6:15am, December 23rd, 20XX

  The cold breeze lashed at Marie Lacour as she stepped off the bus. The cold wind cut through her thin coat as she shielded her eyes from the flurries that were falling thick enough the street lamps were barely visible as a golden glow in the pre-dawn twilight. Despite the weather, the snow build-up was minimal so far and she crunched her way down the street toward her job. The job she was late for, again.

  She flinched as a gust of wind and the flurry of snow it carried struck her in the face. In response, she pulled the hood of her puffy red winter coat down over her face. It was two blocks from the bus stop to her job at the Hotel Vancouver. On a summer day, it was short and forgettable. By the time she stumbled up to the back alley entrance, she was thoroughly freezing despite her coat. The warmth of the hotel’s backrooms was a welcome change as she pulled open the door.

  A cacophony of shouting voices washed over her as she stepped inside, accompanied by the banging of pots and pans in the kitchen. The backroom where everyone hung up their coats and the rooms for changing into uniforms were empty. Not surprising since she was late.

  She was beginning the process of hanging up her coat and digging her uniform out of her bag when a voice came from the doorway leading into the rest of the building. “Marie, excellent,” A rough voice said.

  Marie looked up from her locker. “Mr. Russ, sorry I’m late again. The bus-”

  “Was late again, I noticed,” Her manager interrupted with a nod. An older man with black hair peppered with streaks of grey. Normally he was quite pristine, with a carefully pressed suit and tie, and hair that was combed to precision. Today his hair looked combed, but a bit ruffled, and his suit’s top button was undone without the older man having seemingly noticed.

  “Look, we’re a bit overwhelmed at the moment, so get changed and then uuuh,” He consulted the tablet he was holding in his hands. Also not something he normally had out. “Check out the ballroom.”

  “Check the ballroom?” She repeated as she continued to shuck off her winter coat before tossing her vest over a shoulder. “What’s going on that’s so overwhelming?” She asked.

  Her boss sighed. “I wish I knew for sure. The first people in this morning found that the entire shift from last night seems to have just walked off the job. No idea where they went,” He said, “I came in to find the receptionist buried in complaints and unable to contact or even find the kitchen staff or the cleaning staff. It’s an absolute mess. I’ve got everyone else running about dealing with complaints and trying to get breakfast sorted, but there’s the Pacific Ballroom that was in use last night. It’s scheduled for use this evening as well, but since nothing else seems to have been done I’m assuming that they left it a mess as well. Check it out, then come back and let me know so I can figure out how many people we’re going to need to get it ready in time. Clear?”

  Marie nodded. “I’ll get it done once I’m dressed properly,” She said, heading for the change rooms to switch out to her proper uniform.

  “Don’t take too long,” Her boss called.

  Ten minutes later Marie pushed the elevator call button for the staff elevator. The staff elevator rumbled as it descended to ground level. The door slid open and she stepped aside to allow one of her co-workers pushing a cart of cleaning supplies to pass by. The door tried to slide shut before she could step in, but a hastily thrown-out hand stopped that.

  She hit the button for the conference floor and, muttering imprecations about short boarding times, leaned against the back wall of the elevator. The doors slid closed and the entire vehicle began to rumble up the shaft in its slow arthritic fashion. The elevator was old. Hell, the building was old. Old steel, old ventilation, old elevators. Old, old, old. Not that you could tell unless you paid attention to the staff elevators. The public areas were in perfect condition. They worked hard to keep them in perfect condition.

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  Marie ran a hand through her hair, brushing a lock of her black hair behind her ear. The elevator dinged as it lurched to a stop and she hurried out onto the conference floor. The conference floor had three ballrooms. Two of moderate size and a third grand ballroom with a stage and a vaulted ceiling. They were beautiful, but Marie always found the amount of gold gilding to be excessive to her tastes.

  The hallways, including the one she stepped out of the elevator onto, were much nicer. Wide halls with tasteful carpets in reds, blues, and with only some gold mixed in. Small tables and vases of beautiful flowers lined the sides. It was very nice except for one small thing.

  Marie’s nose wrinkled as she stepped out of the elevator. “Oh god, what is that?” She muttered. A sickly sweet scent that rankled the nose permeated the floor. Covering her nose she looked around for the source. The hallway was free and clear.

  “What did they do last night?” She wondered aloud as she peaked into one of the medium-sized ballrooms. It was empty and clear of any debris. Feeling vaguely nauseous she pushed on towards where the scent was strongest. She stopped outside the closed doors of the Pacific Ballroom and hesitated. The scent was definitely coming from beyond the ballroom.

  For a moment she considered heading back downstairs to tell Mr. Russ that the smell was keeping her from getting close. Something weird had happened beyond this door and if she was honest she suspected that whatever party the guests had thrown the night before was raucous and more than enough to get them blacklisted. Did she really want to know what they had gotten up to?

  She was probably going to have to clean it up either way though. “May as well get this over with,” She muttered. She stepped up to the door, grasped the door handles and opened the door. As the handles turned the door swung towards her of its own accord and she stumbled as something fell out of the room and onto her. Reflexively she caught it.

  Her eyes went wide and she screamed as she realized what had landed in her arms. The blank sightless eyes of a dead man stared up at her from the well-dressed body of a handsome man in this twenties. She dropped it and scrambled backwards screaming, her eyes fixated on the body as the smell from the room beyond washed over her like a wave. Her eyes watered and after a moment she wrenched her eyes from the body to the room.

  She regretted it immediately.

  The grand ballroom was a charnel house. The dead bodies of men and women dressed for a formal party littered the floor; both blood and gore streaked the walls. In the center of the room was a mass of ice ten feet tall, shaped vaguely like someone had intended it to be a grand throne. Bodies hung from long spikes of ice that crisscrossed the air above it, adding a slow drip-drip as blood dribbled down the spikes to patter across the ruined carpet. The throne itself, which faced the door, was empty.

  Marie’s stomach roiled as she stumbled to her feet, mouth agape at the sight. Her uniform was stained with blood, the vest soaked through. She could feel it sticking to her. She shuddered. It was at that moment her stomach roiled too much and she heaved forward, vomit splashing down onto the dead body at her feet.

  It took minutes to end, but as the dry heaves subsided she took one last look at the room and started stumbling towards the elevator. The stairs would be quicker, but her legs were shaking and the world was swaying. She felt like she was going to pass out.

  She stumbled and caught herself on a decorative table, knocking the vase to the ground. She flinched at the loud noise of the porcelain braking. “Tell someone,” She muttered, stumbling onward. “Focus, just tell someone… oh god, oh god…”

  As the elevator doors closed on the conference floor and Marie sank to the floor of the elevator she reflected that maybe it would have been better if she’d missed her second bus as well.

  She stumbled out of the elevator and into the surprised arms of one of her co-workers while babbling about bodies and blood. Mr. Russ was called and he, in turn, called the Police as Marie was helped into a side room to sit and recover. And as the sun rose on December the 23rd death had long since come to the Hotel Vancouver.