Page 18 of The Monster of Darkspell Comics

Fanny

D eadman’s Inn is farther out than I expected. So much so that I’m rather impressed that Jasper walks that far whenever he needs to go into town for anything. I mention this to Pashar as he circles over the inn in a slow descent, but the corners of his lips hitch.

“Ghouls are notoriously quick. They aren’t like the zombies that you humans have woven fantasies about in the movies you are addicted to,” he points out as he touches down in front of the building and gently sets me on my feet.

“They’re not only not zombies, but they’ve never been human at all.

They are scavengers that feast upon the dead as much as they are natural protectors of those who reside within their territories.

It is for this reason that they craft their disguises by weaving decaying matter, as it is what they readily have at hand and is sympathetic to their particular brand of energy. ”

I shudder a little at that. Call me biased, but a nightmare demon sounds much more pleasant and... hygienic... than a ghoul.

“So that’s why he looked so grody.”

“If you are implying that he appears foul by the word ‘grody,’ then yes, exactly that,” he rumbles in amusement.

“That would be it,” I agree as I tip my head and stare at the inn in front of me.

The towering gray monstrosity was not only way out of place in the desert but would have made the Addams family proud. I might have mistaken it for a private residence of someone not all there in the head, but the lit-up sign out front is hard to miss. Deadman’s Inn.

As if right on cue, the word ‘vacancy’ flickers ominously.

Okay . “Totally not what I was expecting,” I observe aloud. “This is less Motel 6 and more ‘Norman Bates lives here.’ Ugh, someone would have to be crazy or desperate to stay here. This sign might as well say ‘stay for the slay.’”

Pashar’s lips twitch again as he scrutinizes the building for a moment but doesn’t reply. Instead, he drops his illusion entirely as he walks toward the entrance and knocks sharply on the door.

Oh, we’re going straight to terrifying folks.

I smile as I shrug to myself and join him with a little skip in my step.

His twisty corethi things thread close to me as if reaching out for me, and heat sneaks into my belly as his head tips towards me, his yellow-green eyes growing more luminous as he focuses on me.

I clear my throat awkwardly, and he blinks, the spell broken as he faces the door and raps on it.

Everything is silent for a long moment, but then the door creaks open and Jasper peers around it, his yellow, glowing eyes peering at us from a sharp, hollow-cheeked green face.

His complexion is a sort of pea-soup color, and his black hair is wild around his head, with shorter spiked locks falling across his brow to hang slightly over his eyes.

His pale green pallor, the dark lips hiding his sharp teeth, and the black shadows around his eyes can easily pass as a product of clever makeup artistry, but it’s his hand resting against the side of the door that gives me pause.

Each long green finger is tipped with a long vicious-looking black talon that scrapes lightly against the wood beneath his fingers.

As hideous as his disguise in town is, I can’t say he’s ugly in his natural form.

It’s more that his appearance is just outright alarming to the instinctive part of the mind.

“Oh. You’re here,” he says by way of greeting as he backs up and draws the door further open. “I’m afraid that you’re too late.”

“Too late?” Pashar echoes, a thunderous expression descending over his features.

To his credit, Jasper doesn’t look the least bit intimidated by the demon.

He merely shrugs and gestures for us to follow him to the long counter in what was once an impressive receiving room.

He flicks a ledger open in front of him and licks a finger with his black tongue before flipping through the pages.

His hand flattened on the page once he had it, and he turned the ledger toward us.

“As you can see, David Sweeney checked out two days ago.”

“What?” Pashar growled furiously as he snatched up the ledger. I had to stand on my tiptoes to look over his massive arm to see at all, but sure enough it was right there in black ink.

“Looks like he checked out pretty late in the afternoon, too,” I comment, my brow furrowing. “Kind of strange, if you ask me. Usually, people check out in the morning when they get up.”

The ghoul shrugs, clearly unconcerned. “He probably had things to do in the morning. You humans tend to be ridiculously constructive in all that horrible sunlight.”

I squint at the ghoul. “Ever consider moving to the North-East, like Maine or something? You’re not exactly in the right climate if you’re trying to avoid a whole lot of sun.”

He grins at me, his sharp teeth sending a shiver through me.

“The desert has other things that satisfy me. Things have a habit of just disappearing in the desert... like your charming town. If you don’t know what to look for, then good luck finding it.

There is a reason why locals truck supplies in,” he chuckles.

“And yet, people just randomly find their way here, and death eventually finds the desert. Your Mr. Sweeney seemed to realize this days ago. He had mentioned that he was expecting company, but no matter how he tried to direct them, they just couldn’t seem to find this part of the desert. ”

And yet, somehow the bus that carried both me and David Sweeney found its way in, and humans had managed to populate the town. Did any of them ever leave?

“Did he mention where he went?” Pashar growls, drawing the ghoul’s attention back to him.

Jasper shook his head. “Not a word. I was sleeping, mind you. But the daytime staff said that he didn’t say anything. He merely set his key on the counter and left. You’re welcome to check his room, however.”

Pashar nods and waits expectantly as Jasper retrieves the room key from the hook behind him and slides it across the counter. “Room twelve,” he reminds us with an eerie smile. “Try not to disturb the other guests while you are at it.”

“No prob,” I say as unaffected as I can manage while Pashar picks up the key.

The ghoul’s eyes turn back on me, and he smiles. “You are a tasty one. Not much truly terrifies you. I wonder what sorts of things might make you scream. Since you came all the way out here, I don’t suppose you would be interested in a room?”

Is... is he flirting with me? Oh man.

“No,” Pashar snaps before I can unglue my tongue from the top of my mouth. He holds the key up between his fingers. “This is all we need. We will take a quick look around and be out of here as quickly as possible.”

Jasper inclines his head, and I don’t miss the fact that Pashar’s corethi are twining aggressively, their sharp points pointed directly at the ghoul.

While I’m not sure what exactly has set Pashar off, the ghoul is clearly not oblivious to the danger being directed at him, even if he’s playing it cool.

“Second floor. The room will be the third on the right,” he rasps.

Pashar dips his head in acknowledgement as he takes my hand in his and leads me away from the desk.

Neither of us comments on the way the ghoul’s eyes are following us, but it’s a free country and Pashar has mentioned before that what he is permitted to do in this world is incredibly limited and fraught with all kinds of regulations.

I do kind of wonder, though, how a ghoul might hold up in a fight with a demon.

Jasper, despite how thin he is, has a wicked strength to him. I doubt he would be easy to take down.

Like the ghoul, the inn is definitely far more than it appears.

As we pass the rooms, my skin prickles as strange sounds and sensations—whether hot, cold, or damp—seemed to escape from behind the closed doors.

It’s wilder than any horror movie I’ve ever seen.

The bulbs in the wall sconces flicker, sending deep shadows over the aged wallpaper as we reach the stairs and climb to the second floor.

Arriving at room twelve, Pashar unlocks the door, and I follow him inside and flip on the light.

It is shockingly normal. A double-sized bed sits against the far wall with a lamp on either side.

Its amber bedding matches the curtains in a very uniform earth-tone color palette that complements the sandstone-colored walls, calling to the theme of the deserts depicted in the framed paintings hanging on the wall.

I drift toward one painting while Pashar rifles through the drawers of the nightstands.

“Very prosaic,” I comment aloud as I peer at it.

It’s actually a very nice view of the canyon, and it looks like something that could easily have been painted from just about any location outside of town.

While the colors are restful to the eye, there is something eerie about it that I can’t quite put my finger on.

The bedroom light suddenly momentarily flickers, and within the painting, the glowing eyes of hunting creatures come to life from where they prowl, hidden among the rocks and sparse plant life.

Gasping, I stumble back from it, drawing the demon’s gaze to me.

“What is it?” he demands, rushing to my side.

“N... nothing,” I stutter, my fist clenched and pressed tightly against my heart, willing it to remain locked behind my ribcage.

I shake my head and give him an apologetic smile as he squints at the painting.

“Here I was thinking that the room was so normal, and it took the first opportunity to prove me wrong.” I tip my head toward the painting.

“When the lights flickered, there was something prowling in the painting.”

“Ah,” Pashar murmurs. “Jasper does have a taste for collecting the oddest things. Oddities seem to find their way out into the desert, as well, not just people. Things that are filled with power and cannot be destroyed but would be better forgotten. This painting must be one of them. A portal of some kind, inactive but serving as a window, nonetheless.”

I shiver. I love spooky stuff, but... “How the hell would anyone even be able to sleep in here?”

He grins in response but walks away, returning to his task.

I reluctantly join him, but I don’t feel comfortable completely giving my back to the painting as I help him search the room.

To my disappointment, there aren’t much in the way of clues.

I was hoping for a journal or something in which he logged his daily frustration and detailed his plans.

Something that would have been found if real life resembled an old monster movie or thrilling mystery.

Instead, all I can come up with is a scrap of paper that I find caught under the foot of the bed.

Bending, I pick it up and hold it close to scrutinize the unholy penmanship scrawled across it.

Thursday, 10 am. No address, no name or phone number. Just an appointment time. Sighing, I show it to Pashar before sticking it in my pocket. Where would he have had an appointment early that morning? Whatever it was, it explained why he had checked out later, just as Jasper said.

“Come on,” Pashar sighs with a last glance around the room.

It took us a few minutes to put it back together again, though I can’t say it is quite as tidy as it was before.

Neither of us appears to have ever mastered tucking blankets around a bed in the neat, tight ways hotels and hospitals do.

“We aren’t going to find anything more here. ”

I look up at him as we leave the room. “What do we do now?” I whisper.

“There’s nothing we can do but wait and watch,” he grumbles.

And with Halloween festivities starting soon in town, that makes my stomach drop.

That would be a perfect opportunity to try something nefarious if he has the capability.

He obviously can’t get whoever it is he wants to get out here, but that doesn’t mean that he might not try something crazy himself.