The chill settled into the room like frost forming on the window panes - even though I had wrapped up in a heavy sweater due to the cold that was slowly crawling in off the oceanside in my new home town.
The man who sat before me fiddled with the pages of paper I had brought in, grey eyes scanning the pages as they sparked with interest.
"When my wife told me about you, I wasn't sure what to expect," he turned his attention back to me, a smile slowly spreading across his features, "but I can clearly see why she is invested in my company publishing your works. This seems quite promising."
"Thank you, Mr. Cesari," I responded.
"And you have graduated from university in Liverpool as well, I see," the man continued, "but, not interested in office work?"
"That's why I write," I answered honestly, "Some stories just need to be told, as a way to learn from the past or to escape the present - or maybe even learn about what could happen in the future."
"Well, you certainly show a lot of interest in what you write about," Mr. Cesari chuckled, closing the folder, "I'll take it up with my publishers and see what we can do. However, I'm curious, is this story based on real events?"
"Some were real."
"The talking ghosts weren't real, but the deaths are, I take it?"
I bit my lip before nodding, "Yes sir."
"Alright then," he stood from behind his desk, holding out his hand, "I'll get in touch with my workers and we'll see where this road takes us."
"I appreciate everything you've done for me, Mr. Cesari," I took his hand giving it a solid shake, "I do hope that the others are as impressed as you are."
The chuckle the publisher gave out stabbed at my heart - it reminded me too much of Harvey, "Don't you worry about a thing now, Miss Martin. I can't see them saying 'no,' and even if they did, I'll publish the book myself - and not just as a thanks for what you've done to help my wife. I'll be forever in your debt for that."
"I just did as any sensible person would've done, Mr. Cesari," I answered honestly.
"Perhaps, but there seems to be a shortage of those kinds of people these days. It does make me wonder though - what kind of person would treat another individual with such kindness before turning around and attacking them? What kind of person does that?"
'Oh, wouldn't we know the answer to that?' my mind replied.
***
The doors to the hotel opened automatically, allowing me entry as two more people left.
"Miss Martin!" the receptionist smiled as I entered, the young woman smiling brightly like the sun outside, "Welcome back!"
"Thank you, Mabel," I smiled, setting my plastic bag of take out on the counter, "James still here?"
"He is," Mabel indicated toward one of two lifts, "He needed to leave a bit early, the rest of us got it under control for the remainder of the day."
I nodded, picking up my bags and heading over to the lift and preparing for the climb up to the top floor.
Two years ago, James decided that he wanted to leave Sea View and start fresh - I couldn't agree more. The old Sea View Hotel had far too much baggage for either of us to try and rebuild it - nevermind the truth of matter that the locals still believed the place to be haunted.
It just so happened, quite coincidentally, that the same night I had my final battle with Hugo Punch was also the same night that the old hotel caught fire again. This time, however, was much worse - the fire had started somewhere deep underground, no doubt from the room Harvey's possessed item was in, and had slowly spread from there all the way up to the third floor. James and I watched from the sidelines as the once beautifully dark building burnt to the ground - the fire out of control beyond what could be salvageable.
The fire crew and the police - specifically Inspector David Morris and Inspector Allen Booker - had apologized profoundly about the extent of the damage. James and I were happy that no one else had been in there - well, except for Hugo Hall's body that is.
After that, I moved with James back down to Liverpool to finish up my degree.
With the money from the fire, James purchased a new hotel - this one more in the city limits. Together, we rebuilt the building and gave it our own flair, adding bits and pieces that had once been in the previous Sea View Hotel.
In the main lobby was an old photograph of the Sea View Hotel as well as the story about how a fire burnt the old place down. We also added little wooden carved ships, fish, and other sea inspired pieces of art - making our new guests feel they were on the seaside rather than in the city. Heavy wooden chairs and coffee tables lined the lounge as well as certain sections of the three upper floors where there were plenty of rooms for guests - enough for a hundred plus.
The fourth floor, however, was James' space - and mine as well.
Like the other floors, the walls were painted a pale blue with dark wood flooring - easy to clean instead of carpeting. Paintings of seashores and boats lined the walls, an occasional long rope fishing net or life preserver hung on spare spaces. But, this floor was ours completely. Several rooms were used for storage and there were at least two spare rooms available for my family when they came to see us, but mostly it was where James and I could recoup and talk about the past.
There were no mirrors in our upstairs bedroom - James and I were far too afraid of what may happen should we look into the reflective glass. I knew James was afraid of seeing Hugo staring back at him - hearing his voice begin to speak before falling into those old habits again.
But, we both had talked to Father Christy - an old friend of the family who knew a retired priest that had once been an Exorcist - and he explained that whatever had possessed James, it was gone completely. The spirits of the past - the ones harmed by Hugo Hall when his own demon was in control - had taken Hugo Punch's spirit with them, severing the connection between mortal and immortal. I couldn't blame James for his insecurities about what he thought though. It was an emotional scar that would never be healed - even by time.
As for me, I still had night terrors of being chased by Hugo Punch through the long mirrored corridors - often becoming ensnared by tentacles or claws. I couldn't look in a mirror because I would always see that horrifying grinning face staring back at me - the face of the Asmodai demon.
The good father, however, did tell us that we were lucky to have each other. What we went through together - and having survived it - made our bond stronger than most couples. I would help James when his fear became too much, holding onto him and telling him all the good time we had, even now. In return, he would wake me up from the night terrors and hold me in his chest - often hushing me and telling me one of many jokes that I had heard before but never ceased to make me laugh or smile.
It was also because of that reason the subject of marriage was brought up - though James and I both declined the offer. We both believed we were too broken to have a sustainable relationship - but living as a couple was another story. I always went to sleep in a spare room when James asked for time by himself - I had to give him that grace to be able to function on his own eventually - and it never ceased to amaze me how I would wake back up in our room with James' arms wrapped tightly around me.
As for the subject of kids... it was far too risky right now. And even if we wanted to, James felt he was too old to be able to be there for most of the child's life. We did have my sister's little one on the way, anyway. It was best that we'd be an aunt and an uncle.
Reaching the top level, I stepped off the lift and headed down toward our room. I could hear the music from an old record player rolling through some old classics from outside the door.
James was sitting at his desk, glasses on the tip of his nose as he scribbled notes down when I entered.
"Working on your next act?" I asked, setting my purse on the bed and placing the take out on the dresser.
"Not likely," the proprietor scuffed, "Just writing up my will - in case things go sour."
I shrugged, "I can understand that, but please don't try and take your life right now. I know that it hurts with everything that happened, but Dr. Mandez said you're doing so much better now."
Dr. Edwardo Mandez was the psychiatrist we went to see together about once a month. Father Christy had recommended him for us to see - based on our experiences. He, like Father Christy, knew the psychological effects that demons had on their victims - and he was mostly concerned about James, especially since he had had one in his body since birth. I was right in my assumption that Jimmy had started to suffer from depression and anxiety - but he had also started to suffer from post traumatic stress as well. Dr. Mandez prescribed two types of medicine to James, another one for me to help with my PST as well. We both took our medications at the same time - making sure that each other had swallowed it and having a piece of desert as some sort of treat to double make sure it went down.
James stood from his desk, coming over and wrapping his arms around me, "I don't intend to, Kylie. I just want to be sure that if something does happen, I want to make sure you have security when I'm gone."
I turned around and cupped his wrinkled face in my hands.
His skin was still pale, though the laugh lines were more prominent now. James' wild curled hair had actually started to turn white in some spots, the salt and pepper color indicating his age more now than it did two years prior. He still wore the same dress shirt, black dress pants, black dress shoes - opting his normal performer's vest for a sweater vest. He was almost always cold now, even in the heat of summer...
I snickered, "Just stay with me for as long as you can. Give me all those good memories together - something I can look back on when you're gone and I'm old and worn."
"I intend to," James' dark eyes twinkled with mischief, "Do me a favor?"
I raised one eyebrow as he made his request, tapping a finger against his lips, "Give me a kiss, Kylie?"
I smiled, "Of course, Jimmy," and reached up and pressed my lips against his.