by T Shadow
The next night was normal. No weird sex dreams about a woman I’d only met in passing. I had a simple dream, or at least I assume I did because I didn’t remember it. But it seems that every other night I’ve had the weird sex dreams about her— about Remi.
How coincidental that she and I share the same name. I’ve never met anyone who shared the same name as I. Except my father and my grandfather, but that doesn’t count. It just so happens that the person who shares my name or even part of it is a hardheaded, sarcastic asshole. She looks like a spitfire, with her copper hair, her light green eyes and the small dusting of freckles over her nose. She could be a snake in the grass, considering that the beautiful flower always has a serpent under it. Fortunately, it’s not her that I have to worry about right now, the woman with the weird scent.
But no, it’s Landon who I have to worry about. Landon with his big fucking mouth. I’m closing in on the Hotel now, where I’ll wait until that insubordinate shit gets back so I can give him the grilling of his fucking life. We’ve been in this town for less than a week, and Landon’s got himself into two altercations. Two that he’s had to be bailed out of. Two that have happened with the same fucking people!
I’m only slightly thankful that he managed to get on the bad side of the one woman in town who doesn’t really have many allies. She has one, the tiger shifter, and possibly the troll at the bar, but that’s all that I can see. It would be worse if Landon managed to get into an argument with the bloody bar owner, and then we’d have to change our drinking spot to one of those other dives in town. No matter what happened, I need to deal with the situation with an ounce of control. Screaming at Landon has never worked in the past, so I don’t expect it to work now.
The Hotel is steps away now, it’s just past all of the shops that look exactly the same. The same paint colour, the same window panes, even the moss grows up the walls in the same bloody places. It’s almost like an abandoned town where everything is so eerily the same. The Hotel doesn’t fare much better, it’s all ivory coloured, it’s window panes and door frames are a dark brown colour. It sticks out like a sore thumb, but it fits in with the rest of the town so well that it’s... uncanny.
This whole fucking town is odd. Everything about it. From how the place looks to the people that live in it. There’s delinquents and oddities galore here. The humans here co-exist with the supernaturals without fear. The supernaturals here live alongside other supernaturals without war, arguments or issues. It really is a weird place in the world.
I haven’t had time to experience the rest of the town just yet— we’ve only been here a week, following leads and scouting the place out. So far, the Hotel is the most peculiar place we’ve visited. Mainly because it’s the only one we frequent enough to realise its peculiarity.
We chose it due to its central location, but we read up about it. The Hotel du Vin was purchased seventy years ago by twins. The website said that they play an active role in the day-to-day running of the Hotel but if that was true, I would have seen them. And I haven’t seen them, not once. The only person we see, fleetingly, is Vinnie. He’s the head concierge, receptionist and bell boy. He’s a jack of all trades, master of none and, in the end, that’s better than a master of one. Especially in this case, considering that it looks like he’s the only fucking person who works there.
But that ivory and dark brown building looms in front of me. It’s home for the moment, and that’s the only reason I move one foot in front of the other towards the entrance. I’m ignoring all the weird feelings I get from this place so that I can sit down in front of my laptop and try to find this infamous, never-before-seen hoard.
The entryway is light and airy. Light wooden floors, big windows, and a dark brown, almost black counter sits in the very center at the front. My brogues echo on the floor as I walk through the reception, nodding to Vinnie as I pass him at the reception desk. He just nods his head at me and goes back to doing whatever he was doing, which could be reading a magazine, picking his nose or having a wank for all I care.
As I jog up the stairs, I find a new found hatred for this place. This relic of a building must have been built in the Stone Age because it doesn't have a lift. And for us poor unfortunate fucks, we're situated on the fifth floor. It's only when I lose count after the first thirty-odd steps that I literally want to break both my kneecaps and cut off my legs for good. For someone who doesn't have to walk a lot, walking to the bookstore, back and up these fucking stairs again is what I'd like to call a modern nightmare.
We managed to rent the biggest room on the fifth floor. There’s no such thing as presidential suites in this Hotel, so we had to book the honeymoon room. I know at least three of our faces soured at the name of the suite, but thankfully we all claimed sleeping arrangements far enough away from each other to ensure that our own heterosexuality was still, very firmly intact. Got no problems with men crossing swords, as long as it’s not mine.
The soles of my shoes echo on the tiled floor as I walk towards our ‘slightly bigger than normal suite’. I can’t call it a honeymoon suite because it’ll shatter the only facade of sanity that I have. I pop the key card in the little slot on the door quickly and the green light flashes twice before I’m granted access to our very nice, slightly boudoir-ish suite. The hallway is all cream and beige tones, whereas our suite looks like it's the scene of a crime.
Red coats all the walls, floors, surfaces and furniture. Every single bloody thing is red. Some of the furniture is black, adding some eerie dimension to the room, but the rest is all the same shade of blood red. Finn called it a poor imitation of an actual honeymoon suite. Landon said it’s closer in style to the Red Light District in Amsterdam, but me? I think it’s beyond gaudy.
I don’t own the hotel though, so I don’t have to worry about how shitty the room looks; I just have to sleep in it. Closing the door behind me, I step into the main room. Finn’s sitting on the chaise lounge, relaxed whilst reading as usual. Leland must be in the shower or something, because he’s not sitting at his computer in the main room. Finn looks up from his book at the sound of the door closing and nods, placing his bookmark on his current page and closing it. He must realise the seriousness of the situation if he’s taking a break from his current read. Finn knows that Landon has crossed another line, in the case of putting his foot in it.
It’s great that our group has this dynamic where we know when something is wrong or about to go down. It’s also notoriously shitty. I could breathe wrong and Finn, the most caring of the lot, knows something’s wrong. I mean, he’s looking at me now, as if I’m a ticking time bomb about to explode. I’m not that bad— normally I mean, but today I’m irked rather than spitting fire.
“What do you think set him off this time?”
“Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if she only breathed wrong in his direction.”
It’s a stupid thing to suggest, but Landon really has the worst temper this side of the proverbial pond. I’m not sure what it is, but there must be a reason why he stayed far away from the center of the realm after leaving the Lord’s Guard. I mean, I know what happened, but I don’t know where the anger came from.
“He hasn’t been the same since…”
“Yes, I know,” Finn looks down at the book held in his hand, “he’s never been the same since that night, and after he left the only thing to stop him from losing his shit was to keep his brain occupied.”
“Yeah, t-that’s hard now, considering we’re on our l-last lead and at a dead fucking end.” Leland makes his way into the main room, a towel over his head, wearing a loose t-shirt and long shorts.
“It was hard enough anyway.” I make my way over to the sofa that’s set in front of the TV. It’s bloody red and velvet. Who has a fucking velvet sofa? I run my hand along the cushions, making the red change tones from light to dark.
“Yes, it was hard enough b-because Landon needed something to keep h-him occupied by the m-minute. Let alone the d-day.” Leland move
s to the armless end of the chaise lounge. Resting his elbows on his knees, he leans forward and rubs his temples.
Finn finally lets go of his book and puts it on the side table before leaning back. “The worrying thing is, is that he’s got into two altercations now with the same people.” He begins to run a hand through his hair, “His mouth is going to get us into more trouble than our presence in this bloody town will. I just don’t get his reasoning behind the incessantly stupid remarks and the constant tantrums.”
“M-Maybe it's what he s-saw and experienced while in the Guard that are c-causing him to blow up every second,” I glare at Leland. This is not the time to be hashing out different old memories about the Lord’s Guard. “What?” He stares back at me, unrelenting, “Y-you know he saw or heard something that changed his mind about my… M-My father.” Looking from Finn to myself, he mutters, “C-changed all of our minds, n-not just his.”
It’s one of the reasons that I put this group together. Many people believed the stories of the infamous First Knight of the Lord’s Guard, and we have all heard the rumours that fly around the Guard. We were all told that the previous Lord and Lady, Leland’s grandparents had died suddenly in the night which caused Leland’s father, now Lord Draconis, to rise to power. But other’s in the Lord’s Guard pass down the stories that the First Knight murdered the Lord and Lady in their bed’s one night, and then fled the realm the next morning, a couple hundred years before we were all born, to have never been seen again.
We’re on this mission because Lord Draconis believes that there’s vital information about the murders stored outside of the Realm, possibly in the hands of someone who shouldn’t have them. We generally keep our Realm very secret, never allow outsiders in and keep our secrets… secret. It’s only when soldier’s reach the last year of training that they find out about the First Knight. Considering the individuals are kept strictly regulated to their own regiment, no older soldiers communicate with those younger to them. The instructors however, know all the old stories. Not that any of them are old, most are removed from the regiment soon after they reach four-hundred years. A ridiculous rule that’s imposed, I guess, considering you can be a part of the guard only up until you reach four-hundred. Why? I don’t know. It was a law that Lord Draconis imposed upon his rule. I don’t understand that crazy bastard’s thoughts, and I don’t try to either.
The only good thing that came out of that crazy bastard was Leland, and sometimes even I question that statement. The kid is a wiz with computers, but couldn’t hold a conversation to save his life. It’s not because the kid has a stutter, but it’s simply due to him being continuously shunned by his grade-A wanker of a father. I’ve never met a dead-beat father that lived in the same bloody house for the kid’s entire life.
I chose the poor lad for my team not only because he’s a computer-literate Einstein, an absolute fucking weapon when it comes to codes and security and hacking. I chose him to get him away from his verbally and mentally abusive father. Unfortunately, some of his father’s traits moved onto him and he believes I’m fucking Satan incarnate. He must have an aversion to male authority, because he loathes me. You know, like that green thing that hates Christmas? Hate, hate, hate, double hate, loaaathe entirely.
Am I surprised though? Not really? Why, cause his father’s a colossal fucking prick.
“Leland, mate, now’s not the time to start talking conspiracy theories on the First Knight. We’ve all heard the stories about the First Knight with the red hair who won various battles, won the hearts of your grandparents as well as the hearts of the realm. And we, personally, know that there is something fishy with the way that she disappeared without a trace. No family left behind, no friends, anyone who knew her personally in the guard was executed on the grounds of treason…”
Leland hangs his head in, well, shame I suppose. He wasn’t even born then but he still feels immense guilt over the deaths of so many well skilled soldiers. He even feels some sort of guilt for the First Knight herself, whoever she was.
“If it does have anything to do with her, Leland, we’ll have to figure out why.”
Both Leland and Finn nod their heads in agreement, putting the conversation to rest before Landon steps through the door, causing the tension and awkward atmosphere to rise in the room. It’s only inevitable that it will happen, but thank god it isn’t happening right now.
“Do you think we should attempt to keep him away from Remi and Mika?”
“R-Remi and Mika?” Leland looks confused for a second.
Finn stares at Leland like he’s grown two heads, “...yeah, you know? The woman and the giant fucking tiger from the bookshop?”
“O-oh, yeah, the woman with the fox.” He nods his head, “I l-like the fox, he was c-cool.”
That catches my attention. It’s the oddest thing Leland’s ever said. “Cool? How can a fox be cool?”
I swear Leland’s eyebrow raises just slightly, which makes me think that I’m the only idiot in the village, cause I’m wondering why this one fox is considered ‘cool’ enough to make it on Leland’s radar.
“Foxes n-never come out during the day, r-right? They h-hunt at night, are n-nocturnal. They’re normally a-afraid of humans but h-he was right there on h-her shoulder.”
Raising my eyebrow in return only makes me look like a sarcastic fuck. I’m no fucking fox expert, but he pretty much just explained fox one-oh-one to a dragon shifter. I’m not an idiot for God’s sake. Leland sneers when I raise my eyebrow, confirming that I really do look like a sarcastic prick. Can I really blame it on resting bitch face? Does that now make me a bitch? God if that’s how I categorise myself I expect to be waging wars and ruining lives one moment, and then crying my heart out in the bathroom over a broken nail seconds later.
“Have you e-ever seen a fox calmly co-h-habitating with a tiger and a h-human? No, I don’t t-think so. It’s unusual. Do you think it could be a f-familiar?”
I ponder the thought before quickly squashing it. “A familiar would mean that one of them is a witch right? She’s definitely not a witch, they smell like... I dunno, depression and despair. As well as frogs and newts and whatnot.”
“How do you know what she smells like?”
“Who, the t-tiger?”
“No, Remi you idiot! Why would he smell the tiger?”
It’s the shrug of Leland’s shoulders that make me chuckle. But it’s my chuckle that has Finn and Leland staring at me like I’ve suddenly become criminally insane. How do I explain that I purposely cornered the two women after they left the bar, because I realise that she smelled weird? If upping my creepy status is what I was aiming to do, then I might as well just come out with it and tell them. But considering that I don’t want to sound like a creepy bastard, I abstain from the idea.
I’m just about to conjure up some extensive lie when the door opens. For once, Landon doesn’t kick the door open, but opens it gently instead, trying to be as silent as possible. Either he got his arse handed to him by the fiery red-head, or he’s about to get his arse handed to him by me. And, you know, I’m not known for holding back.
Instead of trying to hide himself away in one of the adjacent rooms, Landon just stands by the front door, swaying slightly on his feet with his head hanging down, facing the floor. We all see this as slightly abnormal behaviour— Landon’s more like a bull in a china shop, rather than a mouse scurrying under floorboards. But it's not me that gets up to console him, it's Finnegan, who’s human side is always that much gentler than the rest of us. His dragon side however? Eh, not so much. Kind of a burn first, ask questions later kind of dragon.
It’s only when Finn is close enough to place his hand on Landon’s arm that he finally looks up at him. It’s one of those looks which shows complete surrender, and it’s odd because although Finnegan is superior to Landon, it doesn’t mean that Landon normally respects that. If anything, Landon goes against the grain so often that he should have permanent road rash.
Bu
t Landon’s attitude issues aren’t new to our current situation; we’ve all known he was seriously reluctant to come on this mission in the first place. Christ, I ripped him from his home out in the Wastes to come here with us. His attitude has always sucked, but at least he had a good enough reason for it, if leaving the Lord’s Guard wasn’t enough.
Landon lives in the Wastes, a place far away from the center of the Dragon Realm. It has little to no life there and it’s surrounded by this eerie quiet. Most people go there to die, not to live. Apart from Landon living there, there’s only one older lady, who gets visited by her sons, but not often. She keeps to herself, and we only met her whilst looking for Landon. I remember her, she only looked about thirty, but you could tell she was much older. But one look at my uniform made her tense up. I guess the people in the Wastes are less accustomed to the Lord’s Guard’s soldiers. Especially those of a higher rank like me. I only had to mention Landon’s name for her to point in the direction of his house and promptly shut the door in my face. The conversation was over and that was the last we saw of her.
Landon’s property, his little cottage, sat at the edge of the river. Far enough from the other lady’s house that you couldn’t see in the windows, but you could see when someone arrived or left for the night. But for the only two permanent occupants in the waste, the unspoken distance between them is just how they liked it. Landon spends most of his time fixing up old cars and selling them on, so whenever he left the Wastes to go pick up an old car to fix up, he’d bring some fresh fruit back and leave it on the lady’s doorstep. I’m sure she appreciated the gesture, considering she’s never complained about it.
It’s only the fact that I remember other than that I technically ruined Landon’s life. The thought of that is the only thing that stops me from grilling the poor bastard as soon as he walks through the door. He’s still currently staring at Finn, looking as though he’s seen a ghost. That, or dumb struck. You know, like when someone said something to you, and you’re still trying to understand it moments later? Or when you can’t hear someone so you just repeatedly nod until you realise they were asking you a question, that you can’t remember, and now you have to answer it. That’s what he looks like.
