Hotel Ruby (20 page)

It doesn't work. “Audrey,” he says, staring down at me. I get on my tiptoes, tempting him to kiss me instead of scold me. He does, but only briefly. “Tell me what happened,” he murmurs, kissing me again like he can't help it.

I sigh, tilting my head as Elias's kisses trail over my jaw, my neck. My tension starting to ease now that I'm preoccupied. “He cornered me in the ballroom,” I say, closing my eyes. “Kenneth told me to stay away from the staff, that they'd be punished for consorting with me. Like he's the—”

Elias pulls back so quickly, so violently, that I stumble and have to catch myself on the mantel of the fireplace. “What?” he demands. “Did he tell you that—that they'd be punished?” Elias's eyes have gone wild, his body poised to leave.

“Yes, he said he was enforcing the rules of the Ruby and that I should spend the rest of my time in my room.”

Elias curses and bolts for the door. Alarmed, I chase
after him, and we're running, full-on running, down the long hallway. “What are you doing?” I shout, too caught off guard to process the fear bubbling up.

“I need to get to the basement.” His voice is rough, and I can barely keep pace with him. The hallway is darker than it was when we came in, the pictures blur as we run past. It hits me—Lourdes is in the basement. Elias fires me a look. “Go back,” he orders, although he's obviously not going to stop to force me.

“No,” I gasp out, worried for my friend. If Elias is scared, there must be something wrong. “The elevator's the other way,” I tell him.

“The Ruby will slow us down,” he says, taking a hard left and throwing himself against a metal door. We're in a back stairwell. White walls, gray concrete steps. Elias takes the stairs two at a time, and I can't keep up any longer.

“What do you mean?” I call out, tramping behind him as quickly as I can. “What does that mean, ‘The Ruby will slow us down'?”

Elias rounds the next level and shoots me a terrified glance as he continues to race toward the basement. I understand the expression, what it conveys, and my entire body tenses. Kenneth is going to kill her. That's why Elias is freaking out. Kenneth is going to kill Lourdes. I renew my speed, and I'm nearly caught up when Elias grabs a fire extinguisher from the wall and then rams his shoulder into the door, exploding onto the basement level.

“Stay behind me,” he says, slowing down and testing the weight of the extinguisher, as if he plans to use it as a weapon. The walls are red, and there are sounds echoing down the hall. Grunting. Crying. At about three doors from Lourdes's, Elias stops to look back at me. “You're not part of this,” he says calmly. “Your brother's right, Audrey. You leave tomorrow no matter what. Even if you have to let us all burn.”

The words are similar to what Lourdes said at the fountain last night. How no one tried to help the victims of the ballroom fire, no one tried to save them. The sentiment is devastating, especially in a moment of complete panic like this. Elias doesn't appear willing to move until I agree, so I nod weakly, not sure what I've just promised him.

There's a loud crash from Lourdes's room, and Elias jumps forward. He stops at Lourdes's door, and then, without a word, he hikes the extinguisher above his head and slams it down, cracking off the handle and sending it flying across the hall.

I press myself to the wall, the scene in front of me too crazy to be real. Elias kicks in the door. I cover my mouth when I catch sight of what's going on inside. Lourdes is in uniform, sprawled out on the bed, her skin purple and her eyes bulging. Kenneth is straddling her body, his thick hands around her neck. Even from here I'm sure she's dead, and yet the concierge doesn't let go. He doesn't even look at Elias as he stomps in.

Without a word of warning, Elias swings the fire extinguisher, slamming it against Kenneth's head with a sickening thud. The concierge's body goes rigid and tilts to the side, he's completely unconscious when he hits the carpet. Elias drops the extinguisher on the floor and runs a shaky hand through his hair.

I'm stunned in place. I don't know if Kenneth is dead, if Lourdes is dead. Elias stands in the middle of complete mayhem, his shoulders stooped in exhaustion. “Move,” I whisper to myself, knowing I have to check on Lourdes. Call the cops and get help. “Move,” I say again, pushing off the wall and into the carnage. I go immediately to Lourdes, surprised when she turns to her side, coughing. Her skin is blotchy and the blood vessels in her eyes are broken, blood seeping over the white.

“I'm going to get help,” I tell her, fighting down my panic. I can do this. I'll be better than I was with Mom. I'll save Lourdes.

There's a groan from the floor, and Lourdes and I see Kenneth writhing. Blood pours from the gash in his head, but he doesn't seem to be dying. Even though he's a tyrant, I'm grateful. I wouldn't want Elias to face a murder trial, to possibly go to jail for saving his friend.

Elias backs up, leaning against the interior wall of Lourdes's room. He drops his arms to his sides, like he's giving up. The hero who broke in minutes ago is now defeated. He glances at Lourdes and shrugs helplessly.
“I'm so sorry,” he says, fighting back a cry. “I tried to save you this time.”

This time,
I repeat in my head, knowing now why the staff fears the concierge. This has happened before.

“I know,” Lourdes says to Elias, gasping in a breath. I help her as she struggles to sit up. From the floor Kenneth gurgles, and a thick choking sound fills the room. I turn to Elias.

“We need an ambulance,” I say. “Can you call from here?”

Elias doesn't acknowledge my voice, only stares down at Kenneth. The concierge is rolling from side to side, desperately in need of medical attention. In my arms, Lourdes trembles uncontrollably. Her color is returning to normal, but she's mumbling under her breath. It takes a few times for me to catch what she's saying.

“He never dies,” she whispers in a broken voice over and over. And then, in reaction, Kenneth's head snaps to us, his eyes staring directly at Lourdes. His face is covered in blood, his head deformed from the impact of the extinguisher. Half dead, he smiles. I scream.

Lourdes jumps from the bed. Bent over and clearly in pain, she stands above Kenneth and shouts at him, “Die! Just die already!” The world has erupted into chaos, and I look at Elias, wanting him to stop it. But he only watches in despair, in complete hopelessness.

Before I can process what's happening, Lourdes grabs a
steak knife from a dirty room-service tray. My eyes widen, and I scream for her to stop, but it happens too quickly. She falls to her knees next to the concierge and buries the knife to its hilt in his chest. He moans, and Lourdes rips the blade out, splashing me in warm blood splatter, and then drives it into his chest again.

The screech that escapes my throat doesn't sound human. In that moment it's like I leave my body. The horror, the heat of the blood on my face, has broken me. I run from the room. “Just die!” Lourdes continues to shout. I'm blinded, wiping frantically at the salty tears and blood near my eyes. I head toward the stairwell, reminded of Elias's words that the Ruby will slow me down.

They just murdered someone. Oh my God. They just murdered someone. I shout for help, running up the stairs as fast as possible. Nothing will ever be the same again. Am I an accessory? Is this my fault because I talked to the staff?

I burst out of the stairwell and into the brightly lit hallway. I'm running for the lobby, glancing down to see my clothes are awash in blood. “Help!” I scream. I take the turn into the lobby and slip from the blood on my sandals. My knee hits the marble floor, sending a vibration up my leg. I call for help and scramble to my feet again, moving toward the desk.

But no one responds. A few people stop to stare at me, watching with curiosity rather than concern, and others ignore me altogether.

“What the fuck is wrong with all of you?” I shout, spinning to look at them. “We need help! Get an ambulance!”

“Miss Casella,” a voice calls from behind me at the front desk. In that moment life stops. The faces of the people around me blur together and what's left of my sanity shatters completely.
It can't be. It can't. . . .

Slowly I turn to face the front desk. Standing there in a burgundy uniform, his hands folded on his chest, is Kenneth—smiling pleasantly. I gulp in a breath of air, sure I'm going to faint. Just as things start to go fuzzy, Kenneth holds up a black envelope.

“Good news,” the concierge says pleasantly. “You've received an invitation to the party.”

M
y mother died three months and eleven days ago. Some nights after she was gone, I'd search my memories for the bad times, thinking that if I could realize something horrible about her, it'd make accepting her death easier. Prove she deserved it somehow. It was sick—I knew that, but I also knew that most days it hurt too much to live. I couldn't let go. I didn't know how to move on. But like Daniel showed me, those negative thoughts only made her more real. More
mine
. And so I tried to stop thinking of her altogether.

It wasn't fair that it had been such a normal day. Her death should have been an international disaster—the world sharing in my misery. Instead it was a Wednesday. I had just arrived at school, and Ryan was next to me as we entered the front doors into the main hallway. Normally, the jocks would call out to him, fist-bump him on his way past. But not this time. The first moment I noticed something wasn't right was when we passed by the office. Through the glass partition I could see the teachers crowded around the main desk. No one was crying, that would have given too much away. It was Mr. Powell, my science teacher, who betrayed
the controlled group. His stern face had gone slack, his jaw hanging open like it had come unhinged. He was mouth-breathing, hunched slightly forward as he stared toward my mother's open office door.

I followed his line of sight and saw that my mother wasn't in her office. She wasn't with the group. Mom had left for school a half hour before Ryan and I did; she should have been there. But my mother never made it to school. She had stopped to pick up coffees for the office, something she did when she was in a good mood. At the counter of the Coffee Break my mother had a stroke. She stumbled a few steps before collapsing in a heap near the trash can. She was in a store full of strangers, but I was told that several of them tried to help her. One older lady held her hand even though she was unconscious. That same lady came to my mother's funeral, but I didn't thank her. I should have thanked her.

The school had been notified right away. My father was on his way to the hospital, and it was up to the staff to break the news to me. Looking back, I like to think that I sensed her pain, had a small headache of my own—but I know that's probably some psychosomatic bullshit.

I stopped in the middle of the hallway, my stomach lurching. I quickly scanned for my mother's messenger bag on her office desk, any sign that she had arrived. The smell of floor wax was thick in the air, filling my nostrils as I started to tremble.

“Audrey, what's wrong?” Ryan asked, touching my arm. Before I could answer, Mr. Powell turned, his eyes locking on mine.

His jaw snapped shut, but then he covered his mouth with his palm, as if he'd seen a ghost. He must have murmured something, though, because the entire room of teachers turned to look at me. The Spanish teacher squeezed her eyes shut, and the coach put his hand on her shoulder to comfort her.

I'm not imagining this,
I told myself as the principal rushed toward me.
This is really happening.

And as I stand here now, in the lobby of the Hotel Ruby, I'm telling myself the same thing:
This is really happening.

Kenneth's smile widens, splitting wider than possible—a Cheshire cat. I scream, loud enough to crack my voice; the sound sputters away. My head spins with horror and fear. The people around me stare, and yet others continue by as if it's completely normal for a girl to be standing here covered in blood.

Unable to comprehend, I feel my natural instincts kick in and I bolt for the front door. My feet can't carry me fast enough, and my sandals flip off, my arms pumping at my sides. I have to get out of here. I have to find help!

I expect to be attacked at any moment, and I launch myself against the door, sending it flying open as I rush through into the fading sunset. But the minute I cross the
threshold, I skid to a stop, tearing flesh from my bare feet on the marble floor. I'm just inside the door of the lobby. How . . .

Kenneth chuckles, and I see one of the other guests put her hand over her mouth to hold back her own laugh. I turn, frantic. Did something push me back inside the hotel? I have to get out of here!

I open the door, running out, but once again I find myself running
into
the lobby. As if the door only leads one way. The door only leads into the Ruby.

My body shakes uncontrollably, my sobs nearly silent and my throat aching from my screams. I cry, and when I wipe my cheeks, my hands are smeared in blood—Kenneth's blood, even though he's standing before me, perfectly intact.

This time I don't run. I walk hesitantly to the door. “Please,” I whimper. I pull the handle and look outside, at the world beyond. I see the roundabout for cars, the long driveway that brought us here. I cast a glance back at Kenneth, who is waiting patiently. I walk out, but the world spins, sending me right back inside the door once again.

Tears drip over my lips. “I want to go home,” I say, earning a sympathetic tsk from a woman sitting on a chair near the fireplace. Kenneth is no longer smiling. “Please let me go,” I say, although my voice is only a strangled whisper.

“That's not up to me,” he says curtly. “Now, if you're
quite through with this tantrum, I believe you have a party to get ready for. I'll send your invitation up to your room.”