The Inn Between Read online

  She managed to get close enough to hit the power switch with the tip of her toe, but nothing happened. The movie continued.

  The camera focuses on the fence. It zeroes in on the stuffed animals that surround a portrait.

  Quinn jabbed the button again, this time harder.

  The camera zooms in. Closer. Closer.

  Quinn kicked wildly at the TV. She didn’t care if she knocked it down. She dragged Kara farther and punched the button again and again with her fist, but the film continued.

  The picture is out of focus, but the portrait fills the entire screen. The background grows dark around the edges and the darkness begins to eat up the portrait, with the image growing clearer by the second.

  Quinn squeezed her eyes shut, but there was no stopping it. She couldn’t erase what she’d seen. She crumpled into a heap beside Kara, trying desperately to breathe.

  The portrait was not of Emma.

  It was a portrait of Quinn and Kara.

  20

  KARA STIRRED. “What’s wrong? Are my parents back? Josh?”

  Quinn looked at Kara. Tears flowed down her cheeks. She struggled for air.

  The TV was off. The film was done. A dead screen glared at her. She switched on the bedside lamp. The light hovered on the screen above her reflection like a halo.

  Quinn’s voice was low and trembling. “No. They’re not. We have to leave. Now.”

  Kara sat up and searched the room. “What are you talking about? Why are you crying? What time is it?”

  “Don’t you get it?” said Quinn. “There’s no time here.” She swiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. “There are no clocks. No phones. No TV. This place is all wrong. We have to leave.”

  “Leave?” demanded Kara. “How can we leave? We’re in the middle of the desert. And what about my parents? And Josh?”

  Quinn took a deep breath. There were words she and her parents never spoke, words they were too afraid to say because if they said them it would make them real—those words were Emma is never coming back.

  Now Quinn had new words stuck in the back of her mind—words her brain tried to block her mouth from saying. But, one by one, she forced them out.

  “Your parents are not coming back. Neither is Josh. We have to leave, Kara. It’s our only chance.”

  “But—”

  “Listen,” said Quinn. “Remember when I made Persephone look through the guest book for Emma?”

  Kara nodded.

  “Well,” she continued, “I saw something. I saw our names all written out neatly—each of them—except your mom and dad’s and Josh’s were crossed out. Persephone crossed them out, Kara. Like they’d left. Checked out.”

  And she told Kara about the bloody pillow, the movie of the vigil. They were warnings. Omens. She and Kara were in great danger.

  “I know you think I went crazy after Emma disappeared. I know you don’t believe that I saw her here because I thought I saw her so many times before. But your parents wouldn’t abandon us. Neither would Josh. There’s something really wrong. We have to leave. Now.”

  Kara’s lip quivered. She nodded slowly. “But … where will we go? We’ll get lost. We’ll die out there.”

  “The diner,” said Quinn suddenly. “We’ll backtrack to the diner. We’ll follow the road to the interstate and we’ll find the diner. There was a pay phone there, remember? And Not-Norm will help us. I’m sure he will.”

  They emptied the bottles of flat pop and filled them with water from the bathroom sink. They wrapped the remaining slices of pizza and packed them in a pillowcase. It wasn’t much, but it was all they had—all they could think to bring along.

  Quinn took a deep breath. “Now, we just need to get out of here.”

  With Kara still attached and the pillowcase slung over her back, Quinn slipped into the hall.

  It was darker than usual—as though someone had dimmed the lights. Quinn wished she’d hear Joe’s crying again. Even that would have brought her comfort.

  Slowly, carefully, she and Kara crept down the hall. Except for Persephone, who lurked behind her counter, and Sharon, who was leaning over speaking to her in hushed whispers, the lobby was deserted.

  This was it. Their chance.

  Quinn held a finger to her mouth and Kara nodded. They grasped each other’s hand so the bracelets wouldn’t cut if they pulled apart. They stepped lightly, careful not to make a sound. They were a few steps closer to the door when Quinn saw him at the opposite end.

  He stood in the hall archway. His eyes zeroed in on Quinn and Kara and his forehead folded into a deep crease.

  All blood drained from Quinn’s face. She could feel it pooling somewhere near her chest, making it hard to breathe and harder to think.

  “Hey!” he called. “Stop!”

  Persephone and the elevator operator looked up. Their attention snapped first toward the man who was yelling and then toward Quinn and Kara.

  Panic wrapped itself around Quinn’s throat. They’d never make it to the front entrance and out the door in time—not with Aides standing guard.

  Quinn’s eyes swept right to left, searching for somewhere—anywhere—to run. That’s when she saw it, wide open and waiting.

  Kara must have seen it, too, because she yanked Quinn’s hand and together they made for the old elevator.

  Quinn sprang into the cramped cage, dropping the pillowcase of water and pizza at her feet, while Kara grabbed the exterior door with her free hand. It wouldn’t budge. Frantically, she searched the wood panels but could find no keyhole and no key. Kara heaved and yanked with all her might but the door wouldn’t move.

  “Won’t. Close,” she grunted, tugging with all her strength.

  All at once Quinn saw the release button on the floor. She jumped on it and the door flew shut, knocking Kara backward into the elevator.

  Sharon lunged at them. “No!”

  The crazed-looking man raced toward the elevator. “Stop! Wait!”

  Kara had managed to grab the metal gate before slamming backward into Quinn.

  Quinn reached for something to keep herself from falling. Her hand found the large lever protruding from a circular brass base. She gripped it tightly and the lever lurched. With a liquidy hiss, the hydraulics kicked in and the elevator began to move. Down.

  Quinn released the lever. The elevator halted midfloor. She could still see Sharon, now crouched, looking at them through the opening at the top of the cage.

  “No!” she called. “Not that way!”

  Her pasty smile had morphed into a frantic frown. She looked worried. Really worried.

  Quinn reached for the lever, but as she gripped it another face appeared in the opening.

  The man wore a fierce scowl, making his already wild eyes appear maniacal. He grabbed the metal bars, his skin stretching white across his knuckles, as though he might rip the bars apart. He opened his mouth to say something, revealing a row of jagged, broken teeth.

  Quinn’s body reacted independently of her brain. She yanked the lever again. In an instant, the man, the elevator operator, and the lobby disappeared above their heads.

  The floor fell out from under them as the elevator plummeted. Quinn released the lever and stumbled sideways, gripping the back rail. Even without her hand on the control, they continued to drop. But the car didn’t rattle or sway. There was no friction on the hydraulic cables, no squealing or thrumming or grinding to indicate the elevator was broken. They were smoothly and silently racing downward.

  Kara grabbed Quinn’s arm. “What’s happening?”

  Quinn struggled to her feet and reached for the lever. She tried to push it in the opposite direction, but it wouldn’t move. It was stuck. “This makes no sense! There can’t be this many floors!”

  “We’re going to die!” shouted Kara. “We’re going to be crushed when we hit the bottom.”

  It felt like there’d never be a bottom. Like they’d remain in the elevator dropping for eternity.

  Qui
nn blinked back tears, searching desperately for an emergency button or a help phone, but there was neither.

  It was her fault. She shouldn’t have let the crazy man spook her.

  Quinn hugged Kara. She wasn’t going to let go. If this was the end—the very end—if they were going to be flattened like pancakes at the base of the elevator, at least they were going to be flattened together.

  She buried her face in Kara’s shoulder and braced for impact.

  21

  THE DOWNWARD MOMENTUM EASED. The pressure fell and the car slowed. And with a faint and final hiss, the elevator came to a complete and dead stop.

  Quinn exhaled as though it was all over. She smiled faintly. Then she saw what Kara saw—what lay beyond the metal cage—and the smile slid from her lips.

  The elevator had come to rest in darkness—a darkness so thick, so complete, that even the soft yellow glow of the elevator lamp could not illuminate more than a few inches.

  “Wh-where are we?” asked Kara. She let go of Quinn, walked to the metal bars, and stared into icy silence. There was no door to the elevator shaft here. Just the metal bars that separated them from the emptiness that lay beyond.

  “I-I dunno,” said Quinn. Her breath was hot and the air frigid. Vapor puffed from each word. “Some kind of basement.”

  Quinn’s voice echoed outward like sonar, giving her a sense of the vastness beyond. It was like they’d dropped into some giant pit. It made her think of Adam. And Joe. She hoped Joe was all right. She hoped the upper floors of the hotel were way nicer than the basement.

  “Let’s get outta here,” muttered Kara, her voice magnified into a hoarse whisper by the echoing walls.

  Quinn nodded and Kara stepped back from the gate. Quinn grasped the brass lever and tried to push it upward, but it was stuck. “Help me.”

  Kara grabbed the lever with both hands. Together they heaved and pushed and pulled, but it wouldn’t budge. Not an inch.

  “It’s … broken…” Quinn grunted. They tried again and again, and then finally gave up.

  Quinn left the lever and moved toward the metal gate. “What is this place?” she said in a breathy whisper. “A dungeon?”

  Quinn slid open the creaky gate and poked her head deeper into the soupy darkness. The air was stagnant, like swamp water. The skin on her arms prickled. She hugged her chest.

  “Hey!” she shouted at the ceiling of the elevator. “We’re down here! Bring the elevator up!” She pounded at the side panels.

  Kara joined in and together they screamed as loud as they could, hoping Persephone and the elevator operator could hear, hoping perhaps they were already trying to bring the car up. But nothing stirred.

  “What are we going to do?” asked Kara.

  Quinn tried the lever one more time. She kicked at it, but it wouldn’t move. The thought of heading through a dark cave without even a little light was a horror all its own.

  “Do you think there’s a way out?” asked Kara.

  “Hush,” said Quinn suddenly.

  “What?”

  Quinn clamped a hand to Kara’s mouth. “Listen.”

  Kara stared at the ceiling of the elevator. But the sound wasn’t coming from above. It was coming from the darkness.

  Quinn’s body tensed as she strained to hear. Soft dripping, like a trickle of water falling on damp rocks. And then footsteps, lightly stepping on the wet, hard ground.

  She was sure her mind was playing tricks again, but then she saw it—the faint flickering glow pushing its way through the cold gloom. Something was approaching.

  Quinn grabbed Kara and yanked the metal gate shut. They backed into the elevator until they were pressed against the rear paneling. Quinn snatched the pillowcase with the water bottles, and though it wasn’t much of a weapon, she prepared to swing. They both stared, eyes wide, jaws limp.

  As the flickering yellow light drew nearer, Quinn’s imagination ran wild. What could possibly live in such a horrible place? A monster? A demon?

  Something emerged from the black—something so completely unexpected it startled Quinn all the more.

  Out of the shadows, lit only by the soft glow of the candle it held, was the small, delicate hand of a child. It grasped a brass saucer candleholder with the stub of a white twisted candle on top.

  The girl was no older than six, wearing a long white nightie that draped to her dainty bare feet. Her yellow hair was matted and fell in scraggly waves over her shoulders. Her face was gaunt, her skin a ghostly white.

  She stared at Quinn with gray expressionless eyes. Then she looked at Kara.

  Her thin lips parted and she spoke in a tiny voice that was flat and watery, like the calm surface of a muddy pond.

  “We weren’t expecting you.”

  22

  QUINN’S SANITY WAS HELD TOGETHER with cobwebs. For the first time, she was certain she was losing her mind—if she hadn’t already lost it.

  The girl searched the inside of the elevator and frowned. “You’ve come alone.”

  “Where are we?” asked Kara.

  The girl lowered her candle and stared at their wrists. “Is that comfortable? It doesn’t look it.”

  “What kind of place is this?” said Quinn. “Who are you?”

  The girl’s eyes met Quinn’s and a sliver of a grin snaked across her lips. She turned and walked silently back into the shadows.

  “Hey, wait!” shouted Quinn. “Don’t leave!” She lunged for the gate and slid it open. She chased after the girl, dragging Kara with her.

  No sooner had they stepped outside the elevator than the gate sealed shut behind them. And in a flash so quick they didn’t have time to turn, with a hideous grinding rush the elevator was gone.

  Kara dove to catch it, but Quinn yanked her back. There was no door to this elevator; most likely it left behind an empty shaft. Something told Quinn if you fell into that, you’d fall forever.

  The little girl glanced over her shoulder. “Come.”

  With the elevator gone, the glow of her candle seemed to grow stronger. It rippled outward, lighting the gloom, and Quinn was amazed at what she saw.

  They were in a large room with a high, coffered ceiling, very much like the lobby of the hotel and yet completely different.

  The floor was a glittering dark marble and the walls covered in pale yellow paper. The trim around the doors and archways was ornate, like the woodwork she’d seen with faces of people and animals carved into it. Only these looked like gargoyles—half human, half animal. Their colorless eyes appeared to follow her every move.

  There was a counter, like the one Persephone stood behind. Only no one stood here and there were no keys and no dusty guest book.

  Since they were deep below the ground, in place of windows there were tall framed mirrors. There were French doors on either end, immense leather armchairs, and heavy side tables with clawed feet. On several walls hung glassy-eyed animal heads—stags and bears and moose.

  Kara squeezed Quinn’s hand. She squeezed back. Quinn didn’t want to follow the girl, but there was little choice. The girl had a candle and if there was a way out she would know it.

  “Come,” she repeated, her voice so thin. So sweet.

  Quinn pulled Kara in close. “Do you think Emma could be down here?” she whispered.

  Kara swallowed. “Or Josh?”

  The thought had already occurred to Quinn. Josh was desperate to ride the elevator. It was possible he’d come to this place by accident like they had and couldn’t get back up.

  Quinn nodded grimly. Hugging each other, they caught up with the candle. It cast a lean shadow on the opposite wall that seemed to disentangle from them and dance about.

  “Why is there no light down here? Electricity out?” Quinn asked.

  “Yes,” said the girl. “That’s right.”

  “Where are you taking us?” said Kara. “Where are we going?”

  Keeping her eyes fixed ahead, the girl giggled softly. “Why, the party, of course.” There
was something odd about her voice. Like unspoken things lingered just below the surface.

  “Party?” said Quinn. “But we don’t want to go to any party. We want to leave.”

  “Did you see a boy?” asked Kara. She held her hand above her head. “This high. Brown hair. His name is Josh?”

  The girl shrugged. “Lots of boys come here. Lots of girls, too. I’m not sure.”

  Girls like Emma, thought Quinn. Perhaps this was the crazy dungeon where they kept all the abducted children. Now, more than ever, she was sure they had stumbled upon some kind of cult.

  “If we go to your party,” said Quinn, “will you show us the way out?”

  The girl didn’t respond. She kept walking. They had little choice but to follow. They crossed the great lobby, and then the girl held the candle toward the mouth of a dark hall.

  “This way. Follow me.”

  She led them through a maze of intertwining halls. They twisted around a few times, descended steep steps, then continued. On either side were massive mahogany doors with no numbers.

  “What’s your name?” asked Kara suddenly.

  The girl smiled. “It’s difficult to pronounce. Most people don’t get it right.” She kept walking.

  Quinn frowned at Kara. The sooner they got out of this weird place the better.

  They continued along a narrow corridor. Quinn felt certain they were descending. Ahead, in the distance, a murmur echoed. It grew louder as they drew nearer. The little girl led the way through a series of archways and the noise became less fuzzy, the sounds more distinct. There was music and laughter and other party sounds.

  “Here we are,” she said, showing them through a final doorway.

  They entered a vast room lit with dozens of flickering candles set upon tables surrounding a dance floor. The walls were dark wood paneling and the ceiling a giant mirror reflecting the people and the light.

  A crowd danced in the center of the room to strange music. They shook and jittered and twisted and hopped, laughing and smiling and singing along like they knew each and every song by heart. They were having the time of their lives.