Ghosts of Averoigne

The owner suddenly seemed two shades paler. He’d started tapping his leg, too.

“Uh… h—hello Ms. Magoro. It’s good to see you ag—”

“Don’t ‘miss’ fucking anything with me, Radcliffe! These assholes dragged me out of bed for this. If they say they need to go to the third floor, then that’s where you send them.”

“Yes but…” He leaned in confidentially, closer to the phone. “I mean, you know what goes on up there.”

“You’re Goddamn right I do! That’s why I have people there. Three of them in fact! And all you have to do is stand aside and get out of their way.”

Radcliffe swallowed. There was a bead of sweat rolling down one side of his face now.

“But—”

“Do I have to remind you? You were the one who came to us.”

“But we have guests here now,” Radcliffe hissed. “The hotel is totally booked. It’s Christmas week!”

“And I should care about this… why?” Xiomara snapped. When the owner didn’t reply she continued the savagery. “It’s not my fucking problem the Averoigne acts up at an inconvenient time each year. It is what it is.”

The man at the desk let out an exasperated sigh. “If I open the third floor I’m screwed.”

“If you don’t open the third floor you’re screwed even harder.”

There was a moment of silence. A moment where Kara thought the man was finally broken. But then:

“And what if I say no?”

Kara’s sucked in a quick, awkward breath. She risked a look at Logan. He winced.

“Are we really going to do this?” Xiomara growled. Onscreen she crossed a large room and slipped on pair of glasses. Casually she pulled out a sleek black book.

“Do wha—”

“October, nineteen thirty-two” she read. “A ten-year old boy falls from the railing overlooking the Averoigne’s lobby. Two of his older brothers claim he was pushed by a ‘woman who had no legs’. The boy survives but is paralyzed.”

Radcliffe’s face registered nothing as the Head of the Order went on.

“November twenty-first, nineteen forty five. Two women staying at the Averoigne claim to be visited by the apparition of an ‘incensed, enraged man’. For two straight nights they report it, but management and police do nothing. A day later they’re found in room 218, dead of a pair of heart attacks. Both were healthy women were in their twenti

es.”

Xiomara flipped a page. Now she looked even more pissed.

“Winter of nineteen-sixty: a newlywed couple is found on the balcony of room 321, frozen to death. Their balcony door is determined to be unlocked. They could’ve gone inside any time they wanted.”

Travis Radcliffe shifts uncomfortably. “Okay, I—”

“Nineteen seventy one: ten reports of activity and three deaths over a six month period. A year later, the skeleton of a missing guest is found beneath—”

“Okay!” the owner shouts. He dropped his head into his hands. “Okay… I— I get it.”

“Do you?” Xiomara snapped. “Or should I keep going? This is only part of what I have. Imagine all the events that didn’t get reported, or were written down or lost.”

The man nodded without looking up. Kara actually felt some sympathy for him. She’d been exactly where he was right now.

“Radcliffe, I sprang for the limo and sent you three dates for the prom!” Xiomara practically shouted. “Don’t try to clamp your legs closed now. You’re getting fucked either way. Might as well lay back and enjoy it.”

He glanced up. Nodded again. Now he was broken.