Chapter 30 Yiran
Yiran
The grand hall felt colder without Zizi and Rui. Yiran wasn’t sure what to do with himself. He stared at the intriguing ceiling,
spotting a mural of a man with the head of a horse shaking hands with another who had the head of a bull. Weirdly, they were
dressed in business suits and standing next to what looked like a giant arched doorway. Throngs of humans were on their hands
and knees, begging to be let through the door. Or perhaps, to escape whatever hell they were in.
Someone cleared their throat. The concierge was still here.
“I’ve never heard of your hotel before, and I’m pretty sure I know all the famous and exclusive ones,” Yiran said, casually
picking up an expensive-looking vase. He wasn’t sure what to make of the decor of the hotel. It was a mishmash of things from
different eras and styles, but there was something beautiful about the eccentricity of it all.
The concierge pried the vase from his hands. “We have an extremely private clientele.”
“The rich and powerful?”
“Would you like some tea? Madam Meng is famous for her blends,” she replied coldly.
Yiran nodded and she left the room. He pulled his phone out and called Ash, who picked up after the first ring.
“What’s wrong?”
“Why is that the first thing you say to me? Where’s my, Hello, dearest little brother, how are you?”
“Hello, my dearest little brother, are you back at the Academy?”
“No, I’m with Rui.”
“Flouting the curfew for a detour date before you go back to campus? I didn’t think she was your type.”
Shit. Yiran had forgotten about the curfew. “I don’t have a type,” he said. “I’m calling because I’m at The Reverie.”
Caught off guard, Ash made a surprised sound.
Yiran beamed at his own reflection in a glass cabinet. “So you have heard of it. Tell me more.”
“Why are you there? Did you meet the owner?”
“Madam Meng? Yeah, I did. Why?” His discomfort grew when he thought of the foreboding old lady. Zizi and he had one thing
in common: scary grandparents. “I’m here because Zizi needed to be. We, uh, ran into him, and I sort of maybe gave him a ride
here.”
“How did you run into—wait, never mind. Get back to the Academy and keep your ass in your room. There’s a Hunt starting right
now.”
“Sorry, you must be busy,” Yiran said, mentally kicking himself.
“Yeah . . . things haven’t been going well for us.”
“But you picked up your phone—”
“Because I saw the caller ID, my dearest little brother. I have to go.”
“Be safe,” Yiran said. But Ash had already hung up.
Yiran spun in a half circle, pondering Ash’s slip. What was it about this hotel and its owner that got him so worked up?
There was a clink of china.
“Here’s your tea,” said the concierge. “You may wait here until it’s time for you to leave.”
“Can I take a tour? See the presidential suite, perhaps?” Yiran smiled winningly. “Please?”
She was unmoved by his charm. “The garden is open for viewing, but everything else is restricted for non-guests.”
Yiran took his drink. The concierge spared him no attention as he sauntered out the front doors.
The night was quiet. Cradling the cup of tea in his hands for warmth, Yiran walked until he found a stone path leading to a bench near the edge of the hill.
The city’s lights twinkled in a sea of ink.
Since the curfew was on, the highways were empty except for the occasional vehicle.
He had to get going, but he couldn’t leave without Rui.
Deciding to check on her in a few minutes, he sipped his tea and sat down, staring out at the view.
Things haven’t been going well for us.
Ash had sounded uncharacteristically ruffled by what was happening at the Night Hunt. Yiran was suddenly appalled by how unconcerned
he’d been in the past whenever Ash went out on an expedition. He’d grown up with the idea that his half brother and grandfather
were invincible. Put them on a pedestal, worshipping them in his own way like small gods.
But they were only human. Fallible and mortal.
Ash will be fine. He was a gifted Exorcist, and his team had his back. The Hunts were meticulously planned to keep casualties low. Ash would
be fine.
“You seem troubled.”
Yiran jumped in fright and dropped his cup. The grass sizzled and smoked in spots drenched by the tea. He clutched his stomach,
wondering what he’d just ingested. It wasn’t poison, was it? He felt fine.
“Sorry about your tea,” said the little girl who had appeared out of nowhere. She was about eight years old, with a crooked
smile and eyes bright with an uncanny cleverness. She did not look the least bit apologetic.
“It’s okay,” Yiran said. “Are you lost?”
“I am not lost.” She cocked her head. “Are you?”
“No.” He sat back down.
The little girl scooted next to him. Her legs barely reached the ground. She dangled them, kicking the air. She didn’t have
a jacket or a coat on, just a frilly lilac dress and a matching cardigan that looked too thin for the weather. A sparkly brooch
was pinned to her cardigan, and upon closer look, Yiran saw it was in the shape of a skull with a rose covering one eye socket.
It was odd, but who was he to judge what little girls liked?
She had to be a child of a guest at The Reverie. Maybe her parents were drinking vintage wine in a classy dining room, and
she’d snuck out because she was bored.
The two of them sat in companionable silence.
Yiran’s thoughts meandered back to his friends.
Friends . . . Were Rui and Zizi his friends?
Rui had said they were friends back at Song Mansion.
You’re connected by the spell and her magic, that’s all.
Don’t lose sight of your goal, Yiran reminded himself, annoyed with the part of him that was feeling guilty.
Squelch.
He turned to the little girl. She smiled, puffed up her cheeks, and squished them again.
He wagged a stern finger at her.
She giggled.
The night breeze skittered across the hill, rustling the leaves on the ground and ushering the scent of flowers and tea. The
little girl shivered and rubbed her arms. Her face was looking pale to the point of being sickly. Yiran hadn’t noticed the
bruised circles under her big, round eyes earlier either.
“Why don’t you go inside where it’s warm?” he suggested.
She shook her head and plucked a rose from a nearby bush.
“Want my jacket?”
She peered at him curiously, considering his offer. Then shook her head again.
“Don’t take things from strangers. Bet your mom taught you that.” He laughed.
“I don’t have a mom.”
Yiran wanted to kick himself. “I’m sorry.”
The little girl smiled. “Don’t be.”
His heart twinged. He saw himself as a young boy standing in the middle of the courtyard at Song Mansion, heard the sound
of a gate closing.
“It’s not that bad,” the little girl reassured him. “I still have family.”
“I’m glad. I’m Yiran, by the way. What’s your name?”
“Seven.”
“That’s an unusual name. Very pretty.”
Seven gave him a toothy grin. “I like you. You’re nice.”
“Why, thank you, that’s a very kind thing to say.”
She placed her small hand on his much larger one and squeezed it briefly. Her skin felt like ice. Maybe she was ill. He should get her back to the hotel before her family blamed him for letting her catch a cold or something.
“I’m looking for my brother,” the little girl said suddenly. “You wouldn’t happen to know where he is, would you?”
Why would I? Yiran shook his head. “I’m sure he’s probably in the hotel.”
Seven scratched her nose and stared into the distance with a faraway look on her face, as if she were listening to the wind.
“I don’t think so.” A different smile appeared on her face. It made her look like a feral fox cub. “Did you know there’s a
library inside? It’s full of stories.”
“Aren’t all libraries full of stories?”
“It’s a special library.”
“What’s so special about it?”
“I can’t tell you.”
Yiran didn’t know how to respond. He wasn’t very good with kids. They required patience, and right now, his was wearing thin.
It was time to check on Rui and Zizi.
“Why don’t we go talk to the nice concierge lady?” he said. “I’m sure your brother’s somewhere inside. The concierge can help
you find him. I’d go search with you, but I’m not a guest of the hotel, so I’m not allowed in the facilities.”
Seven giggled. “Neither am I.”
“Sorry?”
“I can’t go inside.” Seven lowered her voice conspiratorially. “You see, I have to be invited.”
“Invited?”
“Mm-hmm.”
Seven held up the rose. Except it was no longer red. Color drained from its petals, leaking down its stem like rivulets of blood, pooling in the palm of Seven’s small hand. When she looked up at Yiran again, her irises had faded to a light gray and her hair was turning translucent.
He jerked out of his seat. “Who are you?”
But the question that came to his mind first was, What are you?
“I told you. I’m Seven. You must have a poor memory.”
The pool of red in her palm seeped into her flesh. A flush returned to her skin. Her hair was once again a pretty dark brown
and her eyes glittered with life. The circles under them were gone. The gray rose crumbled to ash, and Seven flicked her fingers
absently.
“What kind of magic is that?” Yiran said, his voice strained. She was just a child. How was this possible?
She smiled slyly. “It’s not magic.”
“What do you mean it’s not—” His phone rang shrilly. Yiran smacked it to his ear.
“Yiran? Are you with Rui?”
“Ada?”
“I checked both your rooms, but no one was there, and I can’t get hold of Rui. Come back to campus right now. Something happened—”
“Slow down, Ada. What’s wrong?”
“There was an ambush during the Hunt. Exorcists are hurt. Are you with Rui?”
Yiran’s stomach did a flip. Ash was part of the Hunt. “Yeah, I’m with Rui. We’ll head back now.” He hung up and ran a trembling
hand through his hair. The night suddenly felt rife with secrets and violence.
Seven’s voice spoke from behind him. “It was nice meeting you, Yiran. I do hope your brother’s okay.”
Yiran froze. “I never told you I had a brother.”
Heart thumping, he turned, not knowing who or what he would see.
But the little girl was no longer there.