Author Holly Kelly

Lightning scattered across Michael’s windshield, lighting up the dark sky and a thunderous boom brought a curse to his lips. He gripped the steering wheel as the pelting rain beat against his vehicle. The sweet smell of ozone blew in from his vents and filled the cab of his pickup truck, mingling with the sultry music playing in the background. 
“Hey, Siri,” he bellowed, “how much longer before we reach our destination?”
The music stopped, and a soothing female voice rose from his phone, “You will reach your destination in approximately forty-five minutes but watch for delays. There is a chance of severe weather.”
He huffed. “Yeah, I kind of figured that out already.” 
The music began again. Reaching into the console between the seats, he pulled out a cranberry and pomegranate granola bar. Lifting the bar to the hand grasping the wheel, he attempted to open the package while keeping a straight course on the darkened highway. Finally, he succeeded in ripping the darn thing, and then he took a hardy bite. What I wouldn’t give for a hot meal.
The rain eventually abated, and the shadowy trees and leaves flashed by his windows waving in the breeze as if beckoning him to follow. It had been a long while since he’d passed another vehicle. No one else had the nerve to pit themselves against Mother Nature.
The heavy beat of a favorite song had him nodding his head in rhythm as he glanced at the dash; the time read 9:13 PM. He lifted his gaze back to the road. A flash of billowing fabric and a pale face fell into the path of his headlights. Cursing, he pulled on the wheel and slammed on his brakes. The pickup slid, losing traction on the wet road as the world spun, and then as his truck dropped off the edge of the highway, the momentum tipping it. The drop had his stomach feeling like it rose to his throat. Then the truck tumbled over and over as glass shattered and metal screeched. A deafening crunch and his seat belt kicked him in the gut as a quick flicker of pain slashed his forehead and then disappeared. Finally, he found himself upside down in an eerie silence, save for whoop, whoop, whoop spinning of a wheel at his right. 
“God,” he murmured as he released the clasp on his seat belt and spilled from the cab onto the mossy ground. Broken glass bit into his fingers as he pushed himself up and staggered to his feet. He sucked in a breath when he saw his mangled truck bent around a tree at the edge of a precipice. He let out a string of curses. Looking up he could see the path his vehicle had taken off the road and down a twenty-foot embankment. He knew he should be glad he hadn’t gone over the cliff, but he was furious about his situation.
Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his cell. Spider-webbed cracks covered the darkened screen. A string of curses spilled from his mouth when he pushed the button to start his phone. Of course, nothing happened. Anger billowed up as he pulled back his arm and then hurled the device; the silhouette streaked darkly across the night sky, disappearing somewhere down below. 
Minutes later, Michael climbed out onto the dark road; a mist of rain dampened his skin and added to his misery. Looking around, he didn’t see any sign of the idiot woman who made him crash. If she knew what was good for her, she’d be long gone from there. If he saw her again, he just might have to punch her in the throat. 
The glow of lights rising from the tops of the trees at the end of the road beckoned him forward. As he took a step toward it, the light turned to darkness as if someone laid a heavy blanket over the city, stifling it. “Looks like the power went out,” he frowned.
Turning around, he spied a weathered sign that read Haven Hotel through an opening in the trees. As he approached, he could see a paved road. “Finally, some good luck.”
As he walked up the drive through the thick forest, a majestic structure came into view, rising above him, peering at him. It looked to be three stories tall, with a wide porch that clung to the front and sides of the building, echoed with balconies above on each of the other floors. He couldn’t help being surprised that such a grand hotel was out here so isolated from civilization. 
A breeze sliced through his clothing, and he shuddered. His leather boots knocked against the steps, the wood creaking under his weight as he climbed up to the veranda. 
“You sure you want to go in there?” A gravelly voice emerged from the darkness accompanied by a leathery face and blue eyes that sparkled. The man’s cane thumped against the porch as he shuffled toward him.
“I need to call for a tow truck,” Michael said.
“You were in an accident, were you?”
“Yeah.” Michael’s brows pressed together. “How did you–?”
“Lots of people have accidents ‘round here. They always end up at the hotel.”
“O–kay.” Michael reached for the door.
“You really shouldn’t go in there.”
Michael scowled and said, “Mind your own business, old man.”  
Shoving the door open, he stepped into a candlelit lobby. The light cast a warm glow over the mahogany counters of the check-in desk and burgundy carpets with gold scrolling patterns. The deep scent of cigars and musk greeted him as he stepped to the counter. A man with salt and pepper hair slicked back and swept to the side smiled, flashing white teeth. “Welcome to Haven Hotel. My name is Walter.” He opened an old book with yellowed pages. Names and numbers were printed neatly in rows.
Michael shook his head. “I’m not checking in. I just need to call for a tow.”
“I’m sorry, sir, but the phone lines are down.” He glanced over at a candelabra and said, “And the power is out as well.”
Michael frowned. “Do you have a cell I could borrow?”
The man shook his head. “There’s no signal.”
Michael cursed under his breath. “How much longer before the phones are up again?”
“I’m not sure. But we’re pretty remote out here. I doubt it will be restored tonight. If you’d like to check in, we have warm beds and hot food.”
Michael looked around. “I wasn’t planning on staying, but some hot food would be amazing.” Laughter bubbled from the other side of the lobby. A beautiful woman with cropped hair styled in waves that curled around her ears stood in the doorway. This woman looked like an angel… but the way she now sauntered into the room had him thinking if she were an angel, she’d be a fallen one. 
“Hello, Walter.” She smiled first at the clerk, and then her smile widened when she turned and looked at him. Maybe one night in this old hotel wouldn’t set him back too far. After all, he didn’t need to be in Los Angeles until Monday. 
“Who are you?” she asked, looking him up and down and licking her lips. 
He cleared his throat. “The name’s Michael. Michael Roth.”
“He’s not checking in,” Walter said, amusement coloring his words.
“Actually,” Michael said, “I was thinking it might be nice to stop and take a rest for one night.”
“Excellent,” Walter responded.
The woman stepped up to his side and said, “After staying one night, you just might find yourself unable to leave.” 
He grinned. “I'll take my chances.” Michael wrote his name in the book and tried to give Walter his credit card. 
Walter shrugged and said, “The system’s down. You can pay when you check out.” He gave Michael a key—an old-fashioned metal one with a room number etched on it. He slipped it into his pocket.
Michael raised a brow as the woman hooked her arm in his and said, “The name’s Avira, and I’d love to accompany you to dinner.”
“Sure thing, beautiful,” he said.
“Ah,” she smirked, “you’re such a charmer.”
He followed her lead, and they made their way to a restaurant. It was a quaint, yet classy place with small round tables covered in dark fleur-de-lis tablecloths with white lily centerpieces. Candlelight cast phantom shadows that flickered and danced across all the exposed surfaces in the room.
A group of men of various shapes, sizes, and nationalities stood at her approach and then moved to intercept them. Michael’s hackles rose.
A young man in a Hawaiian shirt and long, wind-swept hair put his hand on Avira’s arm. “You said you’d sit with me.” 
“No, she said she’d sit with me,” said another man with a sharp suit and black, cropped hair.
“Now boys,” she said, shaking off the other man’s arm. “Michael is new here. I’m sitting with him tonight.” She looked over at Michael and must have seen him scowling. “Don’t mind them. We’re just friends. We’ve known each other for ages.”
Michael raised a brow. “Are you all traveling together.”
Avira chuckled. “No, silly.” She pulled him to the nearest table and the others took their seats nearby, their eyes never leaving her. 
“But–” he said.
“You ask too many questions.”
He pulled a chair out for her to sit. When he sat in an adjacent chair, he paused a moment to study her features. Her skin was flawless and her lips blood-red; sweeping lashes framed sparkling eyes with irises so dark he couldn’t distinguish them from her pupils. Her body was lush, with gentle curves that begged to be touched.
A tall waiter who looked in desperate need of a protein shake approached. His watery eyes looked at them with disinterest. “What would you like this evening?”
Wasn’t the idiot getting ahead of himself? He hadn’t even given them any menus.
Undaunted, Avira said, “How about a steak, Porterhouse, rare. With a baked potato and steamed broccoli.”
He looked over at Michael and the shadows deepened under his eyes. “And you?”
“Oh, um… I’ll take the same. And how about something to drink?” He eyed Avira.
“Champagne would be perfect,” Avira said and incredibly, the man grew even paler as he nodded, but he didn't say a word before he hobbled off.
“So, tell me about yourself,” Michael said.
Avira smirked. “Not much to tell.”
“Where are you traveling to?” he asked.
“Who says I’m traveling?” she said.
“Do you work here?” Before she could answer he shook his head and said, “No.” Leaning back, he looked her up and down as he cocked his head. “Not with that tailored dress and rock on your finger. That’s no costume jewelry.”
“You have an eye for style.” She raised a brow.
“I have an eye for money.”
“A man after my own heart.” She pulled out a long cigarette, pressed it between her lips, and mumbled, “Do you have a light?”
He fished out his lighter. “Aren’t you worried about smoking laws?”
She laughed, deep and sultry. “Not at all.”
He lit her cigarette; she took a drag and smiled contentedly as the smoke swirled around her head and dissipated.
“Where are you from?” he asked, tempted to get his own nicotine fix, but he didn’t want to get in trouble with the hotel.
“I was born and raised in Los Feliz, just outside of Hollywood.”
“You still live there?”
She chuckled. “No, but enough about me. I want to hear about you. Where are you from?”
The waiter reappeared, interrupting their conversation as he popped open the champagne and poured out the pink, bubbly liquid into glasses, each containing two cubes of ice. Michael took a sip and held back a grimace. This must have been a really bad year. The stuff had no flavor at all. 
Looking up, Avira smirked at him as she sipped her drink.
“So, where were we?” he asked.
“You were about to tell me where you're from.”
“Right. I’m from northern Virginia, not far from the capital.”
Her eyes lit up. “Are you a politician?”
“No, though I knew a fair number of them.” 
Walter returned with their food and placed it in front of them.
“Really?” She said grabbing her fork and knife and cutting into her steak. She took a large bite. “Mmm.”
He cut his own piece and chomped down. Coughing, he nearly spit it out. This thing had no flavor as well. It was like eating pressed sawdust. Looking up, he was taken aback when he realized the other men were not eating at all but their eyes were glued to Avira as she ate. 
He nibbled at his steak but couldn’t bring himself to eat much of it. Instead, he talked, talked about everything, but nothing important. Avira simply listened and smiled, moaning as she savored her steak. He found himself memorized, wishing he could enjoy his own meal as much as she was enjoying hers. He frowned when he realized he was acting just like her idiot fan club. 
When she finished eating, she said, “Would you like to dance?”
Dance? What did she think this was, some prom date? Remembering his own prom brought a smile to his face. It wasn’t the fancy clothes or awkward dancing that had him reminiscing, it was what came after.
“Sure,” he said, “I love to dance, though I’m not real good at it.” The waiter placed the bill in front of him. He smiled and took it, looking at what the meal would set him back. His eyes widened at what he read. The bill was fine, but it was what the stupid waiter wrote to him that got his temper riled.
“Don’t sleep with her. Bad things happen to men she takes to her room.”
Who did this idiot think he was? Michael would sleep with whomever he wanted. If that man thought to protect him from getting his heart broken, he was a terrible judge of character. Michael’s heart was incapable of breaking. 
“Is there something wrong?” Avira asked.
He pulled out his credit card and smiled at her. Crumpling the note, he dropped it on the table. “Nah. Nothing’s wrong.”
“Oh, good.”
Minutes later, she was leading him out into the courtyard. Soft music was playing, a kind of old-fashioned tune. Other couples were dancing, rubbing, and gyrating against each other, much more sensual than his prom experience. He didn’t know dancing could be like this.
Avira took his hand and put her other hand on his shoulder. He placed his arm around her waist and pulled her in close. They swayed to the music, their shoes shuffling against the wet, stone floor, and their bodies moved as one. The sweet smell of lingering rain and floral perfume with just a hint of perspiration floated around them. He cast a curious glance at the other dancers. Several were full-on making out on the dance floor. He would have told them to get a room, but they probably already had one. This was a hotel, after all.
Turning his attention back to Avira, his movement became more rhythmic.
She laughed warmly. “I like how you feel.”
He looked her in the eyes and raised a brow. “You haven’t felt anything yet.”
“You really are a charmer.” She laughed.
Michael stiffened for a moment when her eyes flashed red. Before he could be sure of what he saw, they were back to normal. He blinked and looked around. Maybe there was a red light reflected in her eyes. But as he inspected the atrium closer, all he could see was candlelight. Unease settled in his bones as moisture trickled down his back. Errant thoughts threatened to intrude, thoughts about the last woman he’d been with, when he’d been a bit too drunk, and she’d pushed him–
No. It’s best if he forgot that ever happened. No one could ever know. No one would ever know. “It’s a bit humid, isn’t it?” 
Avira cracked a smile. “There’s nothing wrong with good, healthy sweat, with the right kind of pleasurable activity, wouldn’t you say.” She winked at him. 
“Oh, yeah,” he said, fully back in the present. 
“Listen, I know you’ve already checked in,” she said, “but how would you like to stay with me tonight?”
He smiled and blew out his breath. “I thought you’d never ask.” The image of the waiter’s note flashed across his mind, and he forced it back. If there was anything that could help him forget his troubles, it would be a romp with this beautiful creature.
“Avira,” a deep voice called from across the yard.
Michael looked up to see Walter beckoning her. “We have someone who needs your undivided attention.” He stepped further into the room, pulling the waiter behind him. The waiter’s gaunt face was ghost white, and he was shaking his head.
“Not again,” Avira said under her breath, the acrid tone of her voice surprised him. She looked back at Michael. “I’m sorry. I’m going to have to give you a rain check.”
What the—?
She pulled away from him and walked toward the trembling employee. Just before she reached the man, she turned back to Michael. “Don’t you try to check out. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She pressed her lips into a pucker and blew him a kiss. 
Man, she was beautiful.
Avira led the way as Walter dragged the waiter behind him; the man pulled and fought to escape his grip. What kind of place was this? Walter could get charged with a crime for manhandling a man like that. Looking around, he was surprised that no one paid attention at all to what was happening. It was like they were caught in their own little world. 
Curiosity piqued, he waited a moment before he silently followed, keeping to the shadows and listening as the waiter’s pleading voice guided him. 
“No, no, please. I’ll never do it again. I promise.” 
“We warned you, Danny,” Walter said. “You knew what would happen to you if you stepped out of line again.”
They exited into a hallway and dragged him down the corridor, down a flight of stone steps, and through another hallway leading to a door at the end.
“No!” Danny wailed, “Please, just let me go.” His cries faded as they shut the door. 
Michael silently followed them and ducked into an alcove nearby, straining his ears to hear what was happening. Danny continued to beg, his voice growing louder and then he screamed, wailing as if they were tearing him apart, one limb at a time. When the shrieking stopped, Michael moved quickly, but quietly. He didn’t want to be caught eavesdropping on a murder. Oh, man, was that what he’d heard?
He rushed up two flights of stairs to his own room on the second floor. Closing the door behind him, he considered calling the police but dismissed the idea immediately. Why should he care? Who was Danny to him anyway? No one. Besides, the phone lines were down. 
Anyway, Michael had to be wrong. He was blowing the thing completely out of proportion. The waiter, Danny, was obviously a nut case. Walter probably saw Danny’s note and was taking him down to his office to chew him out and the guy overreacted. 
Michael laughed at himself. He was overreacting too. It was Avira’s fault. She’d gotten him all hot for her and then brushed him off. She promised him a rain check. Tomorrow she would make good on her promise; there was no going back on that one. And if she thought she could change her mind, he would just show her what she was missing. He would make her beg for him.
The morning came and the phones and power lines were still down. Michael showered and went down for breakfast. Avira was nowhere to be seen. He cursed, if she’d checked out, he’d be furious. Michael’s eyes widened when the waiter stumbled into the restaurant. The man was alive. Michael shook his head at his wayward imagination. There was no crime, no murder. Though… the waiter did look gaunter than he had yesterday. In fact, he looked downright sickly, a veritable walking skeleton. 
He stepped up to Michael’s table but avoided making eye contact. “What’ll you have?” His voice was breathy, like the whispered words of a ghost.
“I’ll take a coffee, black; two eggs over easy, bacon, and toast.”
Danny nodded and staggered away.
Minutes later, Michael lifted his coffee to his lips and grimaced. No taste again and not even a hint of an aroma. When the food came, it was the same. Feeling a bit weak from not eating a hearty meal the night before, he choked it down anyway.
Pushing away from the table, he sought out Walter. The man was standing at the front desk, wearing the same clothes he had the day before. Of course, he’s wearing the same uniform, what did I expect, blue jeans and a T-shirt? Still, Michael had the strange sense that Walter looked exactly the same as he had last night. Every hair lay how he remembered it, and his eyes held no lingering signs of sleep despite the early hour. How many hours a day did this guy work? He worked a night shift last night, and here he was again this morning. 
“Hello, Mr. Roth. Will you be checking out this morning?”
“No, no yet. Have you seen Avira?”
“Oh, she wouldn’t be up yet.”
“Do you know if she’s going to be checking out?”
“Avira never checks out.”
“What? Does she live here?”
“Yes, she’s the only one.”
“The only one?”
“That lives here.”
“Does she own this hotel?”
“In a way,” Walter said.
Michael huffed. That wasn’t evasive at all. However, it did explain why she was involved in the business with the waiter. “What time do you think she’ll be up?”
“She didn’t eat much last night, so I suppose it won’t be too long, probably sometime around ten.”
Didn’t eat much? What was he talking about? Michael had watched her eat a meal large enough to satisfy a grown man. “Well, can you ring me when she comes down here?”
“Absolutely, Mr. Roth. In fact, she said she was looking to spend some time with you.”
“She said that?”
“Yes, she did. She said she was practically salivating over it.”
Michael was both disturbed that she’d shared something like that with an old man and thrilled at the prospect of what those words meant. “Okay, well, I’ll be in my room.”
Returning to his room, he snatched up the stationery and began jotting down notes. He would start his new job on Monday, so there were some things he would need to prepare. When he’d written down his game plan, he thought of another thing he would need to do. He had to have every detail accounted for. Nothing must be found amiss.
A knock at the door made his heart jump. 
“Mr. Roth?” an unfamiliar voice said. 
Michael suppressed a smile when he opened the door to a young man holding a candle and wearing a bellboy’s uniform. 
“Walter wanted me to tell you Avira is asking for you.” 
“It’s about time.”
“I can take you directly to her room,” the man said.
“Her room?” A smile spread across Michael’s face. He’d thought he’d need to strike up another conversation with her, try to be witty, and other such bull. This was better than he’d expected.
“Yes,” the bellhop said. “And she doesn't see just anyone in her room. You must be something special.”
Michael shrugged, but inside he was fist-pumping.
He followed the kid through the hall and down the stairs. Michael was surprised they were headed down. He’d thought Avira was rich and classy. The best floors are on the upper levels, so why were they headed downstairs? When they continued on to the basement level, unease settled in his stomach. The memories of Danny’s screams invaded his thoughts. Surely…
No, he berated himself. That was just a stupid employee getting his balls handed to him. They turned a corner and his unease lifted. This was not the same hallway he’d followed them through last night.
Soon, they stopped in front of a heavy oak door with the number 13 etched in gold. If he were superstitious, he might be worried, but he wasn’t an idiot. The bellboy knocked at the door. Avira’s voice said, “Send him in.” The kid turned the nob and warm light spilled into the hallway as he pushed open the door. 
Michael stepped inside, his eyes moving first to the fire burning in a cobblestone fireplace and then his eyes drank in the sight of the beautiful woman dressed in a crimson gown that hugged every curve. He smiled and the door shut firmly behind him.
“Like what you see?” Avira said, drawing his attention to her face. Her eyes sparkled with amusement.
“Oh yeah.”
“Before we begin.” She sauntered over to a chaise lounge, draped her body across the cushions, and fingered the thin strap of her gown. He’d never seen a woman look more seductive. “I have a question to ask you.”
He moved forward, tracing his fingers over the ebony surface of a half-moon table near the entrance of her room keeping his eyes on her. “Really, and what would that be?” He hoped she’d get her questions out of the way quickly so they could get down to business. When his fingers touched something cool, he looked down to see the glimmering steel of a letter opener.
“What was her name?” she asked.
His eyes shot to Avira, his brows pressed together; his heart thumped against his ribs. “Who?” His tone wavered.
She raised a brow. “I can smell her blood.”
“What are you… talking about?”
“Don’t play dumb. The scent is fresh; you know exactly who I mean.”
He could barely hear her over the throbbing pulse in his ears. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” His voice rose with his anger. “You think you can pin something on me?”
She stood slowly and strolled toward him. He refused to back away. He’d die before he’d let any woman make him act like a coward.
“What... Is... Her… Name?” she said, taking a step with each enunciated word. Her eyes narrowed, shadowed by the flickering darkness of the room, but once again Michael could swear there was a gleam of red in her pupils. 
Adrenaline flooded his veins. He’d experienced an adrenaline rush like this before; the added strength would aid him in this fight because that was what this was, a fight or flight situation, and Michael had never run from anything in his life–least of all a woman. 
Decision made; he had nothing to lose by telling her the truth. “Her name was Monica, and she was nothing but a waste of space.”
“Hmm. Monica.” 
Michael expected her to say something else, but when she didn’t, he added “And you’re just as stupid as she–”
“There was another.”
His anger flared at the interruption but quenched as he realized the weight of what she’d said. She may have been tipped off about Monica, but the other… “How do you know about her?”
“Fainter,” she said ignoring his question, “this one happened years ago. You would have been… not much more than a child. A teenager, sixteen, seventeen maybe.” She wagged her finger at him and clicked her tongue. “Who was she?”
He shook his head in denial. She couldn’t know. 
Her eyes flared red as they flew open wide, her face contorting in rage when she snarled, “Tell me!” 
She no longer looked beautiful, no longer even looked human. She looked like a creature that only existed in nightmares. He stumbled away from her and blurted, “Amanda.”
She continued to stalk forward–she the predator and he the prey. No, no. This is not how it’s supposed to go down!
“But that… that was an accident,” he said. “I didn’t mean to hurt her.”
“Liar,” she growled.
“She just… she… made me think she wanted me.”
“She spurned you, and so you killed her?”
He could feel power emanating from her, wrath licking over his skin, crimson eyes boring into his soul, searching out his secrets. His head bobbed as tears blurred his vision. 
“Monica too?” 
He knew it was pointless to lie, and so he said, “Yes.” 
Avira leaned in and took a deep breath. Michael shrieked at the sudden agony he felt as she sucked away his essence, tearing apart his soul. When she stopped inhaling, his knees went weak with relief, and he fell back hitting the table near the door. “Please,” he sobbed, “please stop. Don’t kill me.” He gasped, taking in deep breaths, but the ache left by her attack was bone-deep. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”
“Did you listen to their pleas for mercy? The women you murdered?”
“I’m sorry!”
“You would do it again,” she said. “Don’t lie. You even decided to kill me, just a moment ago.” 
He leaned away from her, and his palm felt cool steel. The letter opener! Turning around, he grabbed it and then pivoted, thrusting the blade deep into Avira’s heart. 
“Yeah,” he huffed, his hand twisting the blade, pushing it in deeper as a smile crept across his face. “You're right. And now… I just did.” He stood, triumphant, knowing his aim had been perfect, the blade pierced deep into her heart.
He expected her to stumble back, expected a look of pain or surprise before she collapsed lifeless to the ground. What he didn’t expect was her smile. His own faded as he let go of the letter opener and backed away. She glanced down, her eyes filled with amusement as she fingered the protruding handle with long, red-tipped fingernails. Grasping the hilt, she pulled the blade from her chest and let it fall to the floor. “Are you quite finished? Because I’m famished.”
His eyes widened in horror, and then he spun away from her, flung open the door, and raced into the hallway. Taking the steps two at a time, he didn’t slow a bit when he got to the lobby.
“Are you checking out, Mr. Roth?” Walter’s voice brushed against his heels as he ran out the door. The sun blinded him, and Michael spilled down the stairs, landing hard on the walkway. Scrambling to his feet, he raced toward the road and nearly cried with relief when he saw the lights of emergency vehicles—police, ambulance, even a fire truck. 
“Help! She’s trying to kill me,” he shouted. He skidded to a stop before he reached a nearby officer. “You have to help me.” 
The officer ignored him, as he turned to a woman nearby. “Do we know who he is?” Behind her a paramedic was pushing a gurney with a body bag, obviously containing the remains of some unlucky person. 
“The license reads Michael Roth, but we won’t know for sure until we can positively identify the body.”
Michael gaped at the woman as his legs wobbled beneath him. 
“How long do you think he’s been dead?” the officer asked.
“I’d say he died sometime last night. It was quick, pretty close to instantaneous.”
Their voices faded as Michael slowly absorbed the horror. He’d died. Last night, the accident, it had killed him.
“Sorry you had to find out like this.” A raspy voice had Michael turning to his left. It was the old man from the porch. “I’m even sorrier you went into the hotel.” The man shook his head and turned away. “They never listen.” His figure faded in a cloud of haze. As he disappeared someone else appeared beyond him, in the direction of the hotel. Avira stalked toward him.
Michael turned to run, but before he could take a step, he was face to face with her. 
“There’s no escape,” she said, sneering. “Once you check in, you can’t leave. I did warn you; you know.”
He turned to run, and again there she was blocking his path. 
“Come on,” she said, her lips turned up in a pout, “I just want a kiss.”
Avira’s hands snaked around Michael’s neck, and he was helpless to pull away from her iron grip. Opening her mouth, she covered his as he screamed, the pain so acute he couldn’t think, he couldn’t reason, he couldn’t do anything but continue to shriek as she sucked in every piece, every shred of his soul. 
He could feel it all, his spirit being sliced into ribbons, each ribbon being sucked away, one by one, layer by layer, memory upon memory, experience upon experience…
All devoured.
                                                                                   <o<o<o-o>o>o>
Avira drank deeply, absorbing all thirty-two years of Michael’s lifeforce in minutes. His pain, his memories, his thoughts, every depraved piece of him passed over her tongue, sweeter than honey. When she’d finished feasting, Michael was gone, not a particle left of him to haunt the darkest corner of the world. With his victims avenged, she smiled, her hunger satisfied.
“Mmm,” Avira said, rubbing her stomach. “The more wicked they are, the better they taste.” Turning back toward the hotel, she stretched out her arms, yawned loudly, and then strolled down the path and disappeared behind the trees.