The Last Chance Hotel

by Nicki Thornton

  Seth’s heart beat faster at the mention of doing something ever-so-slightly illegal with Pewter. He watched the inspector swipe a hand across the mist and Seth was spellbound at the way it started to move in a new direction. It gathered and then started to spin.

  ‘Not ready yet.’ Pewter wiggled his fingers in among the glow.

  The mist arranged itself into pink dots. Pewter opened his jacket, revealing again the array of tiny bottles attached to the lining. He removed one, unstoppered it with his long fingers, took out a pinch of cinnamon-coloured powder and wafted it above the mist.

  Seth knew he should be focusing on finding a way to properly put the blame where it belonged, on Angelique. She had been feeding him information about the magical world and now he was starting to doubt it all. She had told him she was finding magic she didn’t understand, about there being magic at the hotel. Zapping everything with blue light – and that trick she’d pulled where the walls rumbled. She was the one who made the walls say ‘Wich Wracht’. He should just come out with it, tell Pewter everything. He just needed a way to tell him about the divinoscope and the zapping, without it sounding like the most ridiculous story . . . but the globe began to glow a greenish colour and all Seth could think was that he was watching Pewter doing magic.

  ‘They upgraded it recently,’ grumbled Pewter. ‘Never been as good as the old version. Don’t know why they have to mess with these things. I am trying a little Unpowder – kind of a magical kick-start. If your magic isn’t pulling its weight as it should. We call this a teleglobe, which I stick to because it’s properly named after the sorcerer who devised it and her name is quite unpronounceable. It just sounds like you’re sneezing. But you can’t get away from it being the greatest magical device for finding out things quickly.’

  ‘You mean – will it tell us who killed Dr Thallomius?’ asked Seth, eager and hopeful. This might be a brilliant way forward in getting Pewter to suspect Angelique.

  ‘Magical it might be, but it’s also pretty dumb – it’ll only repeat what someone’s already programmed into it. Now, on a hugely expensive channel like this . . .’ Pewter’s hands moved and images began to come clearer. ‘Why don’t you try it first, Seth? Got a question? Go on. Give it a whirl.’

  All Seth wanted was to get to the bottom of why Angelique might have killed Dr Thallomius, because if he knew that, he could tell Pewter everything and it would sound all right and he had a chance of being believed.

  ‘Well,’ said Pewter after Seth paused. ‘I have plenty of questions. You have been learning about the magical world, Seth, about the Unpleasant and all the sorcerers Missing Feared Exploded? I do wonder if we might be thinking along the same lines.’

  Seth was surprised. He thought Pewter said he was building a case against someone. He’d thought Pewter was going to ask for background on whoever he suspected.

  ‘The sorcerers wanted in connection with the Unpleasant – is that something your department, MagiCon, investigates?’ he asked carefully.

  ‘Not us, no. We at MagiCon deal with your basic, everyday crime, wrongdoing and all manner of shady goings on in the magical community. But tracking down wanted sorcerers from the Unpleasant, and declaring those sorcerers as officially alive or dead, is the responsibility of a crack team.’

  ‘MFE sorcerers like Wintergreen Troutbean?’ said Seth slowly. ‘Sounds like he had a good reason to hate Dr Thallomius. I guess people only think he’s dead, no one knows for sure? I guess that has to be investigated?’

  ‘That’s it exactly. Full name of the department is the Sinister Speculation Services, although it’s usually referred to as S3. But that is what they do. Most of it is undercover. Well, the last thing they’d want to do is alert a sorcerer that they are being investigated. That sorcerer may be very skilful in hiding to avoid having to answer too many awkward questions about their role in the Unpleasant. In fact, the S3 could stand for Seriously Sassy Sorcerers. Want to know more about the Elysee’s team of secret agents?’

  Seth peered over Pewter’s shoulder, where words were beginning to emerge out of the mist.

  As the words appeared, the teleglobe began to talk in a low, female voice. ‘The work of the S3 begins by targeting homes or buildings connected to MFE sorcerers. They investigate use of magic. If they find no signs of recent magical activity, they conclude that the sorcerer is dead, rather than missing, and their official status is changed.

  ‘Then they sweep out all the magic from the dark corners of their homes, remove magical texts, any magical artefacts, sometimes whole libraries. And once all traces of magic have been removed, then the house is said to be “cleaned” and can be declared safe for re-use.’

  ‘Tricky work. Guess it must backfire occasionally,’ Pewter said thoughtfully. ‘If the sorcerer has just been taking a long vacation.’

  Seth was taking all this in, but Pewter was already swiping again across the surface and the swirling mist inside the shimmering globe turned a deep shade of pink.

  ‘Now this is the bit which is highly illegal. And takes a little skill. Although really very simple for an absolute genius like myself. You may turn away if you wish. Slicing.’

  ‘Slicing?’

  ‘It’s the term used for slipping unseen to dig around where you have no business to be in the first place. In this case, the Elysee vaults. They aren’t that keen to let just anyone in.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I guess they think their vaults are private.’

  ‘No, I mean—’

  ‘Ah. I also have some tricky questions I can’t answer. There are things I am being kept in the dark about. I am having no end of difficulty working out which lies I need to be bothered about,’ he muttered as the mist moved and gathered. ‘And I would really like to find out exactly what she is up to.’

  Seth hit upon that word ‘she’ and a spark of hope lit inside him that it might not sound quite so ridiculous if he told Pewter about Angelique’s confession.

  As the name of the person Pewter was investigating emerged through the mist, Seth breathed it aloud.

  ‘Angelique.’

  39. Lying from the Start

  So Pewter was already suspicious of Angelique.

  Could it be that Pewter, like Seth, had worked his way to the same conclusion – that she was the only one here with enough magic to get through those charmed doors?

  Perhaps there was a chance Seth was going to be able to clear his name.

  Pewter leant forward, ‘She doesn’t even work for Thallomius.’

  ‘She’s been lying about a lot of things,’ Seth mumbled, still feeling such a complete fool for being so utterly taken in by all her ridiculous stories about magic being here.

  ‘Yes, she does that, doesn’t she?’ said Pewter.

  Seth wanted to tell Pewter everything. Not just about how Angelique had confessed she was responsible for Dr Thallomius’s death, but all that fizzing about with her red cane, flashing blue light. All the nonsense about ripples and unexplained magic. He’d been so stupid, but he still hadn’t a clue what she had done it all for or what it all meant.

  ‘I can only think of a couple of reasons she would want to conceal the real facts from me and I don’t want to have to dangle her upside-down for the truth,’ said Pewter. ‘The Squerrs are quite a distinguished line of sorcerers. So what is she up to? You think she’s our murderer, don’t you Seth?’ said Pewter quietly.

  Seth replied slowly. ‘I can do better than that – I know she is.’

  ‘What’s she been telling you?’

  ‘Just now she confessed to me that the fact that Dr Thallomius is dead is down to her.’ Seth held his breath. There, the news was out. How would Pewter react?

  Pewter turned and Seth again caught the intense blue of his eyes behind his glasses. ‘Did she indeed? Believe that, did you? She’s never been anything other than completely straight with you?’

  ‘Absolutely not!’ Seth blustered. ‘She’s been lying to me and misleading me right f
rom the start.’

  ‘Yes, she plays her own game pretty close, doesn’t she?’

  Was that all Pewter was going to do or say?

  Seth wasn’t sure if Pewter didn’t believe him, or whether it was completely the opposite and it wasn’t news to him at all. He just seemed his usual calm self and had not reacted the way Seth had expected to the shocking news of Angelique’s confession.

  But then when did Pewter ever react the way anyone expected?

  But something else sank in that Pewter had just said, ‘So she comes from one of the old magical families?’

  ‘One of the oldest, the Squerrs,’ nodded Pewter.

  Hadn’t she been explaining to him right from the start how powerful magical families had been plotting to get rid of Dr Thallomius and his reforming ideas?

  Seth almost missed the sound of light footsteps approaching.

  Then Pewter’s head turned as someone called his name. ‘Never a moment’s peace. No wonder this case is taking so long to crack. But it is finally building nicely.’ He slid into the corridor, pulling the door discreetly behind him.

  What did he mean? Was the case not closed?

  ‘Madam, how may I be of assistance?’ he heard Pewter say, and the unmistakeably high voice of Gloria Troutbean replying as she announced: ‘I am ready for the seance. But I want to know,’ she sounded a little nervous, ‘what questions should I ask?’

  Something brushed Seth’s legs. He hadn’t even noticed her slip in.

  ‘Nightshade! Where have you been?’

  He went to hug her, wanting nothing more than to bury his face in her soft fur. But Nightshade gave an enormous stretch and a big yawn, unfurling her claws. ‘Think I might have dropped off. Just a little . . .’ she yawned widely again, ‘. . . nap.’

  ‘You’ve been sleeping? I thought you were—’

  ‘I can’t help it if I need my sleep,’ said Nightshade, starting to lick a paw. ‘Cats need at least seventeen hours sleep a day. I’m only doing what is natural.’

  ‘I thought something awful had happened to you – I thought Tiffany—’

  ‘I gave her something to think about.’ Nightshade turned her back as if she didn’t want to talk about it and hissed at the globe of mist. It was wriggling around, almost as if it was beckoning to Seth, come on, give me a try. ‘Did I miss anything?’

  ‘That, Nightshade, is a magical device called a teleglobe. You can ask it stuff. You only missed Tiffany giving the black book to Kingfisher as evidence against me. I got locked up again. But now I don’t think it’s Mr Bunn who is the one really responsible for all of this. I think Pewter and I might be thinking along the same lines that—’

  ‘Don’t know, Seth. There’s a lot of strange things about. I’m beginning to think that Angelique might be right. There could be something dark lurking here at the hotel.’

  ‘Huh! Well, I am learning not to trust a word that girl says. Listen, she told me just now – I asked her right out and she admitted it – she’s the one responsible for Dr Thallomius’s death. But I was the only one who heard her confess, although I think Pewter is doing the same as me, trying to get some evidence against her.’

  Nightshade was looking at him as he moved closer to the teleglobe, her green eyes gleaming. ‘And this is going to get us the evidence?’

  ‘Gotta be worth a try. It’s a magical device,’ shrugged Seth, ‘Don’t suppose it would work for me.’ But he lifted his eyes to watch it and moved closer, transfixed by the swirling haze, which then reached out long, thin misty tendrils, grey, swirling around him, drawing him to it, pulling him in invitingly.

  Seth sensed if Nightshade had any eyebrows she would be raising them now.

  He had watched Pewter carefully. There was a low conversation taking place outside the door. He stood before it nervously. Could he possibly get a magical device to work?

  If Seth was going to try to use the teleglobe it had to be now. He had so many questions, so many questions it was difficult to focus on just one.

  He had got too confused with which lies he had been told. He rubbed his neck, thinking of Angelique getting angry with him, her buzzing everything with the fierce blue light of her divinoscope, telling him she was detecting magic she’d never seen before. Seth thought of the walls rumbling.

  One chance. Something he really wanted an answer to, something that might just help him to understand exactly what Angelique’s game was. He had to ask it quickly, before Pewter came back.

  He bent towards the swirling teleglobe and clearly and confidently asked his question.

  ‘Why do the walls at the Last Chance Hotel talk?’

  40. What is Wich Wracht?

  The mist just sat there, gently curling. Had he said it too quietly? Or just done it wrong? He frowned, glanced anxiously at the door and remembered what Inspector Pewter had done.

  He took the container that Pewter had left on the table, the one containing Unpowder. Seth unstoppered it. Between the tips of his fingers he took the tiniest pinch and sprinkled it across the fog exactly as Pewter had done.

  Words appeared out of the mist.

  Last Chance Hotel. Formerly Last Chance House, ancestral home of Wich Wracht – the ancient name of the famed scientific sorcerer best known for inventing the RuhnGlas.

  ‘Nightshade, get this! Wich Wracht is a person!’

  ‘What are you talking about?’ grumbled Nightshade.

  ‘That writing that gleamed out of the black book – and when the walls said “Wich Wracht”. It isn’t a thing. The walls were saying a name. The name of a scientific sorcerer, like Dr Thallomius was. Wich Wracht used to live here – at the Last Chance Hotel.’

  Seth peered again at the words and noticed that the word ruhnglas was highlighted, as though if you wanted to, you could ask it to tell you more. What’s more, he recognized the word and knew exactly where he’d seen it before.

  ‘The word ruhnglas was mentioned in the black book, along with the firefly cage.’ He thought for a moment about the words Wich Wracht appearing as a bright light shining out of his black book. ‘But what does it mean, Nightshade? I still haven’t a clue.’

  His shoulders sagged.

  The answer to his question seemed only to have given him more questions.

  Seth read on, scanning quickly all the details he could.

  Wanted for questioning about involvement in the Unpleasant, if alive. Official status Missing Feared Exploded.

  ‘Nightshade. Wich Wracht is one of the sorcerers Missing Feared Exploded. He was involved in the Unpleasant and is wanted for questioning. And he used to live here.’

  ‘A wanted sorcerer used to live here? You’re having me on.’

  The creak of a floorboard told Seth now was not the time to try to puzzle it out. Pewter was coming back and before Seth knew it, was in the room.

  ‘I have bad news for you.’

  Seth waited, wondering if he’d been found out dabbling with a magical device.

  ‘I’m afraid you’ll have to stay under lock and key, although I don’t see why you should be stuck in that broom cupboard. Your attic room will do.’

  Pewter followed him as Seth reluctantly agreed and dragged his way to the top floor.

  ‘Do you really think Miss Troutbean will be able to communicate with Dr Thallomius’s dead spirit?’ Seth whispered as Pewter gave a comforting farewell rap on the door after locking him in.

  He heard Pewter give a heartfelt sigh. ‘The longer you are around magic, Seth, the more you learn to keep an open mind. Plus, be useful wouldn’t it, give Dr Thallomius a chance to tell us everything. But until we prove otherwise, my advice, sadly, is trust no one. Oh, except me of course.’

  ‘So is Miss Troutbean’s ability to communicate with ghosts magic? Or do you mean you think she’s up to something?’

  ‘Don’t you get the impression, Seth,’ said Pewter wearily, ‘that everyone here is up to something?’

  41. The Picture Becomes Clearer

  Seth slumpe
d on to the bed, thinking furiously. He was slowly aware of a gleam, an eerie glow coming from a corner of the room.

  It was his mirror. The mirror that didn’t always work. Only now it was gleaming.

  It was the back that was shining brightly, not the glass. He turned it over and could make out bright letters. He could read the words perfectly clearly. Wich Wracht.

  He dropped the mirror.

  As he stared wide-eyed at the glowing inscription, a slithering voice came out of the walls of his room, this time in a whisper, as if it was talking only to him. Wich Wracht.

  Apprehensively, Seth picked up the mirror and stared at it. It was just his broken mirror, which sometimes showed his reflection, but most of the time showed a reflection of what was in quite another room. If it was connected to Wich Wracht then he had to face facts – it was quite likely some sort of artefact bewitched with sinister magic.

  As he peered deep into the mirror he could only watch, transfixed with amazement, as one corner started showing a bright light, which spread across the glass like a crack. The crack widened.

  Seth stared at it closely, closer than he ever had done before and all of a sudden he was seeing a group of people. They were sitting around a big table in a panelled room lit by candlelight.

  Seth gripped the mirror tightly and knew exactly what he was seeing in his strange mirror. He was seeing straight into the hotel dining room where the seance was taking place.

  And as he peered further and further into the glass, deeper and deeper, looking at the faces, seeing Gloria Troutbean’s mouth moving, but hearing no words, Seth began to have a sensation of falling.

  Before he knew it, it was as if every molecule in his body was being exploded apart at the same time as he was being crushed down into a tiny, tiny tube.

  He was being sucked into the glass.

  It was like being shrunk and stretched at the same time. He reached out, trying to stop himself. Seth had his eyes closed, there was a rushing sound in his ears. When he opened them again he was no longer falling. He was quite still and he seemed to have landed upright. He blinked a few times.