The Hotel Between

by Sean Easley

  “Where are you going?”

  Rahki motions to the frame leading back to the boardwalk. “To my room. I’m not going to swim, and one can only sit in the dark for so long before it darkens them, too.”

  I grin. “You get that from Sev?”

  She doesn’t return the smile. “I know you’re up to something, Cam.” She glances at Dad’s coin around my neck. “Just be careful.”

  With that, she leaves.

  I chew my lip, briefly considering whether I should head for the caves to join the meeting with Stripe. But I can’t risk it, even with Rahki gone. Any one of these people could be watching me. So I walk the beach instead.

  Rahki really believes she’s doing good by helping Agapios collect—or steal—those kids from all over the world. She even thinks Sev is grateful for the Hotel . . . as if it was the Hotel that saved him. But it wasn’t the Hotel—it was Stripe. She doesn’t realize that she’s been collected too. Placed, to give Agapios power.

  It’s wrong to keep her in the dark like this. If she knew the truth, she could help. She deserves that chance.

  I’m going to have to tell her.

  Before it’s too late.

  19

  Missing Pieces

  Later that evening, a knock comes at my door.

  Sev pushes past me when I answer it and starts pacing my hotel room, ducking to avoid hitting his head on the angled ceiling.

  “I cannot do it,” he says, wringing his hands. He’s still wearing his swimsuit, though it’s dry and looks like it has been for a while. “No more.”

  I’ve never seen him agitated like this. Sev is always the reasonable one in our little infiltration. “Okay, Sev, calm down.”

  “Why were you not there?” he says, a quaver in his voice. “Did Rahki stop you? Does she know?”

  “No, I—”

  “It does not matter.” He stops midstride and tries to catch his breath. “It is too much.”

  “Sev, sit down.”

  He flops onto my bed, hands in his lap, and stares blankly at the floor.

  “What’s going on?”

  Sev balls his calloused hands into fists. “Stripe had me stay, after Nico left. He wants me to do something. But what Stripe asks . . . I cannot do.”

  I sit awkwardly next to him. “What does Stripe want?”

  He takes another breath, focusing on the carpet. “Have you ever felt . . . ?” He doesn’t finish the thought.

  I’ve got to do something. Cass gets frustrated like this sometimes, and I’ve grown pretty good at dragging the problem out of her, even when she doesn’t know what it is.

  I reach for a bag of Chef Silva’s sweet on my bedside table and hand him one. “I thought Stripe saved you?”

  Sev examines the candy slowly, as if he’s unraveling the mysteries of the world, before popping it in his mouth.

  “It is hard belonging to someone else,” he says, rolling the pebble around on his tongue. “Who you are, who you were, is forfeit. You do things you do not want to do.” He pauses for a long moment. “I should have stayed lost.”

  “I—”

  “Cameron, you must listen to me.” He looks up, eyes red and bloodshot. “Sometimes, when one is lost, it is better they stay lost. Better that everyone forget.”

  At first I don’t understand, but then a tingle rushes through my arms. “Are . . . are you saying my dad should stay lost?”

  He looks away.

  Anger balloons in my throat. “Seriously?”

  “You must understand. We—”

  I stand to face him, gritting my teeth. “I’ve waited my whole life to find him. I’m so close!”

  “You may not like what you find.”

  “Shut up!” I throw the bag of sweet at him.

  Sev tries to dodge, but the bag hits him in the eye, scattering rock candy everywhere. “Cameron, please.”

  “Get out!”

  “You must—”

  I sweep a handful of rocks off the bed and chuck them at him. “Go!”

  Sev hangs his head. “I am sorry.”

  He closes the door behind him, and I sit on my bed and cry.

  • • •

  It doesn’t take long for me to regret my tantrum. Sev’s one of the only people here who’s befriended me. But I can’t believe he’d try to talk me out of my search, after everything. It was Stripe who wanted me to find my dad in the first place. What could he have asked Sev to do that was so hard?

  A thought whispers in my ear. Rahki said Agapios wasn’t who I thought he was. What if . . . ?

  No. Nico’s the one who took me to Stripe. He’s my blood-brother. I trust him.

  The trial period is over in just three days—less than seventy- two hours—but this feels important. I need to make things right with Sev.

  • • •

  The next morning I head to the facilities workshop where the doormen do most of their work, looking to apologize. Only the other doormen haven’t seen Sev since yesterday. He didn’t come in to work. That’s not like him.

  I risk another bout of nausea by stopping at the Accommodation to see if maybe he’s having a late breakfast, but he’s not there either. No response when I knock on his door. And when I check the map-boards, his coin isn’t tracking. The map-boards might not always show everyone, but they’re at least supposed to show who you’re looking for.

  Which means even the Hotel doesn’t know where he is. Now I’m really worried. Whatever Stripe said had scared him, and I let him go. I should have listened.

  I take the staff elevator to Nico’s floor, trying not to look out over the cavernous pit that swallowed Mom. Nico will think I’m crazy. He’ll say I’m worried for nothing. But worrying is how I’ve made sure Cass survived this long. If I wasn’t always looking out for the bad, things might be a lot worse.

  That thought grinds in my chest. Cass has been without me for over a week now. I hope she’s okay.

  I race down the hall as soon as the elevator opens and pound on Nico’s door. “Nico!” Boom-boom-boom. “Get out here!”

  He opens up wearing shorts and a T-shirt, rubbing his eyes, hair sprigging up in all directions.

  “Where’s Sev?” I peek past him into his messy room.

  He runs a hand through his hair and blinks away sleep boogers. “I don’t know. Why?”

  I tell him about the way Sev was acting last night, and how now I can’t find him.

  That seems to wake Nico up. “And his coin’s not showing on the map-board?”

  “No.” I grit my teeth. “You should have seen him. He said Stripe asked him to do something. Something he couldn’t—or wouldn’t—do.”

  Nico’s face goes slack. “No.” Then louder, “NO!”

  He takes off running down the hall.

  20

  Broken Bonds

  Crisis mode” is what happens when you go from worrying bad things are going to happen, to dealing with them when they do. Call nine-one-one. Turn Cass over so she doesn’t choke. Stanch any bleeding.

  Replace the pin to stop the failure. Follow Nico.

  He bolts down the next hall as I’m rounding the previous corner. Nico’s so fast, and I’m still sore from the game the other night. But when I see the door he takes in the Courtyard, I know where he’s headed. The Alcove Door. Stripe’s Corridor.

  “What’s all the commotion?” It’s Rahki, sitting on one of the fountain benches with Sana.

  “Nothing,” I tell her. “We’re just . . . playing a game.”

  I start to follow Nico into the back halls, but something stops me.

  “Coins want to return to the person they’re bound to, right?” I turn back and hold my Hotel coin out to Rahki. “If I don’t come right back, use it to follow me.”

  As I hand her the coin, another memory flashes. An image of Mom, a pair of coins, and a pearl skeleton key. Another flash, and I’m giving the coins to Oma, who’s standing between two baby carriers.

  No. Not now. I can’t do anything
about Dad’s memories while I’ve got Nico to catch up with.

  Rahki gives me a concerned look. “Cameron—”

  “It’s a touch,” I say. “Nothing to worry about.” And I head for the back halls, leaving my coin with her. Nico wouldn’t approve, but I have to take the risk. That’s what you do in crisis mode—take risks. The right risks.

  When I reach the hidden hall under the stairs, the door at the end is already open. Nico would never leave it open like that unless something was really, really wrong. I hurry through, my Chucks squeaking on the checkered tile of Stripe’s Corridor. Halfway down, dull gray light streams through another open door. I know that one too. Honduras. Nico’s family.

  I burst out into the rain and up the gravel path. The empty fútbol field makes my stomach clench.

  When I finally reach the Jimenez’s house, it’s quiet. Dim light wafts through the curtains. Silence snakes around me.

  “Nico?” I shout, but there’s no answer.

  The kitchen table is set, only the dishes have been overturned. A cup full of some red liquid has spilled. Toys lie scattered.

  “They’re gone,” I realize. And not just gone.

  Taken.

  I find Nico on the other side of the table, his legs folded under him like another scattered toy. “He took them,” he says. “He really took them.”

  A growl rises in my throat. “Agapios.”

  Nico wipes his tears and turns. “Not Agapios, you dummy. Stripe.”

  • • •

  This is the secret Nico’s been keeping from me. It’s why he never wanted me asking questions about his task. The reason for all those looks between him and Sev.

  Nico stands to face me, fists clenched. “Stripe took my family. Or he had Sev do it. Stripe never does his own dirty work.”

  That doesn’t make sense. “Why would he do that?”

  A voice answers from the hall. “To get what I want, of course.”

  Nico and I turn to find Stripe standing in the kitchen door.

  “You!” Nico rushes toward the man in the pinstriped suit.

  Stripe holds up a black, iron key, and Nico slides to a stop.

  He pats Nico on the head. “Good boy. No need to pretend any longer.”

  “You . . . took them?” I say, still struggling to understand. Mr. Stripe’s our friend—our ally. The only dad Nico ever knew, and the one who put me on this path to finding my own dad. “Why would you take Nico’s family?”

  “Because that’s what Stripe does.” Nico’s lip curls. “Because he wants to own everything. He’s not willing to share.”

  “Now, Nico, you know it’s not that simple.” Stripe pops his cane up into his hand. “You were merely taking too long. My patience is a limited resource. I figured if I took your family, you’d remember what’s at stake.”

  Nico clenches his teeth. “You greedy, no-good—”

  Stripe touches a finger to Nico’s chest and leans close. “Oh, you haven’t seen me be greedy.”

  I glance back and forth between them. “I don’t get it.”

  “You’re right, Mr. Cameron.” Stripe flashes a grin. “Time is of the essence, so let’s get to business. Nico and I have lied to you.”

  I look to Nico. “You . . . lied?”

  “Terrible, isn’t it?” Stripe says. “I’m sure young Nico’s fed you all sorts of drivel about how he trusts you, and how you have to trust him, but it’s all been a scam.”

  Nico hangs his shoulders.

  “There, there.” Stripe gives him a pat on the head. “It was his idea. He’s quite the con artist when he wants to be.”

  It can’t be true. All this time. All we’ve done. Joining the Hotel, hiding the truth from the staff. “What about my dad? I thought—”

  “Oh, this is all about your father,” Stripe says. “See, when Nico came to tell me about your situation, we both already knew who dear Reinhart was. It’s Reinhart’s fault we’re in this mess in the first place. I considered simply taking what I wanted from you, but Nico convinced me we could use you instead.”

  “Use me, how?”

  “To find the Greenhouse, of course. We’ve been searching such a long time now. And all along the secret’s been hidden in that coin around your neck.”

  I grip my necklace. No. It’s not possible. “You . . . betrayed me.”

  Stripe smiles, spinning the black key between his fingers. “Nico didn’t exactly betray you. He was never your friend in the first place. Nico’s my protégé. I’ve been training him for years to be master of the House I built for him. In order for Nico to come into his own, however, I must first acquire the means to start a new House.”

  Mr. Stripe touches a plate on the table with his black key. It explodes into a rain of tiny fragments. He taps a cup, too, and it bursts like a water balloon, sending red liquid and shards of plastic everywhere.

  He continues around the kitchen table, tapping each dish as he passes. Cups, plates, even silverware—it all shatters in a storm of sharp, jagged pieces, spinning in the air. I cover my face as the swirling explosion of ceramic and plastic grows.

  “You see,” Stripe says as he taps the table and it, too, breaks down into individual slats of wood, “each great House must have a focus—a source from which every part flows. There are few sources left these days, so we have to acquire them by any means possible.”

  He inserts his black key into an invisible keyhole at the center of the cloud of boards and dish fragments. The key hangs in the air as the remnants of the Jimenez’s dinner table gather around it to form the floating shape of a tree. White and silver dust from the shattered dishes and disintegrated forks glitter like leaves around the blocky branches, breaking into smaller and smaller pieces.

  This magic feels different from the binding. It’s hot. Burning, even. The dust around the misshapen branches ripples in fiery waves. It reminds me of what Nico said before about keys. I’ve even heard of one that has the power to completely unbind whatever it’s used on. A key that destroys.

  I gulp, remembering the look on Orban’s face when he told me, I won’t be unbound. Get out. Orban wasn’t warning me to get out of the Hotel. He was warning me to get out of this business with Stripe.

  “The Vesima is the focus for Agapios’s House, which you know as The Hotel Between.” Stripe wiggles his fingers like a teacher pointing at a visual aid, and the suspended key shimmers. The boards at the low end of the trunk shatter and spread apart to form roots reaching out of the kitchen. “The connections between the tree and the pins made from it supply the Hotel’s magic. Your father supposedly stole the Greenhouse and its tree from the Hotel, but the Hotel’s binding has only weakened, rather than disappear. That tells me he left at least one door leading to the Greenhouse bound somewhere in the Hotel. It must be well hidden if Agapios still hasn’t found it.”

  The door behind the armoire. The fourth floor. “So you never cared about finding my Dad.”

  Stripe twirls his gloved fingers in the cloud of silver and white dust. “Such a brilliant boy. You’ve got your mother’s mind.”

  I growl at his mention of Mom, but he doesn’t seem to notice.

  “The Greenhouse is mine by right,” he says, toying with the upper branches of the floating tree. “I made a deal with your father, and that deal has yet to be fulfilled. I’ve tried extracting the location from Reinhart’s empty head, but he’s proven gloriously unhelpful. The magic binding his memories works too well.”

  I struggle to process what he’s telling me, but one thought screams over all the others. “You . . . you know where he is.”

  “Of course! I’ve kept my finger on Reinhart all these years—hoping for what, I don’t know.” He nods to my necklace. “Now that we have you and that coin, however, we’ll be able to finish what I started.”

  I glance back to Nico, anger roiling in my stomach. “You knew where my dad was all along, and you didn’t tell me.”

  Nico flattens his lips. “We needed you to focus on find
ing the Greenhouse. If you’d thought there was any other way, you’d have been distracted.” He pauses. “Sorry, Cam, but we’ve all got a job to do.”

  Stripe scoffs. “He’s not sorry. Nico’s getting what he always wanted out of this deal.” He stops and turns his attention to the window. His eyes widen. “Oh, just wonderful . . . ”

  Nico rushes to the glass. “Did you tell anyone we were here?”

  Rahki. I smile. “Maybe.”

  Stripe glares. “Don’t be smug, boy. I still have your father.”

  My smile fades.

  “It’s Maid Service,” Nico says.

  “Well then, time to move this along.” Stripe pulls his key from the invisible keyhole, and the fragmented tree crashes to the ground in clattering bits. “You’ll want this.”

  He taps his rope-shaped cane and a small peg pops up from the top. Stripe hands me the smooth, wooden pin.

  “Why?” I ask.

  “Because you still have a job to do.” He leans close, and I can smell his damp, moldy breath. “I’m not unreasonable. Return to the Hotel and find the Greenhouse. Bind a door near it with that pin. When you’re gone, I’ll come in secret and take what’s mine.” His back straightens. “If all goes well, I’ll bring you your father, too.”

  “That’s it?”

  He claps the slivery dust from his gloves. “That’s it. The Hotel already views the Greenhouse as lost, so it won’t even matter. No one need ever know what you did, and you’ll have your father back, safe and sound. It’ll be our little secret.” Stripe turns his black key in the door, then looks back to me. “Think about it, but not too long. Reinhart’s dying to meet you.”

  21

  A Wind in the Door

  When Stripe closes the door behind him, it explodes into tiny fragments—just like the kitchen table and the dishes. I cover my head against the hail of wood.