The Hotel Between

by Sean Easley

  “But Sev had enough control over himself to come to me. And to Nico,” I say, trying to sort it all out.

  “I did not, however, break my contract with Stripe,” Sev says. “As long as I obeyed Stripe’s instructions in the end, I could accomplish the task however I wanted.”

  Rahki continues to explain. “Stripe has direct control over his docents, but that control only goes so far. It’s limited by how close you are to him, and whether he’s talking to you directly. Beyond that, they make their own decisions. The contracts themselves, however, are very powerful. To break a contract that’s magically bound can cause some really terrible things to happen. If Sev had broken his docent contract, even if Stripe wasn’t around, Sev would’ve lost everything that makes him, him. He’d have become a mindless servant. And that’s not the worst of it.”

  The slightest smile appears on Sev’s lips. “Your bond with Nico is something else, though,” he tells me. “What is bound to Nico is bound to you—and Stripe’s Museum is bound to him. The Museum will trust you, just as the Hotel trusted Nico.”

  “But doesn’t that mean Cam’s bound to Stripe, too?” Rahki asks. “We can’t risk a mistake like that.”

  Sev frowns. “I believe Nico’s contract with Stripe is different, as well.”

  “Because Nico is Stripe’s successor,” I say. When I tell them everything Nico and Stripe said in Honduras, it all starts to click. “Stripe’s been grooming Nico to take over the Museum ever since my dad failed him.”

  “So Nico’s a true suit,” Rahki says, quickly understanding where all Nico’s cards are falling. “He’s not a servant, like the docents. He’s Stripe’s partner.”

  “That makes sense,” Sev says. “I missed it before, because I did not know how long Nico and Stripe had been together. I always wondered why he seemed so willing. Stripe needs Nico to make his own decisions. He would still have a contract, but that contract would allow more freedom than those of the docents. To Stripe, the ultimate possession is one that chooses to belong to you of its own free will. That is why Reinhart was able to break his deal with Stripe. He had a choice. As long as Reinhart did what he was contracted to do, Stripe could not control him outright.”

  “That’s why Mom . . . ,” I pause, not sure how to explain. “My mom knew that once Dad disobeyed, Stripe would gain control and he’d be forced to give up the Greenhouse. Either way, Stripe would win. But my mom made a new binding—no, she became a binding—between him and the Hotel. That bought him time to hide the Greenhouse, and bring Cass and me to Oma. He left their coins with us so he’d forget, and so he’d never be able to give Stripe what he wanted, no matter how much power Stripe had over him.”

  A dense quiet falls over the room.

  “At least your dad did something right before Stripe took control,” Rahki says.

  I’m a little surprised Cass hasn’t knocked on my door to see what’s going on. We keep forgetting to whisper . . . and she’s such a light sleeper.

  Then it hits me. If Reinhart broke the contract with Stripe . . .

  “Oh no!” I bolt for my door and throw it open, but it’s still bound to the snowy street somewhere on the other side of the world. “Plug! Give me a plug!”

  Sev digs the device out of his pocket and hands it to me.

  I unbind the door and race for Cass’s bedroom. But I’m too late. The room is empty.

  “She’s gone,” I say, leaning against the wall and sliding to the floor as Sev and Rahki enter behind me. “He took her.”

  “Who did?” Rahki asks.

  Sev grips my arm. “Reinhart. He must have escaped the Hotel and taken your sister back to the Museum.”

  “It’s all my fault.” I run my hands through my hair and squeeze a handful.

  Rahki kneels next to me. “We’ll find her, Cam.”

  I pull my knees to my chest, and something crinkles in my pajama pocket. An envelope . . .

  And a coin. Nico’s coin, right where it always is.

  “That sneaky jerk.” I hold the letter up so they can see my name in Nico’s flowing cursive.

  Rahki furrows her brow. “Where’d you get that?”

  “Nico’s trick coin.” Now I get it. All this talk of contracts; I never fully understood what Nico and I did that night in Honduras. “When we signed the blood-brother contract, his coin got bound to me too. Everything he has, right? Whenever one of us pats our pocket, even accidentally, the coin returns to that person, along with whatever’s with it.”

  She shoots me another disapproving look.

  “I haven’t sent him anything.”

  “Open the letter,” Sev says.

  I tear it open, but there’s more than just a note inside. A silver key falls into my palm.

  Hey blood-bro,

  Sorry for how everything’s turned out, but you know how it is. Gotta do what you gotta do. The exchange was the only way to get you your dad. I made a promise, and I kept it. Besides, I gotta make sure my family’s taken care of too. Hope you understand.

  The kids are in Stripe’s Museum, and your dad just showed up with Cass. Stripe thinks he’s won, which means he’s as vulnerable as he’s gonna get. I’ll keep everyone safe as long as I can. If you’re up for it, we can still have a little fun before my plan comes together. I don’t really need the help, but if you wanna join forces and have an exciting ride, I’d be happy to have you along.

  Whatever you decide, though. Don’t want to make you work too hard, right?

  Pretty much the greatest,

  Nico

  Rahki scoffs. “Does he really think you’re going to buy all that?”

  “Maybe.” Something about the letter feels . . . I dunno . . . right. “What if he’s telling the truth? I mean, he did tell Sev to wait for you. He set up the Jimenez house. And making the contract with me . . . helps us. That contract let him into the Monastery and the Hotel network, but now it’ll let us into the Museum.” I pause. “It’s almost like he was planning this all along. Like it was all an act to deceive Stripe. Make him think he’s winning.”

  “Nico is one to plot,” Sev says.

  “What if he’s lying?” Rahki asks.

  I examine Nico’s silver key. “Isn’t this why you came here? Nico just gave us a way in. He handed over the key to the Corridor, and he made me the key to the Museum. And anyway, Stripe’s got Cass. I have to go.”

  This is where I usually start thinking through all the things that could go wrong, and all my fears culminate in one big, grand No. Not this time. Sure, bad things might happen if we go, but something bad will happen if we don’t.

  “Sev, head back to the Hotel,” I say. “Get help. Not the Maid Commander—Agapios will understand. Tell him we’re going to find the kids and to be ready when we bring them home.”

  A smile spreads across Sev’s lips. “I will.”

  “Rahki, you’re with me. Let’s find Nico and fix this thing.”

  28

  Mapping the Maze

  The door at the back of the hospital mocks me. It looks so big, and I feel so small. I never thought I could come to hate doors, but right now I could take every door in the world off its hinges and burn them on the hugest bonfire in history.

  Nico’s coin is missing from my jeans again. I call it to me with a pat, and my pocket inflates with another message.

  Does this mean you’re coming? We’re gonna have so much fun.

  Pretty much the greatest,

  Nico

  “What did he say?” Rahki asks.

  “Nothing.” I wad the note and toss it in a Dumpster. “Let’s get this over with.”

  Nico’s silver key unlocks the door to the Corridor in a shimmer of silvery foam, and I lead Rahki toward the end with the big, shiny M. The Corridor is as I remember it—peeling wallpaper, checkerboard tile—but my memories of it are fading, bound to the coin I no longer have.

  I stop when we reach the M door. When I place my hand on the wood, I can feel my connection to Nico binding me to
it, like ants crawling under my skin.

  When I turn the knob, there’s no flash or glitter. The door swings open on silent, oiled hinges.

  Rahki pulls on her gloves. “Here we go.”

  We enter a large hallway. Thick carpet squishes like a sponge. Exhibits featuring centuries-old paintings line the walls, filling the air with the musty scent of things forgotten. Suits of armor. Weatherworn scrolls in display cases. Engraved silver nameplates on rounded cobblestones.

  Rahki takes in the glistening fixtures. “Do you know your way?”

  “No.” I run my hand along a wall of hanging silver leaves set against a black background. It’s interspersed with paintings of cities on fire, or crushed under tidal waves, or attacked by armies. “Stripe never brought me here.”

  Ahead, two kids pass in the adjoining hall dressed in spiffy suits. I pull Rahki into the shadows and wait for them to round the corner.

  “Docents.” She blows out a puff of air. “One step at a time.”

  We head toward them, staying on the balls of our feet. When we reach the corner, I spy a balustrade overlooking a foyer ahead. We must have entered on the second floor of the Museum. More turners, just like in the Hotel.

  I motion for Rahki to stop. Below us, an enormous angel statue stands with arms outstretched over the foyer. Polished steel swords and spears and axes hang from the ceiling, reflecting the light off the silver electric candelabras. People—kids and adults, all dressed in the same suits—are everywhere. Some stand scattered around the foyer, staring into space with sad, vacant eyes. Others plod across the room carrying books and platters of food, dusting mantles, changing light bulbs.

  Rahki tracks one of them with her finger. “See how they don’t even look around? These docents are bound to this House, and not in a good way. I’ve heard rumors about the Competition’s influence over others. They might as well be furniture.”

  One of the docents rounds the corner on the upper level and turns toward us. The boy walks past carrying a pail of cleaning supplies. He doesn’t react to seeing two people who obviously don’t belong here. In fact, he doesn’t acknowledge us at all.

  “Can he not see us?” I ask.

  “He sees, but he’s lost control over his mind. What’s left of him only knows what he needs to know.” She points to a hall leading off the foyer. Docents stand guard on either side of the entrance. “Looks like they’re protecting something.”

  After a moment, I recognize one of the guards. “Is that . . . Orban?” The Hungarian with the fur-patched cheeks stands beside the door, hands clasped behind him, gazing into space.

  Rahki clenches the rail. “I knew it didn’t make sense for Orban to turn on us. He’s under Stripe’s control too.”

  “Back in Budapest he was trying to tell me to get away from Stripe. If only I’d listened.”

  Rahki considers this. “I’m going to figure out a way around them.”

  I stop her. “If this place follows the same rules as the Hotel, wherever those doors lead shouldn’t have a back way in,” I say. “They’re probably like the sub-level to the Concierge Retreat. One way in, one way out.”

  “We need to get in there.”

  I lean against the door beside us and listen to the hum of its binding—that calming, unique sound of magic coursing through it.

  “Do you still have that plug?” I ask.

  “Mine and Sev’s.” She pulls the devices from her coat pocket.

  I drag her into a nook and explain my idea.

  “You want to unbind the Museum doors?” she says, obviously not convinced.

  “I want to set a trap. Like the trap in Budapest. The Museum works against us because we don’t know our way around, but it’s one of the great Houses, right? A bunch of doors bound together over time. If we rearrange the pins . . . ”

  “We rearrange the House.”

  I smile, and it feels good for once. “We don’t have to know where everything goes—just scramble the doors and the docents will be as lost as we are.”

  “Wouldn’t that take a lot of time?”

  “Nuh-uh.” I point at the double doors leading from this wing to the foyer’s upper level. “As long as we un-pin those doors, and the same ones on the lower level, this whole wing will be cut off from the rest. Like the wings the Hotel lost in the pin-failure.”

  “Unless other doors lead back here.”

  “We just need to buy some time. You said it yourself—these servants don’t exactly think on their feet. We mix up the doors, and that’ll give you the opportunity to find the Monastery kids and me to go after Cass and the Greenhouse.”

  I’m hoping Rahki doesn’t realize the one big flaw in my plan. If we trap all the docents on this side of the Museum, they’ll be stuck between us and the Corridor—our one reliable escape route. We’ll have to find another way out. But as many doors as there are in this place, getting out shouldn’t be a problem.

  “Okay,” she says. “Let’s rearrange some pins.”

  • • •

  I bend down to retie the laces on my Chucks.

  Rahki has finished re-pinning the doors on this wing to make a loop that should keep the docents occupied for a while. Our trap is set.

  “I’ll draw their attention and lead them into the hall,” I say, scanning the foyer below. “You hide up here, and plug the doors down there once they follow me inside.”

  She offers me a hand. “Good luck, Cam.”

  I shake it, and she takes her position at the top of the stairs. We’re committed now.

  I blow out the tension in my lungs and hurry down the steps, ready to start shouting.

  But before I make it to the bottom, the guarded door opens with a clank, and a short, scrawny figure with gelled hair steps through.

  “Hey guys!” Nico says, squeezing between Orban and the other guard with an awkward “excuse me.” He looks so much like Stripe. Same satin pocket square in his striped vest, same squatty straw hat, even hobbling with a perfect replica of Stripe’s rope cane. The sight makes my chest tighten. “Wasn’t sure you’d make it.”

  “You told us to come,” I say. No one else moves. The entire Museum holds its breath.

  Nico waves to Rahki at the top of the stairs. “Hi Rahki! Why are you hiding up there? Afraid I’m going to get you back for hurting my ankle?”

  I take a step toward him. “What are you doing?”

  “Exactly what I said I’d do. Helping you take those kids off Stripe’s hands.” He pats Orban’s shoulder. “But that’s what makes this complicated. Gotta stick to the plan.” He raises his voice. “Hey everybody! The future master of this House commands you to capture these two intruders and bring them to him!”

  At once, the servants drop what they’re doing and turn toward Rahki and me.

  “Run!” Rahki yells.

  I sprint for the hall, almost barreling straight into the hands of a docent built like a pro wrestler. He grabs my collar, and it rips when I duck under his arm. I stumble and turn, and what I see makes me freeze.

  They’re coming. All of them.

  Rahki leaps over the balustrade, gloved fingers sparkling with binding dust, and slams her palm into one of the docents. He sticks to the floor like a mouse in a glue trap. “Go!”

  And I do. A few more jukes and spins bring me to the double doors leading to the hall. The docents follow, just like we planned, but they’re too spread out. Some must’ve chased after Rahki. That’ll complicate matters.

  What’s Nico thinking? He told us to come. Maybe he is being controlled in a different way, and this is all Stripe, but how would I be able to tell?

  At the end of the first floor hall, I slip into the door Rahki re-pinned to upstairs. Our little escape hatch. The docents are hot on my trail, though. Before I can throw the door closed, the boy behind me slides his foot in the gap. No. No. No! I try to pull it shut, but he keeps pressing. If I don’t plug this door, our trap will fail. I slam the door again, and again, but he remains strong. A girl a
ppears behind him, adding her weight to his.

  I stomp on the boy’s foot and he pulls back, leaving his polished slip-on dress shoe behind. This is why you wear sneakers. I pull his shoe out of the way and slam the door.

  The door’s binding buzzes through me as I press myself against the wood, panting. The docents pound against the other side. If I can just get the pin out of the hinge. . . .

  I fumble for the plug, struggling to hold the door closed and dropping Nico’s coin in the process. The kids are strong, but my Chucks provide enough traction to brace against them. I try to pop the pin, but with the boy fighting against me the spring isn’t strong enough. It needs some extra force. A hammer. Something.

  My gaze falls to the boy’s shoe.

  I swipe the hard-soled oxford off the carpet. The door opens a bit when I bend over, but I’m able to shut it just as quickly. Back pressed against the door, I line up the spike and knock it upward with the shoe. The pin pops up an inch. Carefully—I don’t want to snap it—I give the pin two more hits, and it flops to the floor.

  The binding drains away with a shimmer.

  Success. The mob should still be in the downstairs hall, separated from me by the door I just unbound. We’re not done, though. This door’s unpinned, but there are still the doors on the lower level. Rahki was supposed to plug those behind me, but who knows what happened after Nico sicced Stripe’s attendants on her.

  I sweep the coin off the carpet and hurry down the stairs to where the chase started.

  Nico’s gone; the lower doors are still bound. I don’t see Rahki, but scattered everywhere are docents who met the business end of her duster. A girl’s hair is bound in a knot around a bannister. Another’s hands are glued over her eyes, causing her to stumble aimlessly around the room. One guy’s butt is stuck in a potted tree—leaving him rolling on the floor doing his best upside-down turtle impression—and a group of four are so twisted up in one another, I can’t tell where one ends and the others begin. The giant angel statue at the back of the room almost looks like it’s laughing at the scene. I have to remember never to tick Rahki off again.