Knight Casefiles Book 1: Revelations

Revelations [Chapter 7]

Chapter 7

They say first impressions count. Our host had definitely been one to obey that particular adage.

After his announcement, the lights around the room dimmed, leaving the fireplace as our only source of illumination. If that wasn’t enough, a new scent assaulted our noses, the fire crackling as one of the butlers threw a powder into the flames, turning it blue. An azure haze immediately settled around the dining hall, casting a distinct pallor on all the guests’ faces. Margaret seemed especially impressed, her eyes glinting as she clasped her hands.

“That is so cool!” she whispered to me.

I was too busy watching Elaine. She seemed relatively unimpressed but was jotting something on her a napkin, ever professional. Hiding a smile, I shook my head and returned my attention to Mr. Whistler. He was definitely not what I expected. Instead of being a rich old man trying to salvage his business, Adam Whistler looked like something out of Vogue. Black hair slicked back, similar black eyes glinting as he flashed a million-dollar smile, our host was definitely not an old man.

He looked somewhere around his mid-twenties, well-built, and sharply dressed in a leather blazer and green turtleneck. He stood with a confidence that didn’t echo desperately-searching-investors, instead screaming bachelor-looking-for-a-place-to-party. I knew the look well.

His voice, a velvety baritone, drifted across the room as he proceeded with formalities – his gratitude for our presence, why we were there, that kind of stuff. He immediately went on a speech about the history of Whistler Lodge, which was something the fanatics ate up, feverishly typing on their computers and phones, eyes wide as they listened.

The Lodge apparently had a lot of inexplicable events to account for. It was the usual from lights turning on and off, items being misplaced, banging sounds, cold chills, shadows appearing and disappearing, etc. There were also a few disconcertingly unique ones: maids being found nude and sobbing in one particular room, hand marks appearing on the outside of third floor windows where there would be no footing for anyone, and even a case where residents would go missing for days, only to be found in the middle of the man-made hedge maze with no recollection of what happened but baring scratch marks all over their bodies.

Admittedly, I was fascinated. Not by the stories but by the way our host worked the room. Everyone was paying close attention, even the big wigs who normally didn’t give crap about these kinds of nonsense.

When he was done, Adam Whistler waved once and the help immediately approached with trays of food, spreading them out across the table for us to take as we please.

“…During your stay, I assure you that you’ll be exposed to much of the Lodge’s dark and enigmatic history, but for tonight, I’m sure we’re all tired from the long journey. I do hope you enjoy the modest banquet we’ve prepared. Take all you want but please eat all you take.” He bowed once again before sitting and starting off the meal.

“That was interesting,” Margaret exclaimed as she helped herself to a salad.

“Hmmm, I wasn’t really paying attention,” I admitted, slicing myself a steak and spooning mashed potatoes on my plate. “Did he say anything about the facilities?”

“Mostly just a run-down of the rooms, where we’re staying, etcetera. Why?”

I smiled mischievously. “You don’t find it weird that he focused more on the so-called hauntings here and not the facilities?”

Margaret glanced at me. “Not really…”

I shrugged. “Maybe I’m just cynical but I’m betting he’s just trying to work us up. Get an interesting buzz out of the high-profile guests before opening it to the public. There’s a lot of competition for him around these parts so that kind of press would be bound to assure him a large piece of the metaphorical pie.”