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“There were old letters from my great-grandparents,” Sanderson told him. “Comments about the ghosts and spirits at the hotel, guests being upset by their appearance, and concerns that the ‘old problem’ might come back again.” He met Simon’s gaze with a meaningful look.

“Your great-grandparents would have been around the time the fire entity was last bound, if I’m figuring correctly,” Simon replied. “They probably didn’t know if the binding would hold.”

“Apparently not,” Sanderson confirmed. “There are some vague references to making a deal with a group who had people who could help with the fire entity, in exchange for a business partnership.” He pushed some yellowed paper over to Simon.

“Like the Mob?” Simon speculated based on the information he and Vic had uncovered.

“That’s my guess,” Sanderson replied. “In this one it mentions ‘the room.’ I think they meant the secret one where the entity was bound,” Sanderson said. “And here it talks about a protected ‘preparation’ area. I figure it’s the one with the spooky symbols on the walls.”

“How did they brick up those rooms and keep it a secret?” Simon mused.

“They hexed the workers,” Sanderson replied. “It’s in the diary. Worked with their business partner’s witches for a memory spell that affected nearly everyone involved except my family.”

“Okay, that would do it.” Simon shook his head in surprise. “And then your great-grandparents conveniently forgot to share much of the information with their children and grandchildren, keeping the secret.”

“On purpose,” Sanderson answered. “I think they believed that was the safest way, and it created less of a chance someone would meddle.”

“Which worked for a long time, but not forever.” Simon scanned down through the faded ink and old-fashioned penmanship, finding some of the answers he needed but frustratingly little on others.

“Anything about that blocked door? It might just be a coincidence,” Simon asked, although he doubted that.

“No,” Sanderson said. “Nothing that I’ve found.”

“I looked for a map that showed the secret rooms, and didn’t find any architectural drawings,” Sanderson went on. “Just this and a note about the talisman cemented into the binding room’s wall to keep it secure.”

“Did you find something like that?” Simon asked.

“Not earlier, but I looked at the pictures of the room before coming here, and I saw something that might qualify. It looks damaged, but it’s not the usual decoration, especially in a room that was designed to be a prison cell for a dangerous supernatural creature,” the hotel owner replied.

Simon was proud of how far Sanderson had come in calmly accepting the reality of magic and the paranormal, which made the job of looking for a solution somewhat easier.

“That other secret room, I think they did magic in it,” Sanderson continued. “Not just to bind the fire spirit, but for all kinds of protection and good luck. The diary mentions a ‘prepared’ room but doesn’t say where the room was.”

“Your great-grandparents?” Simon hadn’t expected that.

“Witches. Or someone they brought in for protection,” Sanderson replied. “I’m not sure how well it worked. They also mention shadow people, graveyard magic, and opening up a space between spaces.”

“Shit,” Simon said, as the situation just took another turn.

“Is that bad?” Sanderson’s hand went to the rosary he wore.

“It might add another layer of complication.” Simon tried to figure out how best to explain. “If they created a room that was private and secure to do magic, that may have been a liminal space, a place between here and…the spirit realm.”

Sanderson shivered. “That doesn’t sound good.”

Simon shrugged. “It doesn’t have to be bad, if it’s properly handled. There’s nothing inherently bad about having a place for magic, if precautions and procedures are observed. There are ways to add protections and close down between efforts. If you skip those, problems happen.

“Do the diaries mention anyone your great-grandparents might have asked for protections or blessings even if they didn’t outright say it was a witch?” Simon asked.

“There’s one name that came up a couple of times near the end of the building process,” Sanderson told him. “I thought you might ask, so I wrote it down.” He handed Simon a paper and waited for a reaction.

“Shit, I recognize this name,” Simon told him. “He was a witch of questionable ethics back in the day, reputed to work with the Dixie Mafia. Many people thought he was a dark warlock. He’s long dead by now, but if he was helping them set the wards, he might have been willing to allow the entity a back door or engineer the protections to collapse after a certain amount of time.”

“Why?” Sanderson asked, once again looking out of his depth.

“Sixty years time-out for an immortal entity isn’t much. If the warlock made a deal, then he got something from the fire spirit that he wanted, your family thought the problem was taken care of, and the entity got a nap before coming out ravenously hungry,” Simon replied.

“What about the blocked door? Do you think it’s related?” Sanderson asked.