Moon Child
Anyway, the teen boy led me along the main artery that led down the center of the hotel, past beautiful planters and water fountains and the pool. We plunged under Mediterranean Revival-style archways lit with hanging lanterns, and dashed quickly over Spanish tile that looked both ancient and impenetrable. We passed couples holding hands or sitting contentedly on ornate benches. We passed more crackling spirits, all of which seemed to have somewhere to go.
Now above us, shining like a mother ship descending from the heavens, was the jaw-droppingly beautiful north tower dome. I only had a glimpse of it before the ghost teen disappeared through a closed door. A closed locked door.
A very bloody and sheepish face appeared a moment later in the center of the door. Leland smiled and the ancient blood on his lower jaw almost seemed to sparkle.
"Through here?" I asked.
He nodded vigorously. I tried the handle. Locked.
"I don’t suppose you can unlock it from the inside, could you?"
He nodded again and disappeared back through the door. I next heard some very odd, lightly scraping sounds from the other side, and shortly his gruesomely handsome face reappeared. He shook his head sadly.
I looked from side to side, and didn’t see anyone paying particular attention to us. I then took hold of the doorknob and applied a smidgen of pressure.
The lock shattered and the handle broke off in my hand. Pieces of metal fell everywhere, inside and outside the door.
Lord, I’m a freak.
The shattering lock would surely have attracted some attention, and so I ignored the stares and pushed the door open like I belonged there. I kicked the broken knob inside.
Leland took my hand again, which felt a bit like plunging my hand in a picnic cooler, and led me up a very narrow spiral staircase that was clearly not meant for hotel guests, judging by how rickety and unstable it was. Who used this staircase and why, I didn’t know, but it felt unsafe as hell.
I heard the sounds of pots and pans banging, the sizzle of something or other, and someone shouting an order in Spanish. We were behind the kitchen, perhaps in a forgotten storage room, along a forgotten staircase. I suspected this old hotel, with its many additions, had many such forgotten rooms and staircases.
Sometimes our hands broke contact, but the teen boy would always reach back for me. Sometimes I could see the concern on his face, but mostly I saw his excitement. And with each step we took, my inner warning system sounded louder and louder. Perhaps the loudest I had ever heard it sound. So loud now that even the ghost boy turned and looked at me.
Jesus, had he heard my own alarm system?
There was just so much to learn about the spirit world, a world that had unexpectedly opened up to me these past few months.
Now we were at another door. This was unlocked and soon we were standing in a very long and creepy hallway. The hallway had been used for storage. Now, I suspected, it was long since forgotten. Old sinks and clawed bathtubs and disgusting toilets that turned my stomach.
He led me deeper. I noted Leland didn’t kick up any dust, whereas I left behind great swirling plumes of the stuff.
We hung a right and soon came upon another narrow flight of wrought-iron stairs. The boy floated up them effortlessly, whereas, I climbed up them as quietly as possible. I felt for the medallion in my pocket, suddenly wishing I had left it in the van, after all.
Lord, if I lost this…
The few breaths I took echoed loudly around me, filling the small space. The ladder seemed like it might creak, but mercifully, it didn’t. I followed the boy up, sometimes looking through a pair of ghostly buns.
We reached the upper landing and stood before another door and I had a sense that we were very high up. As high as the mosaic dome, no doubt.
"In here?" I asked.
Leland nodded. He had now made a full appearance, and I could see all the fine details of his handsome young face, a face that was now creased with concern.
Who knew ghosts could crease?
When I reached for the door knob, he seized my wrist with hands solid enough to pull my own away. Crazy goose bumps appeared instantly up and down my arm. He shook his head vigorously.
"It’ll be okay," I said quietly. "Thank you for your help."
"Please," Leland said, speaking for the first time, his voice a grating whisper. "There’s a very bad man inside."
I smiled and reached out and touched his face. A shiver went through me again.
"I’m pretty bad myself," I said, and opened the door.
Chapter Forty-three
The door opened loudly enough to wake the dead.
Hell, maybe it did.
Although I doubted I would ever sneak up on the vampire, any hope of doing that went out the window.
Or through the squeaky door.
The ghost teen stayed behind, clearly worried, and anything that worried a ghost should seriously worry me, too, I figured.
Except, I rarely backed down from a fight, even back in the days when I was very mortal. Bullies and assholes never scared me, and this French vampire piece-of-a-bitch was clearly both.
A narrow catwalk encircled the entire area, branching off in both directions. Above me was the inverted arch, sealing off the night sky. A small pinprick of moonlight made its way through a window. An open window, actually, and I suddenly realized how the vampire had been coming and going.
Below, the floor dropped down about twenty feet, to what appeared to be more storage. With the dome arching two stories above, there was, in total, about forty to fifty feet of open space here. Big enough for one’s voice to echo, and certainly big enough for a giant vampire bat to take flight.
As my eyes fully accustomed to the big, open space, I heard the sound of breathing. Short, frightened gasps. Coming from seemingly everywhere at once.
There, on the far side of the catwalk. A small figure was curled in the fetal position, shivering violently. He was still wearing his thin hospital down, which was next to useless. Fury raged through me. The boy needed immediate medical attention. The heartless piece of shit. I couldn’t imagine the horror this little one had endured.
The catwalk was even more wobbly than the last staircase. As I stepped onto it, the boy’s head rolled in my direction. My instincts were to run to him. Hell, anyone’s instincts would have been to run to him. Running to him would have entailed racing along the metal catwalk, which curved around the inside of the circular dome and hugged the gently sloping wall.
But I forced myself to stop. To think. To wait. Hard as it was. As nearly impossible as it was. I would be of no use to the boy if I died.
Although I couldn’t sense him, I knew the vampire was here. He had to be here. The only beacon of light energy that I could see formed around the boy. The vampire, like other immortals I had seen, was immune to my detection.