And lest I forget, an extra special shout out to Allegrita for doing some brilliant beta’ing at short notice.
Ashes to Ashes
Okay, so maybe, standing outside the Franklin Hotel last night and watching it burn, I wasn’t entirely honest with Beth about my connection to the place. I mean, I told her about Sunday brunch there with my parents, back in the late ‘20s, but that’s not all. After I came home from the war, and was trying to build up a career as a musician, I worked there as a bartender, making ends meet. Not the best job I ever had, but the tips were good.
And that’s not all. My wedding reception was at the Franklin. The last few hours of human happiness I ever knew were spent at that hotel, dancing with my new bride, drinking with my buddies, and secure in the company of my family. Man, we had a good party that night—I hated to leave, even though I knew I was going off to spend my wedding night with the most beautiful, sexiest woman in the world. I knew it was a watershed moment—that after that night my life would be different. Never mind that Coraline ensured that it was a whole lot more different than I could have imagined.
Even now, crunching through the ashes and debris of the fire, it’s hard not to see that big room as the gracious, festive space I remember. All white tablecloths and flower arrangements, the dark wood of the dining room chairs and the muted shine of polished silver and china. It had been chic and modern in the ‘20s, and was still elegant and classic in the ‘50s. I can still see the place the way it was that night, the men in suits, the women in their fancy dresses. I can almost hear the sounds. Laughter and the clink of glasses and silverware. The murmur of celebration, of happiness. The room was all light, white and gold and silver, without a shadow.
I can see them so clearly, the faces of friends and family, that I wonder if maybe I’m the ghost here, not them. I’m the one condemned to wander forever in the world, regretting that turn of events so long ago.
Blackened shards of glass and porcelain shatter under my feet as I move through the space. Occasionally I spot a lump of melted silver, a twisted fork or crumpled spoon, and a few sodden rags that are all that’s left of the table linens. I remember being impressed as a kid with how perfectly white and starched the tablecloths and napkins always were on Sunday mornings. Twenty years later, when I was working in the bar, I was less enthralled with the passion for detail that the management always had, but it was explained to me that it would always be a hallmark of the Franklin. When the fire started, the dining room must’ve been set for a banquet, and that makes the idea of arson seem even stranger.
I don’t know what I expect to find, here. Evidence of a murder? Something to counteract—or confirm—my growing suspicion that Morgan Vincent, photographer and mortal, is the same person as Coraline Duval, vampire and my presumed-dead ex-wife?
I take a few photos, in case anyone is watching me, but I’m really doing more looking around, and trying to sort through a lot of conflicting and overlapping scent data. Just on the edge of my awareness, there’s a hint of burned flesh. I’d think it was the remains of meat in the kitchen—the Franklin’s prime rib was justly famous, in its day, but this doesn’t smell quite like beef. And it’s not in the direction of the kitchen.
The pictures Morgan showed us, the ones from the fire that seemed to catch a murder in progress, were not on the ground floor. That means going up the stairs, and who knows what shape they’re in? I stand and look at the main staircase for a few moments, lost in the past. The night of my wedding, Coraline and I climbed those stairs together, pausing for her to throw the bouquet over her shoulder.
This time, I‘m climbing carefully, watching for telltale signs the whole shebang might collapse underfoot. I could walk away from it, if it did, but that would lead to a lot of questions I don’t want to answer…for a number of reasons.
Turns out, it’s solid enough. Even the fire couldn’t destroy the graceful curve of the stairway, although parts of the bannister fall into pieces in my hand along the way.
The next floor is more of the same—charred furniture and sodden lumps of debris. The roof has given way, here and there, and slabs of warped plaster lie scattered around. Oddly, the slatted blinds on the windows have largely survived, keeping the sunlight coming in to a manageable level for me. The rays striping through the blinds highlight the amount of dust in the air.
Here, the scent is stronger. The stink of burnt meat, singed hair. I’d hoped I was wrong, but the smell tells me I’m not. Whoever that woman was, she’s still here…and possibly her boyfriend as well, if the flames caught him. I shove aside a piece of charred beam, dreading what I’m going to find.
In fifty-five years as a vampire, I’ve seen some strange things, but this is about as weird as anything I’ve ever run across. The body of a woman, completely consumed by the fire, but leaving behind a perfect effigy, made of ash. It helps if I try not to think of her as a person, someone who was breathing last night. She looks fragile, as though the lightest touch, the merest breeze could destroy the fleeting integrity of her remains.
I wonder, did Coraline look like this, when the fire was through with her? Was she preserved, temporarily, as a featureless statue, eternal as death and ephemeral as a snowflake? I look at the thing in front of me, and for a moment, I see Coraline—the passion of my human life, the center of my world as a vampire for so long. I loved her, and I hated her, and in the end, I killed her. Turned her to ash.
Before I can stop myself, I reach out a hesitant finger toward the strained fingers of ash on the body before me. It’s the barest meeting of our hands, and the ash falls away, the woman is gone into nothingness in seconds, swirling away on the draft from the broken windows.
In the distance, or maybe it’s only in my mind, I hear Coraline’s voice, yearning, calling for me one last time.
left me haunted and stirred.
You've added a lot to this scene.
