Chapter 9 #3
The vault is at chest level for me, and I stoop to examine it.
I honestly can’t tell if the stones themselves are any different from what you’d find on the side of the road, but if I remember the geology unit from high school science, quartz is one of the most common minerals in the world, and particles of it can be found in pretty much any dirt or rock.
I can see the small chunks of pure quartz embedded in the cement used to hold the stones together.
And I can feel the miasma of darkness trapped behind them.
But I have no fucking clue what to do about it.
I hadn’t realized until this very second how much part of me was hoping that I’d know. That I’d get here, and it would be like one of those “chosen one” movies, where the good guy gets thrust into the bad situation and instinctively knows what to do to save the day.
That didn’t happen.
So now I’m just a scared shitless guy in a mostly dark basement with a bunch of ghosts and a soul-eating demon. And no idea how to get rid of said demon. Because let’s be real, whatever the ghosts want to call it, it’s probably a demon.
“Let’s go back upstairs.”
Back in the storage room, I turn off the flashlight and set it back on the shelf, then carefully lock the basement door. I check the handle twice—we definitely do not need any of the kitchenhands wandering down there.
Then I leave the storage room and head for the office, ghosts in tow.
“Where are we going?” Maisie asks.
“The office.”
“Why?”
“Because I need to check something on the computer and send an email.”
“To who?” Joe demands sharply.
“All the senior staff. We’re having a meeting about this.
They need to know. I can’t deal with it on my own.
” We need a plan. We need research and resources.
And we need a buttload more quartz. I want that thing so weak and locked down, it won’t even try to get out.
Plus, on the off chance it does, I need Ewan and Daniel fully informed and ready to come to my aid in the middle of the night.
The ghosts whisper among themselves as I unlock the office and turn on the lights. They’re still arguing when I boot up the computer. But by the time I log in and open the reservation system, they’re lined up in front of the desk, watching me.
I glance up at them. “Well? What did you decide?”
Hattie clears her throat. “We’re willing to trust your judgement on this.”
The warmth of acceptance settles in my belly, going a long way toward easing my panic about the whole situation. “Thank you.”
First, I tab through the reservation system, looking at the occupancy rate for the Garden Suite.
I’d rather not have guests in the same room as a vortex to the spirit world if we can help it.
Plus, if we’re going to try to close the damn thing, we’ll need access.
It looks like I can rearrange all the reservations during the week—we’re rarely full then—but for weekends, I’m shit outta luck.
We’re fully booked for the next four months.
Fuck. Well, not much I can do, at least not until I’ve spoken to Kieran. I block out all availability in the meantime, so nobody books it by accident—or before I can tell them not to—and then open a new email.
If I had my preference, I’d be waking them all up right now to share in my turmoil.
Instead, I try to be logical. The dark spirit and the vortex have been here for almost fifty years, mostly without issues.
Tomorrow is Sunday, one of the busiest days here, when everything is chaotic and everyone is running at full speed.
I’m better off waiting for Monday. That means calling Kieran in on his day off—he and Skye and I rotate taking days off from Monday to Wednesday so there’s always someone here to oversee things—but this can’t wait until the full staff meeting on Thursday.
I shoot off an email to all the senior staff, telling them the ghosts have brought a non-emergent but urgent situation to my attention and requesting they all be here for a meeting at nine on Monday.
Most guests have either already checked out or aren’t ready to check out at that time, and it’s early enough that there aren’t likely to be any tourists dropping in.
Monday is our quietest day in that regard.
There’s a school group scheduled to come, but not until around ten thirty.
“Monday at nine?” Hattie says, reading over my shoulder. “We’ll be there.”
I stop typing. “Actually, if you don’t mind, I think only one of you should come. It’s going to take them some time to absorb this, and I’d rather not have you all exhausted from manifesting when I’m sure we’ll need you at your best later in the week.”
Freddie opens his mouth indignantly, then pauses. “I suppose that’s a valid point.”
“But who will go?” Maisie asks plaintively.
“That’s up to you to decide among yourselves.
” No way am I getting dragged into that.
Although I do have preferences. I hit send on the email and shut down the computer.
“Okay, I’m going to bed. I probably won’t sleep, but I’m going to pretend to.
” And I’m not going to spend half the night hovering in the hallway outside the Garden Suite, trying to tell if the energy from the vortex is doing anything different.
I’m really not.