blinked them away and gathered up the silk dressing gown, wrapping it around myself. I went into the bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth, then ran a comb through my hair to unravel the knots that had appeared. There was a suffocating silence in the hotel suite. Every noise I made seemed exaggeratedly loud. With a pang of longing I remembered what it was like to wake up in Venus Cove. I associated it with a cacophony of sound: music playing, birds singing, and Phantom loping up the stairs. I could picture in perfect detail my bedroom with its pockmarked boards and rickety writing desk. If I closed my eyes, I could almost remember the feel of my soft white bedspread against my skin and the way the canopy made me feel as if I were cocooned in my own little nest. Mornings there were met with a silvery predawn light that was quickly broken by streams of golden sunlight. It would wash over the rooftops and dance over the waves of the ocean, setting the whole town alight. I remembered how I used to wake to the sound of birdsong and the breeze tapping lightly against the balcony doors as if to rouse me. Even when the house was empty, the sea was always there, calling to me, reminding me that I wasn’t alone. I remembered the mornings when I’d come downstairs to hear Gabriel’s fingers lazily strumming his guitar and to smell the inviting aroma of waffles in the air. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen my family or how we came to be separated. When I thought of Venus Cove, I felt a brief flutter of hope in my chest, as though I could will myself back to my old life. But a moment later it was gone, transformed into despair as heavy as a stone pressing on my heart.
I opened my eyes to see my reflection in the mirror and realized that something was different. Nothing had changed in terms of my features; there were the same wide brown eyes flecked with gold and green looking back at me, the small pixie ears, and the porcelain skin tinged with pink. But the expression in my eyes was that of a stranger. My eyes that had once sparkled with curiosity were lifeless. The girl in the mirror looked lost.
The room was set at a comfortable temperature, but I still shivered. I walked quickly over to the closet and pulled out the first garment that came to hand — a black tulle cocktail dress with puffy sleeves. I sighed and hunted around for something more appropriate only to find that there wasn’t a single piece of practical clothing in there. The outfits varied from floor-length evening gowns to tailored Chanel suits with silk blouses. I settled on the simplest item I could find (a knee-length, long-sleeved dress in crushed moss green velvet) and some ballet flats. Then I sat on my bed and waited for something to happen.
I remembered Venus Cove and my siblings vividly, but I knew there was something or someone I was forgetting. It nagged at me, an insistent tug at the back of my mind, and trying to remember was exhausting. I lay on the bed and stared at the scrolls on the ceiling. I could feel a gnawing pain somewhere inside me, but I couldn’t identify its source. I even wished Jake would show up in case talking to him provided the trigger for these lost memories. I could feel them stirring in the recesses of my mind, but every time I tried to grasp them, they slipped away.
The click of a key card startled me and a round-faced girl entered the room. She was wearing the standard housekeeping uniform: a plain taupe dress with the Hotel Ambrosia logo on the pocket, beige stockings, and comfortable oxfords. Her honey-colored hair was pulled back into a ponytail and held in place with a clasp.
“Excuse me, miss, would you like me to make up your room now or should I come back later?” Her manner was diffident, and she kept her eyes downcast to avoid eye contact. Behind her was a cart laden with cleaning products and piles of fresh linen.
“Oh, that’s really not necessary,” I said, trying to be helpful, but my suggestion only served to make her uncomfortable. She stood at a loss, awaiting further instructions. “Or now is fine,” I said, moving to one of the wingback chairs. The girl looked visibly relieved. She moved with practiced efficiency, straightening the bedclothes and changing the water in the vase, even though she couldn’t have been more than sixteen years old. Her presence was strangely calming. Perhaps it was the open candor of her face that was so at odds with these bizarre surroundings.
“May I ask your name?” I said.
“I am Hanna,” she replied directly. I noticed her English was a little stilted, as if she hadn’t learned it as her mother tongue.
“And you work at this hotel?”
“Yes, miss, I’ve been assigned to you.” My face must have reflected my confusion because she added, “I’m your maid.”
“My maid?” I repeated. “I don’t need a maid.”
The girl misconstrued my irritation as being directed at her. “I will work hard,” she reassured me.
“I’m sure you will,” I said. “But the reason I don’t need a maid is that I’m not planning on staying here very long.”
Hanna gave me a strange look and then shook her head vehemently. “You cannot leave,” she said. “Mr. Thorn never lets anyone leave.” She clapped a hand over her mouth, conscious of having said too much.
“It’s okay, Hanna,” I said. “You can say anything to me. I won’t repeat a word.”
“I’m not meant to speak to you. If the prince were to find out …”
“You mean Jake?” I snorted. “He’s not a prince!”
“You mustn’t say things like that out loud, miss,” Hanna whispered. “He is the prince of the Third Circle and treason is a capital offense.”
I must have looked completely baffled. “There are Nine Circles in this world, each one ruled by a different prince,” she explained. “Mr. Thorn presides over this district.”
“Which idiot gave him so much power?” I snapped and then, seeing the alarm on Hanna’s face, quickly modified my tone. “I mean … how did that come about?”
“He was one of the Originals.” Hanna shrugged as if those six little words explained everything.
“I’ve heard about them,” I said. The term rang a bell. I was sure I’d heard my brother Gabriel use it, and I knew it dated back to the beginning of time and creation.
“When Big Daddy fell from grace …” Hanna began casting a furtive look at the door.
“I’m sorry?” I interrupted her. “What did you just say?”
“That’s what we call him down here.”
“Call who?”
“Well, I suppose you would know him as Satan or Lucifer.”
I felt the pieces of the puzzle begin to fall together in my mind.
“When Lucifer fell from Heaven there were eight angels who pledged their allegiance to him …,” I continued the story for her.
“Yes.” Hanna nodded eagerly in confirmation.
“Michael cast them out along with their rebel leader and they became the very first demons. Since then they’ve used whatever means they can to wreak havoc on the earth in retaliation for their expulsion.” I paused to let the enormity of it sink in. I frowned as a paradoxical image came into my head.
“What is it, miss?” Hanna asked, seeing my expression.
“It’s just hard to imagine that Jake was once an angel,” I said.
“I wouldn’t say hard; more like
Still, I couldn’t shake the thought from my head. Jake and I shared a genealogy. We had a common maker. What he’d since become was so far removed from what he was originally created to be. I’d always known it, but I guess I was so eager to banish him from my mind that I’d never allowed myself to think it through properly. I couldn’t reconcile that the Jake I knew, the Jake who had tried to destroy my town and the people I loved, had once been just like me. I knew about the Originals. They were the most faithful servants of Lucifer, the ones who’d been with him right from the word go. Throughout human history he’d sent them to occupy positions in the highest echelons of society. They had crept into communities on earth, enabling them to continue their corrupting influence on mankind. They had infiltrated the ranks of politics and law where they were able to destroy without consequence. Their influence was poisonous. They indulged man, preyed on his weaknesses, and used him to their own advantage. An appalling thought occurred to me. If Jake worked for a higher power, then who was really to blame for what had happened thus far?
“I wonder what Jake wants this time?” I murmured.
“That is easy,” said Hanna in her funny, stilted English. She seemed happy to be of use, to impart some information I didn’t possess. “He only wants for you to be happy. After all, you are to be his bride.”
I laughed at first, thinking she was making some horrible, tasteless joke. But when I looked at Hanna with
