Miss Spell's Hotel

by Kate Danley

  Miss Spell's Hotel

  ______

  Know Spell Hotel

  By Kate Danley

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Maggie MacKay: Magical Tracker Series

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Maggie MacKay: Magical Tracker Series

  LEGAL STUFF

  Dedication

  To Kenyon Group C and We Will Be Heroes

  Thanks for reminding me where my soul lives

  You inspire me

  Maggie MacKay: Magical Tracker Series

  Book One – Maggie for Hire

  Book Two – Maggie Get Your Gun

  Book Three – Maggie on the Bounty

  Book Four – M&K Tracking

  Book Five – The M-Team

  Book Six – Maggie Goes to Hollywood

  Book Seven – Maggie Reloaded

  Book Eight – Maggie Goes Medieval

  Book Nine – Eine Kleine Nacht Maggie

  Book Ten – Of Mice and MacKays

  Book Eleven – Auntie Mags (coming soon!)

  Book Twelve – Moons Over My Maggie (coming soon!)

  Maggie MacKay Holiday Short Story Specials

  The Ghost and Ms. MacKay

  Red, White, and Maggie

  My Maggie Valentine

  Know Spell Hotel

  Miss Spell's Hotel

  Be the first to hear all about upcoming Maggie MacKay and Know Spell books by subscribing to the Kate Danley Newsletter - https://www.maggiemackaymagicaltracker.com/newsletter/

  Chapter One

  There are moments when you look at your life choices and wonder where you got it all so wrong.

  The goblins sat on the rafters, cackling away, delighted by their destruction and my thinly veiled distress.

  My name is Miss Elle Spell.

  People call me Miss Spell.

  We are nothing but monsters when we abandon our manners.

  And I do mean that quite literally.

  Let me tell you, it is hard to remain the picture of elegant cool when creatures from the Dark Dimension are thumbing their nose at you. Or more specifically in this instance, picking their noses and flinging their nostril nuggets at you.

  I slowly wiped the glop of boogers from my long, scarlet hair. I had spent all morning getting it curled and ratted just right. The higher the hair, the closer to goblins, evidently.

  I flicked it away in a slow move dripping with every ounce of contempt I felt for these animals. It hit my ruby, flocked wallpaper and left a trail like a banana slug in a May garden.

  This sort of visitor behavior was not covered in the Other Places in the Other Side: A Handguide for Haunted Hotel Owners, and once I was done with these beasts, you better believe I was writing a letter to that editor.

  "The No Spell Hotel is a Four Bat establishment," I informed the goblins. "Recognized by the Coven of Other Side Suites for excellence in hospitality and you are not behaving in a manner befitting of your surroundings. This ballroom has been reserved for a private party and I must politely ask you to vacate the rafters."

  They just screeched with laughter, again, at my gall.

  I pointed my perfectly manicured finger at them, unable to keep the pitch of my voice from rising. "I have the right to refuse service to anyone I please. Do not make me ask you to leave."

  They began pulling out the lit candles from the iron chandelier and then threw them at my head.

  "Ooo!" I stormed as I stomped out the flames, hoping I caught them all before they could damage the parquet. Since we laid off all the hotel staff, I had taken it upon myself to personally wax the floors by hand. There was pride buffed into that shining surface. And now I was going to have to sand out scorch marks? I marched to the double doors and flung them open. I paused to pronounce, "You are in so much trouble."

  By the sound of their glee, I'm pretty sure they didn't believe me.

  I headed down the thick, crimson carpet past suits of armor and oil paintings of my dead ancestors, around the front desk in the lobby, and into the janitor closet.

  Ajax was at the mahogany check-in counter. He rested his chubby cheek on his fat little fist as he watched me fling buckets and cleaners out, trying desperately to clear enough space to reach my broom.

  The dwarf raised a single, bushy eyebrow. "Unruly guests?"

  I fixed him with a glare.

  Ajax is my right-hand man. Built like a spark plug, he stands about waist high. But don't let his lower stature fool you. Ajax gives a whole new meaning to the term grumpy dwarf (please don't tell him I used his name in the same sentence as that cartoon.) But between you and me? You do not want that man swinging his axe at your kneecaps. His family was jamming shovels into the bowels of the earth since the elfin forest was nothing but a grove of saplings.

  In his youth, Ajax wanted to get into show business. He can tap dance like no one's business, but dwarven drinking songs went out of vogue and he needed a day job, so here we are. Strong as an ox and fueled with the jaded bitterness of broken dreams.

  I wouldn't fight him in a dark alley at midnight.

  But when you're running a hotel on the Other Side, especially a hotel like the No Spell, you don't cozy up to pixies and buttercups.

  What kind of hotel is the No Spell?

  Well, normally I would pull out our full-color, tri-fold brochure that I put together for the Other Side Board of Tourism and Places Not To Get Bitten.

  But now that we had goblins in the rafters, I was probably going to have to set fire to it all on account of false advertising.

  What's the Other Side?

  I apologize! You looked so comfortable here, I didn't know you were new.

  Welcome to the next dimension! As in, the dimension cozied up next to Earth. You see, once upon a time, there was a mighty battle between monsters and humans. The monsters were chased out by this organization called the World Walkers to a place where they could eat each other's faces off and be as nasty as they wanted to be. It was called the Dark Dimension.

  (Listen, World Walkers might be all fancy, jumping between worlds and such, but they are lousy at the naming thing.)

  Then, the World Walkers stuck the humans on Earth and set up a system to siphon off the excess magic so as not to attract the hunger of said face eaters.

  And stuck smack-dab in between is the Other Side.

  Our magic is fueled by human imagination. All the dreams that disappear in the morning, the exciting ideas not pursued, they run like water in a drainage ditch to the ley lines of my world. Ain't much magic on Earth because of those ley lines. But here? You can barely pick up a stick in the forest without it transforming into a magic wand.
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  Ley lines like the ones that ran through my property until my idiot coven turned off the tap and plunged me into goblin-infested poverty.

  Me? Bitter?

  Wherever did you get that idea?

  Don't answer that.

  In exchange for this excess creativity, the council of the Other Side agreed to be home to all the monsters no one wants roaming around Earth, but weren't quite wicked enough to banish with the baddies. We've got vampires and gargoyles and zombies and... well, people like me.

  I'm a witch.

  Now, before you go getting ideas, I'm not out sipping unicorn blood or biting bats to gain my powers. I came from a respectable line of magic weavers through my mother's side.

  But as a witch, you don't have many options. You can go into real estate, coaxing building ideas out of people's thoughts until they form into the solid home of their dreams. You can go into clean-up whenever some World Walker goes rogue and needs someone to tidy up their disaster on Earth. You can own a little shop and hire out for odd jobs – charms and love potions and such.

  Or you can go into the hospitality business, because there ain't no one better at smoothing ruffled scales than a woman who can disarm her guests by literally disarming their magic.

  That's what I did.

  The No Spell Hotel is a gothic masterpiece, if I do say so myself. It's been in my family for centuries – granite stone towers topped with witch's cap roofs; a wrap-around porch for those who cared to rock in the night air; carved staircases of mahogany; gables galore; floors with inlaid ebony; and stained glass windows of only the greatest Other Side battles. With connections to hot and cold running ley lines, magical creatures once came from far and wide to bathe in our energy springs. We have only the best accommodations for gargoyles looking for a place to roost and were featured as one of the "Top Ten Roofs for Your Non-Cathedral Getaway."

  And I'm really clear what to expect when you cross my threshold. This is the No Spell Hotel for a reason. There is no outside magic performed here without a license. Next to all my ley lines? It'd be like lighting a match next to a gas line. I allow beasts of all ilk across my threshold, but the first sign of someone getting ornery is a green light for me to dispense a little lesson on good manners.

  Unfortunately, that's what it used to be like.

  Due to a little altercation, the coven shut off my access to the ley lines and stripped me of my power. My good customers went elsewhere, and there wasn't a special I could run alluring enough to bring those gargoyles back to my eaves. I missed the sound of them on the roof, the comforting noise of a boulder being dragged across the shingles.

  And without the gargoyles, a girl tends to get a case of the goblins.

  "Just you wait, Ajax," I swore. "Those goblins better start counting their days... Because in just six short months, I'll get my powers back and when I do..." So furious I couldn't even form words, I shook my fist in the direction of the ballroom.

  Ajax just picked up the phone receiver. "Would you like me to call for Other Side pest removal?"

  "I have it under control!" I picked up my broom and headed back into battle, wishing I could use it to fly up to the rafters to introduce those creatures to its handle.

  I heard the rotary numbers spinning and then Ajax's voice drifted distantly down the long hallway. "Yes. Ajax here at the No Spell Hotel... Good to hear your voice so soon, too. I'm afraid we are going to need the exterminator... Goblins... Yes. Again."

  My skin burned with frustration and embarrassment.

  Without my magic, the only thing I could use my broom for was sweeping at the goblins like I might a spider web in a high corner. To be fair, spiders have evolved so their webs can pre-chew their food. But couldn't Ajax at least pretend we weren't in trouble?

  But the dwarves are a practical people.

  "She said she is going to attempt to get rid of them now, so we'll be ready for you in about—" The ancient grandfather clock next to the front door tolled out the hour. Ajax squinted at it and then turned back to the phone. "—fifteen minutes or so..." I scowled at him over my shoulder. "Yes, go ahead and head on over... no need to check back first... Fantastic. Put it on our tab... Yes, I realize we are close to our credit limit... Oh? A subscription plan for frequent clients? That would be lovely. I'll arrange payment to be at the desk. See you in fifteen. Bye!"

  Darn him to heck for being right.

  Chapter Two

  I was busy swiping at the unwanted residents, who were swinging like flying monkeys around my vaulted ceiling, when the door to the ballroom opened. Unfortunately, it was not the Goblins-Begone extermination team.

  A man carrying a briefcase entered.

  He was tall. Though he looked in his early forties, he had silver and black hair that hung in loose waves to his shoulders. His cheekbones were so sharp, a girl could cut herself on their chiseled edges and his foamy, sea green eyes took in the room with piercing intelligence. The tailoring of his robes and the way the hard soles of his shoes struck the floor spoke of well-run businesses and excess money.

  Just the sort of person a gal running a failing hotel should try to impress.

  I cursed, remembering who it was.

  He had called yesterday. I had forgotten about our appointment. Goblins in the rafters will do that.

  "Oh! Mr. Bedel!" I said, flustered. I held out my free hand, and then realized I should probably put the broom down. There was no elegant way to do it, a way that suggested I was the kind of proprietress who had the staff to get rid of things like the gaggle of goblins leering overhead. I tried to gather my dignity with a breezy, carefree attitude and impress on him that I cleared out magical vermin for fun. Entertainment, even. "I'm Miss Spell."

  He gently took my hand. "Enchante."

  As one of the goblins let out a rip-roaring fart, I'm not entirely sure Mr. Bedel was telling the truth, but I'm the sort of lady who is more than happy to forgive a polite little lie.

  "May I offer you a seat?" I asked him, motioning to one of the banquet room chairs. "You caught me trying to clean up a bit of trouble."

  "Trouble?" he asked, glancing up. The goblins began chuckling ominously. He gave me a winning smile. "Well, perhaps I have a solution to some of your problems."

  He had no idea how many solutions I needed.

  Mr. Bedel had said over the phone he wanted to discuss a financial opportunity, and I'd be damned to the Dark Dimension before I let these unwelcome ceiling guests ruin it for me. I turned back to the man. "Perhaps instead of a seat, I could interest you in a turn around the garden."

  As the goblins began making kissing noises and rude gestures, Mr. Bedel motioned to the side exit with his long fingers and graciously remarked, "How delightful."

  I allowed him to usher me out, grateful to be treated with a little respect for just one flipping minute out of my miserable life. I didn't even look back to see what the goblins were throwing at us as we left. From the size of the crash, it sounded heavy.

  The breath of fresh air was, seriously, a breath of fresh air. I made a mental note to let the light of the double suns shine on my face more often. The sky was a misty pink and purple, reflecting off the glittering clouds. I lifted the hem of my crinolines as we stepped down the wide, granite steps to the formal garden in the back. The gravel path crunched beneath our feet.

  "Lovely place," he commented, admiration coloring his tone.

  I tried not to look at him like he was crazy.

  The garden was dead.

  I mean, he wasn't entirely wrong. All the bones were there. Not literal bones. Those were farther back beyond the fence in the graveyard, may my ancestors rest in peace. But the garden had the potential for loveliness. It had an expansive porch running across the back of the hotel filled with rockers for our humanoids and perches for our taloned guests. There were rambling walks that meandered through empty flower beds to dried up fountains and wishing wells. The trees, though now skeletal, once made up healing groves and secret circles.
When it was in bloom, yes, it was breathtaking.

  But it was in a state.

  It was my own fault. There's not much reason to tend a garden when you can't use it for anything more than looks. Knowing the herbs I grew would have no greater use than spicing up a tomato sauce was depressing. And, frankly, when catering to our current clientele, they preferred a garden with a bit less life.

  But "lovely"? I was wracked with guilt over how much I had let it go. Still, my mama always told me never interrupt when someone is paying you a compliment, so I replied, "Thank you."

  Mr. Bedel pulled himself back from soaking in the atmosphere to the task at hand. "I have a serious proposition for you," he confessed.

  "Oh! It's been quite a while since I've been propositioned," I flirted, trying to distract from the disaster around us.

  He gave me a polite smile.

  I was definitely losing it.

  I blamed the goblins.

  All business, he pulled out a stack of papers from his hydra-skin briefcase, and then placed them in my hands. "I represent the law firm of Flytem, Bytem, and Howe. We have a client who is interested in purchasing your property."

  "Excuse me?" I asked, shocked. I thought perhaps he was going to ask to rent out the ballroom at a cut rate for weekend workshops on hexing your boss or perhaps present an array of customized stakes to sell in the lobby gift shop. But buy my hotel?

  "It is no secret the No Spell is under difficult times—"

  I tried to protest, even as a dead branch fell off one of the trees and crashed to the ground. "I wouldn't say that."

  "—and there's no shame in recognizing the hard economic forces we all find ourselves facing." He motioned to my embarrassment of a garden just as a Sasquatch decided to lumber through. "A woman such as yourself having to tend to all this on your own? I can see it was once beautiful, but no wonder it is in such a state."

  "A woman such as me?" I repeated. I think he may have been trying to charm me, but my hackles started to rise. I mean, yes, things were a mess. Yes, a monster notorious for shyness decided my property was his best bet for solitude and uninterrupted "me time." But I could set everything right if I decided that is what I actually wanted to do.