McGrave's Hotel by Steve Bryant

the actor’s suite. Upon arrival, he leaned his ear against Mr. Lesley’s door. He could hear an odd buffeting sound, like the blades on a bad fan, but certainly nothing in the way of screaming females.
    “Here we go,” he whispered.
    Using his master skeleton key, James unlocked the door and slowly turned the handle.
    The sight he and Fawn beheld upon swinging the door open shocked them both.
    Two of the Godfrey girls were visible, and each had sprouted great leathery wings out the back of her backless dress. One was on her knees at the sofa, where Victor Lesley reclined. Her wings oscillated slowly back and forth, as if they were in a slight breeze, and she seemed to be feeding on his neck as though it were a hunk of corn on the cob. The little music box was playing a Gershwin tune, “I’ve Got a Crush on You,” one steely note at a time. The girl’s head spun around to see who had come in, and James could see that her mouth and chin were scarlet with blood. The girl’s wings seemed to fold up in anger, and both girls appeared to have developed an inch-long pair of fangs. Vampires!
    “What do you think you’re doing?” James shouted. “This is McGrave’s. You can’t feed on our guests! It is completely against the rules to kill anyone in the guest rooms. Didn’t you read the little sticker on the door?”
    James wasn’t quite sure whether the rules meant anything to vampires, but it had to be said.
    “Oh, hi,” said the one on her knees. “James, isn’t it? Goodness. We haven’t killed him. Well, not exactly. We’ve merely turned him. If we had simply killed him, there would be no Broadway play. We’re actresses. We need this gig.”
    “He was a terrible actor,” said the second. “Handsome enough with his wig on, but I think he took this job as a scheme to meet girls. Now, he’s going to be the most convincing Dracula ever.”
    James didn’t think anyone could be a better Dracula than Bela Lugosi in the movies, but then Mr. Lugosi was only an actor, not a real vampire.
    “The critics are going to love him,” said the third sister. Her wings flapping slowly, she descended feet first from the high shadows of the vaulted guest salon. Treading air, she floated before the poster of Girl Crazy , and her smile, like those of her sisters, showed off a new set of soda straw incisors.
    As the kneeling vampire stood and moved away from the sofa, James could see that Victor Lesley looked as pale as a winter moon, his face frozen in a stupor. His throat looked like raw ground beef.
    “We’ll be a smash as Dracula’s wives,” said the first vampire. “It’s the part we were born to play.”
    “Correction, the part we died to play,” her sister said.
    “Anything for our craft,” said the third.
    “You have to get out of here,” James said. “This is all so unacceptable.”
    He recalled the three tarot cards Victor Lesley had drawn from Miss Charles, now proved to be dead on, three for three. The Fool, The Wheel of Fortune, and Death: dark indicators indeed for an actor who, thanks to his peculiar run-in with death, was destined to play the part of Dracula forever .
    “Oh, we’ll be gone before the sun rises to its full glory,” said the first, looking in a mirror to check her hair. James too gazed into the mirror but saw nothing of the girl. A brush seemed to float in midair.
    “We always check out early,” said the second.
    “We wouldn’t want Victor to suffer a ‘meltdown’ on his first day in the fold,” said the third. “We’ll be taking him with us.”
    The three girls moved in a semicircle, closing slowly toward James and Fawn. The one dripping blood licked her lips.
    “Would you like a part in our play, James? Would your girlfriend ? We can arrange it for you.”
    Without taking his eyes off the vampires, James reached back with his hand, pushing on Fawn’s tummy to guide her backward toward the door. He walked backward himself. “Please be gone by morning,” he said.
    He