“As they entered the foyer, Philip greeted the concierge. “Hi, Bruce.”
“Hey, I thought you were off to your dinner?”
“Yep— just forgot something.” He pushed the elevator call button.
“All I want to do is check my lipstick.”
“Well, you won’t have much time.” They entered the elevator. “I know just where I left my notes.”
“Yes. They are on my bedroom bureau.”
“Interesting, because I’ll bet they’re sitting on your mantel.”
He chuckled, leading her through the elevator door and down the hall. “I’ll take that bet.”
“Okay, let’s see.” Vivien’s head cocked to one side. “I need a new pair of gloves.”
Opening the door, Philip beamed with delight. “Done! If they’re on the mantel, I’ll buy you the most expensive pair of gloves in Manhattan!”
“I’m holding you to that.” Her laughter ended when unadulterated fear erupted in goose bumps all over her arms.
He stopped in the doorway. “Are you coming in?”
“I’ll be right there.” She opened her purse.
“Okay.” He walked inside, leaving the door open.
The clasp snapped as she closed her evening bag—the sound resonating in her ears. As if she had no will of her own, Vivien looked behind her. Her eyes settled on something unbelievable. A dark crawling mist in the shape of a man hovered in the hallway. It seemed to be staring at her. After a chilling moment, the thing propelled itself through the wall.