Inferni Eternal: Hotel California: Book Three (An Urban Fantasy Series)

by R. J. Wolf

  “So, you let them kill everyone?”

  “Let?” Marcel echoed. “Look around you. There was no stopping them. There was nothing I could do.”

  Richard dropped Marcel and stood up. “This doesn’t make sense,” he said in a raspy voice. “You mean to tell me Langston and Olivia did this alone?”

  “Please, Richard, please. No more…I need blood.”

  “Lewis!” Richard barked. “None of this makes sense. What the hell went on in here?”

  “He’s building an army, Richard. Collecting underworlders to add to his ranks. He gave us a choice, we chose wrong, and now everyone is dead. I should be dead right along with them.”

  Richard began to pace. He mumbled to himself and swung his arms anxiously. Langston taking on the entire vampire hierarchy would’ve been suicide. There was no way Marcel could be telling the truth. He needed answers but with so many choosing sides, he didn’t know who he could trust.

  With a healthy groan, he contemplated the second fastest way out of the mountains. Apparating was definitely off the table. Langston likely had someone watching the place and they’d probably already notified anyone that would care. But he needed to figure out another way and fast.

  Safron watched Richard in silence. He could see his mind at work but he could also see Marcel slowly dying on the floor. “Richard,” he finally called out. “What do we do, Richard?”

  “Damn it, Safron!” Richard barked. “Let me think.”

  Safron bit his tongue and turned his back. Richard sighed. “Sorry. We need to get him outside.”

  Safron nodded and grabbed Marcel by the arms then hoisted him over his shoulder. “I know it doesn’t concern you, but sunrise is in six hours. If we aren’t apparating we’ll need to find shelter, soon.”

  “Take him outside, Safron,” Richard said dismissively.

  The air outside was dry. It was cool and crisp with an angry gust shoving its way through the canyon. Safron closed his eyes for a moment and relaxed into the wind. He leaned his head back and stared up to the blanket of darkness cascaded with stars. “Star of my life, to the stars your face is turned. Would I were the heavens, looking back at you with ten thousand eyes,” he whispered.

  His mind wandered to long forgotten memories. To promises, to vows that pulled him in a dozen directions. To a life that had never been his and a charge he’d never wanted to take. He focused his eyes and stared deeper into the black abyss. Somewhere behind it all, were the answers.

  “Get him in the car,” Richard snapped as he stepped outside.

  Safron broke away from his peaceful trance and glanced down at Marcel. “Where are we headed?”

  “I have a friend. He’ll fly us back to LA.”

  Safron looked around then turned back to Richard. “Fly us from where?”

  “Safron, just get Lewis in the car, please.”

  Safron nodded and picked Lewis up again. Lewis cracked one of his eyes open and reached out toward Safron’s face. “Blood, please.”

  Safron stared towards Richard as he sat Lewis into the backseat of a black Range Rover. Richard stepped around him and took a seat behind the wheel. “He’ll get his blood. But first we have to make it out of here,” Richard replied and cranked up the engine.

  Safron nodded. He quietly sat down in the front seat and closed the door. Richard glanced over his shoulder then pressed the gas and started heading down the winding canyon road.

  They were deep within the reserve. Unmarked trails carved through rust-colored slabs and cream sand, blotched with dying vegetation.

  The SUV rocked back and forth, jostling Marcel across the seat. With a baffled moan he lifted his head for a moment. “Blood,” he begged again.

  “Where are we meeting this friend?” Safron asked, ignoring Marcel’s plea.

  “There’s a strip…not far from here.”

  Safron turned his head and stared out of the window. He watched the anemic landscape roll by beneath the starlight. His leg trembled with anxiety and he huffed then crossed his arms.

  “What is it?” Richard asked, annoyed with his overt gestures.

  “Nothing.”

  “Spit it out already, Safron. If I have to spend one more minute listening to you groan, I’m going to lose my mind.”

  Safron cleared his throat then turned to Richard with a dead serious look on his face. “Do you think it matters now?” he asked in a soft voice.

  There was a loud thump as the vehicle pulled onto a narrow, paved road. Richard glanced toward the front then looked back at Safron and frowned. “Do you think anything matters now?”

  “If you don’t want to answer me, just say so. Mockery is unbecoming.”

  “I don’t mock you, Safron. It was an honest question. The pactiza have been obliterated, Langston is on the war path and building his army out of our friends. The shade may finally fall and this realm will belong to the night. I’m not sure what matters anymore, friend.”

  Safron looked away and stared out of the front. Up ahead he could see a small building slowly growing closer. “Is that it?”

  “It certainly is. And I warn you, Safron, play nice. We need this man to take us back to LA.”

  Safron laughed. “Hospitality has never been difficult for me. Heed your own words, Richard, and keep an eye on Marcel. At this point, I think he might make a meal out of your pilot friend.”

  “Marcel will have his blood shortly. Just control yourself, Safron, Howard isn’t for everyone.”

  Before Safron could question what Richard said they were pulling into a small hangar down a narrow runway with amber lights dotted along the edges. A middle-aged man with faded blonde hair and a sport coat stood just inside with a half-grin on his face. He pulled his hands out of his pleated, blue khakis and waved.

  Richard stopped the car short and sighed. “Play nice, Safron.”

  Safron curled his lip as he opened the door and narrowed his eyes. He swallowed his retort then looked toward the plane parked a few meters away. The Cessna Citation CJ4 looked like a perched hawk. Safron grimaced as the thought of flying aboard the thing stabbed a mortal fear into his heart.

  “Richard,” a high-pitched voice cried out in a thick, French accent. Howard pulled the driver’s door open and beamed. “It has been too long. I was so happy to receive your call.”

  “Thank you for taking it,” Richard replied as he stepped out and stretched his legs.

  Howard smiled then leaned over and peeked into the backseat. “Oh, this one doesn’t look good at all,” he said in disgust. “You sure he’s gonna need just the one?”

  “He’ll be fine, Howard.”

  Safron walked around the rear of the car and cleared his throat. Howard jumped then tried to appear normal as he swept the hair out of his face and leaned against the side of the car. “Oh, what do we have here?” he elated. “Richard, do tell me the name of this chocolate Adonis.”

  Richard suppressed a laugh. “Howard, this is Safron. Safron, this is Howard.”

  “Safron, what a delightful name. Is he, is he like you?”

  “No one is quite like me, Howard,” Richard replied. “But feel free to question him yourself. Where is the girl?”

  Howard smiled and flicked his hand toward a small room behind him. “Over there. Name’s Lindsey,” he said then turned back to Safron. “So, did Richard tell you anything about me?” Safron didn’t reply but Howard pressed on. “I work in Hollywood. I produce and direct movies. Maybe you’ve seen a few.” Howard went on naming a laundry list of films.

  Meanwhile, Richard pulled Marcel from the back and grabbed him around the waist.

  “You promised me blood, Richard,” Marcel said in a raspy whisper.

  “Shut up, Marcel, and move your feet,” Richard said and dragged him off toward the backroom. With Marcel moaning, he stepped inside, closed the door and drew the blinds.

  The room was small and poorly lit. Richard could smell remnants of marijuana and the baggie of cocaine that Howard kept in his
brief case. A dusty fan spun lazily just above a small desk near the back across from a faded leather sofa. A portly redheaded woman with black lipstick was sitting on it with her legs crossed and her eyes wide and blank.

  “Lindsey?” Richard asked in an annoyed tone.

  The woman blinked then focused on his face as she smiled and twirled her curly locks. “You look much better than promised,” she cooed, completely ignoring Marcel. She was wearing a skintight red dress and black heels. Her breasts were nearly exploding out of the top and as she crossed and uncrossed her legs the dress slowly rolled up toward her waist.

  “Howard,” Richard grumbled under his breath. “Are prostitutes the only women you know?”

  “Prostitute?” Lindsey shrieked and stumbled to her feet.

  “I didn’t mean anything by it. Trust me, I’m in no position to judge anyone’s chosen profession.”

  “I’m not a fucking hooker!” she growled and took a swing at Richard but missed.

  Richard steadied Marcel then held his hand out in surrender. “My apologies. Can we get on with our business? I truly did not mean to offend.”

  “I changed my mind. I’m not in the mood anymore.”

  Richard straightened up and tightened his jaw. “I’ll remind you the terms of your arrangement, Lindsey, in case Howard was somehow unclear.”

  “I don’t care about any terms. I’m not doing it.”

  “You’ve already been paid.”

  Lindsey laughed. “Consider it a tip,” she said then pulled her top down and headed for the door. As she passed Marcel he pulled away from Richard and dove on top of her.

  “Get this creep off me!” she cried. But it was too late. Marcel lurched forward and drove his fangs into her neck. She hollered in pain and collapsed under his weight. They fell to the floor just as the euphoria passed over her and she relaxed into his grip.

  Shivering, Marcel greedily drank from her neck like a water fountain. Blood soaked his face and he tightened his grip on her shoulders, pushing his canines further into her.

  “Easy, Marcel. We don’t want to kill the poor girl.”

  Marcel nodded and pulled back slightly. With every drop of her blood, his life returned. The skin around his face tightened, his curls lengthened, and fibers of muscle tremored to life.

  He inhaled more blood and his eyes glowed as the hollowed sockets filled in with his immortal life. He felt her heart weaken and he withdrew his fangs. “Yes,” he said with a satisfied grin as he leaned his head back and took a deep breath.

  “I hope your senses have returned as well,” Richard said with a sideways glance.

  Marcel grinned then released Lindsey and gently rest her head on the floor. She wore a broad smile on her face and looked just as oblivious as she had when they found her. Marcel stood up and straightened his jacket then turned toward Richard.

  Now that he’d eaten, his appearance had completely changed. He stood at least six inches taller than Richard. His frame was dense and strong, his skin hardened and his jaw angled like it’d been carved from marble.

  He rolled his shoulders and the muscles in his arms rippled. Wiggling his fingers, he rolled his head around then clenched his fists until his knuckles popped like a series of firecrackers. There was a reason Marcel had been tasked with the security of the vampire elite.

  Richard yawned and cut his eyes. “Are you done?”

  Marcel laughed. “Oh, yes, Richard. My apologies.”

  “What happened, Marcel? Langston is a worthy opponent but the entire coven?”

  “Langston is no longer what or who he was. I fear the rumors of old are true.”

  There was a sound at the door and they both turned. Safron leaned in and cast a glance at the woman then looked up to Richard. “Howard is ready and so am I,” he said.

  Howard poked his head out from behind Safron. “Wheels up, gentlemen,” he said then looked down at Lindsey. “She knows the drill. She’ll see herself out when she comes to.”

  “Then off we go,” Richard chimed in enthusiastic voice then turned to Marcel. “We’ll continue this talk on the plane.”

  CHAPTER 4

  HISTORY LESSON

  “Is this all you have, Edgar?” Gary asked as he stared cross-eyed into the glass of ale. “I’m not one to beg but I did say something strong.”

  Edgar glanced over his shoulder at the empty liquor cabinet behind him. Sighing, he turned back to face Gary. “Five nights ago, the end of the world was at our doorstep. So, no, Gary, the elves haven’t been by to make their deliveries. And the bottles we did have, someone,” Edgar paused and shot a look at Theo. “Someone thought it’d be a good idea to make Molotov cocktails out of them. Lot of damn good that did.”

  Gary took a labored breath then drained the mug and set it down. “Keep the ale coming then.”

  “We need to get going,” Aleke said, eyeing Gary like a disappointed father.

  “I’m not holding you up.”

  “We have to be on the same page, Aleke,” Eric added. “Safron and Richard should be here soon.”

  “I don’t think you understand where we are going, Eric, or how dangerous the journey to get there will be.”

  “You’re talking to the man that swam down the Aeternum Strait for fun,” Gary chimed in. “What’s a little trip to…what’s it called again?”

  “Hilyrah,” Aleke replied. “And it is no, little trip. The Aeternum Strait is simply the beginning. The journey is the journey, and it is beyond treacherous. There is no guarantee that we will return.”

  The room was quiet for a moment. Aleke’s words stung like a scorpion. Mortality was a looming concern after the battle with the fallen. But eventually Gary cracked a smile and tried to lighten the mood. “Well, I’m pretty sure this one can’t be killed. So, you might not make it back, Aleke.”

  Before Aleke could reply, the door to the hotel swung open. Everyone turned, expecting Richard and Safron but instead, Zoey walked in with a scraggily, curly-haired kid with glasses, that looked all of seventeen, and had the unmistakable air of a zero.

  “Fellas,” Zoey said and headed straight for the bar.

  “What can I get you, love?” Edgar asked.

  “Ale. And don’t call me love again.”

  Edgar cringed then quickly poured her a glass and sat it on the bar.

  “Who’s the blank?” Gary asked dismissively.

  “Chandler!” Theo elated as he crossed the room and shook the newcomer’s hand.

  Gary twisted his face in confusion. “Chandler?” he repeated.

  “This is the historian I’ve been telling you guys about.”

  “A zero historian? How is this gonna help, Theo?”

  “It makes sense,” Aleke added. “Can you keep him safe?”

  Zoey took a sip from her glass and sighed. “Shouldn’t be that hard, should it? I doubt Langston and his cronies will be looking for a zero. That was the reason you chose him, Theo, right?”

  “Of course,” Theo said with a grin. “Exactly why I chose him.”

  Chandler shrugged and stepped forward. “You guys don’t have to worry about me. I’ve been around and I know how this goes.”

  Gary groaned. “Give me a break. What are you, like twelve?”

  “Twenty-one.”

  “Perfect. Pretty sure my underwear are older than you.”

  “That’s gross, Gary,” Theo interjected.

  “Point is, who is gonna watch this kid? And why is he calling himself a historian? Hell, why do we need a historian?”

  Chandler smiled and huffed up his chest like he’d been waiting for that question all along. “Rabelial, right? That’s who you’re fighting?”

  “What do you know of it?”

  “I know he’s not what you think he is.”

  Aleke turned his head and his ears perked up. “Speak, boy,” he said sternly.

  “You all have been moving under the assumption that Rabelial is an inferni…that Eric here is an inferni. That’s not exactly tr
ue.”

  “You cannot possibly know this.”

  “You think only underworlders can read? My father and mother spent decades translating your ancient texts. Like their parents before them. Underworlder and…zero history has been passed down for centuries through my family. You’re not the only one concerned with the fate of this world.”

  Aleke raised his eyebrows then nodded. “And what has your family’s centuries of research taught you.”

  “Rabelial and Eric are twins.”

  “We’ve figured that much out,” Gary said and gulped more ale.

  “Oh yeah? Well, did you figure out their mother was an inferni but their father wasn’t.”

  “Impossible!” Aleke said and slammed his fist onto the table. “Inferni could not reproduce with anything other than their own.”

  “It was thought that they couldn’t reproduce at all, but…here we are. The truth is much more sinister. The only other being that could even hope to come close to an inferni’s power were the elders. And it was exactly that union that created Eric and his brother.”

  “What are you saying?” Eric asked with a look between panic and nausea.

  “I’m saying you are half elder, half inferni and by all accounts that I’ve read…you’re stronger than both.”

  “Damn right, Chandler! That’s my boy!” Theo jeered and high-fived him then turned to face Gary. “That’s why you need a historian, old man. Now, let’s do something about those old ass underwear.”

  Gary didn’t respond. He looked to Zoey then they both looked to Aleke. Aleke took a deep breath and nodded. “What he says may be true. There is logic to it.”

  “May be true?” Chandler echoed. “Of course, it’s true.” He laughed. “The elders didn’t start a war against the inferni, she did. Her children were an abomination, both sides wanted them dead. His mother laid waste to the entire inferni coven…for them.”