Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
After the overwhelming trauma of the day and with horrible thoughts bouncing around in my head, I thought I would never sleep soundly again.
But I slept like a log. As soon as my head hit the pillow, I was out.
I can only attribute it to using all that magic.
My brain might still be actively freaking out, but my body was done.
I slept so hard that when I woke up, I almost felt hungover.
Daisy stayed with her dragonette friends, which made me kind of miserable. Then I had to deal with my conscience, telling me I was being unbelievably selfish. I need to be happy for Daisy and be here if or when she needs me.
I’m up bright and early. I have already stuffed my face with breakfast. Taking Owen’s advice to heart, I ate more than usual. I dress carefully in a high-neck, cap sleeved, navy cashmere midi dress and knee-high boots.
I’ve left my hair down, and it swishes against my waist as I make my way to my office. I need to have it cut, but I know if I do, I will hate the shorter length. So, I will refrain until it really needs it. Although, with the new magic sloshing through me, that might be some time.
I’m startled when I see Atticus sitting in the lounge area of reception, casually drinking a mug of something. I presume coffee. Not blood. Gag. He assesses me with those black eyes of his, and once I’ve passed some vampiric test, he greets me with a silent nod.
“Morning,” I say, returning his nod.
“Good morning. I see we have more guests, the tree fae.”
“Yes. I hope they won’t disturb you. Your privacy and comfort are important.”
“Not at all. I like the changes you have put in place. It makes for more of a pleasant stay. Don’t worry, I won’t eat any of them.” He flashes his fangs.
I roll my eyes at his theatrics. He’s not the first vampire that I’ve dealt with, even if he is the first pureblood. But the guy is super old, and he has a reputation to maintain.
“That’s good to know. Although I should warn you, my magic will not allow you to harm another guest. Please let me or Larry know if we can help to make your stay more pleasant, or if you need anything.”
“I will. Thank you, good lady.”
“If you’ll excuse me.” Atticus nods and I spin away.
I head to the back of reception and my office.
But a stray thought stops me in my tracks.
Burning curiosity. I turn back to the vampire and the nosy question spills from my mouth.
“What are you doing here?” I wince. Yeah, I said that so beautifully.
“You can tell me it’s none of my business, but you are…
”—I point to his immaculate suit and the whole ‘grrrr I am a pureblood vampire’ thing he has going on—“and this is…” I wave my hands at reception and bug my eyes meaningfully.
“The hotel was not a nice place to stay before I arrived.”
Atticus tilts his head to the side, and his black eyes take me in again. I’m almost positive he’s going to tell me to get lost. “I loved a woman once. She went missing and all I could find led me here. To this hotel.”
“Oh,” I say eloquently. Well, that’s deep. I wasn’t expecting that. I shuffle from foot to foot but maintain eye contact. I’ve inadvertently asked a painful question and now I must see it through. The least I can do is look him in the eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“I will stay until I can find what happened to her.”
Oh. My stomach twists when he allows me to see the pain in his eyes.
It is like a real-life tragic love story.
My lower lip wobbles in sympathy. “She must be a very special person.” I can’t imagine being loved that much or loving someone so much that I can’t move on.
My eyes nervously flick about reception.
“There is something not right about this place.”
The vampire’s black eyes narrow. I take that scary look as confirmation. I think little of what goes on here will get past him. I’d love to pick his brains. I’m sure, in talking to him, I’d get the nitty-gritty of this pocket realm.
But you have to give a little to get something back. Build trust.
So I aim for honesty, hoping sometime soon, the vampire will help me.
I nervously lick my lips and plough on. I need to trust my instincts.
“When the dryads arrived, they brought a sacrifice. They wanted me to drain a girl of her power. Her life force. Erin… She’s nice…
She’s alive,” I squeak out as I wave my hands in the air.
“I didn’t, you know, urm, drain her. I’d never hurt an innocent.
” I shrug and scratch the back of my head.
I drop my voice. I should have put a privacy bubble in place, but my magic tells me there is no one else around.
“Look, it’s only day two, but no matter how long it takes, I’m going to get to the bottom of everything.
If I can, you know, find answers about your lady friend…
Help…” My words come to a stumbling halt when he scowls.
His anger rents the air around us. My heart jumps a beat and my stomach flips. Shit, this creature is scary.
He takes a deep breath in, and it’s like a mask falls into place. “Your kind words mean nothing. I’ve given up hope. I know she is dead.” He taps his chest, and his voice drops darkly. “I just can’t seem to move on. That’s what happens with old things. Change is hard.”
“Not just when you’re older. I hate change.” I wrinkle my nose and scratch my wrist. “It gives me hives.” Atticus’s top lip moves in an awful semblance of a smile, and with a dismissive nod, he takes his mug of coffee and prowls away.
I sigh with relief and wipe my sweaty palms on my dress. That wasn’t a conversation I thought I’d be having with the vampire council leader. I think he is the European leader, actually, not just Britain.
I shiver and scamper to my office. Let’s hope the knowledge of his lost love doesn’t bite me on the bum and he kills me. I puff out my cheeks and la-la in my head for a few seconds.
I have a meeting with Nyssa, the nicer host. Hopefully, I’ll find some answers. I don’t know this lady. I know I can’t blindly trust her. I can’t blindly trust anyone. So even though she was nice to me when we first met—well, nicer than the other hosts—I must remind myself she is not a friend.
I debate on where to take the meeting. I don’t need to be showing her any more than I already have. So I decide to use the conference room again. Larry said the conference room only opens for council meetings, but I find no issue.
I take the same seat and strum my fingers against the glass table as I wait.
The time ticks. I’m early. In the end, I don’t have to wait long.
The meeting magic pulses in my chest, in the rhythm of a telephone.
When I acknowledge the weird sensation, the air in front of me shimmers and there she sits.
“Hello, Tuesday.” She greets me with a warm smile that I instantly don’t trust. I’ve seen the same look reflected on my face.
“Nyssa, thank you for meeting me.” I smile back with my own professional but fake warmth.
“I am happy to. Now, you must be bursting with questions. Let’s start with you asking me everything you need to know.”
Wow. That is blunt. I have the almost overwhelming urge to word vomit everything that is going on in my head. I smack the eager words back down my throat and prioritise what I want to discuss. What is the most important?
My mouth is dry. “Thank you. That’s a kind offer.” I swallow and a mug of tea appears on the table. I mentally thank the magic and wrap both hands around it. Nyssa watches the whole thing, a flash of greed in her eyes. Interesting. Can her pocket dimension do that? Or is it unique to mine?
It’s not important. I need to come to grips with this entire power sucking thing because if I don’t, it’s going to drive me crazy.
“Do they pay? If you have a hotel in your dimension, do they pay to stay as a guest?” What I’m getting at is, do they pay with people?
I still can’t get over the whole situation with the dryads.
It is sinister. The entire host thing is so snide.
“Well, there’s only ever been one hotel in our history, and that’s yours.
No one else has strangers coming into their dimension.
The security risk is immense. I would never put myself in that situation.
My pocket dimension is small, with no outside space.
I use my magic to build magical spaces—trinkets like bags, storerooms, nothing too elaborate.
My clients love the fact that they can buy a magical bag.
It weighs next to nothing, yet inside it holds their entire wardrobe.
” She leans forward in her chair as her eyes assess me.
“The host that created your dimension wanted to help people. Can you believe that?” She titters into her hand.
“He was the first to die. He wanted a world that could be a sanctuary.” She wrinkles her nose.
“But he didn’t have the power. It was in a time when communication with the other worlds was difficult, not like it is now.
I’m sure with your connection to Earth you’ll be able to get enough guests.
To answer your question, people do pay, and not all ways are monetary.
To maintain the bonkers idea of keeping a sanctuary, you’d have to leech off your guests’ power. ”
Stealing people’s power seems to be a common theme.
I hunch in the chair and hug my arms around myself. I’m uncomfortable. It looks like my disgust in the dryads was unwarranted. They were so desperate, and they thought they were offering the right thing.
No wonder hosts have been hunted down, the snarky voice pipes up. This time I must agree; it doesn’t look good.
Nyssa continues, seemingly not aware of how uncomfortable I am.
“I guess you can charge money. Many a host has become exceedingly wealthy from our gift. That’s what I do.
But in running a pocket realm, energy matters.
If you ignore the risks, the whole hotel idea has merit.
Say you have guests—their essence adds to the magic.
It’s different with every host and every dimension.
A small dimension like a storeroom can be powered for a thousand years with a few seconds of someone’s life force—a drop of blood.
A realm the size of yours”—she looks out of the window—“with the way it has grown, you might require years.”
I’m unable to cover my horrified expression. I blink rapidly. Is she for real? I’ve given up my career in retail management for a hotel, a realm, that will cannibalise its guests.
Oh my goodness, what have I done?
No, there’s no way I’m allowing it to do that. What about Owen? Has this bloody hotel been eating him? I think I’m going to be sick.
“Look at your face. You don’t have to do that, Tuesday,” Nyssa says, her eyes bright with understanding.
She waves her hand across my arm, like an air kiss.
“Close the hotel if the idea is so terrible. Keep your magic to yourself. You don’t have to worry if you think about yourself.
Why would you waste your magic on helping others anyway?
No one else cares we hosts are dying. Take the power back, shrink the world to a manageable level and live your life.
” Nyssa narrows her eyes. “You want to help people?” She smirks at the idea and at what she sees on my face.
“But you hate the idea of a power exchange. Think about it another way. You’re from Earth? ”
I do an odd little shrug of acknowledgement. My shoulders and neck are so tight.
“You spend, say, eight hours of your life a day working to earn wages to live. Your time in exchange to pay your bills. Yes?” She stares at me meaningfully and I nod.
“Staying in your pocket realm, your sanctuary”—her nose wrinkles and she snarls the word with disgust—“the guests pay in power rather than money.” She leans back in her chair and does a little stretch.
She rotates her wrists in a way that, if I was with her in person, I’m sure I’d hear the click of her joints.
“Both ways suck a little on the soul. At least this way, the hypothetical guest doesn’t get sore feet and the hours in the day are their own.
“The balance is up to you.” She holds her hand out and tips it like a scale.
“Which way the needle falls. Too much and you hurt people. Not enough, and the pocket dimension disintegrates around you.” She wiggles her fingers.
“This balance doesn’t make you evil. It is just a different payment system than the one you’re used to.
You wouldn’t get much power from a pixie, barely a drop.
But you could take a sizeable chunk from an immortal, like your hellhound. He wouldn’t even notice the exchange.”
Her explanation makes me breathe a little easier. It makes sense in a freaky, horrific way. Not that I’d touch any of Owen’s power. Or anyone’s power without permission. It’s not something I could ever condone ’cause I’m not a psychopath.
This conversation highlights the difference between the hosts and me. I’m never going to belong, and you know what? I’m happy with that. I don’t want to.
I think what hurt me about Erin’s entire situation was that I could see myself in her shoes. I’ve always been seen as the weak person in a group. I do not doubt that in a reverse of fate that involved witches, it would have been me up for the role of sacrifice.
“I could pay the cost,” I mutter.
“No, that’s not possible, and it’s completely unrealistic.
The magic doesn’t work that way. As I said, magic requires balance.
But you don’t have to keep The Sanctuary open.
You don’t have to have a hotel. You can just close your doors and pretend this has all been a bad dream.
” She smiles with satisfaction, happy with her advice.
Huh. Maybe a little bit too happy.