by Tricia Owens
“Then the lobby—that absinthe-like smell—that’s your doing?”
“Do you like it? It contains a mood-altering component. Helps ease guests into the mindset of relaxation.”
“I think it fits the Sinistera.”
“Thank you, that’s very kind. With the recent rain, it’s been something of a challenge keeping the gases inert. They tend to want to liquefy and condense on all the hard surfaces.”
“Sounds damp,” I joked lamely.
He pitied me with a laugh. “Very. We favor velvet furniture and silk wallpaper here, neither of which goes well with dripping liquids. Condensation is an AA specialist’s nemesis. And what is your specialty, Arrow?”
“IMT.”
“IMT. Good. Very good. Yes, a very useful skill. A difficult one, too. Not many graduates in that field, and those that do gravitate toward the industrial arts.”
“Engineering,” I agreed. “I like the creativity of it.”
“It’s creative, yes, but also demanding in a structural sense, yes?”
The interview felt so normal that I couldn’t help relaxing. “That’s right. Most of my coursework involved memorizing schematics and learning mechanics. I can’t meddle—er, transfigure an object if I don’t know how it works.”
“No transfiguring an airplane out of a car?” he teased.
I shrugged. “If I’d studied the parts of a plane beforehand anything would be possible. It’d just take a while.”
“Amazing. You must be in great demand.”
I held his gaze. “Well, right now I’m here.”
He sat there, still smiling at me, but something subtle had changed in his demeanor. I braced myself for the question about my certification. Morrison had to have told him that I’d failed to graduate.
“About this position,” he began. “It starts tonight. With the nightshift. I’ll inform everyone to expect you.”
I was too surprised to be either dismayed or pleased. “But…you don’t know anything about me. And I don’t know anything about the job. I might not want it.”
“The job is a gateway, if you get my meaning.”
I nodded slowly. “Alright. I think I do. But that answers only part of my—”
“Hold that thought.” He checked his watch. “I’ll be one moment, please.”
He stood with a smile and a nod and then walked out of the office, closing the door behind him.
“O-kay,” I said into the empty room, a bit incredulously.
I didn’t like Tower’s assumption that I was already on board with whatever this was. I understood that criminals tended to be secretive, but this was ridiculous. Was I desperate enough to accept this without question?
My misgivings grew the longer I sat there, until I reached a point where I didn’t feel comfortable sitting there any longer. I figured if Tower was afraid to tell me what I’d be doing, then it was something he thought I wouldn’t agree to and would have to be tricked or pressured into doing.
I heard a thump from directly outside the office. I glanced eagerly at the door. I had it all planned out: I would insist that Tower answer all of my questions to my complete satisfaction or I’d walk out and forget all about Tower, Morrison, and this strange hotel.
As soon as I made that decision the door exploded inwards. Shards of wood sprayed everywhere. As I jumped out of my chair with my hands up to shield my face, an enormous black creature flooded into the room. It must have weighed tons. It poured through the doorway like gallons of oil.
It wasn’t an octopus, though multiple tentacles swung through the air, knocking over the few pieces of furniture in the room. I at first thought the creature was smooth-skinned, but it was actually covered in fine black hairs that fuzzed its rippling outline. Sharp-looking talons slashed the air at the ends of its tentacles and when the creature rolled its center mass, it revealed a pale crusted underside that reminded me of sun-bleached barnacles. In the center of its mass the crusting had built up to form a semblance of features: a single, horizontal eye socket filled with something watery and white, and a beak-like mouth beneath it, which split wide to emit a slithery tongue. The tongue shot out and snapped tight around my right ankle. It yanked me away from my chair and onto my back, dragging me toward that snapping beak.
“Help!” I yelled, even though help would need to come through the same doorway that this mutated sea creature currently filled. Had it killed everyone in the lobby on its way in here? Was I the only survivor?
I wouldn’t be for much longer.
I clawed at the carpet as the creature tugged me across the floor. I snagged the only piece of furniture that hadn’t been knocked aside by the creature’s entrance: the table where I’d been sitting for my interview. For some reason its legs were bolted to the floor.
I gripped one of those legs and kicked at the tongue wrapped around my ankle. I broke my high heel with the effort but the tongue didn’t release me. A frantic search of the office told me there was no other furniture besides a pair of filing cabinets lying on their sides on the floor and an upended ficus tree. There was nothing in here that could be used as a weapon against a massive, supernatural creature.
What had happened to Tower? To Sheridan? What was going to happen to me? The latter seemed obvious as the creature pulled harder on my leg, threatening to pull it from my hip socket. I tightened my fingers around the leg of the desk, praying that the metal fasteners keeping it bolted to the floor wouldn’t give way. One of the talons on the end of the creature’s tentacles slashed through the air, nearly slicing into my shoulder and instead carving a groove in the carpet. I was either going to be eaten or cut to shreds if I didn’t do something soon. But what could I do without a weapon?
The answer was simple: make one.
I concentrated on the table, frantically moving molecules around, transfiguring the top surface and the three legs that I didn’t clutch into something different. The wood shifted and groaned, squeaked and creaked as it reformed into a huge, square mallet that balanced atop the single leg that remained bolted to the floor.
The creature had begun to rise, pulling its bulk up so it towered over me like an oil spill tsunami. This must be its signature attack. Something bad was about to happen. I wasn’t waiting to find out what.
Sweating, I meddled the entire mallet to bend backward on the leg that I clung to. The wood groaned, straining against the unnatural bend. The leg should have snapped from the pressure. But I meddled the wood to be malleable and to curl like the spine of a recurve bow.
Back, back, I bent the wooden mallet until the head hovered six inches from the floor. Then I let go, releasing the massive amount of tension. The mallet head swung forward violently with a loud whoosh.
It smashed into the creature’s body so powerfully it flattened the creature to the floor with a loud boom. Tentacles spasmed. The tongue around my ankle released with a spastic jerk. I scrambled backward on all fours and meddled my makeshift warhammer to bend back a second time. The creature began to inflate as it recovered from the blow, so I smashed it again with the mallet. Its arms flailed like those of a dying spider’s. Bright green blood spattered the walls and my bare shins.
Though I could have bent the hammer back a third time, I was angry. I grabbed the single intact desk leg and meddled it to release it from the floor. I heaved the war hammer into the air with both hands, bracing it against my shoulder.
“How about another?” I taunted the creature. “I don’t think you’ve learned your lesson yet.”
A tentacle lashed out at me but I dodged it and swung the hammer down. It smashed the creature satisfyingly. I heaved the hammer up for another go. But my opponent had apparently had enough. It began slinking toward the doorway, gradually filling it as the creature poured its body out into the lobby with increasing speed, like sands spilling through an hourglass. Within a matter of seconds, the entire black mass had slithered out of the room, leaving behind streaks of green blood and me and my illegal transfiguration.
>
I knew I had to try to meddle the table back to its original form but I was too worked up to even consider it. When Tower stepped into the room I nearly crushed his skull with my war hammer.
“Hello, just me,” he said with a wave and a wide smile. He looked around the room and gave a nod of satisfaction. “Excellent, Arrow. Just excellent.” He tsked at the green blood. “Hopefully that won’t stain. Should come up, I think. Perhaps a steam cleaning will do it.”
His commentary was nonsense to me. “What’s—what’s going on? What just happened? That creature—”
“Yes, Walter. He lurks around. You’ll run into him often. He’s one of the permanent guests. Been here nearly as long as the Sinistera has. I’ll have to apologize to him,” Tower added with a thoughtful frown. “I’m sure he didn’t expect to be beaten to a pulp today. That part’s unfortunate.”
I prided myself on being fairly quick on the uptake, but it still took me a few seconds of staring dumbly at him before I finally absorbed the meaning of his words. I let the hammer slide off my shoulder and fall to the floor with a heavy thud.
“That thing—it’s a guest?”
“He is, yes. A guest and a good friend of the staff.”
“Then why would…” I trailed off as understanding set in. “This was a test.” My voice hardened as outrage filled me. “You were testing me by attacking me. Why would you do that?” I was ready to pick up the hammer again.
“It was to see if you’d survive, obviously.” He said it carelessly, with no apparent concern for the ludicrousness of his statement. “And to see if you could defend yourself. You’ve done both, so you’re hired.”
My vision misted over with a red haze. “Are you saying I could have died just now?”
“I’m saying others have,” he told me, his pale eyes sharpening suddenly.
I didn’t miss the warning. There remained a chance that I might not walk out of the hotel alive. I’d become privy to their secrets—to one of them, at least.
Jasper had told the truth. This place was terrible. If this was what could happen during a hiring interview, what could happen once I began working?
“I won’t tell,” I said, proud that my voice didn’t waver.
“I don’t expect you will since we have a recording of what you just did.”
Blackmail. Nice.
“But I wouldn’t worry about that,” Tower assured me. “You’re part of the family now. You’re our new Head of Security.”
I gaped at him. “I’m what?”
“It was the opening we needed to fill.” Tower’s smile was warm and welcoming, truly wonderful. “We’re very pleased to have you, Arrow. We expect great things from you.”
Chapter 4
The door opened on a sleepy woman who yawned.
“I’m sorry,” I mumbled sheepishly. “Is Jasper home?”
She became more alert then, looking me over with curious green eyes. “He is.”
“Could you please tell him that Arrow needs to speak with him? It’s incredibly important.”
“Arrow?” Something flitted through her eyes, probably confusion. My name did that to a lot of people. The woman didn’t scowl yet—too uncertain about me—but I could tell she wasn’t pleased to have been awakened by some girl with a strange name asking to speak to her fiancé.
At least, I assumed that this was Jasper’s wife-to-be. I’d never met her before and Jasper had never described her beyond telling me that she was beautiful. I chalked it up to him being one of those close-lipped guys who didn’t like to talk about their personal relationships. I knew nothing of this woman except that her name was Rogette.
Physically, she was definitely in his league. I envied her flame-colored hair—a natural red hue that danced between gold and red depending on the light. She was taller than me by a couple of inches, so nearly six foot, and seemed to have a nice figure from what her shorts and T-shirt revealed. Her T-shirt was too large and undoubtedly belonged to Jasper. That told me a lot.
“Stay here,” she murmured. She closed the door on me.
It was mid-afternoon, but Jasper worked the night shift so I expected him to still be sleeping. That knowledge wasn’t enough to deter me from interrupting his sleep. I needed his advice before tonight.
When he opened the door, he appeared much more alert than his fiancée had. He was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt pulled inside out, and he had a jacket in his left hand. Maybe Rogette had told him to keep me out of the apartment.
“Arrow? What’s wrong?” He stepped out onto the landing with me and shut the door behind him. “Are you okay?”
“I’m okay,” I said and gave him what was probably a sickly smile considering my current state of mind. “I know this is early for you and I promise to make it up to you, but…could I buy you a coffee? I need to talk to you.”
He raised golden eyebrows but didn’t question me further. “Yeah, sure. Of course. There’s a place on the corner that’s good.”
The coffee shop was crowded but we managed to find a table for two against a wall. I bought us each a coffee and then quietly and clearly laid out what had happened to me that morning.
Jasper didn’t taste his coffee once during my recitation of events. His eyes grew rounder and rounder until I’d finished.
“So you had an eventful morning,” he concluded with a huffed laugh. He finally took a sip of his drink. “All I can say is you sound incredible, Arrow.”
His flippancy irritated me. “That’s all you can say after what I told you?”
“I’m sorry,” he said quickly, apparently realizing how upset I was. “I didn’t mean to sound like I was making light of what happened. I was trying to make you feel better.”
“I don’t need to feel better,” I snapped, and then immediately felt bad because he was only trying to help. “Sorry. This has been a rough morning, but I didn’t bring you here to yell at you for something that’s not your fault.”
He reached across the table and briefly squeezed my hand. “So let’s start over.”
“Right.” I forced myself to calm down. “What I need to know is do you think my life is over? Am I now on the hook to these guys?”
“Well, not knowing who’s involved in all this, I obviously can’t say. But let’s say these guys are big and bad. You’re big and bad, too, Arrow. I think you’ll hold your own.”
“I thought you said last night I couldn’t take care of myself.”
He waved it off. “You were drunk. I was teasing. In all seriousness, I’ve had the feeling for a while now that you’re better at IMT than you let on. The proof was this morning.”
I shrugged, not really impressed with myself since my actions weren’t legal. “If you’d been faced with an enormous, angry, octopus-like creature you would have done the same thing.”
“You’re too modest.” Jasper sat back and ruffled his uncombed hair. His inside-out shirt was cute. I tried not to find it adorable. “I get that you think what happened at your interview was the worst thing ever, but I’m not so sure I agree. Sounds like you came through with flying colors.”
I watched the milk in my coffee slowly take on shapes like clouds in the sky. “I can’t afford for the police to learn about this, Jasper. I have my grandmother to take care of.”
“I’m not brushing this off like it’s nothing,” he said, his expression earnest. “I get that there are rules for the use of magic and you have to follow them. As an outsider, though, I guess I see it differently. I feel like if you can use magic without hurting anyone, then you should use it.”
I studied him, though of course a person’s inclination for magic wasn’t reflected in their appearance. Sometimes I could sense from certain people whether they could use magic due to the way they held themselves, a heightened confidence, if you will. But usually I was clueless about their ability.
“How did you test?” I asked Jasper. “For ability, I mean.”
“Dormant.”
“That’s better than
testing averse,” I said optimistically.
He curled one shoulder up in a careless shrug. “The odds of a person who’s tested dormant suddenly showing signs of magic inclination are so low it’s not even worth considering. My parents may have felt better hearing that I tested dormant but everyone knows it’s just lip service. I’ll never go into the magic arts and I don’t mind,” he said. I believed him. He seemed perfectly happy tending bar. “I think if everyone could use magic this world would get pretty messed up. You need us regular people to keep everyone on track.” He averted his gaze. “Not all magic is good, after all.”
“No, it isn’t,” I said grimly, thinking of the creature in the alley and now the one in the Sinistera. And what of myself, using IMT to commit crimes?
My parents would roll over in their graves if they knew.
“If you were in my shoes and you could do what I can,” I said, “what would you do about this job?”
He didn’t take long to think about it. “If I were you? I’d take advantage of this. This Tower guy now knows you’re capable of big IMT. You basically auditioned for him and proved your mettle. I bet he spreads the word throughout the hotel. He’s probably doing it right now. And if the place is full of lawbreakers like people say, I’m guessing there are some who will be in need of a skilled IMT specialist and are willing to pay for it. I bet you could make a fortune. Criminals usually aren’t stingy about that sort of thing.”
“They also have a history of going back on their word and stabbing you in the back,” I pointed out.
“So be careful. You’re Head of Security now, right? Does it come with a weapon?”
“I don’t know.” I still had trouble believing that I was going to be working for an enormous, supernatural hotel. Or was the job title only a cover for something worse?
“Make sure you have one.”
I nodded warily.
The conversation was surreal. Only a day ago I had been an ordinary, failed student. Now I was contemplating doing illegal magic for criminals and considering my choice of weapons.
