The Inn Between (13 page)

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.

Quinn and Kara made their way around the tables to the opposite wall, where a huge buffet stretched the length of the room. Quinn's greedy eyes took it all in. There was every type of meat imaginable—lamb, ribs, turkey, chicken, and a whole pig roasting on a spit. Salads, rice, pasta, and potatoes filled bushel-size silver bowls. There were trays of pickles, dips, and hors d'oeuvres; apples sautéing in butter-brandy, fresh fruit, and mountains of desserts dripping with chocolate and cream. People piled their plates with all sorts of goodies.

“You see,” said the little girl. “It's a grand party. We're so glad you could join us.”

Quinn stood for a moment, searching the crowd for Emma and Josh. No one looked even vaguely familiar. Some of the dancers had wild grins on their faces, others were laughing uncontrollably. They wore strange clothes, from different time periods, as though this were some kind of costume ball.

Kara was searching, too. It was possible Josh and her parents were here, hidden somewhere in the crowd.

“Emma,” muttered Quinn, searching each and every face.

She felt a cold hand touch her cheek. She looked down at the little girl, who—although a lot younger—suddenly reminded her of her sister.

“You can stay here,” said the girl. “Stay with me. You can call me Emma, if you like. We can sing and dance and play forever.”

Ice prickled Quinn's heart. Yes, she thought. I could stay here. Why not? It was a great place and everyone was having so much fun. And she and Kara would be together. Forever. Quinn would never have to return home to the neighbors who stared at her in silent pity, to the school where everyone talked around her in hushed whispers, where no matter what she did or said the teachers didn't give her bad grades anymore. Or to her parents—the people who seemed to forget she was hurting as much as they were.

“Shrimp?” said Kara, picking up a particularly fat one.

Quinn felt a drop on her head. Then another. And another.

She stepped aside and searched the mirrored ceiling for the leak. When she couldn't find one, she looked back at Kara's shrimp.

It was gray and alive and wriggling in her hand.

 

23

Q
UINN KNOCKED THE SHRIMP
TO THE GROUND
.

“Hey!” said Kara. “Why'd you do that?”

Quinn felt another drop. Above her the ceiling began to swish and swirl. It wasn't a great mirror at all, but dark, swampy water, like a giant murky pool.

She watched in horror as a black, wraithlike shadow scaled the far wall. It dove into the water ceiling and glided the length of the pool, one end to the other. Quinn recognized its shape immediately—it was what she'd seen swimming at the bottom of the hotel pool.

The pools were connected. The bottom of one was the top of the other. Something lived between the two worlds. Whatever it was, it could reach up and drag unsuspecting swimmers down.

Quinn's head began to spin. Nothing here was what it appeared to be. She stared wide-eyed at the little smiling girl. She was not Emma. She was nothing like Emma.

Quinn grabbed hold of Kara and steadied herself. Then everything else around her began to transform.

The music, once fun and melodious, had no rhythm, no tone. It was like metal grinding on metal. It hurt her ears. She cupped them, pulling up Kara's hand with hers, but she couldn't block it out.

The people continued to dance, but now Quinn saw they weren't a fun, happy crowd at all. They looked more and more like a frenzied mob, their movements angular and awkward, like wooden marionettes with someone pulling their strings.

On their faces, what Quinn had thought were smiles were grimaces of pain. What she believed to be laughter was actually screams of agony. It was like someone was forcing them to dance. To dance and dance and never stop.

The buffet changed as well. The pickles turned into slugs, and the rice into a pile of wriggling maggots. The meat she had thought looked delicious was moldy green and rotting, and she was sure that what looked like potatoes was an entirely different horror.

But all this didn't seem to sway the guests, who filled their plates with the disgusting, decaying food. They stuffed their faces mouthful after mouthful like they, too, couldn't stop.

Quinn watched as one woman bit off the head of a shrimp and ground the shell between her teeth. A man shoveled a spoonful of maggots into his mouth, strays dripping from his lips and crawling down his chin.

Quinn's stomach lurched. She was going to be sick. The only thing stopping her from collapsing into a heap was one single, all-important thought—they had to get out of this place. Right away.

She grabbed Kara's hand and pulled her close. She wasn't sure if Kara could see what she saw. “Don't touch anything,” she hissed. “And don't say a word.”

The little girl eyed Quinn and Kara. In the glow of her candle, she smiled a wide smile, and for the first time Quinn could see her little teeth were yellow and razor-sharp and her lips and tongue were black as night. She giggled. It was the most chilling sound Quinn had ever heard.

Without thinking, Quinn snatched the candle from the girl's hand and, gripping Kara, sprinted for the door. She raced through the crowd, weaving in between the crazy guests, who bumped and slammed into them as they tried to pass.

“Wait. Don't leave. The party's just getting started.” The little girl's airy voice echoed over the music.

They ran without looking back, through archway after archway, until they reached a corridor that seemed to lead upward. Everything around them had changed as well. Quinn knew when she heard Kara gasp that she was beginning to see it, too.

The doors in the hallway were not mahogany—they were rusted cast iron. Loud banging filled Quinn's ears—people screaming, desperate to get out. Some doors opened a crack, as if held back by chains. Scabbed and bloody arms reached out, clawing for them.

Kara stifled a scream and pressed herself close to Quinn. Together they wove though various passageways, around and around, up one section and down the next, through one crossroads and then another. They ran for some time but did not reach the lobby.

Quinn came to a dead stop, bending over to catch her breath.

“We're lost,” said Kara between gulps of air.

The candle flickered in Quinn's trembling hand. She stared at Kara and nodded. Then over her shoulder she saw it. Beyond the endless rattling doors and the clawing hands, glowing in the darkness was a pair of yellow eyes. It was the ghostly girl and she was moving toward them at a steady pace.

Frantically Quinn pulled Kara toward the opposite end, but just beyond the candle's glow stood a shape, etched out of darkness. Quinn's heart jammed so far up her throat she could scarcely utter a sound. One word squeezed from her tight lips. “Him!”

At the opposite end of the corridor stood the man with the ball cap. He'd managed to find them and was running toward them. Quinn stood frozen to the spot, searching one way, then the other.

The glowing eyes had grown larger and the girl emerged from the darkness, her white gown fluttering in tatters around her, and stretched out her tiny hands. She was inches away, about to dig her claws into Kara, when Quinn felt herself being scooped up, lifted into the air by a big, muscled arm that wrapped itself around her waist. She had no voice to scream. Instead she hung there, clinging to the candle. Kara flopped beside her like a rag doll as the man carted them off at lightning speed.

The candleholder slipped from Quinn's hand, but Kara managed to scoop it up before it fell to the ground. Finally, they burst through the last archway and were back in the main lobby.

The front desk was bleak and decayed. And the frames of the French doors were sagging, the glass cracked. The knobs and hinges were streaked with rust. The animal heads—now mutations, with horns and eyes where there shouldn't be—squealed and cried.

Mold grew like thick black blankets, draping from parts of the ceiling and walls. Between the sheets of fungus were clusters of mushrooms, some with caps as big as Quinn's hand. Like a hideous wave rolling toward them, the mold was spreading quickly. If they didn't get out soon, they'd drown in it.

“Look!” said Kara, aiming the candle toward the end of the lobby.

A doorway of soft light had slid open in the wall. It was the elevator, and Sharon was motioning for them.

“Hurry!” she shouted. “Move!”

The huge man bolted toward the elevator, carrying Quinn and Kara. The little girl's laughter echoed throughout the lobby. She moved toward them with feet that no longer touched the ground.

The man dove into the metal cage, still holding the girls. He dropped them and Kara tossed the candle out into the darkness. It exploded in a fiery ball as the gate sealed shut and the elevator kicked into motion.

Quinn shuddered. The pale face with the sharp teeth and black lips disappeared into the flames, her voice still ringing in Quinn's ears.

“Come back anytime. I'll be waiting.”

Sharon looked at them and sighed. “You shouldn't have come here.”

“What kind of place was that?” yelled Quinn.

“And what was that …
thing
?” said Kara.

Sharon looked deeply and steadily into Quinn's eyes and then Kara's. Quinn could tell the woman was genuinely concerned.

“Some questions are best left unanswered,” said Sharon.