Devils night, p.12
Devil's Night, page 12
Linden was next to him, dressed in the outfit she’d ordered for opening night: leather pants and a flowing top, black studded cowboy boots, and a belt slung low over her hips. But instead of a gun, her belt held a radio for communicating with their security team and personnel. Penny carried one too, the volume turned to a murmur.
“Loved the NPR interview.” Tripp grabbed a champagne flute from a passing tray and clinked it against Penny’s glass. In a corner, a musician played jazz on an upright piano. Not quite a match in terms of historical time period, but nice.
“Thanks,” Penny said. She probably should’ve said something more ingratiating, but she simply didn’t have the energy. There had been dozens of phone and video interviews in the last three days. She’d lost count. But Tripp’s strategy had worked. Penny could hardly believe the response they’d had—instead of dooming Devil’s Fest, the discovery of the skeleton had turned it into a viral sensation.
There had been no official word yet on the identity of the skeletal remains, nor even their age. But the Associated Press had picked up the story. Thousands of additional people had tried to get tickets to the event, and entry passes were reselling for five hundred dollars on Stub Hub.
Thankfully, mentions of A Devil in Eden were usually relegated to the bottom half of the written stories. There was plenty of buzz and speculation about Penny online—according to Anvi, who kept Penny more informed than she ever wished—but so far it was manageable, aside from some randomly creepy text messages and emails. She hoped the interest in her would fade now that the festival had begun.
It was really Matthew that Tripp should thank, not her. Matthew had worked long overtime hours with his crew to get the hotel’s lobby, bar and dining area finished. They’d put new glass into the missing lobby windows, added hidden supports to the upper floors to steady them, and countless other little fixes that Penny had noticed.
She’d worried that Matthew would be disappointed with her for going ahead with the festival. But he hadn’t said a word. She only wished Matthew were here. When she invited him to tonight’s opening event, he’d politely declined. His job was over. She wasn’t even sure when she’d see him again.
So much for their brief attempt at friendship.
Penny’s Uncle Harry was here somewhere, schmoozing with the best of them. The guests milled about between the first-floor rooms, sampling hors d'oeuvres from platters passed by waitstaff and sipping whiskey cocktails at the newly operational bar. Elsewhere at the festival, SunBev’s sodas would be the only beverages on offer.
Music thumped outside, clashing with the piano. The main gates to the festival wouldn’t open until nine, but the DJ was already playing music for the hundreds of people waiting to get in.
Several people from SunBev’s sales team came over, shaking hands with Tripp and congratulating him. Tripp took the SunBev contingent over to the bar, while Linden stayed behind with Penny.
“You should be celebrating right now, but you look like you’re at a funeral,” Linden said. “A really stylish funeral, but still.”
Penny tugged at the high collar of her long-sleeved, black lace dress. “I’m just worn out.”
Although she’d been avoiding the darker corners of the Paradise Hotel—always keeping Linden or even Anvi with her—she still had those bruises on her neck, and they ached worse at night. She’d kept up her defenses, and she hadn’t seen any more ghosts. But at this point, Penny just wanted the whole festival to be done with.
Maybe she could sneak away to the trailer after dinner was over. They’d parked it outside the festival’s chain-link perimeter fence, not too far from the generator trucks. Linden wouldn’t be there; she’d booked a room next to Tripp’s at the Ashton Valley Inn for the nights of the festival.
“After tonight, we’ll be a third of the way done.” Linden stole Penny’s wineglass and took a hefty swig of white burgundy. “I was looking online at a spa near Santa Fe. Tripp’s sister recommended it. I’m going to book a solid week for when this is finished. You should join me.”
Like Penny had the funds for a resort week. “I’ll settle for a quiet room at my parents’ place.” And Dora’s cooking. And Matthew…She didn’t know what to do about Matthew. Maybe a room at the inn wasn’t such a good idea after all.
“June’s still staying at the inn, isn’t she?” Linden asked.
“Last I checked,” Penny said.
June and the other SunBev folks were spread among several Ashton hotels; it wasn’t ideal, but Penny’s mom couldn’t fit them all at the inn.
“I haven’t seen her tonight,” Linden said. “This is supposed to be her big moment, just as much as ours. Where is she?”
“That’s a good question.”
As Penny looked around the hotel lobby, she didn’t see the petite blond anywhere.
Chapter Nineteen
June Litvak adjusted her hair in the mirror. A loud bass line pounded, shaking the walls of the small room. She was in a climate-controlled bathroom trailer, which Penny’s team had provided for the VIPs to use.
Over in the Paradise Hotel, the opening-night party was already underway.
She took out her concealer and dabbed another layer beneath her eyes. Her fingers shook. Keep it together, she thought. If only she’d slept last night. But she hadn’t slept well in months.
She'd never expected to end up in an office job. Until she turned sixteen, her entire life had been devoted to figure skating. The sport had been her passion; her reason for getting out of bed at four every morning to train. Even now, she could replay her routines in her head, still hear the sound of her blades cutting across the ice. She'd dreamed of making it to senior nationals, and maybe even the Olympics. But that had just been a fantasy. She’d kept on lying to herself long after she should’ve realized that she just wasn’t good enough.
Ever since, she’d struggled to trust her own judgment.
At SunBev, June was by far the youngest employee. The company was family owned, self-described as out of touch with youthful trends and new methods of publicity. They’d hired June to perfect their image before they went public. June was also the roommate of Kelsey Richardson, the daughter of SunBev’s vice president of marketing, Jeff Richardson. She knew the connection had helped her get the job.
June was careful to keep her true self hidden around her SunBev co-workers. She wasn’t just Kelsey’s roommate. They’d been together since sophomore year at Northwestern. On one of their early dates, they went ice skating. June had done a few simple spins in the center, and afterward, Kelsey kept staring at her, smiling. They’d had their first kiss on the walk back to June's dorm room.
Kelsey hadn’t even wanted June to apply for the SunBev job, but to June the opportunity was too good. Get to know her girlfriend’s father, make him see how hardworking she could be? She was laying the groundwork for the day when Kelsey—finally—was ready to come out to her family.
Kelsey’s father seemed nice. At first. When June felt the hand on her butt one afternoon, she didn’t understand it. Then the hand squeezed and he leaned his crotch against her, and his meaning became clear enough. She’d left the office and called in sick the next day. Even thought about quitting. But then she’d have to tell Kelsey what happened.
The pitch from Sterling PR felt like a godsend. An excuse to keep her busy with phone meetings and planning sessions. She was happy to take a backseat and let Sterling’s team make the decisions.
June had nearly fainted when she heard the festival might not go forward at all. But then, Linden and Penny had worked their magic yet again. June had seen the crowds at the camping grounds, the lines of buses and vans and cars vying to get in. They kept coming, even though tickets were sold out, just to bask in the aura of Devil’s Fest. It was amazing, even better than June could’ve imagined.
So why didn’t she feel happy?
Maybe she just missed her girlfriend. She’d hoped that Kelsey could make the trip, but Kelsey was afraid to call attention to their relationship. Not that those concerns were anything new. June was out to her family, but Kelsey didn’t know when she’d be ready.
June snapped shut her compact of concealer. She took another deep breath, tugging up her black leather bustier. She’d worn a tasteful black linen shawl over it, just to keep the creepy oldies like Richardson from staring. Tonight, after the bosses took the shuttle back to town, she would chug a can of Dark Energy and dance the night away. Then she’d do it again tomorrow night. And the next. Kelsey would be sorry she missed it.
Someone knocked on the bathroom door.
June stepped out, nodding politely at a well-dressed woman in deep purple. She swore when she checked the time on her phone. She was really late for the party—her bosses might be looking for her.
June took a black feathered hat out of her bag and perched it on her head, joining the stream of people on Main Street. The gates had just opened. Most had dressed in elaborate black get-ups, adorned with silver and lace. There were prizes if you wore a costume. Staff handed out swag near the entrance—devil’s horns, witch’s hats, masquerade masks, all emblazoned with the Dark Energy logo.
June reached the Paradise Hotel, fighting her way across the stream of people. A security guard stopped her, and she flashed a special VIP badge hanging from a lanyard around her neck.
She went to the hotel’s entrance, where an attendant opened the door for her. Something made her hesitate before stepping fully into the lobby. The party had obviously been going for a while. A large group, including Penny and Linden, hovered around the bar. Others sat in clusters on the sofas. She saw Jeff Richardson, who was sipping on a glass of red wine, his lips stained purple.
The room swam, and she braced herself against a wall. Not again. When she didn’t sleep well, she got light-headed. Which happened constantly these days. Drinking would make it even worse. She just needed to sit somewhere quiet for a little while until the spell passed.
There was a door straight ahead of her across the hotel’s entryway. The upper levels of the hotel were off-limits, but surely the first floor was safe. She quickly crossed to the door, glancing into the lobby as she passed. Nobody had noticed her.
The door had shiny new brass hinges. But it wasn’t locked. She pushed inside, then swung the door behind her so it once again looked closed.
She’d been having the worst dreams since she arrived here—dreams of blood, hands wrapped around her throat. Dreams of standing on the edge of a tall, dark building, with an endless drop beneath her.
And then the sensation of falling just before she awoke, drenched in sweat.
The dreams had nothing to do with skating; she’d fallen so many times on the ice it was impossible to count. Yet her mind kept going to a particular regional competition, when she’d fallen out of a Lutz during her free skate. She finished the program, but afterward, the ankle had swollen double inside her boot. She'd been icing it, her makeup destroyed by tears, when some twenty-something guy—she still had no idea who he was—knelt beside her. He’d smiled, like he wanted to make her feel better.
Then he said, Not everyone's tough enough for this.
More than ten years later, those words still caused her chest to seize.
She was in a small room. June turned on the light on her phone. There wasn’t much inside; just a leftover tape measurer and a box of nails. The walls and floor were unvarnished wood, bare and utilitarian. Perhaps this had been an office at one time.
The party was just on the other side of the wall. She could practically hear what they were saying. There was no place to sit, but at least she could close her eyes here and not worry anyone would notice.
She put one hand against the wall. Her lightheadedness was passing. She breathed deeply several times. The room smelled of metal and mildew, an odd mixture. She could still hear the festival music from outside through the thin outer wall.
“Okay,” she said to herself, “you’re fine now. Get out there.”
Not everyone's tough enough for this. She thought of slamming down on the ice, failing.
Richardson's smirk when she spun around to confront him.
Nausea swept through her. She stumbled and bent over, catching her hands against her knees. Am I sick? she wondered. Breakfast hadn’t sounded good, and she’d skipped lunch too. Her head was aching. Throbbing. She just wanted to go home—not to the inn, but all the way home to Phoenix. To Kelsey. She’d done what she was supposed to do, helped launch Dark Energy. Why wouldn’t they let her go?
Why were they keeping her here?
She shook her head. Her thoughts weren’t making sense. Definitely getting sick. Not what Richardson would want to hear, but that was too damned bad. She hadn’t threatened to go to HR, and she probably never would. But he didn’t know that.
Help me, she heard. I need help. Please.
“What?” June asked.
She opened her eyes. Nothing had changed in the room. But she heard the voice again. A woman’s voice.
He’s coming.
June shivered. She hugged her arms over her stomach.
He’ll hurt me again. Please.
Using the light from her phone, she crept forward. She’d been wrong; there was something else here. A door in the opposite wall, though it was smaller than the first one. That was where the voice was coming from.
There’s no way out.
Someone was crying.
“I’m coming,” June whispered.
She thought of the skeleton that Penny had found around here somewhere. Though all the interviewers had asked about the discovery, Penny had remained steadfastly vague about how she found the bones. She’d only said that she saw a ghost, and then stumbled upon the grave by chance.
June, too, had seen the ghost the first day she arrived. The face in the window. Nothing could’ve prepared her for the experience. June had realized something about herself that day: living in the everyday real world was hard enough without bringing the supernatural into it.
But right now, June wasn’t hearing a ghost. That voice belonged to someone alive. She was sure.
Incredibly, she wasn’t scared. She wanted to help. Needed to. The door wobbled on its hinges; these hadn’t been replaced. The door stuck before opening fully. She peered into a dark corridor, lifting her phone. She was in a back part of the hotel. Like the office, it wasn’t decorated at all. Just rough, warped wood. In some places, bricks shown through where planks had fallen. She walked forward.
I’m so tired, the voice said.
“Hold on,” June said. She had to get there. She had to help. He was going to hurt her again.
“Where are you?”
There was no answer in words. Just whimpering.
June reached the end of the corridor and found a narrow set of stairs. The kind made for servants, not grand like the staircase in the lobby. The construction crew had nailed a piece of wood across the stairway, blocking it off. But the noise came from up above. She crawled beneath the barrier, then put a foot on the first step. It settled under her weight, but held. The next step was solid too. She kept going, up and up. On the second floor, another doorway blocked her path. But this door was crooked, falling off its hinges.
She squeezed past and came out onto a thin carpet. Her feet squished into it, like she was walking over forest moss. She was looking out over the lobby. A railing separated the landing from the open space, and the partygoers milled around below.
The sounds of the party were much louder. The piano, laughter, glass tinkling. But she could still hear a woman’s voice.
I can’t hold on.
Chapter Twenty
The crowd surged forward, and Krista Wright went along with it. The gates had finally opened for the first night of Devil’s Fest. Krista had been looking forward to this ever since her older sister Penny announced the project on Instagram, which was months ago now. She’d been hurt that Penny hadn’t called her first, but that was Penny—always doing her own thing in a splashy way.
Scott Mackey’s shoulder bumped against hers. He was wearing that stupid orange hat that he loved so much. Krista hadn’t worn a costume either, but she’d switched out her running shorts for jeans and unbraided her hair so it fell around her face in waves.
“Couldn’t Penny have gotten us VIP tix?” Scott asked.
“Couldn’t Anvi have gotten you VIP tix instead of general admission?” Krista had to shout over the music. The DJ was playing a dubstep remix of Mad World. She adjusted the headband someone had handed her at the gate, which sported a red pair of devil’s horns.
Despite Krista’s nagging, Penny hadn’t come through with tickets at all. Penny just kept making excuses, probably because of their dad. Thankfully, Scott snagged some passes to the opener. He worked for Alpenglow Guides, and he’d been driving Penny’s team back and forth to Eden. He’d even driven Penny up to Eden on the day that she found that skeleton. Scott had been telling everybody in town who would listen.
Scott had also been lusting after Anvi since the moment she arrived in Ashton. Not that Krista cared. She’d made out with Scott at a party freshman year of high school, and she’d felt like he was trying to give her a spit facial.
“Anvi said she didn’t have any extras for me, but I’m meeting up with her tonight.” His eyebrows wiggled.
“So you’re ditching me?” They’d come with two other friends, but they’d already gotten separated in the crowd. Krista’s head turned back and forth, trying to find them.
“Not till later. I’m all yours till then.” Scott slung an arm around her shoulder. “I got a spot set up earlier for Anvi—candles, some chairs. A blanket in case things get, you know…”
“Just in case filthy, semi-public places turn her on? Next time, a bus station bathroom?” Krista looked where he was pointing. The old bank. “Penny said that nobody’s supposed to go inside any of the buildings. Our tickets will get revoked.”
“Anvi and I don’t count. I’m practically on the staff.”
