Unsurprisingly, the Kreuziger Hotel was named after its financier and builder. At the summit he built himself a penthouse, which by repute was the most luxurious in the state. Old Kreuziger was a man of vision who never took 'no' for an answer. He didn't care that the land used to be an old Indian burial ground with an unholy reputation. Ignoring protests, Kreuziger ploughed ahead. There were several accidents and two deaths from falls, men started refusing work on that site and Kreuziger had to pay top dollar. However, eventually his hotel was built and overlooked the city.
Despite being a man of foresight, Kreuziger never saw the banking crisis coming. Down to his last million and with his creditors circling like buzzards he watched the July Fourth fireworks and then stepped off the ledge. That's what all the papers agreed to print the next day. His death was tragic but explicable; however there were things that the papers left out.
Like how come Kreuziger's body appeared to have fallen from a far greater height than the penthouse as well as those inexplicable scratches on the outside of the windows. Windows that couldn't be reached from the exterior.
Kreuziger's death was a nine days wonder but in the economic downturn it took far longer than that to find someone rich enough to rent the penthouse. Of course, somebody eventually did. Christopher Boulting III had made a colossal fortune as a hedge fund manager in New York and was far-sighted enough to cash out hours before the bubble burst. Insider trading? Definitely not according to the regulators.
All the same, Boulting never liked the frenetic pace of life in the Big Apple and now he didn't have to live there he'd come home to the mid-west. However, with his multi-millions behind him, he still needed something to do so Boulting intended to run for the State Senate. Especially as the Governor hinted that he thought Boulting would be successful.
Now, Boulting needed a place to live that fitted his status. And the empty penthouse on top of the Kreuziger Hotel would fit the bill. Of course, he paid an interior designer – a woman he'd known back in Manhattan – to redesign it in a more post-modern style.
Even Boulting was impressed. He held a house-warming to which he invited all those who could influence his nomination. The gourmet buffet cost a small fortune but it was appreciated. "Get a wife," the Governor advised. "The voters like to see stability in a man." Eventually, the last guest left, leaving Boulting alone.
Boulting looked around the room. The maid could clean up in the morning. Pouring himself a Chivas, he stepped outside onto the balcony. The view over the city was spectacular. What was that? A sudden shadow, man-like, darker than the night blotted out the moon. There! Another? Fear washed over him, chilling him to the bone. Boulting rubbed his eyes. He didn't know this part of the state that well. Did they have giant bats here? Alarmed, he stepped back into his apartment and closed and locked the French windows. Shaken, Boulting poured himself a triple.
The following morning, the sun shone clear out of the June sky. Boulting almost forgot the strange, disturbing shadows and certainly wasn't about to ask. He spent his day meeting powerful bigwigs followed by dinner.
It was late when Boulting returned home. The city lights drew his gaze and far below a barge-string pushed up-river. Smiling, he poured himself another Chivas and stepped outside. Another shadow. Boulting ducked as he heard membranous wings flutter past. Talons tore at his jacket and a barbed tail lashed past. Another shape, darker than the night itself soared past. He felt a malicious sense of pure evil.
Once again Boulting retreated inside, his heart racing. A large shadow flew past the picture windows, its talons scraping the glass. Boulting couldn't be sure but it seemed as if the creature had no face as it looked in. He glanced at the scotch shaking his head as he dropped the blinds shutting out the shades. His imagination was running away with him but he didn't want to see a shrink. That wouldn't look good if it ever came out.
Boulting kept busy over the next few weeks. Although a wealthy man, he had to source funding for his campaign, plus he needed to be seen by the state's movers and shakers. As well as that, he was introduced to Lorraine Crane, the Governor's beautiful niece. After he met Lorraine, she gave Boulting little time to worry about phantasms.
However, two weeks later were the July Fourth celebrations. As the up-and-coming man, Boulting got invited to several parties but he wanted to enjoy the fireworks from the best viewpoint in the city – his own penthouse – so he made his excuses and left early.
Leaning on the railings, Boulting had a moment's unease but reckoned the fireworks would scare away any bats. Explosions of color and sound washed over him and he grinned as he raised a glass. And then a swooping, rushing sound overhead.
Instinctively, Boulting lashed out, his fist punching into rubbery skin. There were more of them – a confusion of wings and clawed hands pinching, clutching and tearing at him. Boulting shouted but his cries were lost in a fusillade of noise and brightness. His arms were grabbed and his feet left the ground. Boulting struggled furiously, his shoes touched the tiles once more but he was lifted into the air.
High above the tower, those tails started tickling. Boulting squirmed and wriggled under this devilish torture as these creatures tried to subdue him. Higher still these silent creatures rushed as if they were leaving the Earth behind. Looking down, Boulting saw the city's grid laid out far below. Then, at the zenith of their flight, the creatures opened their claws.
The penthouse suite of the Kreuziger Hotel is once again available to rent.