James wanted to go outside.

It started with him moping. Liz had referred to it as 'the Jimmy blues'. Sally called it depression. James brushed it off as boredom. He had no interest in anything. There had been three new hotel guests that morning; all of them young women of about twenty-four, maybe twenty-five. James had lured each of them upstairs and ripped out their hearts before their very eyes. It was normally exhilarating; the power of life and death in his hands. He had always been aroused at the way they whimpered and squirmed beneath him, only to find true release when their blood seeped between his fingers.

This time, however, with every cut and gash he found himself growing more and more tired. It was highly unnatural and he was almost embarrassed when he called for Miss Evers and she was more excited than he was.

"What a marvelous piece of work, Mr. March," she trilled as she observed the young woman's face - or, rather, lack thereof. "You really have outdone yourself this time." James made his way to his chair, sinking into it and pulling out a cigarette. He watched with dull eyes as the chipper woman pulled the body out into the hall, still chattering as she came back to change the sheets. "I must say, that's four today, is it not?"

James inhaled deeply, closing his eyes and allowing his head to fall back against the chair. "Oh, Miss Evers, please do me a favor and shut up." He could only imagine the stupidly astonished look on her face before a nervous laugh bubbled from her throat.

"Of course, my apologies, Mr. March. But there was one more thing..." She paused for a moment before clapping her hands together. "Ah, yes. Your wife has requested that you have dinner with her tonight."

"Ex-wife," James whispered, shoulders sagging with an exasperated sigh. His interactions with Elizabeth only seemed to get worse and he was far from interested in how she planned to emotionally torment him tonight. Pushing the thoughts away, he directed his attention to the ceiling. He hadn't noticed the way that it sagged or the crack by the light before. It was a moment of intense staring before he remembered that the hotel was old. That he was old and dead for that matter. His lips twisted into a grimace at the sad realization and he wondered if that had anything to do with his recent lack of amusement.

It wasn't that he had grown tired of killing - no, he didn't think that his mind would ever possibly allow him to have any other pastime. However, he was tired of killing in this blasted hotel. No, he was tired of being in the damned place entirely. At first, when he realized his fate, he had truly believed there would be no better afterlife. He knew the hotel like the back of his hand, so it would only make sense that he would remain there and continue his legacy in the place that he knew best. There was always the opportunity of seeing a new face, not to mention the permanent guests, so it wasn't as though he were alone. Yet there was something missing. He couldn't quite place it, but it was this odd emptiness that resided within him.

"Miss Evers," he frowned. "Have you ever seen.. the outside recently?" The question itself sounded horribly wrong and his brows drew together in frustration. The thought that there was a world outside of the hotel was surreal and entirely maddening.

The laundress blinked in surprise, tilting her head to the side before a small smile appeared on her lips. "Well, of course. You should see some of the television programs they have on nowadays. Not to mention, Iris keeps a newspaper and a couple of magazines, I believe, at the front desk. I flip through those every now and then when I'm not cleaning up here."

James shook his head, "That's not what I meant, my dear." He took another long drag of his cigarette, this time waiting until the smoke prickled the back of his throat before he finally exhaled. "Have you seen the outside? At all. Currently. Have you looked out the windows or peeked out the door? Have you seen what it looks like out there? What the people look like?" The woman opened her mouth to speak, but the man quickly continued his excited ramble. "No, Hazel, the guests do not count. I mean have you seen them outside as they go through their every day lives? Don't you ever wonder what it's like to be out there again? In such a new world, with new things, and new people. New opportunities." He was almost breathless by the time he finished, suddenly realizing that he had moved from his chair when Hazel cleared her throat. Swallowing, James removed his hands from the woman's shoulders and stepped back. "My apologies. I'm afraid I was carried away."

"That's quite alright, Mr. March," she responded, fanning herself with her free hand. "I must say, while I'm unaware of where this sudden interest in the new world has come from, I have not bothered to make any of those attempts or ventures. I suppose I'm simply not curious, as I'm perfectly satisfied with the way that life goes on in this beautiful hotel." James deflated like a child whose dreams had just been crushed before his very eyes. In a sore attempt to make him feel better, the laundress quickly added, "But the world was sick when we were living, so I highly doubt that it's changed. I am sure you are not missing anything of importance, Mr. March." Shooting a smile in his direction, the woman bunched up the sheets and disappeared through the doorway.

James put out his cigarette, grabbing his cane and making his way out of the room. He could hear the sounds of the other guests, though their cries were unacknowledged by each other. Some were of pleasure, some of pain, and he awaited the customary sense of heat that would normally pool in his stomach as he heard his pupils take action. Yet there was nothing.

"What's wrong with you?" he questioned aloud. He would normally feel like a god whenever he took the chance to step out of his room. This was his palace, he was the king. Now, though the place was empty as usual, he felt like a stranger. Sucking in his cheeks, he made his way to the front desk, leaning against it and tapping the bell with as much nonchalance as he could muster. Within seconds Iris appeared, eyes looking even larger through her thick-framed glasses.

"Mr. March," she observed before clearing her throat. "Did you need something? We haven't had any new guests, but I'm sure some will show up eventually."

"Wonderful," James waved a hand dismissively. "Tell me, Iris, would you say that the world of today is just as sick and twisted as the world back when I was-" His voice cut off abruptly and he grimaced. For some reason his throat wanted to lock up on the word. His lips tried to form the proper vowel-consonant mixture, yet he only succeeded in appearing as though he was having a stroke and gaining an odd look from the receptionist.

"Alive?"

"I was going to say younger."

Scoffing, Iris folded her arms. "Well, I think it would depend on who you'd ask. I wouldn't say that your days were particularly sick, from what I know," she clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth a couple of times before leaning forward and lowering her voice to a whisper. "I think it may have just been you."

James' lips formed a thin line and he leaned toward the receptionist, eyes alight with a flame they had previously lacked. "I am aware that your so-called humor may be found sociable with our guests, but please remember that you are replaceable and I would gladly rip your larynx from your throat should the opportunity present itself."

Iris stiffened, but was not prepared to back down. She opened her mouth to speak when suddenly someone entered the front doors. James visibly cringed at the humidity that briefly filled the lobby before making himself scarce. He made his way behind the desk, ignoring the scowl that Iris shot in his direction. He decided to make himself useful, crouching and searching for the magazines and newspapers that Miss Evers had mentioned. He found one and quickly rolled it up, stuffing it in his jacket pocket.

When he did, he completely froze, eyes locked on the guest at the desk. She was young, surely younger than the women that he had murdered earlier in the day. She had blonde hair that fell down her back, and she was constantly tucking loose strands behind her ear as she tried to converse with the woman behind the desk. James was pleased that he was visible to neither female, instead able to watch each of her graceful moves with wide, intense eyes.

"How long would you like to stay?" Iris asked, forcing a smile onto her face. James almost chuckled at the way the woman looked pained to appear so polite.

"Actually, I'm not sure." The girl responded. "I just wanted to see the area. I heard that you guys are closest to every attraction and have the best rates." Her wine-colored lips curled into a small smile and James held an unnecessary breath. "Maybe we could start with.. a week?"

"A week," Iris practically gasped. Guests rarely stayed for more than two days; especially after they saw the rooms. Her eyes darted over to where James was standing and he simply nodded though he knew she was blind to his presence. "Well.. alright. Are you paying with card?" The girl nodded and handed over her card, while James silently went around the desk. The girl had a large suitcase with her, with a small backpack. She had a casual, dark style that he was not familiar with, along with an air of confidence and mystery that intrigued him greatly. He would definitely be looking into this one. "And your name?" James paused only briefly as he headed toward the stairs, ears straining to hear the girl's quiet response.

"Zoe. Zoe Benson."

Zoe had never stayed in such a disgusting room - well, aside from that shitty hotel in Orlando. But at least Kyle had been with her. He had held her close and wrapped his jacket around her when she refused to get under the blankets. She feared that there would be bugs, which she later discovered to be correct, and fought her exhaustion the entire night. The couple instead talked - about everything and nothing at all until Zoe had forgotten her surroundings and allowed herself to sleep. As soon as the sun came up, they promptly checked out and went to the nearest cafe for breakfast. Kyle had joked that, considering Zoe had picked the motel, she could make up for it by paying for his steak and eggs.

Now she was all by herself in a strange place and a room that she wouldn't dare eat anything in. She closed her eyes, trying to pull herself together. Her initial instinct was to imagine Kyle's strong arms around her, protecting her from the unknown horrors lurking in the corners of the room. But the only thing that resulted in was tears burning her eyes which she rubbed at in frustration. This was no time for her to cry - she had to be strong and figure out what the hell had happened to Queenie. Even though she had no idea where she was to begin.

Reluctantly crawling onto the bed, she pulled out her laptop. She would research the hotel in the hopes of finding something, an article or news report, that would point her in the right direction. She soon found, however, that as much as she pushed the Enter button, Google refused to load. She brought up her networks page, sighing when greeted by the words No Connections Found. Her second option was her iPhone, which was still looking for some kind of signal. Groaning, she felt like the hotel was mocking her, laughing at her struggles. There had to be another way to get information. Probably less simple, but hopefully with equal results.

She would have to talk to other guests and possibly the staff - but judging from how empty the lobby was, she wasn't expecting much. Though she did recall seeing a bar. That would be the place to start. She pulled out the small makeup bag that Madison had once pressured her into buying. Pleased to have an excuse to hop off the bed, she moved toward one of the mirrors to reapply her lipstick. She finger-combed her hair and looked at her phone. It was almost seven, surely someone would have to be getting a drink around now. Quickly applying some blush to her cheeks, she observed her reflection. She had always been told that she was pretty, yet she found herself to be unbearably plain. A nose that was a little too large for her liking, huge eyes that made her look like a frightened child, no matter what the situation may be, and a curve-less figure that never seemed to develop after she turned fourteen.

"This is as good as it's gonna get, Benson," she told herself, pursing her lips and straightening her back. She shouldn't have to go too far to get information from someone, but she should at least be presentable. She pocketed her phone and smoothed out her dress, grabbing her key before leaving the room. She got into the elevator running a series of possible scenarios through her mind. She had worked herself up so greatly that she actually jumped when the elevator came to a stop.

Pull yourself together, she silently ordered, heading toward the bar. She approached the counter, heart racing in her chest. The thought that Queenie had gone missing in this place was giving her the chills. There was something about the energy that made her stomach churn. The young witch sat herself down at the bar, eyes scanning over the occupants. There were a few guests chattering; a young couple, a quad of middle-aged business men, and a woman with frizzy blonde hair who looked as though she had been through hell and back. Zoe's blood went cold when the woman's glassy eyes met with her, a look of pure agony lurking in her dark irises.

"What can I get you?" Zoe looked up to see an older man-well, woman-standing above her with a curious expression. "You can't be twenty-one," she mused, pursing her lips. "Not that we actually follow any standards here."

"I will be in a month," Zoe admitted.

The bartender appeared surprised at her honesty, but soon broke out into a sly smile. "Well then, this will have to be our little secret, hm?" The woman chuckled as she grabbed a glass. Zoe wasn't even sure what it was, but she'd take it if it would calm her nerves. "And what brings a young thing like you to the Hotel Cortez, hm? I adore a good story."

Zoe let out an airy laugh, waving her hand. "It'd bore the shit out of you. I'm just here to visit a friend and check out the area. I'm from out east and I've been living in New Orleans for a little while." The woman lifted a brow and Zoe wondered if she should have added the last part. She had probably heard about the newly publicized coven. Would that raise suspicion? Was Queenie known as a witch? Quickly grabbing the glass and forcing the bitter liquid down her throat, she changed the subject. "How long have you worked here? What's your story?"

"Too long," was the bitterly amused response. "There isn't enough time in the world for you to hear about my life. Maybe another time we can exchange details, hm? For now, my name is Liz. And you?"

"Zoe." The two exchanged smiles before Zoe took another sip of her drink. It burned her throat and she could already feel her head throbbing - but, of course, that could be due to stress. "Is this place normally busy?"

"Well, it depends. We've had an influx of customers lately, since there's been the recent change in ownership. Everyone has been expecting renovations, but it's hard to knock out walls and keep the soul of the place. " Liz shrugged, tipping off Zoe's drink before she could speak. "Something draws people to this place," she began, her voice holding something that the witch couldn't quite place, "and when they find out what it is, they never want to leave." Liz paused for a moment before her eyes left Zoe's face, locking on something behind her. She pursed her lips and straightened up. "Can I help you?"

"You can't," came the drunken slur of a man's voice. Zoe turned and noticed that one of the businessmen she had seen previously eyeing her hungrily. She shifted uncomfortably, looking back at Liz who had set quite the glare on the stranger. "But she can." He sat himself on the stool next to Zoe, watching her carefully over the rim of his glass. "What brings you to this corner of the world, little lady? Are you even old enough for that?" He lifted a finger toward her glass.

"Sweetie, I'm sorry, but I don't think she's your type." Liz tapped her nails on the counter. "If you want a cheap date, I'd recommend Craigslist. There's a number of interesting people on there, believe me."

Zoe tried to keep her hands steady on her glass. She wanted to throw the mongrel across the room, but she knew better. She attempted to keep herself in check, but anger bubbled in her stomach as she felt a hand on her lower back.

"Listen, faggot, there are people needing drinks. Why don't you go tend to them?"

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Zoe finally burst, turning to look at the man. Even his appearance was pitiful. He had to be in his forties, with the wrinkles around his eyes and mouth. One didn't have to be clairvoyant to understand what he was wanting. A quick fuck with a young girl who didn't know any better. Zoe could feel him undressing her with his clouded gaze. "You're not getting into my pants, so go back to your table. I'm pretty sure your friends are just as sexually frustrated as you - maybe you can have a party."

It took the man a moment, but finally his brows furrowed in disgusted realization. "You're going to regret that, bitch," he muttered before getting up from his spot. He returned to his table and Zoe could feel their eyes resting on her back.

"Well," Liz hummed, re-filling the girl's glass. She lifted her brows in amusement. "It seems you've made some new friends."

Zoe found out some of the hotel's history through Liz. The psychotic serial killer that had built it, the rumor of it being haunted with the ghosts of both he and his victims, and the way that the entire staff was suspicious of the new owner and his intentions. "Women tend to disappear after they come in contact with Will Drake," Liz had mused and Zoe wondered if Queenie had fallen victim to his rumored charm. She had so many questions, yet her senses began failing after her fourth drink and she soon became a giggling mess.

"Okay, little girl," Liz chuckled, shaking her head as Zoe gestured for another fill-up. "I think it's time you went back to your room. I doubt the owner would like to hear about an underage girl passing out drunk at the counter." Zoe opened her mouth to protest, but she knew Liz was right. She was on the verge of seeing double and if she continued she'd probably need to be carried back. "There's always tomorrow." Liz winked and took her glass, bobbing her head in substitution for a wave.

Zoe sighed, forcing herself to stand upright. The floor tipped and the room threatened to spin, but after a couple stumbles she regained control. She sent a grin in Liz's direction before heading toward the elevator. She would write down what she learned and hope she'd stumble upon the infamous owner. Mentally patting herself on the back, she staggered down the hallway. Everything suddenly became so amusing; the way the carpet almost vibrated with every step she took, how the doors fluctuated in size. She couldn't muffle the giggle that slipped from her lips as she dug for her room key, instead dropping it on the floor.

"Well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes."

Zoe's amusement immediately faded at the familiar voice and a hand on her ass. She straightened up and stumbled away, back pressed against the wall. The man from earlier stood with an impish grin on his face, a bottle in his hand. Behind him were two of his acquaintances.

"Don't you know what no means?" Zoe hissed. "Trust me, I'm the last pussy you want." She turned back to her door, but the three circled her, one grabbing her wrist. "What the hell - Let me go!" She fought against his grip, only to have him tighten it. Wincing, she knew there'd be a bruise left behind. The threat of fear loomed in the back of her mind, her emotions spinning out of control. She could always let them take her. They'd die within seconds. But, then again, she didn't want to let it go that far.

"Are you a virgin, baby?"

Zoe felt hot breath on her face, reeking of booze and something else. "Fuck you," she spit in the man's face, earning a hard slap to her cheek. Everything was blurry now. She shouldn't draw attention to herself, but she didn't think she'd have a choice. "This is your last warning, let me go." The men laughed before the one holding her wrist began dragging her down the hall, no doubt to his room. "No!" she screamed, jerking her hand. The man suddenly cried out, slamming into the wall with a sickening thud.

"What the fuck, you little bitch-" Before she could direct her attention to the others, a hand clamped around her throat and she was lifted off the ground. "What did you do?! I'll kill you, you little freak-"

"Now, now, gentlemen. Did your mothers never teach you manners? That's no way to handle a lady."

Zoe attempted to turn her head to follow the new voice; deep with a low, suggestive growl. From the corner of her eye, she saw another man in what looked to be a suit, but he disappeared seconds later. Her head began throbbing and she clawed at the man's hand. She couldn't think straight, let alone muster enough power to- She suddenly heard a yell cut off by a disgusting gurgle before she was dropped to the floor. Gasping for air, she noticed the man who had grabbed her, now lying on the ground in a pool of his own blood, hand weakly going to his open neck. She muffled a scream with her hands as she turned around, noticing the stranger appearing next to the other businessman, shoving a blade through his right temple.

"Pigs," the man spat as the man collapsed. He then made his way to Zoe, helping her to her feet. "Are you alright?"

Zoe wanted to speak, to scream, but she couldn't seem to find her voice. Instead, she gripped the man's jacket and lifted her eyes to his. When she did, the world began spinning once again and this time she couldn't stop it. She opened her mouth again, questions on the tip of her tongue for the stranger with eyes so dark she felt as though she was plummeting into their abyss.

Instead she emptied her stomach onto his jacket.

Author's Note: I rewrote the last portion of the chapter, like, ten times. I tried to beta it, but I always miss things so, sorry for some inevitable typos. I'm glad that you guys liked the first one! Thanks for the reviews! Also, quick note is that I'm going to try to keep James fairly in-character (judging from what I've seen) but toward the end he may be a bit out-of-character, considering the pairing and my plans for it. Buuuut he's still bat-shit crazy. Anyway, hope you enjoyed!