Cheers To Death.

Chapter 2 : Follow The Crimson.

For the next few days, Autumn couldn't help but notice her sister's changed behaviour. She had stopped eating properly, and was always lost in her thoughts, which was strange. Normally, Emilie was the hyper-aware sibling and Autumn was the sister with her head in the clouds. The roles seemed to have been reversed as Emilie started spending more and more time in the library, jotting down her thoughts in an old, worn journal.

With these worrying thoughts at the forefront of her mind, Autumn slipped off to sleep. Unfortunately, it wouldn't be a very peaceful rest.

The clock clanged three and usually, Autumn would sleep right through it. Not today, though. Her eyes blinked open and she drowsily sat up, tugging the blanket off.

Turning to look at the clock, her glance stopped instead on her cerulean wall. Her face went white as she realized what she was seeing, and her breaths began to quicken. Trying to calm herself down, she threw herself back onto her bed, grabbing her blanket and pulling it over her head as she shook with fear.

Marring the cerulean wall were a mass of ashy grey footprints, leading to the ceiling.

Autumn stayed huddled up inside her blanket for almost an hour, before she peeked out again. The footprints were gone, but Autumn's fear wasn't. It took a long, long time for her to fall asleep again, nightmares of grotesque demons following the footsteps into her room disturbing her in her sleep.

Autumn was subdued at breakfast the next day, but Emilie didn't seem to notice. What she did notice was, the bruises on her arms.

"I didn't fall or do anything drastic enough to get these bruises," Emilie frowned, observing her arm after having pulled up her sleeve.

"Do you think it's the gho— ouch!" Autumn yanked up her sleeve, staring at horror at the deep purple bruise darkening into view. "What the hell?"

Emilie and Autumn looked at each other; Emilie's face grim, Autumn's face white with terror.

"It's them," Emilie said, sounding grave and ominous, before anger flowed into her tone. "And that's it. We're not playing by their rules anymore. I'm going to go talk to them."

"Emilie, pleasd, it's not safe," Autumn pleaded, only to stop at Emilie's stern glance.

"Death with dignity over a life of dishonor," she said simply. "Always remember that, Autumn. And there's few things more cowardly than running away from your problems."

"And troubles always follow you anyway," Autumn realized, gulping. "Okay. Okay," she sounded as if she was trying to convince herself.

Emilie's cutlery clattered onto her plate as she stood up, abandoning her half eaten breakfast. Her face was a mask of fierce determination, and all Autumn could was pray and follow her headstrong sister to the room upstairs.

Emilie walked up the winding staircase with gritted teeth and her hand gripping the railing so tight, her knuckles were fading from peach to white. She was beyond furious. Chaos she could deal with, bruises she could deal with, but her sister being harmed? No way in hell.

Approaching the two hundred and fiftieth door, she glared at the silver numbers hanging on the door before she slammed it open, Autumn pushing it closed behind them much more gently.

"Talk to me," Emilie commanded, standing firm and tall. "What right do you have to disturb the occupants of this hotel? Talk, or show yourself!"

The room seemed to grow colder. A lightbulb flickered out; the other lights fizzling dangerously. A papyrus note, shaded and worn, fell to the floor.

Emilie picked it up.

"Follow the crimson," she read softly. "What does that mean? Crimson?"

"I really, really don't like it here," Autumn mumbled, glancing around nervously.

Emilie turned to her, holding back a gasp as she realized Autumn's lips were taking on a blue tinge.

"Go back to your room, or the library," Emilie ordered, her tone brooking no argument. "Put the heater on, I don't want you catching a cold."

Autumn nodded, slipping out of the room, shivering with fear-induced cold.

"Now to figure out what this means," Emilie muttered, racking her brain for any possible meaning she could deduce.

Her eyes fell upon a little jewel shimmering red. Startled, she drew back. As if to encourage her further, the tiny ruby jumped up into the air before harmlessly smacking into the carpet, lying as still as a dead crow.

"Could it be?" Emilie tilted her room, walking out.

One of the yellow lights that brightened the corridor was shining maroon. From there, a little door stood across it, a single ruby encrusted into the handle.

It was not a door Emilie had seen before. Nevertheless, she followed.

She half-expected it to creak ominously as it opened, but it slid forward with barely a sound. Emilie stared. It was a room full of dusty old scrolls and books. Instinctively, she took out the duster hanging from her belt, ridding the first few books of the dirt that enveloped them.

It was the fifth book that caught her eye, though. A little book with the picture of her precious hotel emblazoned on the cover, and Emilie couldn't help but open it, wary as she was of the grim title blazing across the page; The Owners Of The Corpses' Permanent Residence.

The first page had her gasping aloud, the book falling free from her shaky hands. She screamed as a few books floated up and flew at her head, ducking just in time. Turning, she ran for the door — only for it to slam shut in her face.

Her face ashen; she turned around to face the apparition that was pulsing into view, darkening into greyer, more pearl-like hues until it almost looked corporeal.

It smiled.

It smiled a wide, happy smile, and Emilie did not like it one bit, but nevertheless, it smiled.

"Welcome," it chuckled, floating closer, "welcome, my dear Emile.. at long last."