The Hotel Between

by Sean Easley

  I rush for the hall doors to lock the gathered docents inside, but Orban steps in my path. With his hairy knuckles clenched, brow furrowed, hand bound to a bit of wall he’s since ripped free, he swings his drywall-bound fist at me, and I barely miss being clocked.

  Down the hall, the mob turns. No way can I unbind those doors while under attack from the lumbering Hungarian. It won’t take those docents long to make it back to the foyer. If only I was stronger.

  My attention flits to the angel statue, and the stone slit near the bottom of its robe. Sana said the coins bind us to the icons. The Hotel took my coin, but I still have Nico’s. And thanks to the contract, it’s bound to me by blood.

  Time’s running out.

  I roll out of Orban’s reach and bolt for the angel.

  As I slide the coin into the slot, the stone monstrosity stirs. Marble robes shimmer and turn to white fabric. Pale gray sculpture transforms to soft brown flesh. The icon strikes an attack stance and starts to draw a curved, flaming-white blade from its scabbard, but I will it to stop. I don’t want to hurt Orban or anyone else under Stripe’s control. I only want to keep them from pounding me.

  Orban snarls and charges.

  The angel zooms between us, smacking Orban in the chest and knocking him into the hall with the rest of Stripe’s servants. He rolls to a stop at the feet of the angry mob.

  With one last thought, the angel slams the doors and braces against them with its enormous hands. The docents crash into the other side.

  I give the icon a pat and a “Great job, buddy,” as I yank Nico’s coin from the slot. The magic dissipates, and the angel transforms back to solid marble. No matter how solid the statue is, though, in time that mob will still break through. I have to unbind the door. I just hope Rahki’s not on the other side.

  “Sorry, Rahki,” I say, knocking out the first hinge-pin. “You’re on your own.”

  I remove the final pin, and an eerie silence falls over the Museum.

  “All right, time to find Cass. In a creepy museum. Alone.”

  29

  Here’s the Beef

  As I head into the newly unguarded hall, the pins from the severed doors burn in my hand. Teal and white mosaics laid like wisps of wind draw me deeper into the Museum. Arched doors tower on either side, older even than those in Stripe’s Corridor.

  The missing kids are probably hidden behind one of these doors.

  I grab the handle on the first one, and I’m surprised to find it unlocked. When your entire security force is mind-controlled, I guess you don’t need to lock things.

  The heavy wood glides open to reveal a dusty hill—an old, packed sand dune. I leave the door cracked open and climb to the top.

  The peak overlooks an enormous hole in the barren landscape. It’s a quarry, filled with kids trudging up and down ramps, lugging heavy tools, digging into the exposed rock. The shirts of those who actually have shirts are sweat-soaked and riddled with holes. The rest are bare-chested, bare-legged except for small bits of cloth wrapped around their midsections. They all glisten with sweat from the hot sun.

  I want to look away, but I can’t. Many of these kids could’ve sat beside me in school. They look dirty, and . . . sad. Stern-faced men watch over them, making sure they keep working.

  Rahki said she was in a bad situation before the Maid Commander brought her in. How many stories like this are walking around The Hotel Between? How many people did Agapios’s House help before I gave the Greenhouse to Stripe? I always thought dying by one of the thousand-plus ways on my WWTD list was the worst thing that could happen to a person, but I was wrong. This is worse than all those ways to die, because these kids don’t have a life that’s theirs to begin with.

  “Looking for me, Mr. Cameron?”

  I turn to see Nico leaning against the door leading back to the Museum, cane in hand. He straightens his vest, a snotty grin plastered across his face.

  The eyes of the kids from the Monastery flood over me again, and all those scared faces solidify into one clear impulse.

  I’m going to knock Nico’s stinking lights out.

  I guess he doesn’t see it coming, or doesn’t think I might actually do it, because my fist slams into his chest with a loud pap!

  His cane clatters to the floor and he stumbles back into the hall. “Whoa, whoa, whoa! What’s that for? We got no reason to fight.”

  “No reason?” I shouldn’t be screaming, but I’m so mad I don’t care.

  “It’s all turned out okay,” he says.

  “How is this okay? You lied to us. To me! You even sicced Stripe’s henchmen on me.”

  Nico scoffs. “Hey, there were hench-ladies, too.”

  “And these doors . . . all those kids . . . ” I chew my tongue just trying to stand still. “How could you be involved in something like this?”

  He sweeps the cane off the floor. “Same as I picked out this tie,” he says. “One of many options.”

  I want so much to hit him again—to make him stop smiling. “You’re not even taking this seriously.”

  Nico’s expression dims. “Yes I am. You don’t even know how serious I’m taking it. You have to trust me.”

  “Trust you? Trust you?” My chest wants to explode. “You betrayed me. We were supposed to be blood-brothers.”

  “We are blood-brothers.” He limps toward his hat. “I only kept things from you to protect you, kiddo.”

  “You didn’t protect me! No one protects me. I’m always protecting everyone else. And stop calling me kiddo!”

  Nico sighs, and it sets my blood on fire. “You don’t know Stripe. What it’ll take to stop him.”

  “But you do?”

  “I do.” He brushes his hat off and slicks his hair back. Then he pulls his coin from his pocket and gives it a flip before starting down the hall, waving for me to follow.

  “You think I’m going to go anywhere with you?”

  “Yeah.” His voice is serious. Quiet. “What other option do you have? You want to get Cass back, right?”

  My face warms, but I hold my anger in. He’s right.

  He lowers his voice, rolling the coin over his knuckles as we walk. “Here’s the beef. With Stripe, everything has to be bought. He has to think he’s winning. As far as he’s concerned, he owns everyone he’s taken, just like he owns the docents you booted out of the Museum with that primo door trick. But that’s where I come in. If we want to get all of you out of here with your backsides attached, someone’s gotta pay. I mean, Rahki’s great and all, but you can only get so far beating your enemies with a duster.” He stops. “That’s why I needed you.”

  “You’re full of lies.”

  “Not a lie,” he says. “When I made that contract with you, I told you I was looking for someone who could trust me, no matter what. That’s still what I need.”

  I meet his gaze. “How can I ever trust you again?”

  Nico’s smile wavers. “You can’t. But I hope you will. We’ve got one chance to get this right. If you don’t believe me, then believe the contract between us. I promised to do everything in my power to find and protect your family. It’s a pact I can’t break.” He points his cane to the door at the end of the hall. “Go on. Stripe’s waiting.”

  30

  Binding in the Greenhouse

  The Greenhouse dome looks different from the first time I saw it behind the armoire. Dusky sunlight streams through the branches of the Vesima tree, warming the humid air. Leafy plants and flowers drip with condensation as though they’re sweating.

  But the plants are anything but green now. A dull, black residue drizzles off the leaves, snaking in murky streams down the hillside. Scattered flowers—so bright and colorful before—lie wilted in the dirt. Even the branches of the Vesima hang limp and withered, dripping with rotten fruit. Many of the lowest branches have been sawn off, left in scattered piles.

  “What happened to it?” I say.

  Nico shushes me and points to Mr. Stripe, who’s rummagin
g through baskets overflowing with fruit at the foot of the tree. Roots carve through the earth around him like a giant octopus pulling apart a ship.

  “Please excuse, sir,” Nico says, marching up the dirt path. “Cameron Kuhn is here to see you.”

  Stripe throws up his hands in delight. “Dear Cameron, what a pleasure! And so soon.”

  I nod, trying not to step in the streams of black bleeding across the path. “Mr. Stripe.”

  “Oh dear,” he says, “we both know that’s not my name. Although I daresay it’s one of the better ones I’ve been given.”

  Nico shifts next to me. It’s hard to think this awful man raised him to be who he is.

  “Our guest looks thirsty, Nico. It wouldn’t do to make him uncomfortable.” Stripe turns to me. “Would you like a soda? Tea? Or something more your style, like an icy, tangy Creamsicle?”

  He’s showing off, flaunting the fact that he knows everything about me. Who I am. Who I’ve always been. But I refuse to let him or anyone else define me. He doesn’t know who I really am. Only I know that.

  “I don’t need anything, thanks.”

  Stripe’s grin vanishes. “Oh, but you do. . . . That’s the reason you’re here, isn’t it?” He nods to Nico. “Fetch the family.”

  Nico limps away through one of the doors.

  Stripe’s not even pretending to be the kind, caring person I met before I came to the Hotel. He watches me with the same smug face Nico gets when he knows he’s made a good joke.

  “Why’d you have Reinhart take her?” I ask. “Didn’t you get what you wanted at the Monastery?”

  Stripe laughs. “Reinhart? Calling your father by his first name, now that you’ve met the real deal? Did Daddy not turn out to be what you hoped?”

  “What do you want, Stripe?”

  “Oooh.” He shivers dramatically. “So bold and brash. Sounds like my boy Nico’s rubbing off on you.”

  He grabs one of the nasty, soft fruits from a basket and takes a bite. I gag as the rotten juice drips from his chin.

  “The real question is what do you want?” Stripe says with his mouth full. “I’m only looking to make a deal. The way you care for your sister fascinates me. Mother Melissa, dead in a pit with her ideals. . . . Daddy Reinhart, running away as fast as he can. . . . Yet there you are, taking care of your sister like a good brother.” He swallows. “It’s no surprise the Hotel was interested in you, even though no one else appreciates you.”

  He’s baiting me. Keeping me angry, just like Nico does by calling me “kiddo.” But I can see through it now. He’s trying to manipulate me, but I won’t be yanked around anymore.

  “See, your problem is that you’re afraid to want anything, because you might not get it. Or it might not turn out to be what you wanted in the first place.” He closes the distance between us, and the juice squirts when he takes another bite only inches from my face. “I think what you really want”—squish, slurp—“is to be free.”

  “I don’t think I’d like your kind of freedom.”

  “You’d be surprised.” Stripe tosses the half-eaten fruit into the wilted grass. “I can provide safety. Here, all the responsibility is mine. And I take care of my possessions.”

  “You use them.” I reach for the coin at my neck, but of course it’s not there. A pang of panic ripples through me, but I have to remember that I don’t need Reinhart to be strong. He’s not who I am. I’m just me. “Agapios says you want power.”

  “Oh, I do like you.” Stripe laughs. “You like to keep things simple. Did Agapios tell you why I need power?”

  “No.”

  He drags his finger along one of the sawn branches. “People always want, but never have. They want friends until they get them, then they decide they don’t like their friends anymore. They want stuff, and then throw it away for more stuff. They get angry and sad and throw temper tantrums when they don’t get their way.” He rakes his fingers across the rough edge of the wood and jerks his hand back with a gasp of pain. “It gets under your skin after watching it as long as I have,” he says, pulling something out of his finger and examining it. “People are like splinters. The world’s infected with them.”

  “You want to get rid of people?”

  Stripe sighs and flicks the splinter away. “I don’t want to get rid of people. They’re useful, if you can keep them under control. I just think it’s time they were put to better use.”

  He eyes the Greenhouse door as it opens, and Nico rolls Cass through. Reinhart follows, head hung low.

  Cass makes eye contact with me, but quickly looks away.

  “Take your sister, for instance,” Stripe says. “You’ve taken care of her thus far, but you can’t take care of her forever. That’s why you went searching for dear old dad. You’re scared. But you’ve been so worried about losing her, you forgot to be happy about having her in the first place. I can free you from that worry.”

  “You’re saying you can keep Cass alive?” I ask as Nico rolls her up the hill, Reinhart trailing behind.

  “Better than alive! I can heal her. That’s the promise I made to your father all those years ago. If he’d kept his contract, your sister would be happy and healthy, and all that responsibility you feel for her would be no more than a passing thought.”

  It almost sounds good. Almost. But I know there’s a catch.

  Stripe turns his attention to Cass as she and Nico reach the foot of the tree. “Cassia, you look so lovely this evening.”

  She doesn’t. She’s in her pajamas, and her hair is unbrushed. And she looks . . . sad.

  “Are you okay?” I ask.

  “No,” she replies, but her tone says so much more, like, You should never have left in the first place, and, This is your fault.

  I want to give her a silent, I’m working on it, but she won’t look at me. I don’t know how I’m going to make this up to her. But I have to try. I can’t depend on Nico for help, either. He wanted me to follow his lead, but I can’t let things just happen to me anymore. It has to be my choice. Not Nico’s. Not Stripe’s. Not Reinhart’s or Cass’s or Agapios’s or the Hotel’s.

  This is my fault.

  I turn to Stripe. “Let’s make a deal.”

  Nico whips his head in my direction.

  Cass sits up straight. “What?!”

  But Stripe only grins. “A deal?”

  “Yes.” I swallow hard. “I want you to heal my sister, like you promised. And then I want you to release her, and end your contract with Nico.”

  What are you doing? Nico mouths.

  I’m not sure, but I have to do something. I know I can’t offer Stripe enough in exchange for all those children, but I can at least get Cass out of here. And if Nico’s no longer bound to Stripe, maybe he can return to the Hotel, tell them everything he knows, and they can come back for me. It’s a long shot, but if anyone’s crafty enough to get it done, it’s him. Rahki will have to get the Monastery kids out on her own, but she’s more than capable.

  Stripe laughs. “What price are you willing to pay for my protégé and the healing of your sister?”

  For Cass? Anything.

  “Me,” I say instead. “I’ll stay and work for you. I’ll take Nico’s place as your protégé. On my own. A willing possession—that’s the best kind, right?”

  “Cam, please,” Cass cries.

  “Oh!” Stripe claps. “Someone has done their homework! Has Nico been talking about my favorite things? No. Not Nico. I bet it was Sev.”

  “What does it matter, as long as you get what you want?”

  “It doesn’t!” Stripe exclaims. He walks over and throws an arm around Reinhart’s shoulder. Reinhart doesn’t move. He’s like the docents, bound and thoughtless. “You know, I offered your father the very same deal all those years ago. I wanted this Greenhouse, sure, but I wanted him to give it to me of his own volition. There’s something delicious about free will. The thrill of risk. I was so disappointed to have to take Reinhart’s will away when he broke o
ur agreement.”

  “So you’ll do it?” I say. “Heal Cass and let me take Nico’s place?”

  “No!” Cass says.

  “Don’t argue,” I tell her. “I know what I’m doing.”

  Nico holds Cass’s chair still with one hand and adjusts his hat with the other. The look on his face tells me I’ve probably screwed up his entire plan, but it’s my turn to take charge.

  “You really are Reinhart’s boy.” Stripe’s eyes narrow. “However, while I’d love the chance to see Agapios’s face when he finds out I’ve turned his choice for a successor into my own”—he casts a side-eye at Nico—“I’ve grown terribly fond of Nico. Few have his talent for binding. And to heal your sister . . . well, things like that don’t come cheap.”

  I shoot Cass a silent apology for drawing her into this, but she scowls at me. She’s probably angry with me for making this about her.

  “Here’s a counter-proposal,” Stripe says. “The only deal I could accept at your price would be for one or the other. In exchange for your unlimited, willing service, you can choose: Either Nico and dear Cassia go free, or I can honor Reinhart’s agreement and heal your sister. Freedom or healing. Up to you.”

  I hesitate. I want Cass to be better, but I can’t imagine making her stay with Stripe. “If I choose healing, would you bind Cass? I won’t do anything where she’s not safe.”

  “Wouldn’t dream of it. She’ll remain my guest, safe and cared for, as long as you and Nico serve me of your own accord. I’ll build two Houses, now. Very exciting.”

  “What if I choose freedom?”

  “Then Cassia and Nico may leave.” He smiles. “You will be bound either way.”

  “And Reinhart?”

  Stripe’s eyes darken. “Your father hid the Greenhouse from me for twelve long years. His freedom will cost far more than you have to give.”

  Cass’s glare burns through me. As much as I’m sure she’d love to walk and run and not worry about her complications, she’d hate me forever if I traded someone else’s freedom and condemned her to living with Stripe for it. That’s how this all started, with a deal to make her “well.” To give her what I’ve always hoped she could have.