The Key of Lost Things

by Sean Easley

  She slides a lamp off a table and presses the base into her pocket. The lamp shrinks as she does, and disappears into the pocket without a trace. She does the same with a stack of books, a watch, a stonework tea set—her pockets are like Sev’s have-sack. Which means . . .

  “You’re a thief,” I say. Rahki’s glare intensifies.

  “So are you,” Bee replies, stuffing a couple of cups, a handful of pens, and a box of tissues into her pocks, which don’t seem to be getting any fuller. “Only we Hoppers got different ways of going about it.” She pulls a crisp suit jacket off a nearby chair and tries it on, admires herself in the wall mirror. “You folks should hurry. Sounds like your maids’re having a bit of trouble.”

  I stop to listen. The shouting outside has faded.

  Cass leans around the corner to confirm. “I think the docents slivered our maids.”

  “We’ve got to get these kids out of here,” Rahki says.

  “And fast,” Bee adds as she swipes a whole box of junk into her pock.

  I hurry to check on the babies. They’re all so little. I pull one of the girls out of her crib, and she yawns and wraps her tiny hand around my index finger, like she’s holding on for dear life. Which, given what I know about Stripe and the Competition, isn’t far off.

  This is the Hotel’s secret mission—to save kids like these from people like Stripe. The Hotel Between lifts high the low, helps the helpless. We do whatever we can to make the world a bit better, standing up for those who can’t protect themselves, bringing homes to the homeless. That mission must be protected at all costs.

  “Why would anyone want to take kids this young?” I ask, more to myself than anything else.

  “Because they grow up,” Rahki says, checking the doors for hinges to speed our escape. “Bind them when they’re babes, and you can mold them into whatever you want them to be.”

  Like Stripe tried to do with Nico. But Nico and I beat Stripe at his own game. Together we got the leader of the Competition to nullify his contracts, and now Nico, Cass, and I are protected by a new contract—one that ensures that we are free from Stripe, forever.

  I touch the coin at my neck. Nico’s coin, which he gave me when he left the Hotel for good. It contains all his memories of his time with the Hotel. Without it, he might not remember everything that happened. If he’s forgotten all that—forgotten me—all he’d have left is what Stripe taught him. What Stripe made him. But Nico’s stronger than that. I know he is.

  Bee dumps over a hamper full of dirty diapers, and the weirdly sweet smell of baby powder and poo fills the air. “You ain’t gonna find any hinges. They got smart after you evicted Ol’ Stripey.”

  Rahki casts her some side-eye and pulls a pin from a specific pocket in her jacket, her pin-sleeves. “Cam, the sack.”

  I swing the have-sack off my shoulder. “What are we going to do with it? We can’t just toss babies into my bedroom.”

  She hands me a pin and gently lifts one of the children from its crib. “No time to explain. Just pin the bag already.”

  An electric current zips through my fingers as I slide the pin into the have-sack’s inner sleeve, and a wave of light bursts across the opening before giving way to an incandescent glow. A room fades into view on the other side. It’s the Hotel Nursery, lined with cribs and toys and sparkly chandelier mobiles dangling with gold and crystal animals.

  Oddly enough, the room appears to be lying on its side, and seems way smaller than it should be. A pair of miniature maids inside run for the bound portal, but they’re upside down, and . . . distorted. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the physics-defying nature of binding one place to another.

  A woman’s face pops up in the mouth of the have-sack. Countess Physiker, who runs the Hotel’s nurse station. She looks like she’s hanging from the ceiling. I flip the bag around so that the world inside appears right-side-up, but the have-sack and the door on the other side are two different sizes, so the maids beyond still look like tiny toy soldiers.

  “What’s happening over there?” Countess Physiker asks.

  Rahki peers into the sack with me. “Docents are on us,” she says. “We have to hurry.”

  The sound of voices filters through from the hall, followed by a worried, “Uh, guys,” from Cass. “A little faster would be great.”

  I lower the first little girl into the hole, and the woman in the bag extends minuscule hands to receive her. Both the baby and my arms seem to shrink as they pass through the have-sack portal. It’s like looking through a glass of water, where two things don’t quite match up.

  The maids rush the baby to one of the cribs as Rahki passes me another.

  “Sounds like they’re searching the house,” Bee whispers, pulling a narrow, wooden spike from her vest pocket.

  A sliver. A weapon.

  She leans her ear against the wall. “Not searching smartly, though. They must be trying to let us get away without breaking their terms.”

  “Good,” Rahki says as I hand the next baby through. “Their resistance against Stripe’s influence might just give us the time we need.”

  The bond of Law is the first, and most important, of the three fundamental bonds that limit the power that magics have over people. The bond of Law states that no magic may ever break an agreement made between it and humans, no matter how powerful a magic might be. This rule applies to magical contracts between people, as well. There are other bindings—rules meant to keep people safe from rogue magics—but the bond of Law is the one on which all the others are founded.

  Right now that means the docents are only required to obey the exact wording of their contracts with Stripe—no more, no less. Docents are just people, after all. They don’t typically want to be evil; they’re forced by magical contracts. Most had no idea what they were getting into when they became indentured to Mr. Stripe.

  Thankfully, people like that can sometimes find loopholes and bend the rules just enough to let good guys like us get away.

  Again, it strikes me that this Bee girl knows an awful lot about magical contracts for someone who’s not a hotelier.

  “Hurry,” Cass whispers through the doorway. “They’re almost here.”

  Rahki passes the last baby through and stands to face Bee. “All right. That bag won’t fit us, so we’ll have to go through the docents,” she says. “But first I need to know, are you a friend, or an enemy?”

  Bee’s crooked smile grows. “Which do you want me to be, doll?”

  I shut the bag and stand beside Rahki. “Friend,” I say, and motion to her sliver. “Wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of one of those.”

  She laughs. “I wouldn’t sting you with this sliver anyway. I can use it to help get rid of those dosies, though, if you like.” She raises the long, sharp spike. “Ready to have a little fun?”

  5

  Hidden in the Lining

  Rahki and I stare on in shock. This can’t be happening.

  “Oi, you ’bout done back there?” Bee says as if nothing’s wrong. But something is very wrong. She slivered a man without a scrap of hesitation, and it was awful. He crumpled up into her sharp spike like a wadded piece of paper.

  I thought I wanted Bee’s help, but now that I’m faced with the reality of what her help looks like, I’m not so sure. The Hotel banned weapons like hers because they’re dangerous. One prick, and a person transports to another location, violently. What’s worse, a sliver can be bound to almost anywhere, so for all we know, that docent could be floundering in the waves of the Pacific, or freezing on a tundra, or burning up in a scalding hot spring. And the process of being slivered is supposedly no cakewalk either. I’ve never had it happen to me, but Rahki has, and she’s giving Bee the angriest glare I’ve ever seen.

  Meanwhile Cass has a different glimmer in her eye, like she’s seen something truly amazing.

  “This is a bad idea,” Rahki grumbles as Bee races around the corner and out of sight.

  “She’ll get us out
of here,” I say.

  “But what’s it going to cost us?”

  We round the corner in time to see Bee sliver another docent, who vanishes with a ripping cry of pain. Despite our hesitations, Rahki and Bee bind and sliver our way to the back door of the villa, where Bee immediately pokes another docent caught in Rahki’s trap. Rahki tries to protest, but the docent—and the section of floor he was bound to—are whooshed away to some hidden corner of the globe before she can get the words out.

  I clutch the have-sack to me, unsure what to do. I’m not part of the Maid Service, so I’m not equipped or trained with a duster like Rahki is. And I’m certainly not . . . whatever Bee is. I’m just me. I hate feeling powerless like this.

  I glance over at my sister. She’s entranced, and has a subtle smile on her face as she watches the girls fight. It’s the same look she gets when she’s watching National Geographic, as though the world is full of wonder and she alone gets to revel in it.

  A docent tries to grab her, but Cass grips the seat of her chair, and the handlebar shoots up into the docent’s jaw with a solid uppercut. The man stumbles backward, dazed. Cass then removes one of her armrests and jabs it toward the docent, sending the armrest telescoping forward into her attacker. The move actually makes me smile. Now that she can manipulate her chair through her binding, even she’s getting in on the action.

  Soon we’re back in the rock garden, racing for the hedges. Once we’re through, Cass skids to a stop.

  “What are you doing?” I ask.

  “What I came here for.” She leans over the side of her chair—one hand clutching her flask, the other coated in a layer of blue liquid. When she touches the ground, her gloved fingers glow, as does the trail of goo she poured out along the hedgerow earlier. I can see where it has seeped into the ground, and more—it soaked into the roots of the hedges and was carried out into the branches. The light grows bright, a sparkling wave traveling along the ground and through the plants.

  The hedgerow has changed. No longer do the leaves waft in the breeze. They’re not even green anymore—they’re gray, like . . .

  “Stone,” I say. “You turned the hedges into stone.”

  “Shaping,” she tells me, and beams.

  There’s that word again. Since when does Cass know how to do all these things with the shaping magic? I’m only now beginning to understand the connection we have with the binding as it is, and she’s doing transformations and magic tricks like they’re nothing.

  “That won’t keep ’em long,” Bee says. “Need to put some distance between us.”

  We dive through the cherry trees outside the villa grounds and race for several long minutes, my chest heaving as I sweat through my suit jacket. Cass keeps glancing back, chin held high with pride. What she did was pretty impressive. I didn’t realize all the things the shaping could accomplish.

  Finally Bee pulls to a stop at the edge of a clearing near the door that leads back to the Hotel. “Well, mates,” she says, “this is where I leave you. Thanks heaps for your help.”

  Rahki grimaces. “Running off to check out your haul of stolen goods?”

  “Only the guilty run, doll.”

  “Is that what they tell you in thief school?” Rahki snips.

  “Don’t be like that,” I say. A concierge is always dignified and gracious. “The Hotel thanks you for your help,” I tell Bee. “If there’s any way we can repay you—”

  “Oh, you’ll pay up eventually, boy-o,” Bee teases. “By the way, you oughta check that bag of yours. You might find something of interest. The Hopper King sends his regards!”

  And with that, Bee jabs the tip of the sliver into her own arm. Her mouth opens in a silent scream as her body folds in on itself and slurps into the tip, and the sliver goes with her.

  Cass gapes. “Why would anyone do that?”

  “Come on,” Rahki says. “Let’s get out of here.”

  But I don’t follow. Bee’s words echo in my mind. “Something of interest?”

  I open the have-sack and see the Nursery. Countess Physiker is tending to the babies we saved. I’m glad the mission was a success. Now these kids can grow up free from Stripe’s influence and become whatever they want to be.

  But this can’t be what Bee was referring to.

  I pull the pin from its sleeve, and the Nursery vanishes in a flicker of gold, revealing the empty bag beneath. Wait. It’s not empty—something’s crinkling in the folds. I press my fingers into the seam, and it parts.

  “What is it?” Cass asks.

  “I think she slipped something into the lining.”

  Rahki raises an eyebrow as I pull out an envelope with the words “Mr. Cam” scrawled across it in loopy script.

  I read the letter aloud:

  Mr. Cam,

  I’m not entirely sure what our connection is, or how I even know you, but I feel compelled to give you a heads-up. The Hotel’s days are numbered. Whoever you are, you now have your warning. What you do with it is your business.

  Pretty much the greatest,

  Nico, King of the Hoppers

  I stare at the page, silent. Rahki’s saying something, but I can’t hear it. All I hear is Nico’s voice in my head, over and over again.

  Whoever you are.

  He doesn’t remember. Bringing me to the Hotel, signing our contract, working together to foil Stripe’s plans to take the Greenhouse. . . . He wanted me to keep his coin safe, and this is the consequence. Why did I think he would be able to remember all that happened? Of course he’d forget. He left his memories hanging around my neck, just like Dad did when he vanished all those years ago. At least he can still feel our connection, but what good does that do if he can’t recall why?

  “Cam!” Rahki says, snapping me back to reality. “We need to take this message to the MC. Now.”

  “We can’t,” I tell her.

  “Didn’t you read what he said? The Hotel’s days are numbered. He’s our enemy now.”

  Cass scoffs. “Yeah, right.”

  “I don’t believe it either,” I say, glad that Cass and I are on the same side for once. “It’s not right. The message, this girl Bee . . . Nico’s my friend. My blood-brother. He’d never be my enemy.”

  “He. Doesn’t. Remember. You,” Rahki says, speaking slowly as if to make sure my addled brain can understand. “We have it in his own handwriting. You two may still be bound, but if he doesn’t understand why—if he doesn’t remember the Hotel—then he’s back to being the guy he was before he came to us. And you know who that was.”

  I swallow. The Competition’s docents are one thing, with their contracts that force them into obedience, but Nico was a suit. They follow Stripe because they want something that he has to offer them. They’re not required to obey unless they break some other contract, and even then, Stripe often lets them make their own decisions because he gets more power and satisfaction out of a willing servant than out of those who are forced to obey him.

  “Nico wasn’t just any suit, Cam,” Rahki says. “He was training to be Stripe’s replacement. He was going to run the Museum for him. Stripe promised him an empire, and Nico chose that. He spent months lying to us. He was our enemy before, and he’s our enemy again. If he’s going to attack the Hotel, we have to stop him.”

  I look to Cass for backup, but she has stopped paying attention and is now playing with a deck of cards.

  “It might not be what it sounds like,” I say. “Maybe we can make him remember. We can bring him back.”

  “He gave you a warning.” Rahki taps the word on his letter to drive her point home, then pauses. “You’re going to try to find him, aren’t you?”

  My chest aches at the thought. “I . . . I have to.”

  “No, you don’t. If you try, you’re going to end up in major trouble.” She motions to the coin at my neck. “The Hotel can’t take risks when it comes to the mission. The old heads of the Hotel know that you and he are connected. If his attacks keep coming and you’re out
searching for him, they’ll think you’re working with him. You’ll lose your position, or worse.”

  “He deserves a chance.”

  She forces me to look at her. “Promise me you won’t go looking for him.”

  “But . . .”

  “Promise. Whatever you think about Nico, whether he really is your friend or not, the Hotel won’t put up with anyone who endangers its mission. If you still want to trust him, that’s your choice, but for the sake of the Hotel, you absolutely cannot seek him out.”

  “She’s right,” Cass says, shuffling the deck absently. “They will kick you out if they find out. Especially if Nico does make a move against us.”

  I meet Cass’s gaze. She’s never been one to avoid risks. If she’s urging caution, maybe I should listen.

  “Fine,” I say, “but on one condition.”

  Rahki blows out a relieved puff. “Name it.”

  “You can’t tell anyone about the letter.”

  “Cam, that’s not—”

  “That’s my condition,” I tell her. “Nico proved himself to us before. If you tell the MC, she’ll hunt him down and we’ll never find out the truth. I don’t want anyone trying to hurt him just because you’re not willing to give him a chance. If I can’t go searching for him, no one can. He’s earned at least that.”

  Cass gives me an approving smile.

  Rahki stares me down for a long moment, weighing her options. There’s no way she’ll agree to this. She’s too much of a rule follower. But then . . .

  “All right. Agreed.”

  “Really?” I say.

  She holds up a hand. “But you can’t keep me from preparing for the worst. Nico gave us a warning; it would be stupid not to take it seriously. I’ll tell the MC that I’m beefing up security for the gala.”

  “I can help,” Cass adds eagerly.

  I can’t believe Rahki’s considering this. “So, we have a deal, then?”

  Rahki places her hand over her heart.

  I mirror the gesture, and with that, it’s agreed. The bond of Law is taken seriously by everyone here. There’s power in the agreements people make with one another—the magic of binding—and they should never be taken lightly.