They both whirled away from Stone, their eyes bugging out and their jaws hanging open at whatever they were seeing.
The maid cart, suffused with the hellish red glow and seeming somehow bigger than its actual size, erupted from the alcove, smashing the gate into the side wall with a thunderingthoomthat shook the walkway beneath Stone.
Skinny and Tank Top had no time to react. The possessed cart did zero to sixty in a time that would have put a Ferrari to shame. It slammed into the pair of them with far more force thansomething its size and construction should have been able to manage, driving them forward into the metal safety railing.
The combined weight of the cart and their bodies at that speed proved too much for the cheap structure. It twisted with a wrenching metallic shriek and gave way, sending them flying, arms flailing and legs pumping, over the edge.
A second later, a loudcrashannounced their impact below, bringing an abrupt halt to their screams.
Stone scrambled to his feet, careful to avoid the broken part of the railing, and hurried forward to assess the damage. Around him, lights were coming on in the other rooms.
In the confusion of everything that had happened, he’d forgotten one other relevant bit of the Sunbeam Motel’s layout until now. The two drug dealers hadn’t fallen into the parking lot, perhaps breaking part of their fall on the hood of some hapless suburban family’s late-model SUV. Instead, barely visible in the darkness, their twisted bodies lay in an unmoving heap under the broken maid cart in the empty deep end of the drained swimming pool. A quick glance with magical sight revealed a pair of rapidly fading auras that winked out even as he watched. In a fitting touch, Tank Top—the one who had actually committed Luisa’s murder—was at the bottom of the heap, his thick neck bent at an even sharper angle than the echo’s had been.
Stone saw no sign of the red energy around the cart.
“Whatthe actualfuckis goingonout here?” a voice screamed from down below. A moment later, Frank the Night Manager came trundling out of his office, peering around as if expecting the motel to be under attack.
By this time, more sleepy, confused guests had emerged from their rooms and joined Stone at the railing.
“What happened?” a middle-aged man in an anime T-shirt and plaid boxers asked, holding tightly to a curious boy’s hand.
“No idea,” Stone said. “I was just looking for the ice machine, and—” He shrugged, as if to say,I got nothing.He disengaged from the growing crowd of lookie-loos and returned to his room before anyone else noticed him.
Luisa was waiting for him inside, floating in her usual place in front of the broken TV. This time, though, the rage was gone. Her smile lit up her face, making her almost pretty if it weren’t for her twisted neck.
“You could have got me killed, you know.” He shot a sour glare at her but couldn’t make it stick. Perhaps it made him a bad person, but he couldn’t summon a shred of sympathy for the two dead murderers. He wouldn’t have killed them himself, but he couldn’t deny they’d gotten what they deserved.
Her smile departed, replaced by something that could only be gratitude. She was already starting to fade, the silvery edges of her hair and her uniform fuzzing out like watercolors in a bathtub.
“Goodbye, Luisa,” he murmured. “Good luck on the other side.”
As her form lost coherence and drifted away, her silvery eyes were the last to go.
Stone realized he would never even know her last name.
Of course he didn’t get away without being questioned. The Sunbeam Motel quickly became a circus of whirling red and bluelights, overlapping bursts of radio static, and cops and crime scene investigators prowling around trying without much success to make sense of the bizarre situation. Nobody was getting any sleep.
The good news was, no one had seen Stone near the two dead men. None of the guests had been brave enough to emerge when the slamming and shouting had started, and by the time Skinny and Tank Top had made their fatal swan dive, Stone had been nothing more than a fellow curious onlooker.
He could tell the police were frustrated at the lack of living eyewitnesses, but he also got the impression they weren’t planning to try all that hard to solve this one. Apparently, he overheard after he’d gathered his gear and joined several other guests in a predawn exodus from the Sunbeam Motel, both men had extensive rap sheets and were wanted on suspicion of at least two other murders.
In other words, nobody was going to miss them.
He was sitting in the back corner of an all-night coffee shop an hour later, sipping a weapons-grade brew and scrolling idly on his phone, when a text popped up from Verity.
I know you won’t get this till tomorrow morning. Just finishing up some packing. Anything you want me to bring?
He smiled, picturing her dashing around her apartment, tossing things haphazardly into bags.No, got everything I need.
Her surprised reply came back fast:Wow, didn’t expect you to answer for hours. What are you doing up this early?
You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.
Try me? I have time.
The server, surprisingly cheerful for this gods-awful wee hour of the morning, came by and left another cup of coffee. She reminded him of Luisa: young, slim, with long dark hair and a plain, pleasant face. But unlike Luisa, she was still alive. Still in the world.
Still remembered.
