pile of giant poo. In front sat a line of three gas pumps, one of which was servicing a car so ancient even I couldn’t tel in what year it had pul ed out of the factory lot.
The lobby could’ve doubled as a convenience store. Who knows, maybe it did. And the rooms looked like they’d been decorated by depressed nuns. Behind the hotel stood a second building whose purpose remained a mystery. Bergman pointed to it. “That’s probably where they hide the bodies until it’s dark enough to dispose of them.”
Cassandra laughed. “Miles! It’s not that bad! Believe me, I’ve slept in dives that make this place look like the Ritz!”
Bergman shook his head. “I hate to disagree with you. Wel , actual y, it doesn’t bother me at al to disagree with you. But it seemed like a nice way to start out saying you’re ful of crap. This is total y a Norman Bates hotel. I’l bet the owner has a furnace in the basement just like Sweeney Todd.” Dave held up his hand. “You can’t mix movie slashers with musical vil ains. It’s just wrong, Bergman. I thought you knew that.”
“I don’t know,” said Cole. “I could happily spend the next half hour discussing which of those guys is the most twisted.”
“Definitely Sweeney Todd,” Aaron offered. “The guy ate his victims after al .”
“Did he eat them, or did he sel them to other people to eat?” asked Cole.
“Does it matter?” asked Cassandra.
“I’m not sure there’s a line that fine,” I said. The last word came out as a grunt, mostly because Jack had, once again, stepped on a major organ in his attempt to pass himself off as a Pomeranian.
I was trying to decide if a paw could actual y fit between my pancreas and liver when Vayl found that ticklish spot underneath my earlobe and began to circle it with his thumb. I blanked on everyone else in the bus as my mind centered on Vayl’s touch. Such a little thing, and yet I nearly gasped out loud when his fingers, which had been folded and resting against my neck, uncurled. His fingertips, hidden by my hair, brushed toward my spine, making me shiver with anticipation.
“Jasmine?”
“Huh?”
“What do you think?”
“Uh-huh.”
“About the hotel,” Vayl clarified, amusement threading through his voice now.
“We need to stop somewhere,” I said.
I saw a quick glint of fang and then his hand went stil . Mine rushed to cover it, a silent protest I hoped the others wouldn’t notice. He murmured, “You must think for everyone, not just us. It wil not be a pleasant day, Bergman’s reviews have assured us of that.” I dropped my hand to Jack’s head and rubbed at his soft fur. Reality came flooding into my mind so fast that it felt like somewhere a water main had exploded. “We’re going to hel tomorrow,” I murmured. “It seems right that we should take our first step in this world.”
“Perhaps the hotel’s owners would not appreciate such a comparison?” I shrugged. “Then they shouldn’t have painted their place the color of shit.” CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Thirty-five minutes after discovering The Stopover hotel on our laptops, we puled into its garbage-strewn parking lot. Not a single light provided extra security, or the ability to see where to walk Jack for his pee break so he wouldn’t tread on broken glass. Since Vayl could navigate the dark better than any of us, he took my dog’s lead while the rest of us got shower gear and clean clothes out of our overnight bags. I hated to leave my Galaxie in a lot where there were more hubcaps than cars, but I’d made my choice, and an hour from dawn was no time to back out. So I locked the doors and hoped that the thieves were into VW buses as I looked down at the cat standing beside me.
“Okay, Astral,” I told the kittybot. “No talking in front of strangers.” She looked up at me innocently, as if she was offended I would think she was capable of such rudeness. I pointed my finger at her. “No freaking out the dog. And definitely no home movies of people fal ing off mountains. You got me?”
She stared down at the asphalt, paying close attention to her trotting paws as she fol owed me toward the front entrance. But I thought I heard her say, “Dammit” in a smal metal ic voice that stil managed to express disappointment.
Suddenly every light in the place flipped on. The ones above the gas pumps came to life too, bright neon white spotlighting us like a bunch of military targets. I knew Dave was thinking the same thing when he yel ed, “Take cover!”
He wrapped his arm around Cassandra’s waist and pul ed her into the alcove between the front door and the building’s outer wal .
I pul ed Grief and shot out the gas pump lights, backing toward the tour bus with Astral at my heels. Vayl and Jack met us there. Bergman, Aaron, and Raoul had clambered back inside the vehicle, abandoning their bags halfway between the building and the bus. Cole had taken shelter against the only other automobile in the parking lot, a black sedan so covered with grime it couldn’t have been washed since the country’s last election.
The door to the inn flew open. “Don’t shoot! Please don’t shoot!” A skinny old Indian man with a thin mustache, wearing a brown vest and blue pants, walked into the parking lot with his hands held high above his head. “She said you would come here. She is the one playing with the lights, not us.
Please, those bulbs are expensive!”
I lowered my gun as Vayl demanded, “
“The woman in black. She has taken over our entire establishment. She has been just waiting, waiting for you to arrive. Please, please talk to her now so she wil leave us alone.” He clasped his hands together, real y begging, truly scared of whoever was waiting for us inside.
As Cole left cover and Raoul opened the bus door for Bergman and Aaron, the owner of The Stopover, whose name badge said we could cal him Sanji, motioned for us to join him. Dave, stil holding Cassandra safe behind him,
