Parked in an unlit concrete alcove was what looked like a large maid’s cart—the kind the housekeeping staff employed to wheel their gear around as they went about their daily chores. It had a sizable central hamper for used towels and linens, several brooms and mops poking up from all four corners, and various bottles, jugs, and rags hanging from hooks along both sides.
Good one, Stone. Spooked by a maid cart.Perhaps getting a drink wasn’t the best idea after all if he was letting such things get to him. Maybe he should just go back to his room and try to sleep. Tomorrow, this would be all over.
Still…that feeling was coming from somewhere. And the cartdidlook rather sinister, crouching behind the gate like a dangerous beast someone had locked away.
Wait—had it justmoved?
He stared hard at it for several more seconds, but it remained still and silent.
Of course it didn’t move. Seriously, you muppet, stop acting like an idiot and get some sleep.He shifted to magical sight and scanned the alcove, half expecting the cart to burst through the gate and try to tear a chunk out of him.
It didn’t do that, of course, because it was a maid cart.
Itdid, however, pulse with the faint traces of the same flickering red energy he’d seen earlier, trailing behind the wispy figure in his room.
“Hey! What’re you lookin’ at?”
Stone, fully focused on the traces, jerked back like a kid who’d been caught flipping through a dirty magazine and dropped the sight. The red energy vanished. “What?”
The front desk clerk, the same hairy, wifebeater-clad sod who’d so smugly docked his credit card for three times his room’s normal rate earlier (“Hey, it’s Con, dude, take it or leave it”) stood a short distance away, watching him through narrowed eyes.
“What’re you lookin’ at?” the guy repeated. “You some kinda weirdo?”
Stone considered and discarded several sarcastic replies. Replying would mean he’d have to engage with this man. What did he care what was going on with the creepy maid cart? It wasn’t his problem. He’d be long gone by tomorrow morning.
“Sorry,” he said. “Just heading back to my room.” Yes, the drink could definitely wait until tomorrow night, when he could enjoy it in more appropriate surroundings.
“Yeah. Good idea. I wouldn’t suggest wanderin’ around. It ain’t always so safe around here after dark, y’know?”
Stone didn’t think he’d sleep very well, and he wasn’t wrong. Even this close to the ocean, San Diego still got swelteringly hot in late July, and the AC unit did little more than rumble ominously without producing a shred of cool air. All he could manage were brief, uncomfortable dozes, to the point where he’d just about decided to bag the effort in favor of catching up with some reading.
That was when he saw her again.
This time, she—and it was definitely a she—stood at the footof the bed, watching him. Even to his mundane sight in the darkness, she was clearly visible.
Stone sat up slowly, afraid he might startle her with any sudden movements. She looked more substantial now, and less wispy. “Can I help you with something?”
She didn’t react, but it was obvious she was aware of his presence. She remained where she was, motionless, as if waiting for something.
Stone sat up a little more and took her in. She was a young woman, middle twenties, with plain, weatherworn features and long hair drawn back into a ponytail. A utilitarian maid’s uniform covered her slim form. The two most remarkable things about her were her eyes, burning with a combination of anger and pleading, and her neck, torqued to the left side at a sharp and obvious angle and tilting her head into a position that almost suggested deep contemplation.
This wasn’t anything close to the first time Stone had ever seen a ghost—or an echo, as mages called them, since true ghosts didn’t exist—but itwasthe first time one had surprised him while he was in nothing but his shorts in a manky motel room.
“Can you speak?” He kept his voice even and gentle. Now that she was here, he didn’t want to scare her off. She was the most interesting thing that had happened to him all night.
She made no reply. Her intense, pleading eyes sought his.
“Is there something you want me to do?”
This time, her features twisted in frustration.
Before he could ask her another question, angry male voices rose from a short distance outside the door. Stone couldn’t make out what they were saying, but they were obviously having some kind of argument.
The ghostly maid’s face flushed silver with sudden fear, then deeper anger. She shot Stone another frustrated glance and disappeared once again through the wall.
Outside, the voices kept arguing. They didn’t seem inclined to stop anytime soon.
Most people would have left it alone and hoped it would go away. Stone wasn’t most people. A couple of drunk mundanes held little danger for him, and besides, they’d scared the echo away before he’d had a chance to figure out what she wanted. He pulled on his black Dancing Dragon Inn T-shirt and faded jeans, shoved the door open, and stepped out onto the walkway. “Oi! Want to keep it down out here?”
