The woman tilted her head toward the Oracle. “I don’t have you on my list. What is your race?”
“Witch,” Riot said, stepping forward to almost block the Oracle from view.
The woman wrote the note on her clipboard and spun on a heel to continue. I already hated how much information they seemed to have when we had none. Either Vitoria had warned them we were coming, or that Seeker had dove much farther into my mind than I’d realized.
The hotel rose before us, black like everything else, but different. Taller. Each window, gleaming and spotless, but something about them felt wrong, like they were watching rather than reflecting. The entrance was a perfect archway, and as we approached, the door, black glass so thin I could see the suggestion of the lobby beyond—swung inward without a sound, without a hand to push it.
Inside was somehow more normal and more disturbing. A lobby with floors polished to an impossible shine, reflecting the chalice-light from sconces mounted on the walls. The front desk curved in a sweeping arc of the same volcanic glass. But the chandelier overhead was made of bones—delicate, white, arranged in patterns that seemed almost beautiful until you realized what they were. And the paintings on the walls, framed in gold, followed our movement with eyes that definitely shouldn’t have been able to move.
“Six rooms,” the woman announced to no one. “The registry now has you all accounted for. Rooms are upstairs. Dinner is at sundown if you aren’t summoned before then. Don’t be late again.”
She handed out ornate metal keys with a scowl. Pip’s key had a jewel embedded in the top.
She gasped. In a voice full of awe, she whispered, “Thank you, Nosy,” and immediately slid it into her pocket like she was stealing the thing.
Silas, who’d been silent this entire time, huffed at the woman with obvious disdain before following me toward the stairs.
“Your creature seems displeased,” she said from behind us.
“He’s always displeased.”
“Mmm. The rooms are warded to accommodate familiars. He may stay with you or take his own space as he prefers.”
Silas made a sound that was definitely not kind and followed me, because apparently even in a nightmare city, my familiar was going to be a grumpy, overprotective pain in my ass.
We climbed stairs, passing doors that shifted subtly as we approached, the surface rippling with faint symbols that appeared and vanished like breath on glass. The woman stopped at a landing where two doors stood across from each other. I watched as one shimmered, and a rune appeared on its surface, the mark for witch with a griffin’s symbol beneath it. Mine. The other displayed the symbol Tiberius had on his arm, sharp and clear. The hunter’s emblem.
Of course Wickett’s room was directly across from mine.
Of course it was.
“Convenient,” I muttered, stopping at my door.
“Or deliberate.” His voice was low enough that only I could hear. “The city knows, remember?”
“The city can mind its own business.”
“No one leaves by themselves,” Riot said, leading Aureth down the hall. She’d been quiet since we came, shoulders drooping as if the journey’s weight was finally wearing on her. Even though she looked in her thirties maybe, Furies, born or otherwise, lived forever. Not immortal, but they didn’t age. Clearly, she was tired.
“Did you see my key?” Pip whispered near my ear. “I’m pretty sure my room is special.”
I glanced at Calder. Traps came in special packages. He dipped his chin, fully understanding. “Let’s go see this special room, Pip Squeak. I’ll bet you a gold crown mine is better.”
She gasped. “I’ll bet you three buttons it’s not.”
They vanished down the hall, and Wickett leaned toward me. His mouth curved slightly. “We should meet. After we settle in. Discuss our next move.”
“Your room or mine?” The question came out before I could stop it, and heat immediately flooded my face at the implication. But I didn’t need what he thought I needed. Maybe I did, but this wasn’t about passion. Or sex. It simply couldn’t be. I needed him to show Vitoria mercy.
Wickett’s eyes darkened. “Whichever you prefer, little witch.”
I swung my door open without answering. Silas pushed past Wickett, shoving him sideways as he walked into the room with a huff that said he disapproved of absolutely everything.
Chapter 44
Syneca
I was born knowing the taste of ash and the weight of rebirth. Remember: the flame that births you will one day consume you, and this is not tragedy. This is the bargain we made with eternity.
