Hotel Magnifique(20)

“The moon window is enchanted to show guests their home, where they’ll return to upon checkout. One of the perks of paying for a stay.” Durc wasn’t my home, but the window didn’t know that. Bel rapped a knuckle on the glass. “Judging from your face, it appears you’re experiencing things like a guest would.”

“But I’m no guest.”

“No. You’re not.”

“Do I have magic?” I asked, and felt immediately silly. “I mean, I never thought . . .”

“Don’t worry. You don’t. Besides, I have magic and the moon window doesn’t work for me.”

“Then why—” I straightened. “My contract.” It was the reason I was here, after all.

He nodded. “In the rush after you came inside, I grabbed the contract our guests sign. I didn’t realize my mistake until it was too late.”

“Right,” I said, not quite understanding the implications. “So staff sign a different contract entirely?”

“Afraid so.”

I thought of the woman’s effervescent voice chiming in my ears. The guests must experience much more magic than the normal staff. If I’d signed a guest contract, it meant I would see it all. Light-headed, I glanced at Bel. My mood soured at the look on his face.

“What do you see?”

“The beach outside the front door, same as the rest of the staff,” he said, and gazed out. With longing.

Béatrice warned me not to ask other workers about their homes, but I had to know. “Do you want to see your home?”

He didn’t answer, but he didn’t have to; it was painfully apparent. He must be from somewhere obscure where the hotel didn’t frequent.

Alastair was cruel to not spare some magic so his staff could use the moon window, too. I felt sorry for Bel, but I didn’t know what to say. Before I could fumble something out, Bel collapsed with a sigh on a velvet settee.

There wasn’t another chair, only the spot beside him. My stomach fluttered, but I forced myself to sit. The velvet cushion hissed, moving under me like a stretching cat.

“God.” I leaped up. “What in the hell is that?”

Bel’s shoulders shook. He tried to hide his mouth, but the bastard was laughing at me again.

“I’m thrilled you find me so amusing.”

“Believe me, so am I,” he said, wiping his eyes. “Don’t worry. It’s just an enchantment. This place is dripping with them.” He ran his fingertips along the tufts. “You can sit now.”

“No, thanks.” I crossed my arms. “Are we done?”

“Can’t stand my company?”

“Not anymore,” I said, then bit my lip. I did owe him for giving me a job, keeping me close to Zosa. I opened my mouth to excuse myself until he held up a hand.

“Look. I know you don’t trust me, you don’t have any reason to, but you have to keep your contract between us. If the wrong person were to find out—” His mouth pressed into a hard line.

I wasn’t planning to tell anyone, but I hadn’t thought it might be dangerous for somebody to find out. The notion sent a chill down my spine. I nodded.

“Very good.” His eyes darted to a wall clock. “It’s late. I should get downstairs.”

As he spoke, music drifted up, along with sounds of clinking glasses and laughter. The soirée. I edged closer to the balcony, but I couldn’t see a thing. “Will the soirée have a lot of magic?”

“More than you can comprehend. Then after everyone is dizzy with it, a handful of the most powerful suminaires put on a show to finish out the night.”

My mouth fell open.

“What is it?”

“There were rumors in Durc that the most powerful suminaires are immortal.”

“Immortal, huh? I guess that’s one way of looking at it.”

“Then it’s true?”

“Somewhat.” He touched a protruding vein on his wrist. “Our power is determined by the amount of magic in our blood. It allows us to heal faster than normal.”

What he said made sense. “I’ve heard of suminaire children healing after grievous wounds, coming back from death. It was said to be a way to tell a suminaire from a normal child . . . along with other rumors.”

“What other rumors?”

“Craving blood,” I blurted, and took a step back. “I mean, you don’t—”

He laughed. “Don’t worry. I don’t have any appetite for your blood. The other rumor is closer to the truth.”

“Coming back from the dead?”

“No one can come back from death, but there are suminaires who can heal from near death. Some think it’s our body’s defense mechanism for our own magic. Less powerful suminaires live a little longer and heal faster, but they still age and die. Very powerful suminaires, like the ones performing tonight, are different. Like you said, practically immortal.”

“Like the ma?tre?”

“Exactly.” He straightened his jacket to go, then caught my shoulder, leaning in and pulling me so close that my heart crashed against my ribs. “If you have any more questions, please come to me first. For some strange reason, I don’t trust that mouth of yours.”