Dead and Breakfast

by Lily Webb

  “I apologize for the wait, Aron. Emile fell ill unexpectedly, so Kiki and I had to take over kitchen duties,” Blair said.

  Aron shrugged. “I always liked Kiki’s cooking better, anyway.”

  Blair smiled, though I sensed her annoyance. “I’ll let her know you said so. Anyway, tonight we’re serving up homemade vegetable soup and fresh bread.”

  “I’ll have double of each,” Aron said and stepped aside to open the door the rest of the way and welcome us inside. I stifled a laugh at his bluntness and wheeled the cart toward his kitchen table, dutifully set for one on the right side of the room.

  Using the lower rung of the chair, Aron climbed up into the seat and waited expectantly for his food. I pulled a bowl from the cart and set it in front of him, then set about spooning ladle after ladle of the soup until he finally told me I’d given him enough. Jadis sawed off a hunk of bread and handed it to Aron along with his silverware wrap, and he tore into the food so quickly that sparks practically flew off his utensils.

  “Oh, this is delicious. I missed Kiki’s cooking so much,” Aron mumbled through a mouthful of half-chewed bread. “I mean, Emile’s work is amazing too, but there’s just something homey about Kiki’s cuisine. It reminds me of my mother’s.”

  “Why do you think I married her?” Blair joked, and Aron smirked.

  “Can’t say I blame you for that,” he said and picked up his bowl to slurp the liquid out of it. A good portion ended up in his snow-white beard, staining it red like blood. Given everything going on in the inn, the sight made my stomach flip. With the bowl emptied, Aron slammed it down on the table and belched. “Ah, much better.”

  “I’m surprised you were so hungry,” I said as I reached for his bowl to clear it away.

  The dwarf raised an eyebrow at me. “What do you mean by that?” he asked, and Blair shot me a horrified look. Apparently, commenting on Aron’s appetite wasn’t a good idea.

  “Oh, nothing, it’s just that I didn’t think you’d have room for that after Emile brought you the broccoli cheddar a while ago,” I said, hoping it covered my insensitivity.

  Aron chuckled. “I still don’t know why he carried that up here. I didn’t order it.”

  I froze with Aron’s bowl in hand, staring at him. “You didn’t?”

  “No! Look, lassie, I’m not one to lie about my gargantuan appetite — I know I eat a lot — but even I have my limits. Still, since it was just gonna go to waste anyway, I took it off Emile’s hands.”

  I couldn’t believe my ears. Emile specifically told Jadis and me when we met him on the stairs that Aron had ordered the soup — he’d even made jokes about it to us and told us we could order room service, too. But if Aron hadn’t ordered it, then who did, and why? Could we track them down that way?

  “I don’t find that hard to believe,” Blair said to cover the awkward silence that’d bloomed between us. “Anyway, we’ll leave you be, Aron. I’m glad to hear you enjoyed the meal.”

  “Give my compliments to the chef,” Aron called after us as we wheeled toward the door, but all I could think about was what he’d said.

  Could the imposter have passed themselves off as Aron on the phone as some distraction? Emile seemed too smart to fall for a trick like that, but if the copycat could perfectly replicate someone’s appearance, they could probably do the same with their voice — and given that we caught the imposter in the kitchen, everything seemed to fit. They’d lured Emile out of the area so they could sneak down, posing as Emile, and steal some milk from the refrigerator, probably for Feal, wherever they were hiding her.

  Back inside the elevator, I grumbled under my breath.

  “What’s wrong?” Jadis asked.

  “I feel like we’re so close to figuring this all out, but every time we get a step further, we take another two backward.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You heard what Aron said. He didn’t order that broccoli cheddar soup Emile brought him earlier. So, who did?”

  “It could’ve been anyone. We don’t have a way to know who called the kitchen to place the order,” Blair answered, which was exactly what I didn’t want to hear.

  “I was afraid you’d say that,” I sighed, thinking of the ancient front desk phone. For all the magic inside Kindred Spirits, couldn’t Blair and Kiki have upgraded the phone system somehow to know who was calling? Or at least from which room? “I think it was a diversion.”

  “I think you’re right, which also makes me positive that, whoever the imposter is, they don’t want to hurt anyone,” Blair said. “If they did, why would they go to such lengths to lure everyone away from the kitchen?”

  “Not to mention they were apparently stealing milk, which I’m sure was for Feal. If they wanted to hurt her, they would’ve done it by now. Instead, they’re swiping milk for her. But why? What’s going on here?” I asked but didn’t get an answer because we arrived on the fifth floor for our next stop.

  “Hopefully, Delia will have some answers for us,” Jadis said as we approached the door to room 510.

  “Yeah, hopefully, otherwise we’re flying blind again, which we can’t afford because we’re running out of time,” I said and knocked. “Delia? It’s Selena with room service.”

  “Just a second!” Delia called back, so I stood waiting and praying she’d have something, anything, to tell us when she finally opened the door. The click of the lock caught my attention, and when Delia’s flustered, excited face appeared, I dared to think she might deliver. “Perfect timing,” she said. “Come in, all of you. We need to talk privately.”

  With my heart racing, Jadis and I shoved the cart inside her room, which was barely large enough to fit us all. Delia slammed the door and re-locked it. Not interested in eating, she stomped past the cart to the small desk against the far wall, which Delia had overloaded with open books stacked on top of each other. At the center, the vial with the chromatic liquid sat alone in a wooden rack next to Delia’s open but sleeping laptop.

  “I’ve got good news and bad news for you. Which do you want first?” she asked with her back to us as she started leafing through books, looking for something.

  “Might as well get the bad stuff out of the way first,” I sighed as I sank down on the foot of her bed. Since there wasn’t anywhere else to sit, Jadis and Blair joined me on either side.

  Delia whirled to face us with an open, ancient, leather-bound book in hand. With her other, she used her index finger to trace while she read and searched for something. “A-ha!” she shouted and jabbed her finger into the book. “I thought I recognized the contents of that vial when you first showed it to me, but I didn’t think it could really be what I thought it was — until now.”

  Delia handed me the book, and Blair and Jadis peered over my shoulders to look. As soon as I saw the hand-drawn illustration of a faceless, humanoid shape with no clothes on the left side of the page, I gasped. “That’s it! That’s the figure I saw in my dreams, the one without a face that tried to shove me into room 666.”

  “Do you know what it is?” Delia asked.

  “A metamorph,” Blair whispered. “But how? I thought they were extinct.”

  Delia’s face lit up. “Exactly! I thought so too, which was why I couldn’t believe what I saw in that vial. But I’ve run every analyzation I can think of on the sample, and they’ve all come back with the same result, so they can’t be wrong. That liquid is definitely the blood of a metamorph.”

  I swallowed hard. “I’m guessing from the name that that means the creature can change its appearance?” I asked, dreading the answer.

  “Not just their appearance. They can copy the look, mannerisms, and voice of anyone with whom they’ve come into physical contact, down to the smallest detail. You’d never know you weren’t speaking to the actual person unless they said something to give themselves away,” Delia said.

  “Which is exactly what happened with Emile,” I muttered, my mind spiraling away.

  “I’m sorry?�
� Delia asked, her brows furrowed.

  “Nothing,” Blair tried to cover for me, but Delia didn’t buy it.

  “Wait, did something happen with Emile? Is that why we’re doing room service tonight?” she asked.

  “He’s missing,” I admitted, and Blair sighed, so I turned to her. “What? There’s no sense in lying about it. Besides, we’re going to need all the magic users we can gather to help us with this, and Delia probably knows more about this stuff than any of us do.”

  Jadis shrugged. “She has a point, Blair.”

  “Back up. What do you mean Emile is missing?” Delia asked. “Is that why you two were asking me if I’d heard or seen anything weird earlier?”

  “Exactly. Jadis and I had a run-in with what I assume was the metamorph down in the kitchen. They were posing as Emile, but since we’d just run into Emile on the stairs and agreed to meet him in the kitchen after he finished room service, we figured out pretty quickly the Emile we found in the kitchen wasn’t really him,” I explained.

  “Then the real Emile showed up and the two of them got into a vampire fight,” Jadis continued.

  “After the fight, I found the sample on one of the tables, and when I touched it, a vision showed me the metamorph, still in Emile’s form, carrying the real, unconscious Emile up the stairs, but I don’t know where they took him,” I finished.

  A look of raw confusion spread across Delia’s face. “This makes no sense. Metamorphs are some of the most skittish, reclusive creatures in the entire magical realm. It’s not like them at all to attack others. When they’re found, their first instinct is to flee.”

  “Not this metamorph,” I said.

  “Then they must feel cornered,” Delia said, one hand on her chin as she thought. “I found some mentions in my books of metamorph attacks, but only if someone or something provoked them.”

  “Why are they so afraid?” Jadis asked.

  “As a species, metamorphs are endangered. People have hunted them — to what we thought was extinction — because of what they are. Other paranormals fear and demonize them for their abilities and alleged trickery.”

  “That’s terrible,” Jadis said. “They didn’t ask to be born that way.”

  “I agree, but unfortunately, many others don’t see it our way.”

  “Okay, but if they’re supposed to be extinct, how did one of them end up here at Kindred Spirits?” I asked.

  “Metamorphs often call remote, mountainous regions their home because of their isolation. They’re safe in places like this,” Delia answered. “Starfall Valley is a relatively new town, and there’s been a lot of development here over the last few decades. Maybe the last of the metamorphs were living here all along.”

  “I’d bet the construction and expansion in town probably forced them out of their natural environment,” Blair said. “Kindred Spirits is quiet, and with all the commotion in town, they might’ve thought they’d be safe and could blend in here.”

  “Until someone found them out!” I shouted as the realization popped in my head like a bad back. “Feal must’ve caught them in their true form, so they nabbed her to keep her from telling anyone else.”

  “That sounds like something a self-preservative metamorph might do,” Delia said. “They must be in over their heads now, though. Rather than keeping their secret, nabbing Feal and Emile exposed them more. They’re probably panicked.”

  “There’s only one person here who’s made it clear she wants no one in her room, no matter what,” Jadis said, and we stared at each other in shock.

  “Tara’s the metamorph! She has to be. That’s why she threatened us if we sent Feal to her room again, implying Feal had already come in uninvited once before,” I said in a rush as the pieces fell into place. “She’s been here for weeks, right, Blair?”

  “More like months,” Blair corrected, and my heart skipped a beat. “But hold on, I’m not convinced. Why would the metamorph pose as someone as prominent as Tara Dupree? Wouldn’t they have picked someone a little more, I don’t know, discreet?”

  “Not necessarily,” Delia chimed in. “Remember, a metamorph can only copy a person or thing they’ve physically touched, and Tara’s form might’ve been the only appropriate one they had in their wheelhouse.”

  “Which means our copycat must’ve met Tara at some point,” I said, and turned to Blair. “Were you the one who checked her in?”

  “Yes. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. We do occasionally get well-known guests, so I thought nothing of her arrival. Also, there’d been rumors in the press about Ms. Dupree having developed an undisclosed medical condition, so when I saw her bandages, I assumed she’d had plastic surgery.”

  “If they’re posing as Tara Dupree, then where’s the real Tara?” Jadis asked. “Don’t you think her friends and family would’ve noticed she’d gone missing?”

  “She might not be missing, though. Just because the metamorph is posing as Tara doesn’t mean anything happened to her,” I said.

  “I guess not, but if reporters were already dogging her about her condition, wouldn’t the papers have gotten wind that Tara seemed to be in two places at once? They could’ve easily talked to the other guests to confirm whether she was still here.”

  “Actually, because of the clientele we get here, that’s strictly forbidden in our terms,” Blair said. “We allow no one to disclose who or what they might’ve seen during their time at Kindred Spirits. So, unless an incognito reporter checked in to spy on Tara, I doubt they had a clue she was here.”

  “Which means the metamorph has the perfect disguise,” I said. “No one thinks anything of Tara spending so much time here, and the real Tara is probably at home hiding out while she heals. No one would ever see the two of them together, so no one would ever think twice about it.”

  “It’s genius, if you’re right,” Delia said with a little laugh and shake of her head. “Metamorphs are famous for their cunning, especially in keeping themselves hidden, but this is higher level even for them.”

  “Wait a second…” I trailed as another connection seared in my mind. “You said a metamorph can become any person or thing. They can turn themselves into objects too?”

  “Yes, exactly. Any person or thing they’ve touched,” Delia said, and I felt like I might float away. “What’s wrong, Selena? You look sick.”

  “That’s because I’ve touched the metamorph,” I muttered.

  “What? When?” Blair asked. “How do you know?”

  “The key I took from Lox and Keez on the first floor. It wasn’t a key, not really. It was the metamorph,” I said, my skin crawling as I realized what it meant. “That’s why it gave me the vision, why I saw it in my dreams afterward, and that’s how the key went missing from our room. It literally grew legs and walked out.”

  “Whoa,” Jadis breathed, looking as nauseous as I felt. “If it’s really Tara, that means I’ve touched the metamorph too. I had my hand on her shoulder after you spilled the soup on her, remember?”

  “This isn’t good,” I groaned. “How long can a metamorph hold a form?” I asked Delia.

  “As long as they want or need. The only thing that can break the illusion is if they see their reflection. No one knows or understands why, but seeing themselves in disguise thwarts their magic.”

  A wave of dizziness washed over me as I remembered the shards of glass all over the floor from the mirror in Tara’s bathroom. “Then it’s definitely Tara. Why else would she smash the mirror?”

  “And she peeked her head out of her door when we met Emile on the stairs, remember?” Jadis asked. “She might’ve been the one who ordered room service to Aron’s room, then got caught looking to see if the coast was clear.”

  “And that’s probably why the fake Emile snarled when it saw its reflection in its own blood in my vision! But, weirdly, it didn’t knock them back into their natural form.”

  “The reflection might not have been pure enough to have that affect,” Delia said. “Seeing themse
lves in cloudy things like the surface of a body of water isn’t the same as the clear picture from a mirror.”

  “Okay, setting all that aside, how did the metamorph end up as a key on the first floor?” Jadis asked.

  Another white-hot realization surged through me like someone had electrocuted me. “Tara might’ve been trying to frame Aron.”

  “What?” Jadis, Delia, and Blair asked simultaneously.

  “I know it sounds crazy but hear me out. In my first vision, I saw Feal’s shadow spilling from inside room 666, right? But in my second one, I saw Feal resting her broom outside the door of one of the rooms in the inn — and since the point of view was at Feal’s eye level, I couldn’t see the room number. What if, after nabbing Feal for catching them in their true form, the metamorph took Feal’s broom up to the sixth floor and planted it near Aron’s room? Everyone here knows that Aron isn’t fond of Feal, so finding her broom outside his room after she’d gone missing definitely wouldn’t make him look good.”

  “Do you think Lox and Keez might’ve caught her in the act?” Jadis asked.

  “I was wondering the same thing. Could the metamorph have panicked and turned itself into a key when the imps showed up?”

  Delia shrugged. “They’re easily frightened creatures. It’s possible.”

  “But why a key, of all things?” Jadis asked. “They could’ve turned into, I dunno, a fly or something and gotten away without notice.”

  “I think it has something to do with room 666,” I said to an exasperated sigh from Blair, so I rested a hand on her leg. “Look, I know you and Aron swear it’s not real, but it has to be — and the metamorph is the only one who knows how to get to it, which means we need to get to Tara’s room fast because the metamorph has to know we’re on to them,” I said, my heart pounding. “They know where room 666 is and how to access it, and I’d bet my life that’s also where they’re keeping Feal and Emile.”

  I bolted off the bed, and Blair stopped me by clutching my wrist. “Selena, wait! What if this is all a trap?”

  “It doesn’t matter. We have to get to the metamorph before they devise some scheme to sneak out of the inn. What if they pose as me or Jadis and trick Kiki into—” I started but cut off as a strange pulse of energy rocked through the whole inn, making the lights flicker. “What was that?” I asked, terrified to know the answer.