Haunted Museum Las Vegas Novels & Stories

The museum’s basement smells of ancient dust and high-end air filtration. With twenty minutes left until midnight, I excused myself to the restroom, but instead, I followed the subtle glowing blue strips on the floor the ones marking the high-security transit lanes for the exhibition pieces. The antique silver loupe Evander gave me hangs heavy against my chest, a physical manifestation of my doubts. The temporary vault room is secured by a thick glass partition and a biometric lock. I step up to it, expecting the scanner to flash red. Instead, the console chimes softly and turns green.

The last place she’d been seen was this museum, and I couldn’t shake the gut feeling that something terrible was brewing. I bit down hard on my lip, trying to hold back the tears threatening to spill. I needed to be strong. I had to find her. But the nagging fear clawed at my chest: had she gone after the murderer? The idea sent chills down my spine. If she had, I might be too late. Stepping into the dimly lit museum, I made my way to the front desk. Abbie had donated a painting here after Xanthe died—maybe they remembered her, maybe they’d seen her. I had to know.

Then, silence. The music cut as every light in the museum blinked red. Alarms shrieked to life, causing the guests to scream as the museum's steel doors slammed down with a mechanical roar, sealing the exits. Security systems flickered as the marble walls began to crack. And in the shadows, they moved... Vampires. Disguised as staff, swarming through the crowd, their eyes gleamed crimson. Their faces distorted as the illusion fell. To the humans, they looked like terrorists.

Could they hope to see thirty? By now, over an hour passed, and Wanda could still see signs of excited moths waiting to be birthed as they made a mess of Mary’s corpse on the inside. The dead librarian was looking a lot shrivelled from the amount of blood the vampire moths drank, and Wanda wondered if the police would contact the paranormal detectives to take over the case if they left the body as it were. “We might have to call the cleaners to take care of this body,” Wanda sighed as she bottled the twenty-eighth moth. “I don’t think we can explain the cause of death like the others. It looks too unnatural.”

“Guilty.” “Oh man, when I saw they were fixing up the place last year, I thought someone might have decided to turn it into a museum like the Juliette Gordon Low House, but you’re actually going to live there?” Brad laughed. “That’s the plan. Why?” “You know about the house’s reputation, right?” “You mean stories of spooks and ghoulies?” “Yeah, it’s one of the most haunted sites in all of Savannah and that’s a verified fact.” Brad’s tilted his head and looked skeptically at Bias. “You don’t really believe in that stuff, do you?”

They head into the building and the alarm is triggered, Raven asked "So this is a meat factory, why the hell does it have a state of the art alarm system? Well trained thief's will come and steal the meat?" "Drug money pays well" Bradshaw says "Sure, you owe me a beer when this is all over" "Sure, why not" Reign says "I got this amazing beach house. You guys should totally have beers there" "Don't fall for that. That place is haunted and a health hazard!" "Niklaus!" Bradshaw screamed

My eyes grew heavy, and I prayed for sweet dreams. I knew I was dreaming as soon as I realized where I was. Not only am I not old enough to get into a club if I wanted to, I was pretty sure the last place on Earth I’d want to be at that moment was La Playa Beach Club in Cabo San Lucas. I knew from past news reports it wasn’t just the long-haired woman and the awkwardly dancing man who had been murdered here recently. It seemed to be vampire central, so as I walked around, content in my untouchable state, I began to wonder why LIGHTS hadn’t infiltrated this place, like they had with whatever was going on in France a few weeks ago. This was not the first time I’d pondered this information.

The only movement to be detected in the entire building is the patrol of an occasional security guard, shining a flashlight about to make sure nothing is amiss. That’s what Rihanna Cooley found herself doing on Tuesday evening, when she’d rather be at home, sitting on the couch with a glass of wine in hand. The slim young woman shuffled through an exhibit of exotic taxidermy. The beady eyes of a toucan stared at her as she flashed her light over it, before turning to look at the snarling face of a snow leopard. She got goosebumps as she made her way further into the room, planning to going to a less eerie area of the museum soon. She ran a hand over her wavy hair, thinking of how many late n

*Harper* Our black car pulls up to the steps of the museum, and for a moment I just sit there, staring through the tinted window at the glow of the Metropolitan Museum of Art. The banners hanging above the entrance are massive, rippling slightly in the February wind. Harper Ward: Longing and Light. My name is on a banner at the Met. My. Freaking. Name. I turn toward Damien. He’s watching me instead of the building, his dark eyes warm, and one corner of his mouth tipped up like he’s can feel my nervous energy.

“Of mythical quests.” “Maybe later,” Luke grinned. “Let’s get going.” He led us to the other side of the courtyard and through a gateway. I gasped as we stepped out on the other side. “Where are we?” I asked, looking around. The air was filled with magic. I could feel it tingling against my skin. There were people milling around in between glowing bubbles that house artifacts and relics. “Welcome to the foremost extensive museum of magic in the world,” Luke said. “Housed in the heart of Hecate Coven’s capital, it’s got an exhibit or an expert from nearly every part of the supernatural community.”