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    A Haunted Hotel
    A Haunted Hotel
    A Haunted Hotel
    Ebook85 pages1 hour

    A Haunted Hotel

    By Tommi Hayes

    ()

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    About this ebook

    Overworked and recently out of a destructive relationship, academic David isn't that pleased to get volunteered by a colleague, to attend a conference that isn't even part of his job description. He's still less happy when the hotel he's booked into turns out to be haunted. But maybe Adam, the ghost he winds up sharing a hotel room with, can make his stay enjoyable, after all. Very enjoyable indeed, in fact... Sexy sparks and sassy romance of a supernatural kind are the result! Approximately 23,000 words.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherTommi Hayes
    Release dateMar 15, 2015
    ISBN9781386598060
    A Haunted Hotel

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      Book preview

      A Haunted Hotel - Tommi Hayes

      A Haunted Hotel

      Tommi Hayes

      Published by Tommi Hayes, 2015.

      This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

      A HAUNTED HOTEL

      First edition. March 15, 2015.

      Copyright © 2015 Tommi Hayes.

      ISBN: 978-1386598060

      Written by Tommi Hayes.

      Table of Contents

      Title Page

      Copyright Page

      A Haunted Hotel

      Image used in creating this bookcover is public domain.

      A Haunted Hotel

      D on't give me the haunted room, is what David jokingly says to the hotel concierge, as he sets his bags down in front of the checking-in desk. He's in town for an academic conference, and he's subbing for his former thesis advisor due to family ill-health. He's not even supposed to be here at all , hence he didn't have a hotel room booked in advance. He's stuck with this place, the only one that had any tolerable rooms at all left.

      Not that it's a real dump, nor even an unpopular destination. By reputation in the city guides, it's normally heavingly busy, and he was lucky that they just happened to have a few cancellations at the same time.

      It's just popular for its own unique and idiosyncratic reasons, and it has an eccentric, traditional, one-off kind of a reputation, that is nothing like the anonymous big chains that the college expense fund normally extends to.

      Part of that reputation is for being haunted.

      Not that David really truly cares, and he's just joking with the concierge about his room. He couldn't care less, since he doesn't even believe in ghosts. And if he did, he might have doubts, the way this place presents the case. There's a plastic holder of little leaflets about the 'Narryham Spirits' on the desk – the Narryham, of course, being the name of the hotel. It's written in a Gothic font, and has little pen and ink illustrations of ghouls with scythes and hunched, transparent old women with shawls pulled about them.

      He'd laugh. But for all he's joking, he doesn't really feel like laughing. Who would, a bare two weeks after being dumped by the love of their lives? He's pretty sure that Brian was the love of his life. But on balance the evidence shows that Brian disagrees, or at least that the feeling was less than mutual.

      Mostly David feels like crying, to be truthful. But he's standing in the middle of a busy hotel lobby, and he's waiting for the concierge to locate his key and passcard, and he can't really do that. (He really wants to do that.) Maybe it shows on his face, how he's feeling. Are you all right, sir? It's the guy behind the desk asking, and David has zoned right out for a minute, was a very long way away in his own head. Not here, with the guy who's trying to get David off his hands so that he can deal with the next damn thing.

      All right? Well, he's not actually crying. But he can feel that he's become a little flushed, and his eyes are stinging badly enough that it's still an imminent threat. He takes a very deep breath and widens his eyes, to reduce the risk. And he smiles at this guy.

      I'm fine. Fine. Is that my key? And he holds his hand out. Better get the hell out of Dodge here. If he isn't sobbing his guts out in the next five minutes, no matter where he is and in what company, he'll be amazed.

      The concierge hesitates, though. The key's clamped in his own fist, but he isn't handing it over yet. The room we have for you, sir, it's the last one available, and quite a famous one, too. He smiles, a little proudly. We always like to warn guests who've booked one of our spectrally-inhabited rooms, easily done if they book over the phone. Guests who use the online booking service get a special confirmation email, checking that they've fully perused the website and know that they're in for a very special experience! Oh, his smile is wide and quite fetching. If David was capable of being charmed by anyone's smile at this point, if smiles and faces and hands and speech didn't just make him think of and yearn hopelessly for Brian.

      David can't remember any email. He booked at the last minute, because he was volunteered for the job at the last minute, and he wasn't in a fit state at the time to really be paying a lot of attention to detail. If there was a confirmation email then he probably just read the header, and assumed all was as it should be. He pulls a bit of a face, flustered and vague, and his expression must communicate a lot.

      The concierge's eyes get a bit wider, and a slight smile shows on his pleasant face. You missed it, sir? Well, considering our nationally-famous reputation, I'm sure it's not a problem for you. But just to make sure, perhaps you'd like to read page twenty-four of the leaflet, on your room's other inhabitant. He's an interesting one! Then he hesitates a little. If it is an issue, sir, then normally I'd offer you a swap with one of our rooms that's never been reported to have an otherworldly inhabitation. However, what with the conference currently underway on the outskirts of the city, we're packed to bustin' tonight, and for quite a few nights to come. If you like, I can make a call or two to other hotels in the city that we have occasional reciprocal arrangements with for just such occasions as these, and see if I can get you an exchange vacancy somewhere else fairly close by?

      It's a civil and helpful offer, and if he was in a happier state of mind, and it wasn't past the time he could get a meal anywhere or be happy going through all the kerfuffle of checking in again somewhere else, then he might take it up. Not because he's especially worried about alleged spirits infesting the place. It's more the kitschy, over-furnished, guided-tour vibe that he could do without. But at this time of night, tired, with back-ache from a long drive, and preoccupied with the state of his personal life, he couldn't care less. He cares barely at all.

      And he reaches out further for the keys, and grabs them out of the guy's hand, smiling. It'll be fine. I'm sure, David says. As long as the ghost doesn't mind cold feet in bed. And I hog the duvet!

      It gets him a polite laugh, which is also slightly relieved. Of course he should have checked that email. But he isn't going to put the guy to any further trouble. He'll have enough to do at this time of night, with a full house and people coming in from dinner, boozed-up and jovial.

      David has more serious things to worry about than ghosts. Real things. But as he turns away towards the internal swing doors that'll lead him eventually to a door to lock, and a bed – no matter if he

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