Into the Rain

by Fleur Smith

  The moment I walked through the doors of the hotel, the view rendered me speechless. Almost as soon as Ethan had said it was once a prison that the Rain had converted into a hotel, a certain picture had entered my mind. Although I couldn’t explain exactly what that image was, it was worlds away from what I actually bore witness to.

  The floors were concrete, polished to the point that they gave off a rich shine and had an almost mirror-like finish. Deep-blue paint, the color of the ocean, coated all of the walls, giving the space an openness and warmth that I hadn't expected. Nods to both the nautical and prison histories of the building were scattered throughout the expansive and open atrium-style lobby.

  In one corner, there was a bar called The Hole. Even in the middle of the day, that room appeared darkened, as if it drew all the light from the rest of the foyer toward it. A sign on another wall indicated that The Yard restaurant was open for business on the rooftop. The words in Ethan’s text made sense as I read that sign.

  I moved a little farther into the lobby. Off to one side of the lobby was a small cafe, The Chapel. The lettering for each of the places was similar with the last letter of each of the words circled, reminiscent of the Rain logo I’d seen so often before.

  The first five stories of guest rooms overlooked the entry; the doors to each formed a sentry-like ring around the space. Glass elevators rose and fell through the center of the building, giving the occupants a bird’s-eye view over the ground floor. Reaching up behind the check-in desk was a huge mural, a series of geometric shapes that rose up in a slightly reduced scale duplicate of the painting Venus that used to grace one wall of the Bayview Hotel before it was covered up by nearby buildings. I remembered reading about the painting in a book when I’d lived with Aiden. The version in the fae books had been blurred, but it was clearly the same piece.

  The name of the hotel, printed along the bottom of the check-in counter, was in the same font as the other signs, and it didn’t escape my notice that the W was an inverted version of the Rain symbol.

  Two behemoth men guarded the foyer. They were the only pieces making the whole scene feel off. In the past, I’d risked staying at an expensive hotel a few times, so I knew that security guards usually tried to blend seamlessly into the background.

  Instead of merging into the scenery, the Rain traits and training made the guards appear slightly unusual as their eyes darted around regularly so they could assess the faces of the guests rather than looking specifically for troublemakers. Even though they seemed to thrive on being conspicuous, to any other guest they might have actually passed for regular hotel security. At least, to any other guests who weren’t paranoid about being caught, locked up, and tortured.

  I moved toward the check-in counter with the heels I wore clicking loudly against the highly polished floor. One of the guards glanced my way and it took everything I had to meet his eye instead of shying away.

  Exuding all of the confidence I could muster, I headed away from him before I could ruin everything by letting my smile fall. Lifting my chin and reminding myself of the accent I was supposed to be inflicting, I walked past the guard to head toward the check-in desk. I quickly assessed the three people processing the guests and selected a young clerk, the only male in the bank of workers, figuring he would be most susceptible to my charms.

  When I closed in on his station, I noticed the raindrop shaped pin on his lapel. Hopeful failures Clay and Ethan had called them—Rain sympathizers who didn’t have the skills needed to be an operative. It wasn’t the best news, but it was far from the worst possible scenario.

  All I could do was hope that he was unskilled enough not to notice my heat and other phoenix qualities. Turning away to go to a different clerk would have been far more likely to raise suspicions. And it was likely they’d be sympathizers too. Or worse, actual Rain operatives.

  I gave the alias we’d booked the hotel room under and handed over a credit card bearing the same name. It was the last card I’d acquired before my reunion with Clay and, although I hadn’t tested it yet, I had no reason to suspect that it wouldn’t work.

  “I’ll need to see some photo ID,” the young clerk said.

  Identification was a complication, but one we’d anticipated. I hadn’t had time to get anything with my new blonde-haired, blue-eyed disguise. Ethan, Clay, and I had discussed using another piece of ID and merely shrug off the differences as a cut and dye job, but both Clay and Ethan worried the clerks would have training in spotting others. Especially if they were sympathizers.

  Seeing my everyday appearance, even with a fake name attached, might have been enough to raise the clerk’s suspicions.

  “Of course,” I said, forcing my voice to form the musical tones I’d heard every time we’d gone into Kiruna while we were in Sweden. As I said the words, I opened the small clutch and pretended to leaf through it. After running through everything in my clutch once, I allowed my face to fall a little from the smile I’d forced it into. “Jävla! I’m sure it’s here,” I said as I started to rifle through it with more frantic movements.

  The clerk’s face fell into a frown, and he huffed out a small breath.

  After rifling through the contents of my purse one more time, I placed it down on the counter between us and forced my face into an apologetic expression. “I must have forgotten it in my purse. Everything is buried at the bottom of my suitcase. Is there something that you can do?”

  “I’m sorry, Miss, I can’t book you into the room without a picture ID.”

  My lip quivered as I pretended to cry.

  “I’ve had the hardest time trying to get here in the States. My dumbom boyfriend broke up wiv me, and now I’m all alone and supposed to be modeling tomorrow. My whole luggage is filled with my lingerie and I . . . I need someone to help me.” I leaned forward and tried for a smile. Drawing in a deep breath, I placed my gloved hand over his and met his gaze. “I really don’t want to display my panties to just anyone.”

  I tried to flutter my eyelashes at him, hoping it didn’t come off as ridiculous. I assumed it was working though when the poor boy shifted uncomfortably and seemed like he was about to choke on his tongue.

  “What if I promise to come down later, as soon as I’ve unpacked everything, and show you my ID?”

  “Uh, it’s against—”

  “Please?” I begged quietly as I subtly slid a hundred dollar bill across the counter to him to sweeten the deal. “You’d be doing me a huge favor.”

  He folded the money into his palm. “I’m not sure . . .”

  “Maybe you’re right,” I said quietly, pretending to prepare to leave. Before I could move away, I brightened my smile a little and leaned closer still. My voice was low and husky when I continued. “I know! Perhaps you could swing by the room and I can show you what you want then? Anything you want.” I hoped he finished late enough that we’d have been and gone long before he tried to find me—otherwise I’d have an extra complication to deal with.

  He shifted awkwardly again before his eyes roamed my body hungrily. He subtly glanced from side to side at the other two people at the desk. “I finish at seven,” he whispered. “Can I come by then?”

  “Definitely.” I grinned. The truth was that if everything went as planned, we’d be long gone by seven.

  “You’re in room 407,” he said, sliding my room access card across the counter.

  “Thank you, so much. You are beundransvärd,” I said, ignoring the slight stab of guilt that I might be responsible for some trouble for him later. I tried to reason that he’d broken hotel policy for a large tip and a chance at copping an eyeful of some lingerie—maybe he deserved what was coming to him.

  Grabbing the handle of my suitcase, I headed over to the elevators, my heels clicking against the polished surface again. It was a sound I didn’t think I’d ever get comfortable with.

  Once I was safely inside the glass car, I breathed a sigh of relief. I couldn’t be certain that my heat had gone completely unno
ticed—placing my hand atop the clerk’s had been a risky move—but security hadn’t escorted me into some darkened back room full of pain either.

  At least, not yet.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  WHEN THE ELEVATOR lifted past a caged clock on the wall, I checked the time. It was a little after four, a little over fifteen minutes after Clay and Ethan were due to meet their contact, Abraham, at The Yard.

  I only hoped they’d been able to get a good overview of the anti-fae protections before meeting with him. Although, if they were greeted by the Assessors, it was possible they hadn’t. Either way, I was due to rendezvous with Ethan and Clay at a table at The Yard at twenty after four to pretend to be one of Ethan’s exes and pass over the supplies.

  With another deep breath, I said a prayer that the delay at check-in hadn’t caused our plans to crumble around us. Too many other things with the rescue had the potential to go wrong, for it all to fall apart before it had even started.

  Arriving on the fourth floor, I tried not to run as I headed for room 407. Once I was safely behind the closed door, I threw open the suitcase and found all of the counter protection gear that we had packed into it. As quickly as I could, I put on the two necklaces I had—a string each of small amethyst and obsidian beads–—before tucking the rowan wood talismans and vanilla-scented pouches into my purse.

  When I’d finished, I wiped down the handle of the suitcase just in case it had any prints left from when I’d been dragging it to the hotel before placing it on the bed. It seemed a shame to leave so many brand-new, expensive outfits behind, but it was for the greater good.

  After grabbing my purse and a scarf, I left the room, tugging off my gloves once I was free of the space. When I reached the elevator to go up to the restaurant, I used the scarf to press the call button. Right when I did, an elderly couple came out of a nearby room and gave me a strange look. I met their expression with an apologetic one of my own before giving a shrug.

  “So many germs,” I said, chuckling lightly as I held up my scarf. “You can’t be too careful, even in a place like this.”

  As soon as the car arrived, I slipped inside and hoped like hell the boys would make the rendezvous point in time—otherwise I’d be left standing alone in a potentially crowded restaurant.

  I shouldn’t have come.

  True, I’d been able to sneak in the supplies easier than Clay or Ethan could have, but my nerves were sure to give me away. Any normal person probably would have had sweaty palms, but my heat was evaporating it away too soon for me to even get slightly clammy. I was certain the heat radiating from me was apparent. In fact, I could almost envisage the waves of heat disrupting the air like in the desert. Swallowing heavily, I watched myself in the gold mirror covering the back of the door.

  “Just don’t panic,” I said to my reflection, as if it was the easiest thing in the world to do. I didn’t belong in this world.

  Even in my disguise, I was nothing more than an awkward interloper. It wasn’t a gas stop or the reception of a cheap motel; it was a Michelin starred restaurant topping a five-star hotel. The people at the restaurant were sure to spot the fact that I was out of my league in an instant.

  Almost the moment the elevator doors slid open, I caught a glimpse of the side of Clay’s head at one of the tables in the middle of the restaurant. A sigh of relief flew from me, taking with it my anxiety. My nerves slid away with his distinct profile and floppy brown hair. His safety was the reason I was there, and I could do it for him. My presence and my abilities could very well ensure he was safe if things went wrong.

  At least, they might if they don’t damn him first.

  Sitting between Clay and Ethan at a table set for six was an older man. One of his hands rested on Ethan's shoulders as they held what appeared to be a private discussion.

  Stepping forward out of the elevator, I stole a glance at the table to assess the possible enemy.

  The man had his hair cut close to his face, the dark curls broken intermittently with a sprinkling of white and gray, lending him a distinguished air. The crisp charcoal suit that he wore was probably worth more than the combined value of every outfit I'd ever owned. The contrasting white shirt under the dark suit made his skin appear as if it shone like rich, smooth chocolate. His dark eyes assessed the elevators and vestibule where I stood with extreme caution.

  Although every part of me wanted to duck my head away from his gaze, I instead lifted my head and stuck my chin out, trying to prove through my outward appearance that I belonged. It was what Clay had convinced me to do when we were passing through the airports to leave the States months earlier, and the advice seemed to fit my current situation.

  Even though I’d only risked the slightest of glances at the man sitting at the table with Clay and Ethan, his authoritative demeanor was evident. The table they sat at was in the middle of the restaurant, and all of the waiters bustling around him seemed to give the table a wide berth, as if they were unworthy of approaching it—or even sharing the same air as its occupants.

  The respect that Ethan held for the man was also very clear; it was obvious in the way his broad shoulders pulled a little taller as he sat by his side. Even Clay had a degree of reverence evident on his features. I wondered at the power of the man that even two members of the elite were in obvious awe.

  Based on the little I knew, I assumed the man must have been Abraham, but wondered who he was to the boys outside of being the leader of the New York division. One thing was very clear. The presence of someone so influential made me doubt our whole plan once again.

  What were we thinking? There's no way we can do this. It’s like a handful of ants trying to take down a giant.

  Clay glanced over his shoulder, his gaze locking onto me. His grim expression indicated that his thoughts echoed mine. I drew in a deep breath in an attempt to shake the doubt.

  It didn't matter whether or not we should be attempting the impossible; the fact was that we’d already agreed to it. We were too involved to back out, and if we did, we'd be responsible for our fae friends walking straight into an ambush—not to mention Mackenzie’s fate could be one of prolonged and agonized torture. The haunted look in Clay’s eyes whenever he spoke about Louise’s suffering swam in my mind, and it confirmed this was the right choice. This mission might finally put some of his demons to rest.

  Clay turned away from me again, and the trio continued their discussion.

  Right when I was planning to make my way over to the table as we’d discussed, the elevator doors opened up behind me again. I shrank back against the wall, pretending I was simply waiting for my dining partner, and tried to blend with my surroundings. When the latest restaurant guests passed by me, I saw Abraham rise with a smile on his face, which was a complete contrast to Clay, whose face shifted to one of extreme distress.

  My heart raced. There was only one person who could be responsible for putting that fear on Clay’s face. Even Ethan shot an anxious glance my way. Not even their father was capable of making them that concerned for me.

  Despite wanting to confirm my worries, I couldn’t do anything that might rouse any suspicion toward me. I wanted to spin on the spot and run for the elevator, hoping that desperation would be enough to get me as far away from the hotel as possible.

  Part of me tried to reason that I had nothing to fear from Louise; I had beaten her once and I could do it again. But if she’d been willing to fool her brother in such a terrible way, what other tricks would she be willing to play? Especially somewhere that was, in effect, her turf.

  Aiden’s words about her past played in my mind, but I couldn’t risk lingering on them for too long or becoming too sympathetic toward her. She would kill me, whether Aiden was right or not, and she would do it with a smile.

  Breathe, I reminded myself as a way of finding calm. Just breathe and act normal.

  When Louise and her father passed by me, I pretended to study the restaurant sign. The weight of someone’s gaze pressed o
n me. When I risked a glance, I saw Clay staring openly at me. I understood his concern, but was worried that he was drawing more attention to me than he would have if he’d steadfastly ignored me. I gave my head a tiny shake to tell him to cut it out, which seemed to snap him out of his trance and he looked away again.

  Even seeing the backs of Louise and Troy as they made their way over to the table was enough to cause my knees to tremble until they were smashing together. I was certain the noise was audible to those around me. There was no way I would be able to speak to Ethan or Clay anymore. I wasn’t even sure that I could take a single step. Even though my disguise was obviously good enough to fool their family from behind, I could no longer run the risk of joining the party as a guest as we’d originally planned. The possibility that Louise would see right through my outfit at any second was too strong. Especially if what Clay had said about their ability to sense others was accurate.

  Chancing a quick glance at the table, I saw Clay was struggling. One of his hands formed a fist on the tabletop—his skin stretched over his knuckles until it was almost bone-white. His eyes were downcast, staring steadfastly at the centerpiece on the table rather than at any of the guests.

  At the sight of his anxiety, I once again debated abandoning the plan completely. The idea of sprinting into the elevator and out through the lobby was almost too appealing.

  Dad’s credo raced through my mind: run first and stop to consider the consequences from a safe distance later.

  It was how I’d lived my life for so long and was deeply ingrained into me. Regardless of how desperately I wanted to flee though, I wouldn't leave Clay again. I’d made the mistake of rushing into the forest in Germany without him, and I’d sworn that I wouldn’t do anything like that again. Whatever happened next, we had to face it together. If only I could work out a way to get that information to him and try to ease his mind.