A Bloody Cold - AHS Hotel James Patrick March (Evan Peters)

[spicy]

I absolutely love American Horror Story! And hotel is one of my favorite seasons. Enjoy!
 

James Patrick March, the notorious serial killer and owner of the Hotel Cortez, was unstoppable.   Not even death could stop the man from reigning over his fortress of murder and building a community of the dead and undead amongst it. Most everybody looked upon March as the powerful being he was, except for the Countess, who was the only one that could make March grovel on his knees. 

 

March kept his high status throughout centuries of owning the hotel, even after his death. The power of the hotel kept souls alive who died within the walls, and acted as a blood bank to those who were kept alive by consuming blood. 

 

His spiffy suits and slicked back hair made the hotel creator’s image clean and powerful. Nothing could come between him and his one true passion; murder.

 

That is, except for one thing...

 

March woke up on a brisk autumn morning to find that it had happened again: he had come down with a cold. 

 

Now, it may be weird to believe that a ghost could in fact contract an illness. Mr. March couldn’t quite believe it himself the first time he sneezed his way through a cold-blooded murder a short time after his death and his new life as a ghost. 

 

It seemed that every time the weather slightly changed, even in California, he would come down with an awful chill. 

 

He always tried to hide it though, being a man of high status and reputation. He couldn’t have his ghostly guests suspect that he could be anything but ruthless and stone cold. It was quite embarrassing that a simple cold could knock him so hard.

 

March sat in his usual chair wearing one of his pristine suits. He had an open book on his lap and his aching head leaning against his hand. He made sure to put his heaviest hanky in his jacket pocket today.

 

“Good morning sir,” Hazel Evers whisked into the room. “There’s a horrible blood stain in room 6E that I better clean before it stains.” 

 

March replied with a gentle cough which did not seem unusual to Ms. Evers. She was used to his replies which barely addressed that she had even spoken. 

 

She grabbed a rag and a bucket of water from a closet. “I’ll best be on my way-“ she was just about to hurry out the door when March’s breath hitched. She turned her head to inspect this odd noise and found the pale ghost poised with his hanky hovering over his nose. 

 

“AaxchOOo!” March sneezed, catching it in the blood red cloth. His shoulders jumped and his eyes screwed shut as the sneeze escaped his nose.

 

“Why, sir-“ Ms. Evers started before the hotel owner put up his finger as he took in a large breath, signaling that he was not finished. 

 

“Heh-itz’ooOo!” He sneezed once more. He groaned in frustration once he was done, sniffled then tucked his hanky neatly back into his pocket. He tucked back a stray strand of hair that had fallen onto his forehead from the force of his sneeze.

 

“Another cold come your way-“ Ms. Evers started before March shot her a cold glare, his jaw clenched and neck veins prominent. 

 

“Not another word,” he hissed, voice slightly nasal. 

 

Ms. Evers nodded and hurried out of the room. 

 

Let me know if you want the rest of the story!

[NickG1998]

Please continue this awesome story 

[spicy]

I was able to knock out another part to the story!
 

Iris and Liz Taylor stood at the front desk. Liz rested her arms on the desk and leaned over. She sighed as Iris stared blankly at the empty hotel lobby. 

 

“We’re vacant,” Liz complained. Her blue eyeshadow matched her sparkly blue dress today. 

 

It was Iris’s turn to sigh. “Maybe no one wants to come here since mostly everyone disappears after checking in,” Iris deadpanned. 

 

Liz raised her eyebrows and returned to her state of watching the lifeless lobby. She combed her brain to root for the latest hotel drama. This job was always so much more excited with gossip and drama.

 

“Iris, did you hear what’s going on with March today?” Liz asked, standing up and crossing her skinny arms.

 

“No,” Iris said.

 

“Apparently he has a cold.”

 

Iris perked up a bit at this. Finally there was something to talk about. 

 

“Great, finally something to knock down his ego for at least a few days,” she said with a sort of bitter edge to her humor. 

 

Just then, a young man wearing a vacation shirt lugging a suitcase came in through the lobby doors. 

 

Liz and Iris straightened up and assumed professional posture and welcoming faces.

 

“Welcome to the Hotel Cortez,” Liz smiled as the man made it to the desk. 

 

“I’m here for just a night. I’m heading out on a cruise tomorrow,” the man said. Iris and Liz both smiled and nodded, knowing that he would be dead before morning.

 

“Alright, I’ll put you in room-“

 

“8C.”

 

Iris and Liz both turned around as March appeared just behind them. He tilted his head as he flashed a warm, eerie smile. 

 

“You’ll be staying in room 8C,” March said to the guest. He handed a key to the man, sniffling a bit. 

 

The man thanked them and headed towards the elevators. 

 

“Can you stop sneaking up on us?” Iris said to March once the guest was out of earshot. “Why can’t you walk in like a normal person instead of poofing out of nowhere?”

 

“It comes with the territory, my dear,” March smiled and tilted his head yet again, looking charming despite his red nose and tired eyes. 

 

March walked away with his hands clasped behind his back, stepping heal to toe. 

 

“He doesn’t seem too sick to me,” Iris whispered to Liz.

 

Just then, 3 sneezes echoed throughout the lobby. 

 

“On second thought...” Iris reconsidered.

 

That night, the hotel guest in room 8C prepared to go to bed. He brushed his teeth in front of the slightly discolored mirror. The handles squeaked as he turned on the cold water. 

 

The guest splashed cold water over his face then pressed a towel to dry himself off. He sighed and returned to the main room.

 

The vintage bed didn’t look too comfortable, but this hotel was the only one the man could afford for the night. 

 

“It’ll do,” he sighed. He pulled back the covers to find a huge bloodstain. 

 

“What the-“ he started. He turned around and found March sitting in a chair in the corner, legs crossed with his eerie smile plastered across his face. He held a glass of cool liquor.

 

“Not satisfied with your room?” March asked with mock sympathy, putting the glass down on the table next to him.

 

“H-how did you get in here,” the hotel guest stuttered, looking around for an open door or window. It didn’t make sense that he could just appear out of nowhere. 

 

“Easy, I appeared out of thin air,” March said. He continued to look at the man with the same smile. 

 

“Is this a joke?” The man exclaimed.

 

“You see, the only joke is life itself. There’s nothing more funny yet harsh and unusual,” March said. He got up and walked closer to the guest.

 

“Unfortunately for you, life is also very short.”

 

March thrust a knife into the man’s chest. The man collapsed to the ground. March tried to take in the marvel of his freshest murder, but was pestered by an annoying itch in his nose. 

 

“H-help....” the stabbed man said weakly from a puddle of blood on the vintage carpet.

 

The man began to crawl towards the door, leaving a trail of blood. At the same instance March was overtaken by the need to sneeze. Several times.

 

He scrunched up his nose and doubled over, face in the crook of his elbow. 

 

“Etzxchoo! Heh’eshoo! Uh-tsh! Ash’choo! Ah’tschooO! Ash! Esh! Esh! HEH’ETCHOO!”

 

While the great James Patrick March was caught in his sneeze fit, the bleeding man managed to open the door and pull himself onto the hallway carpet.

 

“Thank god! Please, miss, please help me- ahgghgghg...”

 

The sound of a throat being slit filled the room. March recovered from his fit, using his hanky to wipe his teary eyes and to blow his nose.

 

“You are pathetic.”

 

March looked up to the doorway to find his victim splayed out on the floor, blood pouring from his neck and the Countess standing over him. She yanked March’s knife out of the man’s chest, stepped over his body and made her way to the sick ghost. 

 

“Darling!” March smiled as the beautiful women with blonde hair and long eyelashes approached him. He opened his arms to welcome her, but was met with a harsh slap to the face. 

 

“Ow!” March groaned. 

 

“You are PATHETIC,” the Countess repeated. “You almost let your victim escape. I had to finish him off for you, so, what, you could sneeze your freaking brains out? What’s the matter with you?”

 

“It’s just a small case of the sniffles, darling. I would’ve bashed his skull in once I was able.”

 

March sniffled helplessly which then returned the sneezy sensation.

 

“Ah.... ah... AH’XSHOO!” March sneezed. He watched as the Countess looked at him, disgusted. 

 

“You better clean yourself up for our monthly dinner tonight, James,” the Countess threatened.

 

“Ah, yes, how could I forget? It is our night tonight, isn’t it. Don’t you worry, dear, I will be sharp as a pin by midnight,” March promised. 

 

The Countess shot one last cold glare at the man who she used to be married to but never loved. She left the red-nosed ghost alone, kicking the  lifeless body into the room before closing the door. 

 

March sat in the corner chair once again, sighed and lit a cigarette. A waft of smoke irritated his nose and caused him to sneeze once again. One loud, final sneeze that caused his skull to vibrate. “Heh’itchOOO!”

 

“Would you keep it down in there? Some of us have murders to plan to keep us from wallowing in sadness while being trapped in this god damn hellhole,” Sally McKenna yelled from the next room over. 

 

March muttered a few swear words under his breath as he massaged the bridge of his nose, eyes closed and in pain.