Night Journey (6 page)

“Sounds good to me. Phoeb—whadda ya say we test out that big whirlpool tub?” Allen grabbed Phoebe and nuzzled her neck. She purred happily. The two lovebirds exited the elevator hand-in-hand.

“Alone at last.” Zan bent down and kissed Emma lightly on the lips. She raised up on her tiptoes to meet him. Even with heels he towered over her. The elevator door squeaked open and they headed down the hall. A sense of exhilaration filled her now that she was out of that awful basement. She couldn’t wait to get back to their room.

A light floral aroma pervaded the suite, welcoming them home. The mini-blinds remained still and she sensed they were now alone. Her earlier fright from their experience in the morgue had dissipated. She felt happy and contented and excited, all at the same time. Emma sat on the edge of the bed, kicked off her shoes, and dangled her legs. Zan followed her into the bedroom, pulling his tie loose as he walked. She stopped him before he could unbutton his shirt.

“Honey, I’m thirsty. Could you go downstairs and get us some ice and sodas please?”

“Oh, okay. Where’s the machine?”

“I think I saw it down on either the second or third floor. I’m not sure which. By the elevator.”

“Be back in a jiffy.”

When she was certain he was gone, Emma raced to her suitcase. She pulled out a Victoria’s Secret bag and emptied its contents on the bed. She was glad now she’d put it in her luggage at the last moment. She’d bought it to wear for their anniversary, but decided instead that tonight would be the perfect night. She quickly undressed, tossed her clothing on a chair, and put on the lingerie.

The red satin merry widow tucked her in and pushed her up in all the right places. A matching thong flattered and showcased her derriere. Black silk stockings caressed her legs as she pulled them in place and attached the garters. A pair of red stilettos completed the sexy effect. She felt excited, as if she was dressing for a very naughty costume party.

When she finished changing, she stood in front of the floor-length bathroom mirror, turning back and forth to assess her appearance. She bent over and tousled her shoulder-length hair to give it a poufy, sensuous look. She applied blood red lipstick, doused herself in perfume, and then scampered to the bed.
Allen was at the vending machine trying to feed a dollar bill into the slot when Zan approached with the ice bucket. He cursed when it spat the money back out. Zan laughed and reached for the bill. He turned George Washington’s picture in the proper direction, the dollar disappeared, and the buttons lit up.

“Thanks, Bro.” Allen grinned and pushed the button for Diet Coke. “Don’t think I’d have ever learned to tie my shoe laces if you hadn’t been around.”

“I’m glad I ran into you alone.”

Allen fed another dollar in, correctly this time. “What’s on your mind?”

“Please correct me if I’m wrong, but I thought I picked up on something when we were back at the elevator.”

“Oh, yeah? Like what?”

Zan hesitated. “Is Phoebe pregnant?”

Allen’s face lit up. “Yeah. Isn’t it great?”

“Yes it is, little brother. I’m astounded. Congratulations.” Zan smiled and patted him on the shoulder. “You never were one to waste time.”

“Well, you and Emma had better get busy too. Don’t tell anybody about us yet. Okay?” Allen glanced over his shoulder and stuffed the soda cans into the pockets of his jacket. “We just found out last week and we didn’t want to announce it until after the wedding.”

“I understand. Nobody’s gonna hear it from me.” Zan made his purchase and filled up the ice bucket. “Just make sure you show up at the chapel on time. We wouldn’t want the old hippie coming after you with a shotgun.”

Zan felt empty inside as he walked slowly back to the room. So he was going to be an uncle. He should have been elated, but he knew Emma would be crushed when she found out. Not that she would be unhappy for Allen and Phoebe, but the irony of the situation was incredible. He and Emma had been unsuccessful for the past few years to get pregnant and his brother had hit the jackpot without even trying. Just his luck. He put the key in the lock, opened the door, and went inside.

His mouth fell open when he saw Emma posing on the bed in what appeared to be her best imitation of a
Playboy
centerfold. His gloom vanished instantly. He dropped the ice bucket and a soda can went rolling across the floor, hissing and spewing. She looked like a goddess. He had never seen anything so beautiful in his life.

“What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?” She gazed at him through lowered lashes.

“God, Emma. I’ve never seen you so, so…” He bent to pick up the cans.

“Leave it.”

She sprang to her knees in the middle of the bed and leaned forward provocatively, revealing her cleavage. He couldn’t take his eyes off her, enthralled by the power of her sexuality. He’d never seen her more alluring. She had to know she was tantalizing.

“Come here. I want you. Right now.” Her voice was low and seductive. Her outstretched hands were an invitation to heaven.

She drew him to her like a magnet. A delightful, white-hot streak of wanting ran through him as he stumbled to the bed. He stood there and drank in her beauty. He was her slave, enchanted by this glorious role reversal. She’d rarely been the instigator in their lovemaking and it thrilled him beyond words.

Zan’s skin tingled where Emma touched him as she gently urged him to sit beside her on the bed. Her hands caressed his face, and she bent to give him soft little kisses on his forehead and cheeks and ears. He groaned and reached for her, but she caught his hand and shook her head, indicating she was in control. Okay, he would let her lead the dance.

Her slim fingers undid the buttons of his shirt. Languidly she caressed and kissed the dark curls on his chest little by little as the gap between cloth and skin widened until the shirt fell in a heap on the floor. With a gentle push to the bed she urged him to lie prone while she unzipped his trousers and then pulled them away and dropped them on the floor. His boxers went next.

She gently raked her fingernails upward from his knees to his hips, teasing him until he thought he would go mad with desire. “Oh God, Emma. I can’t stand much more of this.”

“Hush, I’m seducing you now,” she crooned.

He closed his eyes and let her have her way. She hovered and kissed him deeply, while her hands roamed his body. Her tongue seared a burning path along his neck and ears, sending shivers of desire throughout his body. He was on fire. He couldn’t take it anymore. He wrested control and she acquiesced, responding with more passion than either had dreamed possible. Primal instinct completed its circle. Man and woman. Flesh became as one. Ultimate joy realized.
The faint sound of creaking floorboards barely roused Emma from her deep slumber. Her mind still groggy from sleep, she reached across and patted the other side of the bed. Her fingers found her husband’s warm body lying beside her and she sighed with contentment. Her touch disturbed him slightly and he shifted from his back to his side, but did not awaken.

She heard the noise again and opened her eyes. She blinked and raised herself slightly. The clock on the bedside table told her it was after midnight. She peered around the darkened suite. A light from the hallway shone faintly under the door; the tiny red eye of the smoke detector blinked monotonously. An occasional lightning bolt flashed across the ridge of the mountain, momentarily illuminating the inky blackness.

The pleasant scent of flowers filled her nostrils. She relaxed against her pillow and breathed deeply. When she looked toward the window near the bathroom, she saw it. A blue, neon-like cloud floated in the corner. She watched in fascination as it hovered, moving very slowly toward her.

An impression of contentment worked its way through Emma’s thoughts. She wanted to keep watching the beautiful vision, but her eyelids felt so heavy, she had to struggle to keep from drifting back to sleep. She sighed serenely as the blue mist took on a hazy human form.

“Good night, Theodora,” Emma whispered, then fell into a peaceful sleep as the wrinkled hand lovingly pulled the blanket up around her shoulders.
Two-fifteen.

The red numbers on the digital clock seemed to waver as Emma blinked to focus her eyes in the darkness. A blustering wind wailed mournfully outside and rain pelted the windowpanes. She sat up in bed and scanned the dark and misty chamber. Instantly alert, her heart shifted gears. Something was in the room—something evil. She wrinkled her nose at the smell; the cloying odor of camphor and alcohol permeated the air.

She gasped when she saw the shadowy wraith hovering just inside the bathroom door. Intermittent flashes of lightning illuminated the sky like a strobe light and sifted through the shuttered window just enough to reveal the outline of the apparition. Emma clutched the blanket to her chin and stared, too horrified to move or speak. She felt icy cold, yet sweat beaded on her forehead. She turned toward Zan lying beside her. He snored peacefully, oblivious to the terror lurking so near.

Emma heard the creak of footsteps moving across the floor. Whoever—or whatever—was in the room passed from the bathroom and headed toward the door, leaving a bitter chill in its wake. She watched in horror at the murky ectoplasm’s metamorphosis. Even in the darkness Emma could make out the shadowy form of a woman wearing a mid-calf length dress and a handkerchief-shaped cap.

The rasp as the deadbolt disengaged and the groan of ancient hinges fractured the silence; the door began to open. Light flowed in from the hallway, casting uneven shadows on the parlor walls. The apparition became more distinct. Emma trembled at the intense hatred that emanated from the mad, cold stare of the spectral woman.

Emma summoned all her strength just to move her hand enough to touch her sleeping husband. The warmth of his skin reassured her and she shook him harder, but he didn’t wake up. She tried to call his name, but her vocal cords refused to respond. Terror gripped her heart like a vise and squeezed until she thought she might faint.

She closed her eyes and prayed to wake up from this hideous nightmare. It had to be a dream—a terrible, horrible hallucination. She opened her eyes and looked toward the door. The phantom was still there. It watched Emma for several more seconds, and then passed through the open door and into the hallway. The door hung halfway open as if to remind her she wasn’t imagining things.

An overpowering compulsion swept over her. She climbed out of bed, slipped a nightgown over her head and crept toward the door. The coldness of the doorknob surprised her. She glanced back toward the bed. The back of Zan’s head was all she could see with his body beneath the mound of covers. She pulled the door all the way open and stepped into the hallway.

The ghost was clearly visible now. Emma stared in horrified fascination at the figure standing near the stairwell. Could it be one of the phantom nurses Cheryl had talked about on the tour? Or was it the pursuer in her reoccurring nightmare? Perhaps they were one and the same?

The woman was dressed in an old-fashioned nurse’s uniform, with starched cap and apron. Her dishwater blond hair was pulled back in a severe knot at the nape of her neck. She looked young, no more than thirty. But the expression of madness in her eyes, combined with the grotesquely scarred cheek, lips, and forehead made Emma flinch with revulsion.

As if she were hypnotized, Emma followed the woman down the stairs. The black cat on the bench arched its back and hissed as the specter passed it on the stairwell landing. Emma stumbled, almost tripping on the hem of her long nightgown. When she looked up, the ghost had vanished.

Emma scanned the third-floor hallway, searching for the nurse. She didn’t know why she followed her. She only knew that some irresistible urge pushed her. When she saw a movement at the farthest end she gathered her nightgown in her left hand and hurried toward it.

Whatever she had seen turned left. She came to a glass door leading onto one of the observation decks. The wind formed a vacuum and she had to tug with all her strength to open it. She gasped when she felt the full force of the storm. The battering rain pelted down on her, immediately soaking the thin material of her gown.

Emma flinched when she saw a girl standing there. From her profile she looked young and beautiful. She wore an ankle-length white dress; her long, pale hair was plastered to her head from the driving rain. She turned her back to Emma and slung one foot over the balcony railing. A scream rose in Emma’s throat. “No!”

The girl turned and looked at Emma, her face a mask of utter despair. She gazed sadly, then pulled her other leg over the balustrade and jumped. Emma ran frantically to the edge of the veranda and searched the ground. The storm lashed violently around her, making it difficult for her to see. A bright lightning flash momentarily lit up the night sky. She could see no body on the ground below.