The Inn Between Read online

  Quinn continued to smile, but this time she made no promise. “You have to go back now, Kara, it’s your turn, they’re losing you.” Below, the paramedics had brought out a defibrillator and were attaching it to Kara. “I have to return to the hotel. My time there isn’t up.”

  They gripped each other one last time and then let go. A strange lightness drifted over Quinn, as Kara faded from her grasp like smoke in the wind. In that same instant, Quinn heard a paramedic below.

  “I have a pulse!” he yelled.

  28

  QUINN RACED TOWARD EMMA and flung her arms around her. She buried her head in Emma’s shoulder and hugged her with all her might. She was in a field of bluebells.

  Quinn smiled until her jaw ached. “It’s you,” she kept saying. “It’s really you.”

  Emma smiled and nodded. She twisted a lock of Quinn’s hair. They stood staring at each other for the longest time, and then they hugged again, holding each other as though they’d never let go. Time stretched into one long unbreakable moment that ended only when Persephone spoke.

  “It’s time,” she said. She was waiting with Aides and the truck driver. But Quinn shook her head. She wasn’t ready. Not yet.

  Still gripping Emma’s hand, Quinn turned to face the scene unfolding below. Kara had opened her eyes. She ripped the oxygen mask from her mouth and screamed when she saw Quinn.

  Two paramedics tried to calm Kara as she struggled to get up, to reach for Quinn. One paramedic was trying to get the oxygen mask back over her mouth, but Kara pushed her hand away. She was still screaming Quinn’s name.

  “They’re trying to revive her,” said a paramedic. “You have to let them do their job.”

  “Come on, Kara,” whispered Quinn. “Think of Adam. Remember Adam.” Quinn closed her eyes and willed her thoughts through the invisible barrier of life and death.

  When she opened her eyes, Kara had stopped struggling. Slowly, her mouth moved as if talking to herself. Then she grabbed the paramedic’s arm. Quinn watched her lips form the sounds.

  “Adam,” she was saying. “I know where the missing boy is.”

  The paramedic stared at her. He tried to get an oxygen mask over her mouth but she pushed it away. Kara’s lips kept moving. She kept talking. She was pointing. She would make them understand. Quinn knew she would. Adam would be okay. They’d find him and he’d be rescued. Joe could rest now.

  In one hand, Quinn held the faded orange and purple bracelet that had bound her to Kara. She stared at the frayed threads that had held strong through so much. It was like a souvenir of another life. Not-Norm had said that once the spirit passes beyond, the people around here gave their names back to the desert. Quinn was not ready to give back her name, but she would give the desert something else.

  Slowly, she bent down and lifted a small rock. A scorpion scuttled out from beneath, stared at her with black beady eyes, then ambled off to find other shelter. Quinn was no longer afraid of snakes and scorpions.

  Gently, she scooped out a handful of dry soil. She tucked the bracelet into the hole and replaced the rock, patting it once.

  The truck driver stood a few paces away, watching her. When Quinn looked up, he seemed tired and worn, like an old piece of tissue someone had balled up and tossed away. Back at the scene Quinn heard a paramedic pronounce him dead.

  Quinn thought about what he’d said. He had a sick child. He wasn’t in his right mind. He wasn’t a bad man. He’d just done a bad thing. There was a difference. And he’d gone down into the basement of the hotel, into that horrible place, to help Kara and her. He’d risked himself to save them.

  Still holding Emma with one hand, Quinn stretched the other out toward the man. He looked at it for a moment, and then placed his hand in hers. He smiled, and together with Emma, Persephone, and Aides, they walked back to Inn Between.

  The return journey was short. They glided over the sand and gravel, their feet barely touching the ground. A lone coyote wailed in the distance at the hunter’s moon hanging orange in the sapphire sky. Creosote saturated the air with the scent of falling rain.

  When Quinn saw the hotel ahead—its windows all alit—she was strangely comforted. It was a good place after all. A cozy shelter where you could rest up for a while before you continued along on your journey—wherever that might be.

  Aides swung the heavy wooden door open and held it as Persephone led the way inside. She gazed at Quinn with deep, thoughtful eyes, and then she smiled and her smile didn’t seem phony at all. It seemed genuine. Quinn had been wrong about her.

  The giant chandelier sparkled at the top of the grand staircase. A few people lounged about in the comfortable lobby chairs. Quinn wondered about them. Why were they all here? Were they just passing through? Quinn searched the faces for Rico and the family with the little girl, but they weren’t there. Had they checked out of the hotel like Mr. and Mrs. Cawston? Like Josh? Had they woken up somewhere, somehow, after having been unconscious? Dragged back from the brink of death to live full and happy lives? Quinn hoped so.

  She didn’t bother looking for Joe or the old man in pajamas, Mr. Mirabelli. Quinn knew they had already taken the elevator ride. Mr. Mirabelli had been waiting—waiting for Jeanette to arrive, whoever that might be. A daughter? A sister? A grandchild? Someone to hold his hand one last time so he could let go. And Joe, he had been waiting for someone to save his brother. Kara had done that. Joe would be happy.

  “Are you ready?” said Persephone to the truck driver.

  The elevator was waiting. Persephone slid open the metal gate and the man stepped inside. Sharon looked at him and smiled. “All set?” He glanced at Persephone, then at Quinn, and nodded.

  Persephone was about to close the metal gate when Quinn had a thought. What if … what if he was headed downward? He had done something bad. Would he have to suffer that horrible party for eternity? The image sent shivers parading up her spine.

  “Hold on!” she yelled. “Is he—”

  “Not for us to say,” said Persephone, reading her thoughts.

  “But he doesn’t deserve it. Not that place.”

  Persephone looked at Quinn, then at the truck driver. “I’m sure your forgiveness will go a long way.”

  “Thank you,” said the man, tears filling the sad eyes Quinn had once thought were wild and cruel. He looked at Sharon and nodded. “I’m ready.”

  Sharon winked at the girls and then slid the metal gate closed. She grasped the brass lever. “Fasten your seat belts. We’ll be cruising at an altitude of fifty billion feet.”

  The elevator moved slowly at first. Quinn watched as their heads disappeared. Upward. It was moving upward. Her heart swelled as she leaned in to watch it rise. There was a brilliant flash of glistening light, and then the elevator was gone.

  Quinn took a deep breath and sighed. Then she had another thought. She turned toward Persephone. “What about the person who took Emma? Is that person there?” She pointed down the cold dark hollow of the elevator shaft.

  Persephone placed a hand on Quinn’s shoulder. She shook her head slowly. “Not yet.” She smiled and then left the girls standing by the elevator. Someone was waiting for her at the front desk.

  Yet, thought Quinn.

  Quinn squeezed Emma’s hand. “I have so much to tell you.”

  Emma grinned. “So do I.”

  Quinn wanted to tell Emma she was sorry, that she loved her, that she missed her and needed her, but all that came out was, “I read the end of your book—Anne of Avonlea. Plus a few others from your to-be-read pile.”

  “Really?” said Emma, her expression a mixture of amusement and surprise. “Will you tell me all about them?”

  “Sure,” said Quinn, taking her sister’s hand. They walked toward the grand staircase. “Let’s get you out of this jacket and into a bathing suit. We can hang out at the pool. We’ll eat all the hot dogs we want, talk about your books, and even have a swim.” She stopped suddenly. “Just watch out for the deep end. It’s deeper
than you think.” She plucked the pink cap from Emma’s head and tossed it over her shoulder.

  Emma giggled.

  As they headed up the steps Quinn saw it—the dark circle around her wrist was returning. She held her sister’s hand tightly, but her grasp had weakened. In the distance, she could hear the soft echo of an ambulance siren.

  Quinn pulled Emma closer. She talked quickly, buzzing like a wasp, as the two stepped out into the bright sunlight in the courtyard of Inn Between.

  Acknowledgments

  They say it takes a village to raise a child. The same adage applies to novels. This story would not be what it is today without the help and support of many wonderful people.

  A heartfelt thank-you to my first-draft readers, Darlene Beck-Jacobson, Martha Martin, and Jaime Cohen. You lent me your time, provided me with feedback, and kept me moving forward. And Valerie Sherrard, that little book of positive sure did the trick.

  Thank you to the Ontario Arts Council for your generous support of this work via the Writers’ Reserve Program.

  A special thank-you to the incredibly talented Sarah Watts for her deliciously creepy cover and illustrations.

  To my wonderful children and awesome husband, Michael Cohen, thank you for putting up with my vacant stares, my three a.m. aha! moments, and the all-too-frequent omelet dinners, and especially for taking care of the endless piles of laundry. You are the reason I write.

  John M. Cusick, words are not enough. You plucked my work out of the slush pile, guided me through round after round of cleansing revision, and kept the faith when mine dwindled. You are the best agent ever, a gifted writer, a great mentor, and a good friend. Without you, this story would have been stuck in Inn Between.

  And last on this list, but by no means least, the biggest thank-you goes to my genius editor, Emily Feinberg, and everyone at Roaring Brook Press. Connecting with you, Emily, was like finding someone who loves my baby as much as I do. Your keen eyes, brilliant insight, and tireless enthusiasm have made this story sparkle—er, in a dark and creepy way, of course!

  About the Author

  Marina Cohen grew up in Scarborough, Ontario, where she spent far too much time asking herself what if … In elementary school, her favorite author was Edgar Allen Poe. She loved “The Tell-Tale Heart” and aspired to write similar stories. She is a love of the fantastical, the bizarre, and all things creepy. You can sign up for email updates here.

  Thank you for buying this

  Roaring Brook Press ebook.

  To receive special offers, bonus content,

  and info on new releases and other great reads,

  sign up for our newsletters.

  Or visit us online at

  us.macmillan.com/newslettersignup

  For email updates on the author, click here.

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Notice

  Dedication

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  21

  22

  23

  24

  25

  26

  27

  28

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Copyright

  Text copyright © 2016 by Marina Cohen

  Illustrations copyright © 2016 by Sarah Watts

  Published by Roaring Brook Press

  Roaring Brook Press is a division of Holtzbrinck Publishing Holdings Limited Partnership

  175 Fifth Avenue, New York, New York 10010

  mackids.com

  All rights reserved

  The Library of Congress has cataloged the print edition as follows:

  Cohen, Marina, 1967– author.

  The Inn Between / by Marina Cohen; illustrations by Sarah Watts.

  pages cm

  Summary: During a long car trip, best friends Quinn and Kara explore the strange and creepy goings-on at a remote Nevada inn when Kara’s family stops for the night.

  ISBN 978-1-62672-202-6 (hardcover)

  ISBN 978-1-62672-203-3 (e-book)

  1. Ghost stories. 2. Haunted hotels—Juvenile fiction. 3. Best friends—Juvenile fiction. 4. Friendship—Juvenile fiction. 5. Horror tales. [1. Ghosts—Fiction. 2. Haunted places—Fiction. 3. Hotels, motels, etc.—Fiction. 4. Best friends—Fiction. 5. Friendship—Fiction. 6. Horror stories.] I. Watts, Sarah (Sarah Lynn), 1986– illustrator. II. Title.

  PZ7.1.C64ln 2016

  813.6—dc23

  [Fic]

  2015004042

  eISBN 9781626722033

  First hardcover edition, 2016

  eBook edition, June 2016

  Our eBooks may be purchased in bulk for promotional, educational, or business use. Please contact the Macmillan Corporate and Premium Sales Department at (800) 221-7945 ext. 5442 or by e-mail at [email protected].