by Sean Easley
Gnaw-gnaw-gnaw.
Dad must’ve known the plan. It’s probably bound to his coin, but I don’t have that anymore. I’ve got to find a way to get him back and to save the Hotel from whatever Stripe has planned.
• • •
Leaves rustling, branches creaking, the tree rises before me, waving in a wind I can’t feel. The doors hanging from its boughs clap open and shut, but through their frames I no longer see the same worldly destinations they were once bound to. Now, all that lies beyond those doors is the cold, menacing darkness.
The door at the base of the tree opens, revealing a black, starry night.
A woman steps up to the threshold. She looks at me, her dark hair shimmering as it whips in the wind from the door. Mom. She’s whispering something, her voice carried by the whoosh of the leaves.
Cameron . . .
I run for her, but she’s falling now, into the emptiness behind the door. As I reach the doorway, I find myself back in the elevator. I lean over the edge and watch her drift into the black. Coins spill around her, floating, glistening as she falls.
The darkness has teeth. It’s gobbling her up, devouring her and all her coins.
The invisible pin inside me snaps, and I turn to see the button for the fourth floor light up. And next to that, the Man in the Pinstriped Suit, looking back at me.
• • •
I wake up screaming Mom’s name for the fourth time in just the past few hours.
Tonight’s dreams don’t make sense. They’re not like the memories from Dad’s coin. They’re more like the beckoning dreams I had before I came here. One thing is clear, though: It wasn’t Agapios’s face Dad saw in that elevator—it was Stripe’s. Stripe was there with them. He must’ve pushed Mom to her death. And if Stripe killed Mom, he’ll kill Dad too.
There has to be a way to keep the Greenhouse away from Stripe and get Dad back at the same time. Before I can figure out what that is, though, I’ve got to find it.
So I call down to Rahki’s room.
“Uh, allo?” she answers groggily.
“Get dressed and meet me on the Mezz.” I pause. Do I really want to do this? “And bring Cass.”
I grab Mom’s topscrew from the bedside table before I leave. The pearl key fits my hand perfectly, like an extension of myself. Holding it makes me feel stronger, like I can actually do something to stop Stripe.
• • •
When I reach the sunny Courtyard, I instantly spot Rahki sitting on a bench in the shadow of the fountain-tree. Cass sits next to her in her normal, black wheelchair, wearing Hotel gift shop pajamas covered with cartoon keys and clutching a pillow to her chest.
“I told you to get dressed,” I say.
“It’s stupid o’clock in the morning,” Cass whines. “I’m not getting dressed if I don’t have to.”
Rahki rubs her eyes. “What’s going on?”
There’s no going back. “I need to know what’s on the fourth floor.”
“Now?” Rahki says. “It’s the middle of the night.”
I look up at the bright sky over the Mezz. “It’s daytime somewhere, right?” She crosses her arms, and I sigh. I have to tell her something to get her to go along with what I’m asking her to do. “I remember, Rahki.”
She blinks. “You remem—” Then the light dawns in her eyes. “The Greenhouse?”
“I think I know where it is, but I want to make sure.” I hold up Mom’s topscrew. “Will you go with us to the fourth floor?”
“You and Cass?” Rahki tweaks her mouth. “It’s not the easiest path.”
“Hey!” Cass protests.
“Yes,” I say. “Both of us. If this is the last thing Dad did before he disappeared, I want us both there to find out why.”
That’s not true. I just want Cass with me when Stripe gives us Dad back.
“That’s settled,” Cass says with a mischievous smile. “Let’s go for a little walk, then. I really need to stretch my wheels.”
• • •
Rahki pushes Cass’s chair onto the service elevator. All three of us have donned the Hotel’s heavy winter coats—a fourth floor necessity, Rahki says. I had no idea she knew so much about it.
I pause at the lift doors, fingering Stripe’s pin in my pocket, right next to Mom’s key. I’m still deceiving them. But it’ll all be worth it. This is for the best.
“You coming?” Cass asks. “I could be sleeping, you know.”
“Yeah.” I slide Stripe’s pin into the open pin-sleeve above the one to my bedroom, and step into the cage.
Rahki nods at the keyhole next to the button for the fourth floor. I trace it with my finger, take a deep breath, and turn the topscrew in the lock.
The elevator starts up with a clatter of gears and cables. Cool, musty air cuts through the cage, sending a tingle up my spine. Every time I blink, I see Mom’s face and Stripe’s sneer as she falls into the black.
“What do you remember, exactly?” Rahki asks as we ascend.
“Too much,” I say. “And not enough. I know Dad came to the fourth floor, and that it was important. He had Mom’s key. And . . . something happened.”
Cass eyes me with suspicion, but I ignore the look.
“He bound a door somewhere on the fourth floor, and hid it from everyone. I know it.”
“Hid it? How? Where?” Rahki asks.
“I’ll know when I see it.”
The elevator creaks to a stop, and the doors ding open to a stony mountain path. Icy wind whips into the Shaft, carrying a burst of snow with it and chilling me to the roots of my teeth.
Cass whistles at the grandness of the scene before us.
“This is the fourth floor?” I ask. “It’s just . . . mountains.”
“It’s a buffer,” Rahki says. “Protection.”
“You’ve been here before?”
She nods and follows Cass out into the icy wind. “Fourth floor is where the Hotel keeps things safe,” she says. “Its location is secret, but if I were to guess, I’d say we’re somewhere in the Himalayas.”
Cass practically squeals her excitement at the view. “Awesome.”
Her reaction makes me smile. I always thought she was crazy for wanting to travel, but maybe I was wrong, like I’ve been wrong about everything else. With the right accommodations, like the Hotel, she could have her wish. She really could do all the things I thought she couldn’t.
“The Monastery’s up ahead,” Rahki says. “It’s a climb, but not too far.” She guides Cass’s chair around a boulder and up the rocky path, out of sight.
I squeeze my arms for warmth and scan the horizon. I can feel the path pulling me. Calling me forward.
It strikes me that my coin can still be tracked, even out here. Could the Competition use it to find me? That’s a risk I can’t take.
I turn back to the elevator and toss my coin onto the cage inside. No one can follow me now. Not even the Hotel.
I’m coming, Dad.
• • •
My footing slips as I shove Cass’s chair up the steep mountain path. She doesn’t typically like me pushing her—she’s all about doing everything on her own—but whenever it’s rocky I usually slip in without her having to say anything. This gravel is by far the hardest terrain we’ve faced, especially with this annoying pain still in my ankle. On one side of us, a cliff face rises into the sky. On the other, the ground drops away into clouds. We’re so high even the weather can’t reach us. My lungs ache from the lack of oxygen. Biting wind stings my cheeks.
Rahki swears we’re not far from what she keeps calling the Monastery, but not far quickly turns into really, really far when you’re pushing your sister’s wheelchair up a steep, rocky incline.
I keep close watch on Cass, trying to make sure she’s okay without actually asking. She hates when I fuss over her, but so many things could go wrong with her body at this altitude. And if something did go wrong, I’d never get her to a hospital in time.
“Whoa . . . ,” C
ass says as we round the next bend.
The path rises to an enormous structure carved into the cliffs. Blocky, gray stone walls jut from the rock face, dropping into the ravine below. Smoke curls from slitted windows. Strings of rectangular flags flutter in the wind.
“It’s huge.” Cass’s voice shudders as her chair bounces over the rocks.
“It’s a fortress,” Rahki says. “Our safe place. Agapios uses it to protect the Hotel’s most precious guests.”
At last we reach a pair of arched doors.
The Monastery looms over us. Warrior statues on either side of the enormous gate seem to grip their spears tighter as we draw near.
“We made it,” I say, unable to hide the genuine surprise in my voice.
“Shame you didn’t slide off.” Cass gives me an over-the-top wink. I roll my eyes.
“Hello?” I call out, trying not to look at the grotesque, tusked masks on the warrior icons’ faces. The air is so thin I might pass out. “We need to come in!”
Rahki laughs. “Haven’t you figured this stuff out yet? A knocked door . . . ”
“ . . . is always opened.” Of course. I step forward and rap on the knocker.
The click of a lock and the squeal of hinges sound in the shadows to our left. A hooded head pops out of a smaller, hidden door and waves us inside.
The man—dressed in a robe tied at the waist with rope—ushers us into a small, cubby-lined room full of rolled coats and cloaks. He greets us in a language I don’t recognize—long, wavy vowels and harsh, popping consonants. Rahki must understand, because she responds before translating.
“He’s wondering why the Maid Commander didn’t come.” She nods to my lapel pin. “But he saw your cross-keys and figured out who we were. He says the children are waiting.”
The kids? They’re the Hotel’s most precious guests?
The monk opens a door, and the sounds of children tumble into the hallway, all laughter and giggles. We step with a binding crackle into a warm, walled lawn. Painted stucco walls and lattice covered in honey-scented vines. Oversize half-man/half-horse statues playfully strum stone instruments. Soccer balls—I mean, fútbols—fly everywhere.
“This is where the Maid Service takes the kids we pick up,” Rahki says. “The Monastery’s a place of healing. All over the world—in every country, even yours—there are kids who’ve been taken, hurt, mistreated. Here, the Hotel hopes to undo the damage inflicted on them.”
Kids grab drinks and snacks from long wooden tables, and a group on the far side plays some variety of tag I’ve never seen. The scared girl from our Budapest mission plays a hand game with others on a picnic blanket.
“What does the Hotel do with them after?” Cass asks.
“Depends on what the children want. The Hotel’s job is to free them, heal them, and give them a choice.”
Cass basks in the sunlight. “Can they stay if they want?”
Rahki grins. “I did. But some need the kind of care only a real family can bring. It’s up to them where they end up. The Hotel lets them choose their own destination.”
The boy from the Congo with the missing leg runs alongside the fútbol players. It takes a moment before I register what I’m seeing. He’s not just standing—he’s running, fully upright, on a stone leg with a tiny, coin-size slot in the side. A prosthetic-leg icon, made just for him.
I finally understand. The mission, the guests . . . it’s all about these children. The Hotel provides kids who’ve been hurt a home, and a chance for a better future. I can’t betray this. Dad, Mom . . . they both did what they could to keep the Greenhouse out of Stripe’s hands because they knew this was at stake.
There’s got to be another way to get Dad back.
“We’re not inside the Hotel here, are we?” I ask. “The path . . . the buffer . . . ”
“It’s still connected,” Rahki says. “This place is protected by the same magic that keeps the Competition’s suits and docents out of the Hotel. The only way our enemies can get in is if someone bound to the Hotel invites them in.”
“And Nico? How’d he get into the Hotel?”
She twists her lips. “He was invited, just like all these kids were.”
Cass scoffs. “Who made that mistake?”
Rahki shrugs. “I don’t know. But he shouldn’t be able to get in anymore. The Hotel severed his coin. Without it binding him to the Hotel, Nico’s got no connection.”
Thank goodness.
Cass’s eyes glisten as she watches the kids play in the yard. When we get Dad back, hopefully, he’ll want to stay here too. I can keep working with Agapios. Dad will fill me in on Mom’s plan to stop Stripe. Maybe the Hotel’s magic can even keep Cass healthy, and give her the opportunity to do all the things she couldn’t before. And Oma can come, and we’ll continue to save all these kids. Together.
Cameron . . .
I spin around to find the source of the voice from my dreams. It’s louder than ever.
Through an ivy-covered arch on the far wall, I see . . . an illusion—like a shadowy figure waiting for me. Or maybe it’s not an illusion. Maybe it’s a memory.
“I’ll be right back,” I say.
Cass furrows her brow. “Where are you going?”
“Just . . . stay here. I want to check something.” And I head through the arch.
My path is clear. I march through the stone Monastery halls, weaving through ancient passages, passing door after door. It’s almost like I’m watching someone else navigate this maze instead of me.
Before long, I arrive in a dark cellar that smells of mold, facing a cedar armoire hidden in shadow. It’s here. It’s really here. And it’s no wonder no one’s found it—the cellar’s full of cobweb-covered barrels and years of dust. It doesn’t look like anyone’s been down here in ages.
I peek behind the armoire, but it’s so dark I can’t see anything. I reach into the shadows, and my hand finds a door handle. Yes.
It takes all my strength to move the armoire. When I finally get it to slide, it leans. I try to steady it, to keep it upright, but it’s too heavy.
The armoire crashes to the stone floor.
Wiping sweat from my brow, I take in the plain, rotting door behind it. I turn the knob, but nothing happens. Memories flood through me again. Glittery foam. A pearl key. A magic keyhole. This door was locked with Mom’s topscrew, like Nico locked the Alcove Door. Is that why it doesn’t show on the maps?
I pull out Mom’s key and turn it in the wood with a shimmer of foam. The door opens, and sunlight and the smell of wet grass draw me into the bright green reeds beyond.
There it is. The Vesima.
The tree I’ve dreamed about for months stands atop a hill before me. I never could’ve believed it would be this grand. The trunk is as big around as Oma’s house, taller than Cass’s hospital. Twisting, leafy branches hide the sun, letting only a few dappled shafts of light through the canopy to shine patches on the waving grass. A glass dome curls up and over it, speckled with condensation. A wall of hedges forms a circle around the inside of the dome, with doors at the north, south, east, and west.
The tree looks slightly different from the one in my dreams—no doors hang from these branches, nor is there one in the massive trunk—but deep down I know this is it.
I can’t let it stay hidden any longer. The Hotel needs this tree to continue its mission. I have to tell Agapios before Stripe—
“It’s even more impressive in real life, isn’t it?”
I whirl to find Nico, leaning heavily on a crutch in front of the doorway that leads out of the dome.
“Hey blood-bro,” he says, with a twisted smile. “Looks like you did it. You found the thing everyone’s been looking for, and with a day to spare.”
A rush of adrenaline plows through my chest. “How did . . . what are you doing here?”
He shrugs. “I followed you.”
“But I got rid of my coin. And the Hotel severed yours. You’re not allowed to be here.”
“You are, though. And I’m bound to you, blood-bro. Everything we have, remember? I sensed you were on the move, and so I followed our connection. As long as you’re welcome in the Hotel, so am I.”
The contract. He can still get in, because of me. “How’d you find me?”
Nico points to my pin-sleeves, and the pin Stripe gave me in Honduras. “You don’t really think Stripe would give you a direct line back to him, do you?” He grins. “That’s not a pin. But it did allow us to track you.”
I slide Stripe’s pin out of its sleeve and examine it. It looks just like all the others. How could I have been so stupid? “Dad’s coin . . . ”
“I never could access his memories, even after the contract. My binding’s too far removed from his. But taking your dad’s coin sure lit a fire under you to find this place fast.”
My heart collapses. In looking for a way to stop them from finding the Greenhouse, I led Nico right to it.
I rub my eyes with my palms, wishing I could rub Nico out of existence. “Why are you doing this? The Hotel’s helping people. Why do you want to hurt them?”
“I don’t want to hurt anyone.” Nico pushes off the door and hobbles past me, gazing up at the enormous tree. “Everyone does what they think is right, Cam. I know what I’m doing. You have to trust me.”
Trust. “I’ll never be able to believe another word you say.”
He sighs. “You’re probably right. But I bet you’ll believe me when I say you’d better hurry back, before all the action’s over.”
Action?
Cass! Rahki and the kids! If Nico’s still connected to the Hotel, then he could invite Stripe—
I rush back through the door to the Monastery cellar, leaving Nico and the Greenhouse behind.
“I’m sorry!” he calls after me.
I clench my teeth as I run up the stone passages. If Stripe hurts Cass because of me, I’ll never forgive myself.
24
Children of the Hotel
I burst through the door into the Monastery yard, and freeze at the sight before me.
“No, no, no.”
A dozen men and women in sharp suits fill the lawn, each brandishing a long, wooden sliver. The children are running, struggling to get away from Stripe’s docents. The monk who led us here is shouting, directing the children to flee, but they’re not fast enough.