Hotel Magnifique(10)

The sights were almost too much to take in.

Mercury glass partitions hugged the perimeter, creating intimate seating areas filled with pink fringed cushions. One partitioned space contained a life-size chess set, its realistic queens dressed like goddesses in flowing robes.

Along a back wall, a series of alcoves housed plush banquettes. My eyes caught on a trio of huge, crescent moon–shaped lounge chairs near the door. They glowed as they bobbed, suspended in air.

Near the chairs, a row of luggage carts led to a grand concierge desk. No one worked the desk, and yet a multitiered cake covered in rose petals sat on the surface beside a tower of precariously stacked champagne flutes.

My breath halted as liquid bubbled from the top glass and spilled over the sides. Soon all the empty flutes were overflowing in a magical fountain of champagne, right atop the desk.

But behind everything was the greatest sight of all: a huge glass column shot to the ceiling, enclosing some sort of garden.

Moonlight filtered through white vines that climbed to where the column met the second-floor balcony. High above, a large bird swooped to a branch flush with more birds. It was an enormous aviary shooting through the center of the hotel.

There were storefronts along boulevard Marigny that kept exotic birds in cages. Zosa would giggle as they ruffled their brightly colored feathers. The aviary’s thick glass blurred the view along the lobby level. Whatever was kept inside had to be unlike any bird in Durc.

The front door slammed. I turned and my sleeve snagged the branch of an orange tree that grew straight from the floor. Chunks of marble had crumbled away while thick roots twisted up from underneath. Branches hung with waxy leaves and gleaming oranges that appeared slick to the touch. Curious, I poked one. The orange swayed.

“Don’t touch those,” Bel said. He set Zosa down and looked from my neck to Bézier’s invitation, a horrified expression on his face.

“What is it?”

“You’re aging.”

I lifted a hand and found myself unable to grasp what I was seeing. My skin was sallow. Each of my knuckles poked through loosening flesh. I ran fingers over my collarbone, shuddering at skin hanging where it should be taut. Age spots bloomed up my wrists. No, not age spots—they turned black and stunk, rotting and oozing. When a plump maggot wriggled out, I felt bile coming up my throat.

I wasn’t aging. I was decomposing like a spoiled fish on the summer docks.

“Jani, what’s happening?” Zosa scooted toward me.

“Don’t,” I croaked. Loose skin shuddered. At this rate, I’d be a corpse in minutes.

Before I could blink, Bel took off across the lobby. A sharp cramp stabbed my side. I stumbled, knocking the orange tree. An orange broke off, hitting the floor and smashing into shards. Even despite my current state, my brows furrowed. Fruit didn’t shatter.

Another cramp struck me, and I sank to my knees. Bel returned a moment later with a sheet of parchment. A contract.

“Do something,” I groaned.

Zosa whimpered.

He placed the contract in front of me, along with a large well of purple ink. With a flick of his switchblade, he stabbed my thumb and dripped my blood into the ink as the Durc clock in the square across from the hotel began its chime to midnight.

I managed to sign my full name by the eighth chime. Just before the tenth, Bel rifled through some big book leaning near the entrance. He pulled out his key and shoved it into the door’s lock. His forehead fell against black lacquer, the lean muscles on his back rising and falling at the eleventh chime.

I didn’t look at my hands. I couldn’t bear to see what was left. So I sat, dazed, waiting for that clock’s twelfth chime to midnight. It never came.

Bel slid to a crouch, eyes locked on mine. I caught the edge of a smile before his forehead collapsed on his crossed arms. “Welcome back.”

“He’s right,” Zosa said, amazed.

I touched my neck, my cheeks. My skin no longer sagged.

“Next time some fool tries to get in with an old invitation, remind me it’s a terrible idea,” Bel said, but I was too giddy with relief to let his words rile me.

“It’s after midnight.” Zosa hopped up and ran to the nearest window and tried to peek behind the shuttered drapes.

“We’re not in that alley in Durc anymore, are we?” I asked Bel.

His brows drew together. “We’re in an alley.” Pushing up, he stepped toward me and stopped when his heel crunched against one of the broken orange shards. “You broke an orange? It seems you’re not very good at following instructions.”

I shot him a peeved look, but he was already kicking away the remaining shards, hiding all evidence of what I’d done. Then he studied me with an intensity I’d never experienced from anyone, let alone a man. My skin prickled. He leaned toward me, but didn’t touch me. Instead, he grabbed my signed contract and swore.

“Is there something wrong with the contract?”

“Not exactly.” He tucked it down his pocket.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

We both jumped at the click of heels on marble. “There isn’t time to explain. I’ll find you tomorrow before your orientation.”

“When is that?”

He put a finger to his lips at the same moment Yrsa popped out from a back hall balancing a teacup on a saucer. “Ah, Bel! Glad you made it back, dearest. I was frightfully worried.”