QUINN KNOCKED THE SHRIMP TO THE GROUND.
“Hey!” said Kara. “Why’d you do that?”
Quinn felt another drop. Above her the ceiling began to swish and swirl. It wasn’t a great mirror at all, but dark, swampy water, like a giant murky pool.
She watched in horror as a black, wraithlike shadow scaled the far wall. It dove into the water ceiling and glided the length of the pool, one end to the other. Quinn recognized its shape immediately—it was what she’d seen swimming at the bottom of the hotel pool.
The pools were connected. The bottom of one was the top of the other. Something lived between the two worlds. Whatever it was, it could reach up and drag unsuspecting swimmers down.
Quinn’s head began to spin. Nothing here was what it appeared to be. She stared wide-eyed at the little smiling girl. She was not Emma. She was nothing like Emma.
Quinn grabbed hold of Kara and steadied herself. Then everything else around her began to transform.
The music, once fun and melodious, had no rhythm, no tone. It was like metal grinding on metal. It hurt her ears. She cupped them, pulling up Kara’s hand with hers, but she couldn’t block it out.
The people continued to dance, but now Quinn saw they weren’t a fun, happy crowd at all. They looked more and more like a frenzied mob, their movements angular and awkward, like wooden marionettes with someone pulling their strings.
On their faces, what Quinn had thought were smiles were grimaces of pain. What she believed to be laughter was actually screams of agony. It was like someone was forcing them to dance. To dance and dance and never stop.
The buffet changed as well. The pickles turned into slugs, and the rice into a pile of wriggling maggots. The meat she had thought looked delicious was moldy green and rotting, and she was sure that what looked like potatoes was an entirely different horror.
But all this didn’t seem to sway the guests, who filled their plates with the disgusting, decaying food. They stuffed their faces mouthful after mouthful like they, too, couldn’t stop.
Quinn watched as one woman bit off the head of a shrimp and ground the shell between her teeth. A man shoveled a spoonful of maggots into his mouth, strays dripping from his lips and crawling down his chin.
Quinn’s stomach lurched. She was going to be sick. The only thing stopping her from collapsing into a heap was one single, all-important thought—they had to get out of this place. Right away.
She grabbed Kara’s hand and pulled her close. She wasn’t sure if Kara could see what she saw. “Don’t touch anything,” she hissed. “And don’t say a word.”
The little girl eyed Quinn and Kara. In the glow of her candle, she smiled a wide smile, and for the first time Quinn could see her little teeth were yellow and razor-sharp and her lips and tongue were black as night. She giggled. It was the most chilling sound Quinn had ever heard.
Without thinking, Quinn snatched the candle from the girl’s hand and, gripping Kara, sprinted for the door. She raced through the crowd, weaving in between the crazy guests, who bumped and slammed into them as they tried to pass.
“Wait. Don’t leave. The party’s just getting started.” The little girl’s airy voice echoed over the music.
They ran without looking back, through archway after archway, until they reached a corridor that seemed to lead upward. Everything around them had changed as well. Quinn knew when she heard Kara gasp that she was beginning to see it, too.
The doors in the hallway were not mahogany—they were rusted cast iron. Loud banging filled Quinn’s ears—people screaming, desperate to get out. Some doors opened a crack, as if held back by chains. Scabbed and bloody arms reached out, clawing for them.
Kara stifled a scream and pressed herself close to Quinn. Together they wove though various passageways, around and around, up one section and down the next, through one crossroads and then another. They ran for some time but did not reach the lobby.
Quinn came to a dead stop, bending over to catch her breath.
“We’re lost,” said Kara between gulps of air.
The candle flickered in Quinn’s trembling hand. She stared at Kara and nodded. Then over her shoulder she saw it. Beyond the endless rattling doors and the clawing hands, glowing in the darkness was a pair of yellow eyes. It was the ghostly girl and she was moving toward them at a steady pace.
Frantically Quinn pulled Kara toward the opposite end, but just beyond the candle’s glow stood a shape, etched out of darkness. Quinn’s heart jammed so far up her throat she could scarcely utter a sound. One word squeezed from her tight lips. “Him!”
At the opposite end of the corridor stood the man with the ball cap. He’d managed to find them and was running toward them. Quinn stood frozen to the spot, searching one way, then the other.
The glowing eyes had grown larger and the girl emerged from the darkness, her white gown fluttering in tatters around her, and stretched out her tiny hands. She was inches away, about to dig her claws into Kara, when Quinn felt herself being scooped up, lifted into the air by a big, muscled arm that wrapped itself around her waist. She had no voice to scream. Instead she hung there, clinging to the candle. Kara flopped beside her like a rag doll as the man carted them off at lightning speed.
The candleholder slipped from Quinn’s hand, but Kara managed to scoop it up before it fell to the ground. Finally, they burst through the last archway and were back in the main lobby.
The front desk was bleak and decayed. And the frames of the French doors were sagging, the glass cracked. The knobs and hinges were streaked with rust. The animal heads—now mutations, with horns and eyes where there shouldn’t be—squealed and cried.
Mold grew like thick black blankets, draping from parts of the ceiling and walls. Between the sheets of fungus were clusters of mushrooms, some with caps as big as Quinn’s hand. Like a hideous wave rolling toward them, the mold was spreading quickly. If they didn’t get out soon, they’d drown in it.
“Look!” said Kara, aiming the candle toward the end of the lobby.
A doorway of soft light had slid open in the wall. It was the elevator, and Sharon was motioning for them.
“Hurry!” she shouted. “Move!”
The huge man bolted toward the elevator, carrying Quinn and Kara. The little girl’s laughter echoed throughout the lobby. She moved toward them with feet that no longer touched the ground.
The man dove into the metal cage, still holding the girls. He dropped them and Kara tossed the candle out into the darkness. It exploded in a fiery ball as the gate sealed shut and the elevator kicked into motion.
Quinn shuddered. The pale face with the sharp teeth and black lips disappeared into the flames, her voice still ringing in Quinn’s ears.
“Come back anytime. I’ll be waiting.”
Sharon looked at them and sighed. “You shouldn’t have come here.”
“What kind of place was that?” yelled Quinn.
“And what was that … thing?” said Kara.
Sharon looked deeply and steadily into Quinn’s eyes and then Kara’s. Quinn could tell the woman was genuinely concerned.
“Some questions are best left unanswered,” said Sharon.
Quinn and Kara stood closer as the elevator zipped up what felt like only a floor or two. The man gripped Quinn’s wrist.
The pillowcase filled with the rest of the pizza and the water bottles still sat in a heap on the floor of the elevator where Quinn had dropped it. She eyed Kara, then the pillowcase. Kara understood immediately. Kara picked it up and slung it over her shoulder.
They weren’t done running.