Page 39 of Midnight Ink

“None of these hotels have rooms,” Ian mutters. “Everything’s booked.”

“If you’re looking for a place to stay, I know a place nearby,” the driver offers. “Small bed and breakfast. Not many people think of it.”

“Really?”

He nods. “It’s close.”

“That sounds fine.” Ian shuts his phone off. “Thank you.”

We drive for a few more minutes before our driver turns down a driveway. A large house looms ahead. Holy shit. “Um,” Ian says and his eyes widen. “Um.”

“Yeah . . .”

“This is literally a haunted fucking house,” Ian hisses to me. “He’s going to kill us.”

“No.” Our driver smiles back at us from the rearview mirror. “It’s a family-owned bed and breakfast. They’re good people. The house, yeah, it’s rough, and there are a few huge hotel chains close by, so I don’t think they get many vacationers here.”

“Will this house even withstand the storm?” I look at the pale yellow house with chipping paint. There’s a sad looking garden to the left that looks like it hasn’t been weeded in years and an ominous metal playground. The porch is starting to warp and buckle. The chipped, painted sign says, “The Tea House Bed and Breakfast.”

Our driver idles at the entrance. “Look, it’s a bit rough, but you’re not going to get anything better right now. This storm came on quick. They’re nice people. Tell them Benny sent you.”

“Right. Thanks uh, Benny.” I thank him again and follow Ian out as the trunk pops, and I grab my bag. Rain hammers around us. “Just for the night.”

“We’re getting possessed. I can’t deal with that. I can deal with a lot, but I don’t fuck with demons, Jules.”

“Hey now, that’s not right. We deal with Anna every day.” I smile weakly. “It’s . . . cozy.”

“No,” he says. “No, it’s not.”

“Just for the night.”

He shakes his head and follows me up the stairs. The door opens with a scraping creak, and the entrance is empty except for a small desk at the front with a dim desk lamp. There’s a room to the right that shows tables and chairs. Maybe the dining area. There’s also a sitting room to our right. The entire house is pretty drafty. “Hello?” My voice echoes.

“We’re getting murdered,” Ian whispers.

“The plane crashing was illogical, but being killed by shadow people is not off the table?”

“Shadow people aren’t to be fucked with,” he hisses.

“It’s just for the night,” I whisper. “Hello?”

A voice echoes from somewhere deep in the house. “One moment!”

Footsteps approach before we see a short Asian woman appear in the doorway, blinking at us as if she can’t quite believe we’re real. Oh, we’re real, lady. Real fucking scared of this house.

“Oh!” She claps her hands together. “Sorry. I didn’t—” She shakes her head. “Hello.”

“Sorry, um, is this a bed and breakfast?”

“Yes, yes!” she exclaims. “I’m so sorry, we don’t get many guests.”

“Uh, Benny sent us. We um, we just flew in from New York. Our fight out got cancelled.” I try to explain while Ian stands there looking around the room as if this house is about to bite him.

“Oh, you poor boys. Terrible thing, isn’t it? This storm just came out of nowhere.” She laughs nervously.

“Mama!” A small child runs into the room.

“What did I tell you about running in the house?” She loops her arm around the girl who hugs her knees. “Sorry, please excuse me.” She crouches down to her level. “Go find your father. Tell him we have guests.”