Chapter 4 #2
I checked the window. “It’s locked.”
“Move.” Regge raised the sword and shattered the windowpane with a casual tap. He knocked the shards away.
The old man seemed to come around to the idea of leaving, and he climbed gingerly up on the sill and down over the edge. Reluctantly I followed, my body braced against the chill.
The ledge was almost a foot wide and ran the length of the building to a corner room balcony. Still, we were three stories up. The old man moved with the agility of a much younger man. Following, I held my breath until we reached the corner balcony.
Brick on the lower half and wrought-iron railing on the top, the balcony looked solid enough. I helped the man over the railing before looking back. Regge wasn’t behind us. Instead, one of the gunman appeared, gun brandishing out the window. My hands gripped the railing, the old man urging me over.
Brick mortar stung my cheek at the crack of gunfire. That got me moving, and I scrambled over the railing, flattening myself against the smaller man. Crouching on the floor of the balcony, we listened to a volley of shots hitting the brick half wall.
I reached up to try the glass slider. It was locked.
Of course, and only a matter of minutes before the gunman made his way along the ledge.
I let out a breath, looking at my companion.
The man looked about a hundred, but he could move fast enough when he needed to.
Once he got the idea that we were there to help, he’d been much more cooperative.
Not that we weren’t going to die anyway.
The slider opened, and Regge grinned at me, helping the elder into the room. I followed and he closed the slider, replacing the security bar in the tracks.
“How did you get past them?”
“Trade secret.” He pulled the heavy drape across.
After checking the hallway was clear, we looped arms on either side of the old man and ran for the stairs. We got to the second floor, and Regge, sword in hand, stepped away to check behind us.
I shuffled the man into a darkened alcove before pulling my phone and dialing 911. “There’s a fire at Hotel Fulbright on Lombard Street. And I think someone’s shooting. Send everybody.”
Now that we were out of immediate danger, the old guy restarted his protest. Regge returned, grabbed his arm, and we hauled ass down the stairs again.
“Dude, we’re helping you,” I whisper shouted.
The old guy scowled but said nothing as we ran up to the abandoned front desk.
“Where is our ghost?” Regge asked, stifling a curse when the bow tie clerk shimmered into existence.
“How may I be of service?”
“Is there another way out of here?” I asked, ignoring the old man’s babbling.
The clerk waved a hand toward the back. “We have a lovely terrace for our guests to enjoy.” Hustling everyone there, we closed the door against the night clerk. He merely popped into existence on the terrace with us. Definitely a ghost.
“You cannot take him.” The clerk sounded worried and conversed with the old man.
The lovely terrace was nothing more than a slab of concrete with cheap lattice surround and three rusting metal tables. Regge inspected the lattice for a way out.
I looked at the desk clerk. “You understand him?”
“Of course.”
“Great. Tell him those guys will kill him if we don’t leave. We will keep him safe, but we have to go.”
Regge had pulled away one lattice panel. “This leads to the alley.” In the distance, sirens sounded. Cops and EMS would be there soon.
“Not again.” The night clerk frowned. “They will disturb our guests.”
I pointed at the ancient man next to us. “This guy is your only guest. Now translate. Please.”
With a huff, the clerk turned to his guest. What started as a simple statement grew into an entire conversation as though they were catching up like long-lost friends.
Regge finally interrupted. “Are we leaving?”
The clerk turned to us. “Master Anu thanks you for your help. But it is not needed. He says the men have left and he will return to his room.”
“What? No.” I sighed, looking at Regge. Regge shrugged as people entered the lobby.
“Guests!” The night clerk shimmered away, leaving the three of us on the terrace.
I turned to the man. “Master Anu? That’s your name? How do you know the men have left?”
Regge stashed the sword behind the latticework and replaced the panel. “Hunter, he doesn’t understand you.”
“Right.”
The entrance door behind us opened and a burly dude in full turnout gear emerged onto the terrace. “You guys okay? We got a call.”
Regge turned all his charm on the EMS guy. “Our apologies, good sir. We thought there was a fire and called for your services.”
The firefighter smirked behind his visor, listening to Regge talk. He was enchanted (most people were) by his accent and old-world manners. Regge continued with his tale—a consummate performer, sounding both scared and innocent.
“We saw the smoke and assumed something was burning, but it was simple plaster dust falling. And miscreants across the way set off fireworks that sounded like gunfire. Our initial assumptions were woefully inaccurate. My sincere apologies.”
I let out a small huff as the firefighter leaned closer.
Softly, as though coaxing a kitten from a tree, he asked Regge to show him where we first saw smoke.
He was taller than either of us and built like a firetruck himself, with blue eyes shining under his fire helmet.
My gut churned at the way the hero looked at Regge.
“Of course,” Regge agreed, guiding the firefighter deeper into the hotel.
After they left me, the clerk popped onto the terrace. Master Anu mumbled and he translated. “My Master wishes to give his sword to, well, not you. The other one. Where is he?”
“He’s getting a date with a good-looking firefighter,” I said. “He’ll be back. Maybe.”
The old man chattered something to the clerk.
“He says your friend is special. Has used such weapons in the past.”
“Yeah, well… that’s true. So thanks, I guess.”
Master Anu seemed to know things a normal human wouldn’t. Like he was hyperaware of what went on in the hotel or maybe he was a clairvoyant too?
I studied the old guy again. He looked like a typical elder.
One of Mediterranean descent—dark eyes, deeply tanned skin, bushy white brows.
Sparse white hairs stood out against the darker skin on his head.
He’d been agile enough running from our assailants, but the ordeal had tired him visibly.
The man sagged and weaved where he stood.
“Please tell him I’ll get the sword to Regge, but he really should come with us. He is not safe here. Where are you going?”
Both the clerk and Anu wandered back into the hotel, conversing in the old man’s language. I watched as they ignored the uniformed cops and group of firefighters in the lobby and headed for the elevator. Strangely, no one on the fire crew stopped them.
I entered the lobby to talk to the response team. I’d given my name and particulars to the cop when the clerk emerged from the elevator, his eyes bright, his bow tie wobbling.
“Welcome to the Hotel Fulbright. How may I be of service?”