covered tray. The surface of a four-drawer dresser was strewn with toiletries.
A woman, hardly more than tight flesh over bone, lay in the bed. She made such a slight figure the covers barely formed a bump. At first, Lora didn't think she was breathing, but a gentle wheeze long seconds later proved that assumption false.
Her long brown hair was neatly combed out, her skin was clean, and the air smelled of lavender. Nikolai cared for his love as much as he could.
Lora extended one hand to touch the woman's forehead. Her skin was clammy -- much cooler than it should be. She shifted her gaze to Nikolai. "She's dying."
He nodded. "I know. I bring her food and water, but she can hardly lift a glass to drink anymore. She hasn't eaten more than a few bites at a time in weeks."
What did he want her to do? "I don't know how to treat her."
Nikolai stroked translucent fingers across Damia's forehead. "Now that you have seen her, here is the deal. I want you to kill us. I know what you are, and I'll tell you... In exchange for our deaths."