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CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

THE SERENE MAPLE HOTEL WAS a two-story clapboard building with a balcony running its length and multiple stairs giving access to it. Like many buildings in Gouverneur, it was painted red with white trim. The shutters were white, too.

It looked clean and modern, but the clapboard was warped in places, and what should have been sharp, straight lines at corners and along the roof and windows showed telltale curves and wobbles that the sparkling paintwork couldn’t hide.

“What was the room number?” Harper asked me, as she tested the edge of her knife, then slid it back into her boot.

“I didn’t get that out of King,” I said. “I was going to ask at the front desk.”

Harper rolled her eyes. “You figure they’re just going to tell you and hand over the key so you can do your own investigation?”

“I didn’t think about it,” I told her. “I was too busy getting us out of town before King figured out we were leaving. And I can’t see why asking the receptionist won’t work.”

Harper sighed. “Okay, we’ll do it your way. But let me do the talking.” She took off her hat. Then she studied me. “Give me your scrunchie.”

I touched my hair.

“Come on, give it.” She held out her hand.

I pulled the scrunchie out and gave it to her. Harper quickly pulled her hair up and tied it with the scrunchie. It swung in a long ponytail from the crown of her head.

She looked ridiculously young, even though she was still wearing her basic, monotone black. Without her dramatically black hair framing her face, you could clearly see the feminine lines and firm jawline.

“Maybe you should swap coats with me,” I suggested, for mine was a camel-colored wool coat I’d found in my mother’s wardrobe. I’d worn it since arriving at Haigton, and it no longer smelled like my mother.

“Nope,” Harper said firmly, reaching for the door handle. “Pockets are a hunter’s toolkit.”

We got out and headed for the reception room, which was at the far right of the building, with a big, fixed-pane window. Harper didn’t walk like herself, which was normally a long-legged, determined stride. Her steps shortened and she almost bounced along. Her ponytail swung in big arcs.

She pulled the front door open, setting off a short electronic beep, and causing the teenager behind the desk to look up with a bored expression.

“Hi!” Harper warbled. “This is the place, right? Where that guy died? My mom says I’m wrong, but I’m right, right?” She leaned over the counter toward the kid. “Please tell me I’m right. She said she would buy Fleshwater’s, my copy sucks, you know?”

I realized with a start that I was the mom in her story.

The kid said, “Don’t get the live track. They suck live.”

“Oh, I know! ” Harper rested her hands on the counter, which, combined with her lean, put her cleavage on display between the open edges of her button-down shirt. “What room was he in? The body? It’s so gruesome , right?”

The kid seemed to agree that it was gruesome. Then his face fell. “I don’t know what room,” he said. “The cops were there for days. I wasn’t on when they found him. The maid took a week off. And the cops took our log books. Sorry.”

Harper’s face fell. “Yeah, that’s too bad. But, I was right.” She turned to me with a triumphant expression. “You owe me.”

“Yes, it seems I do. Are we done here?” I put on my best impatient mother expression.

Harper looked at the kid and rolled her eyes. “Thanks, ‘kay?”

“Peace out,” the kid said and returned to his phone.

●

Outside once more, I turned to Harper. “That was…practiced.”

She pulled the scrunchie out of her hair and handed it to me, then leaned forward and scrubbed at her scalp. “That’s what hunters do.” Her voice was muffled.

“Lie? Deceive?”

She straightened and flipped her black hair back over her shoulders. “We’re passing through life just like vampires do. It’s not like I could flash a badge at pimple-face and demand answers. Best to leave as little impression as possible.”

“Why?” I demanded. “I don’t understand why the Otherworld is so damned secret. It exists! Why not just tell people?”

Harper pushed at my shoulder. “Not here,” she said quietly. “Walk down the rooms.”

I turned and walked and studied the long row of rooms. Two floors of them. “There has to be fifty rooms,” I said. “We could be here all day trying to figure this out.”

“No, we won’t,” Harper said with complete confidence. Her gaze was on the side of the building as we traversed it.

“Explain it to me.” I lowered my voice. “Why the big secret?”

“You studied Salem in school, right?” Harper sounded indifferent.

Aaah! “It’s a survival thing?” I could hear the echo of Trevalyan’s voice in my head.

“Even more so, these days.” Harper glanced at me, then away. “It’s not just humans dealing with global warming, you know. Humans as a breed have demonstrated that they resent any competition and will do anything to get rid of it. And that’s when resources are plentiful. Figure they’re going to play nice and cooperate when resources start drying up and land to grow food shrinks because the sea is rising and the climate is completely fucked?”

“I hadn’t thought of it like that.”

“Clearly.” Her tone was back to indifferent.

The indifference stung. “You’re a hunter,” I said. “Your profession does nothing other than kill supernaturals. Doesn’t that make you worse than humans?”

We walked for many steps before Harper answered. “I was worse than the average human, for a long time. But hunters—most of them—protect supernaturals.”

I laughed.

Harper looked at me with a touch of impatience. “Hunters take out supernaturals who are exposing us to the human world. Who are preying on humans and other sentients. Who are breaking the barrier.”

“You’re policemen,” I concluded.

Harper snorted. “We’re a lot better than the average cop. They’ve got rules and by-laws and lawsuits and lawyers tripping them up. Detectives will solve the easy cases, the no-brainers, first, before they’ll tackle the tough murders and assaults, because they have to keep up their clearance rate. Hunters are effective at what we do. There’s a reason you thought vampires were just stories until you got to Haigton.”

I was being handed a lot to think about. But that was the theme of my life since moving to Haigton. It would be nice, though, to not have to process so much at once. Just for a while. A perfectly normal, boring and routine day sounded like a spa day.

“This one,” Harper said, stopping by one of the room doors. “Calloway was here.”

I stared at her, then at the door. “What, there’s a magic sign on the door?” An image of Gandalf drawing his rune on a round, green door flashed into my mind.

Harper actually smiled, as if she’d plucked my fanciful thought right out of my head. “There are strips on the door frame, one on each side. No dust or grime. That’s where the police tape was.”

She was right. A fine pale dust, probably from the parking lot, clung to the white frame like a subtle coating of baby powder, except for a strip on each side, about two inches wide.

“Now what?” I asked. “You pick the lock?”

“D’uh,” Harper said, reaching into her coat.