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Naturally, she was right next to Finn.
“All right, here we go,” Janice announced. “Filming in three, two, and…” She waved her hand to signal action.
“So,” Cary said to Myrna, “would you mind taking us on a tour around the hotel? Tell us about some of the different types of activity that’s been going on here?”
“It would be my pleasure.” Myrna beamed up at Finn as if he’d been the one speaking. “Please follow me.”
Myrna led the way out of the lobby and through the sitting room Grant had just been exploring. Finn and Cary fell into step with her, with the camera crew and Janice trailing behind, and Grant took up the rear.
At the fireplace, Myrna paused and spoke now in the smooth tone of a practiced tour guide. “Welcome to the Allan Hotel, ladies and gentlemen. The hotel first opened in 1889 as a luxury resort and spa by my great-grandfather, Dr. Lionel Charles.” She gestured to a grand portrait of an ancient bearded man above the mantel. “He heard the legends of the healing properties of the springs here and used his fortune from the family railroad business to fund the construction of an elite spa for only the wealthiest of clientele.
“Thousands of people flocked here to stay and enjoy the luxurious amenities. The Allan was one of the first hotels in the country to be fully powered by electricity, second only to the Stanley Hotel in Colorado. Business flourished for many years, and rooms were booked out for months at a time. But then came the Great Depression, and the wealthy weren’t all so wealthy. That’s when my grandfather, Justice Charles, had a new vision for the Allan.” Myrna pointed to a smaller portrait beside Lionel’s of another bushy haired white man. “He decided he could cure tuberculosis.”
“Cure?” Finn repeated.
“Indeed,” Myrna replied without missing a beat. “He claimed the healing properties of the spring water here could heal any ailment, including tuberculosis. He took on patients by the dozens and local hospitals were grateful for the relief on their own strained resources. They didn’t seem to care if the water did the trick or not, and soon he had a contract with the state to take the cases no one else wanted. Indigents and criminals stayed here in the same rooms that once housed royalty and Hollywood starlets. Hundreds died here until the state cut funding after a suspicious official came to inspect the premises.
“There were rumors of patients being taken down to the morgue while they were stillalive.” Myrna paused for dramatic effect. “The Allan was shut down and remained vacant for almost two decades before my father—” She turned to wave at the portrait on the other side of her great-grandfather. This one was more modern and of a stylish man in a suit with a mustache. “—Heratio Charles decided it had been closed for long enough. Renovations were a labor of love that went on for almost ten years, but they were finally completed and we reopened in 1985.
“Almost immediately, guests began reporting strange activity, unusual things that couldn’t be explained away, and that’s when we realized our little hotel might be haunted.” She smiled sweetly. “Now, that concludes the introduction. If you’ll all follow me, we’ll get started on the tour.”
Grant bit back a snort.
If that was just theintroduction, he had to wonder how long the actual tour was going to be.
The answer was surprisingly succinct because for an older woman Myrna was very quick on her feet. She swept them through the sitting room and into a lavish dining room decked out in various shades of blue with big windows overlooking the mountains outside.
“Here in the Sapphire Dining Room, we have the spirit of my great-grandmother, Mrs. Charles,” Myrna declared. “She was one of the first apparitions reported by the guests when we reopened. People hear her voice and dishware clattering, and they also see her shadow moving around the table. This was said to be her favorite place in the hotel, and she still likes to take breakfast here by this window on the end. The staff swear she shows up for morning tea every Sunday at eight o’clock sharp and that you can set a watch by her.”
“She passed away here at the hotel, is that correct?” Cary asked politely.
“Yes. She took a bad fall and died from a blood clot a few days later. Very sad.” Myrna cheerfully waved them on through another maze of hallways to a massive suite done up in shades of red and heavy dark wooden furniture. “This is the Rose Room. People report being touched, hearing angry voices like two people arguing, and have claimed their luggage has been rifled through. This is where a young couple was going to spend their honeymoon, but the bride found her groom tangled up with one of the maids the day of their wedding. She flung herself from the Eastern Stairs in her white wedding gown, and people claim to see her looking down at them right from the very top step just before she vanishes.”
Grant definitely felt something here.
He couldn’t say if it was the bride or not, but there was definitely a spirit who wasn’t happy. Weirdly enough, he thought he could feel a second spirit who was annoyed. Not in an angry way, but almost affectionate, like he or she was being bothered by a little sibling. It was hard to explain, but it made Grant smile.
He thought these might be the same spirits from earlier, the woman in the dress and the guy in the hoodie, but he couldn’t try looking for them right now to confirm it. The third spirit, the one with the big floppy hat, didn’t seem to be with them right now.
“There’s been a few deaths involving the Eastern Stairs, is that correct?” Finn asked now, jumping back a bit when Myrna whirled around on him like she was going to pounce.
“Oh yes. Many!” Myrna gushed. “The Eastern Stairs is most famously the last place that the great actress Rebecca Flynn was seen alive before being found dead in her room the next morning back in 1929. It was said she would have been the first woman to win an Academy Award if she hadn’t died. Janet Gaynor went on to win, of course. Oh! And most recently, the Eastern Stairs is where one of our staff took her own life two months ago, so sad.” Myrna barely paused to pretend to be upset before she chirped, “That’s our next stop!”
Grant made a face. He’d met some people that were pretty comfortable with death, but Myrna did seem oddly excited. As the prickles of energy grew, Grant knew she wasn’t the only one. Something about the stairs seemed to get the spirits going, but it was hard to make out what the quality of the emotion was.
It sort of felt like… rage.
He couldn’t be sure, but at least one of the spirits really did not like the stairs.
Or was it something about the story that Myrna had been telling that was ticking them off? It was hard to be sure, and Grant couldn’t pick out any distinct voices yet. It was still a tingling wave of fractured feelings and distant whispers he couldn’t make sense of, but he knew he could adjust to the particular spiritual frequency here soon enough.
Especially since they were staying here for three damn months, he wasn’t in much of a hurry to rush it along. For now, he was content to let things happen naturally.
Their little convoy stopped after a few more turns at a big red staircase. There were giant lions perched on the posts at the bottom and top of the stairs, though one of the lions up at the top looked like it was broken. A strange energy seemed to bedrippingfrom the staircase, and Grant was immediately drawn forward. He swore it was like the stairs had a heartbeat, an actual pulse, and he could see now that they weren’t just painted red, but it was the wood itself that was a rich crimson—
No, a voice whispered.Don’t…
Wait, who was that?
