There are rumors that spread throughout the guests of the Hotel Cortez. Tales of haunted rooms and vampires and ghosts. Stories of how people would check in and never check out again. But the one that was always talked about in hushed, reverent tones was one that was new, only just making its way to the surface.

A girl a long purple dress was said to haunt the halls. Her makeup running down her face and her cheeks forever stained with tears. People would swear that if you saw her, she would pull you into her misery, for everyone was drawn to her, a pure magnetic force always at work.

They said she occupied room 54. No one had been seen coming and going but the key was always gone and was said to be taken. But faint music could always be heard. The same songs over and over, night after night. If you listen closely, you could hear her sing along. However, it was more common to hear her cries every night. Cries, they said, for her long-lost love. A girl who was taken away far before her time. And she would never leave until they were reunited.

Sally Mckenna, formerly known as Cordelia Goode, began her day the same way she has for the past three months. Get up and instantly reach to her bedside table for her pack of cigarettes, reveling in the small buzz that came from the smoke, that a short shower, get dressed in yet another velvet dress and begin to make her way to the library. Everyone in the Hotel Cortez thought that she must be losing her mind when she stepped foot out of the hotel, let alone when she returned with a bag full of books. After months of pretending to be this Sally person, she finally had gotten the hang of her persona and her relationships; who she hated, who hated her, who couldn't survive without her.

"Can't a girl fuckin' try to better herself?!". That's how she always responded when someone questioned her motives, a cigarette dangling loosely from between her lips. In reality, she was finding her way to the girl she loves the most, a task which is becoming more and more difficult with every passing day. There are days where she loses all hope almost giving up entirely, but she never does, determined and desperate to find her soulmate.

Sally holes herself up in her room every day, pouring over the same books. The library only had so many books on the resurgence power she was looking into, and only about half give details and ideas on how to resurrect somebody, but they all ended up being fruitless. She was no closer to rescuing her love then she was when started months earlier.

After hours of reading spells and potions and rituals, she decided to take a small break, gather her mind, then start again in a few hours' time. She felt that if she was able to relax for a while, maybe she would be able to find something she missed. In the three months since she began her journey, the only breaks she had given herself were those where she slept in small and fitful increaments.

She threw open her door, confidently strutting down the hallway and down the stairs to the lobby. After pausing for just a second to pull a cigarette from her purse and placing it between her lips, expertly lighting it within seconds, she continued on her way to the front desk, ringing the bell multiple times just to annoy whoever was working.

"Yeah yeah…I heard you the first time. Oh, …its just you. I swear I will never get used to you being here. Don't you have a home you can go to?"

"Oh Iris, this is my home. Best place on earth wouldn't you say?" Sally could feel the sarcasm dripping off every word. Who would want to stay in this dreadful place what with the mattresses sliced open and the stench of death following you wherever you go.

"Shouldn't you be dead by now? All you do is wander around in a drug-induced stupor. It's a miracle you haven't already overdosed...or have broken your neck after being pushed out of a fifth story window. I hardly believe you walked away from that with barely a scratch on you."

Sally was stunned from the half-hearted confession that Iris was the one that pushed the original Sally out the window. She had been convinced it was James, the man who owned the hotel and ran it through terror and blood. But if Iris knew she had died, suspicion would quickly rise.

"What the fuck are you going on about now? I can assure you that if I fell out a window, I would never return, you would finally get your wish, but come on, we both know that I actually died, you would miss me too much."

"It would be a dream come true for both of us if you just dropped dead right here and now. You're not doing anybody any favors sticking around, filling the halls with your tears, cries, and trails of smoke."

"This place would never function without me. You know it. I know it. I'm saving you all by still hanging around…haunting the halls…causing everyone grief and suffering. It's my purpose. And I'm not going anywhere."

Each word was laced with venom. She had quickly realized, back when she was first getting her footing and figuring out who she was supposed to be, that this Iris person was someone she would never get along with. It was her son Sally was with when she died, the boy with a jawline for days and eyes full of sorrow. His name was Donavan and all he was just looking for an escape. He had never truly meant to die. She had been his dealer and, ultimately, his cause of death. Not only was she a user herself but she enabled those who were like her, something that suddenly ceased to happen when the witch took over.

Sally turned on her heel and stormed out of the lobby, desperately needing another smoke and to get some fresh air, clear her head and calm down after their whispered screaming match.

She had only been outside a few minutes. When she returned something felt off like things were about to get so much worse before they got better, but anyone really could have told her that. She was barely three steps back inside when she heard her new name being screamed at deafening levels.

"SALLY! My dear, I have been looking everywhere for you now. It's that time of year again. You working on your end of the deal?"

She will never get used to the dark energy that radiates off Mr. James Patrick March. Even without the use of her powers, she could feel the shadowy aura that surrounds him. Her girl would say to surround herself with the white spirit light to protect her, but around him, she feels as if that would never be enough.

"March, we both know that my memory is shit. What the fuck are you talking about? Why would I ever want to make a deal with the devil?"

"While I appreciate the compliment, I'm talking about my soul dear. Today is October 27th. You have three days to deliver. I know you remember what happens when you turn your back on me, right Sally girl?"

"Why don't you jog my memory. I can't think of anything worse than the living hell I'm in now."

"You know the deal. October 30th. That's your deadline. You bring me a person and then you get left alone. No one to bother you. Not me, not my wife, nor your little creation that your kind conjured up."

"You'll get what you're after, don't you worry. Anything to get away from 'your kind'."

Spitting his own words back to him, dripping with anger, only brought the girl a small amount of satisfaction. And so with a roll of her eyes, she was gone again. Back to her room to return her books. She wasn't exactly relaxed but hopefully the break did her some good.

The next hour proved for naught though. She could feel time slipping away from her, creating a thicker veil between her and the afterlife.

She decided to stop for the night. She would find new books in the morning. Something she hadn't already read three times hopefully. After getting ready for bed, she turned out her light, crawling into bed, Fleetwood Mac drifting out the closed door, pouring in the hallway, and tears streaming down her face with a name permanently stuck on her lips.

"Misty."