The Hotel Between

by Sean Easley

  “Was it that big of a deal?” I say, doubtfully. “We just had a pin-failure the other day.”

  “This was something else.” She folds her hands in her lap. “Binding two places like we do puts a lot of magic tension on those pins. When they crack, the magic leaks. But when they snap, all that magic floods out like water from a busted hydrant. All the pins are weak right now, which means they could all snap under the pressure. Breaking the binding like Nico did could have dismantled the entire Hotel. But you stopped it. That’s huge.”

  Rahki waves across the gathering crowd at Cass, who’s being rolled through the doors by a steward I know as Mr. Sakamoto-san.

  “Wow,” Rahki says. “Your sister’s stunning.”

  And she’s not wrong. I’ve never seen Cass look so pretty. Decked out in a sparkly blue dress, hair in an up-do—even riding a brass wheelchair that sparkles under the pyramid’s skylights.

  “This place is awesome!” Cass says in her loud, outside-use-only voice as Sakamoto-san rolls her over. “I can’t believe you tried to keep this to yourself, Cam. You are completely, totally selfish.”

  “What did he say?” I ask, ignoring her jab.

  “The Old Man?” She rubs her hands maniacally. “Secrets.”

  I groan. “Come on.”

  “No. You kept this place from me, so I get to keep some things from you.” Cass-logic: dense as a brick wall, and utterly unscalable. “So?” she says, raising her eyebrows impishly. “What are you two talking about?”

  “The Old Man’s going to honor Cameron,” Rahki says.

  I roll my eyes. “He’s not.”

  “I guarantee he will,” she replies. “I overheard him telling the MC you’ve got as much potential as your mother.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Cass interrupts with a hearty laugh. “Yeah, right. Cam’s got about as much potential as I have diamonds in my jewelry box.”

  I grumble. Cass doesn’t have a jewelry box.

  She gazes around the foyer, lost in the gold and blue decor and sandstone pharaohs. Cass still has no idea why I came here. And I can’t tell her just yet. Especially when I don’t know if I’ll be able to get him back.

  “What do slivers do?” I ask Rahki instead. “What did Nico do to that maid?”

  Rahki frowns. “Slivers are like pins, only the Competition uses them on people, something that’s strictly forbidden by the Embassy. They’re bound to a place, and when you stick them in a person”—she swallows—“that person is transported to the bound location. Violently.”

  I remember the pained look on the maid’s face when she was folded up and sucked inside. “Then . . . she’s alive?”

  “Probably. But slivers are crude and unpredictable. They don’t always do what you want. And they hurt. A lot.”

  “Tell me more. What do you know about the Competition? Do they have any weaknesses? We have to stop them.”

  “Oh good grief,” Cass says, sipping her flute. “You’re always so worried.”

  I shoot her a nasty look. “Yeah, and for good reason. Did Agapios even tell you what goes on around here?”

  “Did he tell you?” She lifts an infuriating eyebrow.

  Before I can respond, L’Maitre—the tall, willowy master of the dining services—appears through one of the turners and clears his throat. “Follow me.”

  The Accommodation looks different for tonight’s event. Each window around the cruise ship has been bound to a location—like the sun-windows in the Mezz, and the guest elevator walls—displaying rain forest rivers, packed downtown boroughs, a big-top circus show, the swirling winds of a desert. The chandeliers have been dimmed to allow the fireworks exploding in some of the windows to flash their own light across the banquet hall.

  I can’t believe it’s New Year’s already. Only two days left before my time runs out.

  The Concierge’s Table has sat empty since I first arrived at the Hotel, its cloth napkins folded into tall towers on the plates. Two-story gold tree centerpieces sprout from the tables, dripping with gemstone fruit over the seats. The metallic leaves shimmer as the ship rises and falls. The crown jewels of the Accommodation.

  When I see them now, though, all I can think of is the harsh, jagged kitchen table tree Stripe conjured. He demolished everything as easily as he laughed. No pins. No dusters or slivers. Just a thought, and his black key.

  The hosts seat us at our place settings, marked by cards with our names written in flowing script. Only two seats remain empty, with cards that read GRAND CONCIERGE, AGAPIOS PANOTIERRI and MAID COMMANDER, JEHANNA LA PUCELLE.

  Cass leans over the arm of her wheelchair, giggling like a goober. If she knew what I know, she wouldn’t be so flippant. Trouble’s growing, alongside the seasickness in my stomach.

  Around the hall, waiters take drink and dinner orders. Rahki and Cass talk and laugh about the places Rahki’s been, but I can’t laugh. Not as long as Stripe has Dad, and Nico has his coin.

  At last, the intercom announces the arrival of the two missing leaders of the Hotel.

  Everyone in the banquet hall rises as Agapios and the MC enter through the double doors atop the grand staircase. The Maid Commander glitters in a green dress embroidered with flowers, with long satin gloves almost to her shoulders. Her bobbed hair is spiked and feathered, held in place with a diamond-studded comb. If it weren’t for the burn on her face, she would be unrecognizable. Descending the steps alongside her, Agapios wears a tux like mine, only slightly more formal than his usual getup. His knobby knees poke out of his slacks with every graceful step.

  “Good evening, friends,” Agapios says as we take our seats at the table and everyone in the hall goes back to their dinners. “A pleasure to dine with you.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Rahki replies.

  After everything with Stripe, I don’t exactly feel up for conversation. Thankfully, Cass is a fountain of words, talking on and on about her travel shows, asking if what she’s seen is anything like the real thing.

  When the food comes, all I can do is pick at it. I imagine what Dad’s been eating all these years, and whether Stripe’s docents have infiltrated Chef Silva’s kitchen. I wonder what poison smells like. Maybe I should have searched which poisons can be put in food, so I’d know what’ll kill me and what won’t. Poison is number 5 on my list, because there are so many, and the majority of them kill in really nasty ways. Oh, please don’t let this food be poisoned. . . .

  Agapios turns to me. “Is dinner not to your liking?”

  I set my fork and knife down and stare at my surf and turf. My gut bobs with the ocean. “It’s fancier than I’m used to.”

  Cass laughs. “At home he only eats Pop-Tarts and frozen waffles.” She shovels another mouthful of the decadent meal the cooks prepared special for her. “Cam doesn’t like change. He doesn’t go places. He likes routine.”

  The MC lifts an eyebrow. “He came here, did he not? And Mr. Cameron’s performed all the errands we’ve given.”

  “He does what he has to,” Cass says, “but that’s all. He doesn’t take risks.”

  “Don’t talk about me like I’m not here,” I say.

  “Quite right.” Agapios dabs his lips. “However, I do wish you had taken the risk and told me the truth when you first came to the Hotel.” He glances at the MC. “Your deception about who you were had Jehanna very worried about your intentions.”

  “I’m sorry,” I say, avoiding his dark, sunken eyes. “I was . . . scared. I didn’t know who to trust.”

  He waves my apology away. “No concern. The Curator is a very good liar.”

  “The Curator?” I ask. “You mean Mr. Stripe.”

  “This House has been at odds with him a long time.” Agapios takes another careful bite.

  I have to look away to keep from being sick. “Does Stripe really run a museum?”

  The Maid Commander scoffs. “That’s what he calls it.”

  Agapios shoots her a disapproving look, and then
turns back to me. “The man you call Stripe is a collector, of sorts. Objects, people, anything with a binding he can add to his gallery.”

  “But why?” I ask. “What does he want?”

  “Power. Stripe hungers for it, like a dog hungers for meat. The more he binds to himself and those under him, the stronger he grows.”

  “Stronger for what?”

  The Old Man smiles. “Those secrets will reveal themselves to you in time, should you stay with us.” A pause as he studies my face. “Your parents would be proud of you.”

  A flood of warmth momentarily calms my nauseated stomach.

  Agapios raises his glass. “To Cameron and Cassia Kuhn, children of The Hotel Between.” The others raise their drinks, echoing the toast.

  “At least tell me this,” I say as everyone sips their drinks. “Why’d you let me stay if you thought I was with the Competition?”

  “Because they wanted to find the Greenhouse,” Cass says, taking a mouthful of chicken. “Duh.”

  I sit back, shocked. “You know about the Greenhouse?”

  “I told her,” Agapios says. “Knowing who she was from the start, I told her more than I told you when we first met. And yes, it’s true. We allowed you freedom to roam the hotel in hopes that your father’s coin would lead you to our missing Greenhouse. I fear, however, that if Reinhart’s coin held its location, you would have already found it.”

  A memory of pressing the fourth floor button flashes through me.

  Agapios eyes me carefully. “Unless you have, and you have not told us. Do you know where your father hid the Greenhouse?”

  My stomach lurches as everyone at the table turns to look at me. “No,” I say.

  “Pity.” Agapios goes back to his pasta.

  Why’d I lie like that? He needs to know how close Stripe is to finding it.

  I finger the pin in my pocket again. “So, Stripe wants the Greenhouse . . . because he wants power?”

  “He wants to stop us,” the Old Man says. “Our mission threatens him. Should he break that last hidden connection between the Hotel and the Greenhouse, the Hotel will fall apart. Pin-failures are only the beginning. Once he has the binding of the Vesima tree . . . ”

  A hush falls over the table.

  Stripe’s going to find it. Nico’s got Dad’s coin, and he knows about the fourth floor. It’s only a matter of time. And it’s my fault. So why can’t I bring myself to say anything?

  I bet it’s because of Nico. If he were here, he’d withhold as much information as possible to manipulate the situation. Could he be doing that now? Manipulating me through our contract? Making me think like him?

  “Sir,” Rahki says, breaking the silence, “did the pin-snap cause any further damage?”

  Agapios grins at the Maid Commander. “Your protégé is very focused.”

  The MC smiles approvingly, but it looks weird on her. As if the knots in a tree grew a personality and are now trying to change shape to match.

  “We have not re-bound the wings since the failure,” Agapios says. “But we have rescued our stranded guests. They have been compensated and returned to their homes. As for the pin-snap, Cameron’s quick thinking saved the Hotel from great catastrophe. We are ever in his debt.”

  My stomach groans.

  “It is for this reason we honor you tonight, Cameron.”

  Agapios stands and waves to one of the hostesses, who presses a button on a column supporting the upper balconies. There’s a click and a whirr as a shiny microphone lowers from the ceiling over Agapios’s place setting.

  “Guests and ambassadors.” The concierge’s amplified voice echoes. Fireworks explode in a few of the windows, flashing pink and green light across the banquet hall to celebrate the New Year. “Tonight is a special night. Tonight we honor one of our newest employees for his selfless service and dedication.” He bows and holds out a hand. “Please welcome Mr. Cameron Kuhn.”

  L’Maitre appears behind me as applause ripples through the room. “Rise, and bow.”

  He pulls my chair out, and I stand to meet the ovation. I shove my hands in my pockets to steady myself, and wrap my fingers around Stripe’s pin the way I used to clutch Dad’s coin.

  “In his short time with us,” Agapios announces, “young Cameron has twice prevented failures of the magic that binds our beloved Hotel, foiled the plans of our Competition, and revealed traitors in our midst who sought to shut us down.”

  His smile turns my heart to stone. This honor . . . it isn’t true. I mean—I did those things—but I was working with the enemy. I was a traitor too. Even now, with Stripe’s pin in my palm, I know that if I still had the chance I’d do whatever it took to get Dad back.

  But the applause feels good. No one’s ever looked at me the way these people are right now. Even if they’re going to forget it happened when they leave this place, it means something.

  Flashes of blue burst over a distant cityscape and a smile curls up my face. This must be how Nico feels—so proud of himself. So powerful, with all his secrets. Can he feel my pride, in this moment? No. I can’t let him influence me. I shouldn’t be proud. Ugh, this is all so complicated.

  Agapios continues. “Even more exciting for those who have been with us many years is the discovery that Cameron and his sister, Cassia, are the children of our own Reinhart and Melissa Kuhn.”

  A hush falls over the room, followed by an awkward round of applause from the older staff. Guests murmur to their neighbors, but I can’t understand why. Did they know my parents too? Did they look up to them?

  “Melissa was a singularly special servant of the Hotel. Years ago I selected her to be my Concierge-in-Training. If not for her untimely departure, she would likely have been the one addressing you tonight, instead of me.”

  Mom was . . . what?

  I look to Cass, who’s smiling like it’s no big deal. Agapios must’ve told her. But what does that mean?

  “More than any other member of our staff, Melissa had plans. Plans to thwart our Competition and expand the Hotel’s mission far beyond these walls. Had those unfortunate events twelve years ago turned out differently, the threat of the Competition would be greatly diminished, and Cameron and Cassia would have grown up among us.”

  Mom had plans to stop Stripe. Dad must’ve been helping her. That’s why it all happened the way it did. They were a threat to the Competition, and Stripe stopped them.

  The boom and pop of the fireworks increases.

  “Cameron’s actions prove him as much a child of the Hotel as any,” Agapios says. “Now, as a gesture of gratitude for his service and that of his mother, the Hotel wishes to present Cameron with his mother’s key.”

  He pulls a shiny, pearl skeleton key from his inner jacket pocket. The detail and design glitters in the spotlight.

  “Go to him,” L’Maitre urges amid the applause.

  My feet move on their own, heavy, as if caked with mud. The leaning of the ship makes me stumble.

  Agapios hands me the pearl key, and a wave of new memories floods through me.

  Standing in the spotlight aboard the Accommodation. Guests applauding my appointment. Me, pulling this same key from a jacket pocket and inserting it into the elevator console. Pressing the button for the fourth floor.

  These are Mom’s memories. This is the key from my dreams. The pearl topscrew Nico wanted me to steal, it’s . . . Mom’s.

  “This great House requires more than knowledge of its workings to lead it. For many years, we have searched for Melissa’s replacement, and now the Hotel informs me we have found it.” The weight in my chest grows as Agapios pulls me to his side and wraps cold, skeletal fingers around my shoulder. “This key provides access to all areas of the Hotel. Mr. Cameron will need it in his new role as my Concierge-in-Training.”

  My stomach rolls—partly from the list of the ship, partly because I can’t believe what I’m hearing. The twinkling explosions outside the windows quicken, illuminating the dining hall with an air of celebr
ation.

  The Old Man gazes down at me. “He who knows his master’s will only fulfills his obligation. But he who does not know his master’s will, and accomplishes it anyway, will be given much. This is only the beginning of Cameron’s story, should he accept my offer and begin training to take over my role as Grand Concierge of The Hotel Between.”

  I’m so confused. The lights dazzle me as the fireworks reach their finale. The leaves hanging from the tree centerpieces shimmer and move, and I feel so very, very small and puny, yet big and important at the same time. And my stomach, it’s . . . it’s—

  I fall to my knees and vomit all over the floor. It’s like everything inside wants to get out, and everything outside wants to run away as fast as it can.

  My face tingles when I pause. I gasp for air, and retch all over again.

  I’m dying. I’m finally dying.

  I slump to the floor and wait for the end.

  23

  The Fourth Floor

  The hosts carry me to my Hotel room. Even after I’m back on land, the world keeps shifting. I lie on my bed in nauseated agony as rain falls in sheets outside my Warsaw window.

  Rahki calls the room phone to tell me Cass is bunking with her for the night. Sana brings a brass plate with crackers, sliced sour apples, and a crystal cup of ginger ale. I’m dying, and she thinks snacks are going to help?

  But an hour later I find myself still in bed, sucking on one of the apple slices. Not dead. And I do feel better . . . at least, a bit. I guess it was just seasickness.

  The truth about my parents gnaws at my brain. Munch-munch-munch. Mom wasn’t just staff, she was training to be Agapios’s replacement. Bite-bite-bite. Dad stole the Greenhouse on the same night Mom died, and left the secret of its location with me. Chew-chew-chew. That secret is my only way of getting him back, and I’ve lost it.

  Mom had a plan to stop Stripe, but Stripe was a step ahead of her. He killed her for it. Then Dad hid the Greenhouse, Cass, and me. He almost got away, but Stripe caught him.

  I glance at the pearl key on my nightstand, and the crossed-keys lapel pin L’Maitre brought me later. Mom’s topscrew. The key to all those locked doors. My key to the fourth floor.