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I blinked.

Willow and Charlie were looking at me.

“What?”

I looked back up at the Motel.

Empty.

Of course.

I bit the inside of my cheek to stop myself from smiling.

He wanted to play.

Fine.

“Let’s go in here. There is no line.” I say, pointing.

“Hell no.” Charlie says, looking up at the tall building.

“Come on. We can protect you.”

He huffs out a sigh before nodding his head.

We go up to the entrance where a actor with a sliced face and a concierge costume on, covered in blood.

He gets a bin, and points down at it.

Right, phones.

We enter.

The doors swung shut behind us.

Old tables filled the room. Bottles lined shelves behind the bar, everything covered in dust and fake cobwebs.

Something moved upstairs.

Willow looked toward the ceiling.

“Nope.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Scared?”

“Observant.”

“Right.”

A piano started playing to the left of us.

I jumped.

Charlie laughed.

“Fuck you.”

The eerie sounds travel through the room, the piano groaning and moaning as if someone was actually playing it, but of course no one was there.