The Death Thief

Guest Services

"Okay," I mumbled, "I'll try...somehow..." I glanced down at my shirt which was once a pale blue. A strip of fabric about the size of a dollar bill was now missing and nearly half of what remained of my shirt was painted a deep vermilion. I couldn't see my calf from my seated position, but I imagined my jeans hadn't fared much better.

"Here we are."

We had stopped in front of a three-story, boxy brick building with wrought iron Juliet balconies on all of its tall, skinny windows. Kyra swung out of her seat, slamming the door behind her as she made her way towards the elegant entrance to the hotel. After a moment of fussing with my belt, I stumbled out and followed after her with a tired limp. Once inside we found a large lobby with two crackling fireplaces on either end, a cozy seating section with wingback chairs, and a very pale man looking quite short compared to the erupting volcano that was Calista.

"It's my room!"

"It's a room that currently has your belongings in it," said the ghastly white man. "Well, had your things in it, I believe Jerome should have almost everything out of it by now."

"You wouldn't dare throw my things out!" She stomped her heeled foot against the finely polished wood floor. The pale man cringed at the sound, his head craning to see if she left a mark.

"Of course I wouldn't throw anything out," he said with a sigh, a frail hand combing through his white, wispy hair. "But I will ask Raid to send someone over to grab your things. You must understand that your room belongs to a new Body now."

"This is a disgrace! My contract isn't up yet, it's my room!" Her hands tensed and her arms pumped with the ferocity of her voice. She reached up as if she'd pull at her hair and dig her nails straight into her skull in order to yank the frustration from her brain, but she stopped short. Her long black hair was swept to the side and drawn together in a loose braid, which she gave a gentle pet as a subtle pout threatened to break the hold she had on her tears.

"Found your doctor," said Kyra, who had been scanning the lobby while everyone else in the room was captivated by Calista. "Stay here, none of the guests are thankfully vampires, but your blood may still trigger some of them. It's best you keep your distance."

I nodded and watched her head over to the seating area while I tried my best to stay standing by the double door entryway. A bench sat not far from where I stood, but I didn't see a speck of dust on the furniture, a single stain on the floor, or a shadow of a crack in the paint. I worried what might happen if my blood tainted the immaculate space.

"Sheriff Torquata, you're here," said Calista with a victorious smile that could not hide the fear in her dark eyes. "Please tell Mr. Spencer that I did not get to choose this transformation, so it does not..."

"Hold on," said Kyra with a cold bluntness and a raised finger to halt Calista's progress. "You, Dr. Fair," she said, pointing to a young man relaxing in one of the antique wingbacks, "get your kit. That one needs some attention." She then directed him to me and I saw him in full.

Most in the sitting area wore vacant or bemused gazes, watching on the progress with mild entertainment twisting their lips into patronizing smirks. They all wore clothes typical of either a professional on a business trip or a tourist on holiday, but something felt off. Whether it was the pallor of their skin, the glint in their eye, or the sharpness of their nails. Something about the guests in the sitting area gave me a cold shiver that ran up my back.

Not Dr. Fair, though.

When he stood up, I felt familiarity in his bright blue eyes. He wore a basic cotton tee that hugged a muscular frame. The stubble that darkened his chin looked a shade redder than his hazel hair, which he wore trimmed short along the sides but with a healthy mane on top. His round cheekbones softened his face and complimented his pouty lips.

"Right away, ma'am." He gave Kyra a nod and then headed off in a light sprint towards a hallway behind the great wooden welcoming desk.

"Now Calista..."

"Tell him it was against my will, tell him..."

"Calista, your contract ended when you died," said Kyra, with a firm yet monotone voice. "You had no will at that point so there is no 'against your will' about it. If you dislike your current situation, you know that euthanasia is not frowned upon in our society."

"I-I wouldn't commit suicide!"

"Then, come with me to Raid's," said Kyra, pulling out her keys and heading back towards the door without even waiting for Calista to respond. "He can send someone over to gather your things. Bungee would probably be willing to get a few dollars thrown his way to pay for your scalp renewal."

Calista reached up to pet her braid, but didn't move. Instead, she watched Kyra make her way across the lobby and that's when she locked eyes with me.

"You!" she hissed, taking one menacing step forward. "You did this to me! And now you're taking my room!"

"What?" I asked, the word more a terrified squeak than a distinct vocalization. "Why do you think that?"

"Because who else could have done it? Who else was there?" She stabbed at the air with her finger as she marched towards me. "Sure, Bungee was there, but he doesn't have it in him, but you must have done it! Because...because..." She stopped a few feet from me and her hold over her pain finally gave out. After a few sobs, her back hunched and her fears dribbled over her trembling lips. "Because if it wasn't you and it wasn't Bungee, then who killed me? I was healthy. I was ready. I was going to be a vampire."

"Maybe somebody who didn't want you to be a vampire." I muttered the answer, not certain she actually wanted one, but once I let my suspicions out into the aether, Calista turned to me with renewed eyes.

"What? What do you mean?" she asked, her voice low and serious.

I wasn't sure if it was the best time to air the Antonov family's dirty laundry with so many increasingly interested guests around, but Dr. Fair never gave me a chance to figure it out. He ran up to us with a medical bag in hand.

"Ready, Ms...?"

"Cross," stated Kyra, who stepped over to Calista and put a hand on her shoulder, nudging her towards the door. "Delilah Cross. Goes by Del."

"That's just what people call me," I mumbled.

"She's suffered bites from the half-breeds and was involved in a minor scuffle." I didn't think it was that minor. "Fix her up the best you can, let me know if you need more supplies, then get her set up in the recently vacated room."

That last statement provoked another sob from Calista, but she didn't resist as Kyra directed her out the door.

"Take her to the laundry room Gregory," said the hotel's proprietor. "You'll have a sink there and you'll be out of the way of the guests."

"Sure thing, Mr. Spencer," said Gregory Fair, turning to the pale man that had been contending with Calista earlier. Except he wasn't just pale. Now that he stood, or really floated, right in front of me, I saw the sickly pallor to his skin was more a trick of his transparency.

I'd met my first ghost.