“Welcommme to Hellllll…” he rasps. “May I cheeeeck you into a rooommm?” His voice is hollow, like shouting into a void. I can’t imagine a being that seems less suited to host travelers, but wraiths are famous system-wide for their hospitality. It’s why every single haven has at least one wraith motel.
“No thank you, Zevrial,” Arkan says confidently. “We’re here to ask for your help with a security issue.”
The wraith, Zevrial, seems to stiffen, even though he’s floating off the ground, his long black cloak fluttering in the air around him. “Weeee are not responsible for ssssecurity, Keeper.”
“I know,” Arkan returns gently. “But two Evertons have been…well, we think they’ve been attacked. They lie catatonic in Doc Slade’s office.”
Slade steps forward and nods his confirmation before Arkan continues.
“Both times, Lou,” he points to her, “saw a vision of someone who recently died here in town. Leighton, from Shifter Hollow.”
I stiffen at hearing it described that way. Very few monsters know of Lou’s involvement in Leighton’s death. It’s a level of secrecy Leighton’s parents insisted on after they learned the full story.
Lou unthreads her fingers from mine and steps forward. “I don’t know how much you know about Leighton’s death, or Wesley’s involvement, but?—”
The wraith raises his hand. “Weeee knowwwww, Louanna of Shifter Hollllllow. Commmme insiiiiide.” Without another word, the wraith turns and floats up the black stairs. Double glass-paned front doors swing open wide, and he disappears through them.
Arkan glances at us, mouth pursing into a flat line. Our group hesitates. Shifters, in particular, are wary of wraiths, preferring to stay with local packs rather than at wraith motels when we travel. There’s something about their aura that rubs me the wrong way, my wolf focused and unsettled, growling under his breath.
“We need answers,” Lou says, glancing over her shoulder. Without waiting for a response, she heads for the stairs and begins to ascend them.
Dirk and I are right behind her. I’d marvel at how exceedingly brave she is if I wasn’t sick to death about what’s going on. She doesn’t need this, any of this. Not when she’s trying to heal from trauma. She needs therapy, love, snacks, a good dicking down at the end of the day. She needs comfort and safety. And a nest. A big gigantic nest where I can lavish her with attention. A nest where I can keep her safely within the cocoon of my arms.
But the world seems determined to throw Lou obstacle after obstacle.
When we enter the motel lobby, she halts and stares around in wonder, mouth dropped wide open.
Arkan clip-clops through the door with Richard and Slade by his side. He looks down at Lou and smiles. “Hardly similar to the human version of a motel, hmm?”
“Hardly,” she murmurs.
I try to see Hel from her perspective, and I don’t know what human motels are like.
“Motel is the closest translation of the wraith word for these sorts of buildings,” Arkan offers, waving at our surroundings.
“Uh, this is a mansion,” Lou corrects with a snort. She points to the giant crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling. “Mansion.” Textured black wallpaper and black and white checkered tiles lend the entryway an elegant look. Her finger moves to a beautifully etched black wood table in the center of the circular entry. A black vase is filled with black, red and white flowers. It’s stunning.
“Mansion,” she whispers. “You haven’t seen a motel if you think that’s what this is.”
A wraith appears behind the table, floating up over it to stand in front of Louanna. “Motelsssss are the lowesssst-levellll offerrrinnnng in our porrrrtfoliiooo of residencesssss. Hennnce the naming connnnventionn. Ourrrr version of a bed and breakfasssst isss quite luxurrriousss.”
Lou’s mouth drops open. “You don’t find this luxurious?”
The wraith shakes his head, the dark mask where his face should be obscured by a flowy black hood. “I dooooo noooooot. Commmme to theeeee officccce.” He turns again and disappears through the flower vase, reappearing on the other side.
“Go on,” Arkan encourages, seeming at ease with this place.
My wolf whines and stands forward in our shared mental space, focused on both Lou and our surroundings. Dirk is a tense presence at my side as we trail the wraith around the table and between two giant curved black staircases that lead to the motel’s second floor.
Everything in a wraith motel is opulent. It’s why, despite how otherworldly they seem, most monsters opt to stay in wraith motels when they travel.
Our group is silent, save for the sound of Arkan’s hooves, as we follow the wraith through dark hallways, past the open doors of a ballroom, past a bustling kitchen where more wraiths flitquietly around, cooking. Eventually, we come to black double doors that swing open for us. The room within is lit faintly by the blue light that emanates from all wraiths, their soul auras.
Lou walks into the room as if there’s nothing at all unusual about this. But from what I’ve learned about humans from other monsters over the years, and past human residents, it’s that the wraith are usually considered “creepy.”
Yet my woman isn’t afraid.
As a therapist, that tugs at my instinct, because I worry she’d willingly put herself in harm’s way to keep someone from being hurt again. And as her mate, I simply worry she has more shit to deal with, shit I’m at a loss to fix.
