The Hotel Between

by Sean Easley

  I climb the stairs to the Elevator Bank, slipping a hand around the key in my pocket. This is for the best. We’ll be okay. Cassia, Cameron, Melissa . . . we’ll be safe.

  I press the button and wait for the elevator to take me to floor four.

  Someone’s coming. Running. A hand stops the closing doors. Another slaps my cheek.

  It’s happening again. Melissa’s face zooming away into the black. A loud snap, like something breaking inside me. Leaves fluttering from an enormous tree in the sunlight. The door behind the armoire, the pearl key in my hand, and a pale, lifeless face staring back at me. I know that face. I hate that face.

  And I’m so, so sad.

  • • •

  I open my eyes, struggling to figure out where I am. Who I am. I’m me, right? I’m not someone else. I’m . . . Cameron.

  And I’m cold.

  I glance down to see Dad’s coin hanging against my bare chest. I’m dressed for bed, but I’m not in my room. I’m in the elevator, my finger outstretched toward the button for the fourth floor.

  A burst of cold whips through the cage from the Shaft below, making even my goose bumps ache. This can’t be real. I’m dreaming again, the one where I’m standing naked in front of all those kids at the overnighter and everyone laughs. Only this is no dream. I’m really standing in the service elevator, in my underwear.

  The elevator dings and the doors slide open, revealing a girl with two long black braids, dressed in the white uniform of the kitchen staff. She stares at me, and I stare back in horror.

  This is not happening.

  Mercifully, she backs away and lets the doors close. I can’t press the button for the seventeenth floor fast enough.

  I must have been sleepwalking. But I’ve never sleepwalked before. Maybe the coin was finally taking me to Dad, to my destination, only I woke up too soon.

  Another cold gust cuts through me. The Shaft is always in Dad’s dreams. Something important happened here. Something cold and dark and sad. A memory even the coin doesn’t want me to see, like the reason Dad was in the elevator, and the face I can’t quite remember.

  One thing’s for certain, though: From now on I’m wearing pajamas to bed.

  • • •

  The day after the pin-failure, everything about the Hotel feels different. The doormen hang more OUT OF ORDER signs. Many guests head home, fearful another pin-emergency will strand them in some far-flung corner of the world. Everyone’s saying it was sabotage. Maids patrol the halls. The Hotel’s on high alert, and I have less than four days before my trial period expires.

  At an all-staff meeting in the ballroom, Agapios updates us on the Hotel’s situation and offers a reward for information about who caused the pin-failure. The whole time he’s at the podium, my mind keeps flashing back to the Shaft, and Mom, and Agapios’s old, bony face gazing into my soul. Though something inside me doesn’t feel as scared of him as I once did. Instead, there’s a sense of challenge . . . like he’s a foe I need to trick. An obstacle in my way.

  Then come the checks. Nico and I spend the entire fifth shift delivering payments to people the Hotel rents its rooms from. Shoring up alliances, Nico says.

  We turn on to a street in Manila with more cars than I’ve ever seen in one place. Everyone’s honking and shouting. Filipino pedestrians cut through traffic as if they’re strolling through the park.

  Nico steps in front of a multicolored bus, leaving me no choice but to brave the busy street to keep up. He’s been acting strangely toward me ever since Honduras. Colder. I’m not sure why, though.

  “Are you upset with me?” I ask, dodging a car as it surges forward to fill a gap.

  “No,” he says.

  “What’s up then? You seem angry, or worried. Different, somehow.”

  Nico sighs and pulls me into an alley to block out the noise. “We’re both different,” he says. “We’re blood-bound now.” He leans against the dirty wall. “Though I didn’t think it would be like this.”

  “I-I don’t understand.”

  He runs a hand through his hair. “There are different kinds of binding between people. People who are bound naturally are drawn together, like you and your dad. People bound as servants are forced to follow their master. But those bound as equals share a piece of themselves with the one they’re bound to. They change each other. And man, you worry a lot.”

  “You can feel my worry?”

  “Everything we have, remember? You’ve got a bit of me, too. And we didn’t seal it with a signature. We sealed it with us. Nothing held back. You change me, and I change you.”

  “I knew it sounded risky.” Though, it’s strange; I don’t feel like I’m changing.

  “I’m still glad I did it.” Nico stands up straight. “Anyway, you fret too much about risks. It’s exhausting.”

  “Sorry.”

  He laughs. “Listen, kiddo, you don’t ever have to apologize to me. We’re past that now. We’re family.”

  Family. The word makes my lungs shrink.

  “Hey,” Nico says, clapping a hand on my shoulder, “don’t look like that. We’ll find him.”

  “Time’s running out.”

  “I’m working on something that’ll help.” He winks. “I told you, I’m doing everything in my power. You’ll have your dad back before you know it.”

  • • •

  The following day, the Old Man announces the grand reopening of the Hotel pool to boost staff morale. It’s apparently been closed for months now, for groundskeeper maintenance.

  “This is fortunate,” Sev says as he, Nico, and I hop onto the elevator in our swimsuits. This one’s a guest lift displaying views of a geyser, and a mountain stream, and a town somewhere in what might be South Africa. “Stripe would like a meeting. He can join us at the pool.”

  “Won’t people see us?” I ask. “See him?”

  “We’re meeting in the caves below.” Nico shakes me by my shoulders. “Plus, hello! It’s a pool! You’re going to love it. The water’s warmed through geothermal rock in Yosemite.”

  I rub the waterproof bandage on my hand. The cut from Nico’s sliver still stings. “Shouldn’t we be looking for a way onto the fourth floor instead?”

  Nico shakes his head. “Trust me. We’ve still got time.”

  The doors open, and we step onto a boardwalk dividing two completely different locations.

  On our right, a white sand beach rolls down to a crystal-clear ocean. One of the European staffers stands on a ladder, using binding dust on a giant sandcastle to hold it together. Guests sip colorful drinks and eat clam-shaped cakes. A few adventurous surfers brave the waves.

  But the landscape to our left is something else entirely. The boardwalk drops into a glassy lake full of fishing boats, surrounded by mountains. The smell of fir trees and spring water mixes with the salty breeze, all under a sky split right down the middle between sunrise and sunset.

  I smile, feeling the warmth on my face. “There’s two suns!”

  “Only one sun,” Nico says. “You’re just seeing it from two different angles.”

  “The boardwalk binds lake and ocean shore together,” Sev explains. “As soon as you step off the boards, you enter fully into one or the other.”

  I scan the seam in the sky over the boardwalk, where sunset pink and sunrise yellow blend together. “I thought binding places only worked with a door, or a frame like the sun-windows?”

  “This is old binding. The boardwalk has absorbed both locations over time, distorting the land itself and connecting the two places without the need of a frame.”

  A glint of light lakeside draws my gaze. An enormous stone finger rises from the lake shore on the opposite side and protrudes out at an angle over the center of the lake, with a waterfall—a huge, foamy wall of white water—exploding from a pair of ancient doors at its tip high above.

  “The Giant’s Finger,” Sev says. “Another marvel of the Hotel.”

  The statue’s as tall as the surrounding
mountains. I trace the path of the water, expecting to see the cloud of spray where the waterfall meets the lake, but the falls don’t crash into the water below—they go through it.

  “There’s a hole,” I say. “A hole . . . in the lake.” A square, wooden portal, built just under the water’s surface. Calm lake water rolls softly over the edges into the darkness below, but the waterfall roars like TV static through the center, never disturbing the lake’s smooth, glassy surface.

  “The doormen put a frame under the water to make the waterfall taller,” Nico explains. “It’s bound to the Pool grotto, so the falls drop into the caves below. Or . . . wherever the grotto is.”

  I lean over the rail, straining to see into the enormous hole. “There are caves down there?”

  “Yep.” Nico’s tone bounces with excitement. For once he seems as impressed as I am. “The water falls from the Finger, through the frame, into the grotto. From there, it filters through the underground river—to keep it clean, you know—and back through doors bound to those big ones on top of the Finger, where it becomes the waterfall again. Over and over. It’s like a fountain . . . a really, really big fountain.”

  “It’s beautiful.”

  Sev sees Rahki on the beach and breaks off to follow her and Sana with a wave and a reminder not to miss our meeting.

  I stick with Nico, scanning the doorless frames that line the boardwalk. They’re shortcuts, I realize . . . bound to other frames scattered all over the area. A kid I recognize from the mailroom jumps through one frame and flies out a different one atop a boulder in the lake. Another frame shows kids climbing damp, dripping rocks, and yet another leads right to the edge of the ocean. Granite mer-people statues—icons, like the ones in the Motor Pool—stand guard near each frame with obsidian tridents and catfish-faced lizard-beasts on leashes. They turn their heads to watch the people as they pass. The sights make my heart race, but it’s a different kind of feeling than I’m used to. A strange, unfamiliar sense of . . . anticipation. Eagerness. Even . . . mischief?

  “Hurry!” Nico calls from a frame farther down. “Let’s ride the waterfall!”

  The frame takes us into a grand cavern that curves over a blue-green pool.

  “Grotto,” he reminds me. “Somewhere in the Bermuda Triangle.” He points to the mouth-shaped opening at the far end that’s flooding the chamber with early twilight. The hanging stalactites shimmer. It’s like being in the belly of a giant rock-fish. WWTD number 975: grotto indigestion, yum. My feet slip on moss as we slide down the rocks to the water’s edge.

  “How on earth are we supposed to ‘ride’ that?” The Giant’s Finger waterfall pours through the frame in the cavernous ceiling that must be bound to the one Nico pointed out in the lake above. Amazing, how it’s all connected: So many different places smashed on top of one another to form one complete water park.

  Nico points to a stream that splits off into a tunnel, yelling over the roar. “Just hop in! The current carries you through the underground river and spits you out at the fingertip. The rest is gravity!”

  “Is that safe?”

  “Who cares?” he shouts, and dives in.

  I care. I care a lot. Or at least . . . I should. Surprisingly, though, I feel like I can handle it this time. Maybe it won’t be so bad after all.

  I take a gulp, clench my fists, and jump.

  The current grabs me as soon as I swim near the tunnel. I struggle to keep control, but the stream flows so fast.

  Nico floats in the current with his hands behind his head. “Don’t fight it!”

  He’s totally going to get me killed.

  Despite the anchor in my stomach, I let the current drag me along. In the tunnel, everything goes dark. I can’t tell which way is left, right, forward, back . . . the shadows draw me in like the void behind the failed doors. The roar of water grows until it’s all I can hear.

  And then, light. Open air. Birds.

  I’ve made a huge mistake.

  I fly out of the doors atop the Giant’s Fingertip and tumble toward the lake, reordering my list so “drowning” and “heights” take more prominent positions. Somewhere in all that falling and screaming, there’s a split second where the pounding in my chest and the rush of blood almost feel good. Almost.

  Maybe Nico’s affecting me more than I thought.

  But when I plunge through the hole in the lake, my world goes dark. Flashes of memory press in. I see Mom, rushing away so very fast. Falling, like I am, into a black pit.

  My feet break into the water. The falls shove me deeper, faster, down, down, down. I try to swim, but with every push through the current I’m pushing the armoire instead. It’s so heavy, but no one can ever see what’s behind it. The door must stay hidden.

  The crashing of the falls transforms into a low, gurgling grumble. I can’t breathe. My chest tingles as I scramble for what I think is up. In my mind, I press the button for the fourth floor again and again. I struggle to pull the elevator doors open, to get out.

  I break the surface and gasp as Dad’s memory gives way to reality. I check to make sure I’m still a whole person. Arms? Check. Legs? Check. Sense of personal well-being? Working on it.

  Mom’s ghostly face haunts me. My heart clangs in my chest. Then it clicks.

  She fell. She . . . fell.

  My eyes burn as the terrible realization soaks into me.

  “Woohoo! That was awesome!” Nico shouts, treading water nearby. His usually slick hair sticks to his face in curls. “Wanna go again?”

  “No.” All I want is to get out of this water and away from all those awful memories.

  I swim toward the rocks.

  Nico catches up in a few strokes. “Hey, wait. You okay?”

  “I’m fine,” I say, totally not fine at all.

  He swims alongside me, voice full of concern. “Wanna talk about it?”

  “No.”

  “Seriously, if something’s up, you can tell me.” He lifts his bandaged hand out of the water. “We’re blood-bros, after all. That’s kinda the point.”

  I finally look at him, glad to know he really does care. “I’ll be fine,” I say, and this time I mean it.

  “Well, okay.” He grins softly. “Sure you don’t want to ride the falls again? It only gets better.”

  “No way.” I glance back at the glassy tower of water. “Thanks, but I’m never doing that again.”

  Nico huffs. “Fine. Suit yourself. Just don’t miss our appointment.”

  He swims back for the underground river, and I climb out of the water, dripping and cold, trying to calm my racing heart.

  It takes a few minutes before I start to recover. The pit in my stomach is as deep as the Shaft itself. I saw it clearly this time. Mom fell. She wasn’t being pulled away; she was falling, into that awful hole. Didn’t Nico say he’d heard someone fell a long time ago? It was her. They caged in the service elevators because that’s where Mom died.

  I jump when I feel a hand on my shoulder, and turn to find Rahki standing behind me.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah.” I wipe my eyes, pretending my tears are just lake water. “I’m fine. Just don’t like riding the waterfall.”

  “Who would?” Rahki sits beside the pool, spreading the cream-colored fabric of her outfit on the mossy rocks. Black leggings and a tight-sleeved shirt cover every inch of her from ankle to wrist. “Come. Sit with me.”

  I join her on the rocks, taking deep, slow breaths to calm the panic in my chest.

  “The Hotel must really like you.” She dips her toes in and out of the water.

  “Agapios said the same thing when he brought me on,” I tell her. “Creepy, if you ask me.”

  “It’s not creepy. It’s an honor,” she says, her voice stern. “The Hotel’s not just a place. Every part of it is bound to all the others. Those places have memories. Personality. Put the pieces together, you get something more. Something . . . alive.”

  I glimpse Nico and Sev heading for an offsh
oot tunnel near the back of the grotto. Nico sees me, and beckons me to follow.

  The meeting is about to start. But I can’t go with Rahki here. For all I know she’s still reporting on what I do. This has to be why Agapios is letting me have free roam of the Hotel. He wants me to lead him to my secrets—to Stripe, or the Museum, or both.

  I can’t risk it. They’ll have to meet Stripe without me.

  Instead, I turn my attention back to Rahki. “You said before that the Hotel saved you. How?”

  She watches the wall of water. “When my group of refugees came through the Damascus Door, I was hurt. The Hotel took care of me. Healed me. Sev has a similar story.”

  “Wait . . . our Sev?” I thought he was against the Hotel.

  “He had it worse than I did. There are bad people out there. The people the Hotel saved Sev from had put him in a rough situation, even convinced him he was so stupid that he could never escape. Can you imagine, Sev being considered stupid? The Hotel tended to him, provided him peace and books to enrich his mind. It showed him that those bad people did not determine what he could become. He wouldn’t be who he is today if not for this place.”

  That doesn’t make sense. Rahki and Sev spend a lot of time together, but he’s always said it wasn’t a good idea to tell her what we’re here for. Maybe Sev lied to her about how he got here? “What about Nico?”

  Rahki sighs. “My point is the mission is special. It saves and protects the people who need protecting. The Hotel sees us as who we could be, not as who we are, and helps us reach our potential. Nearly all of us on staff have benefitted from it one way or another. Agapios and the Maid Commander will do everything in their power to protect it.”

  “Agapios.” His name tastes bitter on my tongue.

  She takes my hand. Her fingers are soft, but marred by little white scars. And so warm. “Agapios isn’t what you think.”

  I want to tell her she’s the one who doesn’t know who she’s working for, but I can’t. Not yet. Hopefully, soon.

  “I just want you to understand why we’re here,” she says. “The Hotel is not the people inside it. It’s . . . something different. And I don’t know why, but it trusts you. It knows who you are and why you’re here, even if the rest of us don’t, and it’s letting you stay. If the Hotel can trust you, that means I trust you too.” She stands. “If the MC or the Old Man ask, that’s what I’ll tell them.”