The houses scattered over the field began to appear more frequently as they drove. The daylight meanwhile grew dimmer and dimmer and finally snuffed out when they reached the wooden sign, lit with a single spotlight, that told them they were entering Temperance.

They parted ways with the delivery boy soon after. He pointed out a long building with dark timber trim, and told them they could park anywhere. “Ask for Marinell. He’ll take care of you.”

The taillights of the van disappeared down the road. No lampposts. Rai could only make out two or three distant windows in the strangely greenish gloom. The bobbing fireflies in the grass around the hotel were the most scintillating nightlife Temperance had to offer.

The outsized carpark contained only two cars. One drove out as they came in. Rai parked anywhere.

A carved sign over the door designated the building the Saturn Hotel.

The sight of the lobby stopped Sao in his tracks, a look of graceful but overwhelming wonder on his face. Sao ate up old buildings; saw some infinite romance in winding staircases and faded paintings, creaky floorboards and deflated furniture in dusty floral covers. How unfortunate for Sao that he himself lived in cutting-edge chrome and minimalist stylings, in the third-most expensive high-rise estate in Central (at an outrageous discount, too - he was allegedly friends with the owner.)

Rai’s eye meanwhile was immediately drawn to the glass door in the wall, blinding white against the chipping yellowed paint, like an error in a simulation. A paper sign taped next to it listed telephone, fax, a printer and ‘lightning-fast’ internet. The glass was frosted, obscuring the customer currently inside the cubicle. The only thing Rai could gather was that their hair was red and they were pecking audibly at a keyboard. He estimated a typing speed of one letter every two seconds.

He left them to it and followed Sao down the hall.

At the end of the foyer was a shallow staircase that dropped into an enormous carpeted lounge bathed in orange light. They both descended, wound through the course of soft couches and coffee tables like synchronized swimmers, and came up against the source of the light.

Rai couldn’t remember the last time he’d ever seen a fireplace, especially one this large, and in use. Raised slightly above ground and surrounded by an enormous stone lintel, a hypnotizing mass of flames was crackling away behind a black grate.

He shook his gloves out over the fire and put them back on.

“Not something you see much of in the city, is it?” Sao said, bending to warm his hands. “Who’d have thought: an old-fashioned inn. Not a soul in sight. We may see a ghost yet.”

“Let them come. Better atmosphere than that damn tunnel.”

“This is nice. I told you the trip was hardly a waste. The weekend’s coming up. We could stay the night, see the sights. Maybe revisit the tunnel.”

“I think we saw all the sights there are.” Rai looked out the window, and saw nothing but the reflection of the sitting area. “This is your kinda place, huh?”

“I won’t deny it. Shall I become a castle hermit, then?”

“I was talking about this place more than the castle. Though the castle’s probably also got a lot of this old fashioned stuff…”

“Old fashioned? You injure me, Rai.” Sao laughed. The lingering tension from the forest fell away. Though ambiguity was charming enough, when Sao hit with a whole smile and easy laugh, it blew any doubts back.

The unsubstantial man behind them, who they only realized was there when they both turned to leave, was nearly blown off his feet.

Rai watched with waning amusement as the man, who introduced himself as Marinell the manager, stared at Sao, then tried to act like he wasn’t. The redness that consumed his face was not a result of the fire. But the color did not extend to his hair, which was limp and yellow.

Beyond their stammering host, in the entrance hall, the business room had been vacated, the door wide open. The mysterious redhead was done with their work. Rai frowned.

His frown was enough to get Marinell’s attention off Sao, and he began pelting Rai with frantic apologies. If Sao’s immediate effect was to leave souls smitten, Rai’s was to make them feel they’d done some catastrophic wrong.

“Sorry, again, sir. We’re just short staffed at the moment, the cleaner just left and I was down finishing some laundry. I’m sorry there was nobody at the front desk to help you, but if there’s anything I can do - I’m the owner, I forgot if I said - I’m s–”

“No, we’re sorry for barging in,” Sao said, before Marinell could utter another ‘sorry’ of his own. “You wouldn’t happen to still be serving dinner, would you?”

Rai was pretty sure Marinell would have served up the moon if it were Sao asking.

—

They were taken through a closed hallway of obnoxious length to a tall room paneled with caramel coloured wood. On one side of the room was a long unlit bar, with a large wooden column on either end, rising into a crisscross of beams that supported the sloped ceiling.

Opposite the bar was a wall of glass doors, completely uncurtained. The view showed a shallow patio lit by a few floor lamps. Anything beyond that was cloaked in darkness, just a few embers - fireflies? - hovering low near the building.

They were given a table in the middle of the room. Marinell lit a candle in a glass for them. It took a few tries and some dusting of the wick to get the flame going.

The range of dishes listed in the laminated menu was suspiciously broad. Rai inspected it carefully. “I’ll go with the mushroom soup.” This was listed as a specialty. “And the, uh, stuffed mushroom.” He snapped the menu shut. “And a coffee.”

“Now or for after the meal?”

“Now, thanks.”

There was a nod, almost a shrug, as Marinell presumably committed the order to memory. He wasn’t writing anything down. Rai thought he saw the man’s shoulders relax, though. He was relieved to have Rai’s order out of the way.

Sao traced his way down the menu with a finger. “I’ll take the house mushroom soup too. And… let’s see. Which do you recommend, pork chops or steak?”

“Uh, um. What’s better for you?” That was the kind of response that had a person kicking themselves hard at night. “I mean, are you really hungry?” Marinell was going to give himself a concussion.

“I could go either way. I suppose what I’d really like is to know which would be easier for you and your kitchen? We’re the ones keeping you here after hours.”

“No, no, no trouble at all. We - I’m grateful to have anyone here at all. Not a lot of visitors these days. For a hotel, I mean…”

Dinner would never start at this rate. For the sake of Marinell and their stomachs, Sao made his choice. “I’ll have the steak.”

Unfortunately, this almost made Marinell combust with nerves. After an overlong inspection of his feet and a glance at the exit, he looked at the tablecloth in front of Sao and muttered, “We, erm, actually, we’re out of steak. Tomorrow, or the next day… and we’re out of chops as well. I’m so, so sorry.”

“Absolutely fine. How about another stuffed mushroom for me? And some tea with milk. I’ll take it now, same as his coffee.”

Gathering the menus and immediately dropping one of them, Marinell finally managed to shuffle off to the kitchen.

“He just didn’t want to leave you,” Rai said.

“Be mature,” Sao murmured with his usual smile back in position.

“I thought the menu was overreaching for somewhere so out-of-the-way.”

“Maybe it wasn’t at some point. The fact that the menu’s so extensive must mean this place was lively in the past. Or someone hoped it would be.” Sao looked across the empty dining room, then out into the dark nothingness that filled the window. “I wonder how the view is in the daytime.”

“If the quadruple-mushroom special is good, we can come back.”

“Will it also be on your tab?”

Rai groaned. “Sneaky. That’s why you were flip flopping between the two most expensive things on the menu, huh?”

“Getting it free would have made a steak all the sweeter.” Sao folded his arms. “I’ll treat you to something when we get back. You know I will.”

Sao’s generous pseudo-landlord had also lent him a club card that entitled him to enormous discounts at nearly every eatery in the city. Rai tipped his head in mock submission. “What happened to the apple that kid gave you?”

“I still have it.” It came out of some unseen pocket of the coat hanging on Sao’s chair. He set it on the table where it glowed, more enchanted than ever, in the candlelight. “It’s almost too pretty to eat, isn’t it?”

“Almost.”

Out of the kitchen came Marinell, arms full with their tea and coffee. “The soup will be here shortly.” He shot the kitchen a fearful look, as if a soupy tidal wave could come flooding out at any moment.

“Take your time,” Sao said.

A weak smile from their host-turned-waiter vanished almost as soon as it formed.

Recalling that Marinell said the hotel was understaffed (as if it weren’t obvious without his saying) Rai tried to be sympathetic. He stood up to help and managed to save his coffee from flipping onto the carpet. “Yeah, easy there. Are you the only guy working here tonight?”

“Someone called for me?”

In waltzed the delivery boy. He had a tent-sized white apron tied in a double loop around his waist and a steaming bowl of soup balanced on each hand.

“Guy, be careful, those are hot,” Marinell said for lack of anything more useful.

His warning only inspired Guy to do a small jig before he set down the soups. Not a drop spilled. Sao looked like he was going to clap.

“How funny to see you guys here,” Guy trilled. Next to Marinell, he looked even more diminutive, like a child playing house. The apron dragged on the floor.

“You’ve met?” Marinell asked.

“We sure did, when I was out on my rounds. They’re roadtrippers, I think. They must have heard what great food us guys serve here at the Saturn Hotel.” Guy gave his guests an exaggerated wink. Rai, who was never much good with kids, couldn’t tell if Guy thought he was being convincing or not.

Looking like he’d been clubbed over the head, Marinell went to check on their stuffed mushrooms. Guy watched him go and then turned seriously to Rai and Sao. “He’s a decent guy. Don’t give him a hard time, okay?”

“You seem to know each other well,” Sao said. “So you work here. That explains a thing or two.”

“It does, doesn’t it? Sorry if it seems like I tricked you.”

The boy pouted with all his might. Rai’s own face twitched. “Well, uh, you were right about the food. This soup’s not bad.” It was better than that; plenty of onion and not too oily.

“I know, right? That one’s actually my recipe.”

“We should be the ones sorry for keeping you in the kitchen so late,” Sao said.

“It’s alright. Sometimes I just come to the kitchen at midnight just to make myself something. I actually live here. Mr. Marinell lets me have a room downstairs.”

“How old are you, anyway?” Rai asked.

Guy looked like he was going to make a run for it now that the question had been posed. But with a deep breath (Rai was starting to see this kid had a taste for drama) he smoothed his apron and said, “I’m old enough to drive. And you’re never too young to work. Is that why you’re asking? But like I said, Marinell’s really looking out for me, and I don’t want to go back to my real folks. Can’t. They’re no good. So please don’t call the labor committee or anything.”

Obviously seeing some common ground on the family front, it was Sao to the rescue. “Our lips are sealed. My friend here just couldn’t hold back his concern.”

“Like Marinell then. He’s no good with words either.”

Rai kept his mouth shut.

“But he’s a really nice guy. Like a dad to me.” Guy smiled directly at Rai. Not so oblivious after all. His teeth were very white. “But I shouldn’t go saying that. He’s already got a son. Flor usually stays at the school’s dormitory. Myrmilion Schoolhouse, maybe you saw it on the way? Big old towers.”

He unknowingly made an obscene gesture with his hands. Rai tried not to snort into his spoonful of soup. Still a kid, after all.

“It’s a school?” Sao asked.

“Yeah, for younger kids. Primary age. It’s run by a faerie. Ever met one? He’s tiny - only about as tall as me. He bought the castle and made it into a school when all the other ones shut down.”

“An enterprising fellow.”

“Yea, he’s not one of those uppity faeries though. I mean, not that I’ve met many. Anyway it’s a huge place, I wonder how they don’t get all lost in it.”

Was there some bitterness at being too old to be among them?

“Perhaps we’ll have a look if we visit the area again,” Sao said.

Guy smiled, but only half as vibrantly than before. “Yeah. Maybe. That would be lucky, to have repeat customers. Or any customers.”

“You never know. Rai here,” Sao pointed at Rai in a way he wasn’t sure he liked, “has an interest in unusual, out-of-the-way places.”

“Cool.” Guy beamed with his teeth once again. “I can tell from your car, you really like driving.”

“Yeah, I’ve just about run it into the ground,” Rai said. “But I don’t have the heart to replace it yet.”

“I do car work too. What I don’t know, I can get Mr. Hode to do. So if you ever come back here and have a breakdown, just ask for Guy.” Tightening the tie of his apron, Guy gave them each a quick bow. “Well, I gotta get back to the kitchen.”

“We won’t keep you.” But Sao laid his head on his palm and locked Guy down with a bemused look. “So, Guy really is your name. I was wondering if you were just playing on Marinell’s words earlier.”

“It’s not exactly the name my folks gave me. They say it a different way. But I told you, I don’t like thinking about them. I like being here, though. And here, I’m just Guy.”

In a remarkable show of inner strength, Guy flipped off Sao’s stare with a grin, did a little twirl and strode back toward the kitchen.

“Tough kid,” Rai said, starting on his coffee.

“Yes. Marinell is lucky to have him.” Sao stared at his reflection in his spoon. “So the castle we saw was a school. I hadn’t even considered that. Somehow, it’s fitting. Who better than children to enjoy a faerietale castle?”

“Not sure you’re allowed to call it that. The owner being a real faerie and all.”

“My mistake. I suppose that was demeaning. And who am I to assume any self-respecting child enjoys going to school?”

“Gotta wonder how many kids even live in the area. We should look the place up. What did he call it, Myrmilion…?” Rai found his phone still devoid of any signal. “Damn.” And his coffee was done, too.

Sao was just beginning to dip into his soup. Rai looked over at the kitchen, wondering if it would be out of line to walk in to ask for more coffee. The whole pot, to give the servers more time before he inevitably asked again. Rai was aware his coffee consumption was a lousy habit. It was worse for his wallet than his health. With the restorative aura that ran through his veins, he didn’t even need the caffeine.

Maybe this was a good time to practice moderation. They were lost in the countryside with no internet, stuck at a hotel that only served mushrooms, all because of a ridiculous impulse of his. No more tunnels; those rumors never turned out to be true.

But the soup wasn’t bad. Rai resolved to have just one more cup of coffee.

A small figure materialized at the doorway. Rai raised a hand, motioned toward his empty cup. But it wasn’t Guy.

—

Rai was no stranger to haunted hotels - when it came to the movies, at least. Hauntings often started with a young girl - ghost or guest - dressed like she’d fallen out of some bygone era, staring down whatever her counterpart was. Guest or ghost.

The girl who appeared before them was dressed for the part. She had a preppy little ruffled shirt and tan pants, and a lapel coat of the same color. On her head was a thick pink helmet, the color of grass under the Interstate sunset. Only when she got closer did Rai see that the helmet was actually her hair, shoddily cut but brushed into submission, chunks smoothed down into layers that looked like fish scales. Below her scaly bangs was a face riddled with acne.

Her arms strained around a massive leatherbound book with loose pages sticking out from every possible angle.

The girl slouched over and scowled like a gargoyle.

“You should take your gloves off at the table,” she said to Rai, nose wrinkled. “It’s not normal.”

“I’m paying for the privilege of keeping them on.”

She sucked the inside of her cheek, like she was gearing up to spit. Rai would have preferred a ghost. “Don’t blame me when you get in trouble,” she said wetly. “But I get it. You’re not from around here.” She looked from one face to the other, to the apple. “Aren’t you going to eat that?”

Sao gave her the silent treatment. Rai shrugged. “We’re saving it for later.”

“Are you going to share it?”

“Uh… We could. Technically it’s his apple. Why the concern?”

The girl swallowed. Sao watched with uncharacteristic flatness. She ignored him and faced down Rai, since was the one she could extract responses from. “Is he your friend?”

“He’s the best friend I’ve got around at the moment.”

Not a twitch from of Sao. Rai was mildly disappointed.

“Best friend, huh? Good. Then you can help me answer this.” She pointed at Sao with her free hand. “What would you do if you woke up one day and he was gone?”

Sao coughed, whatever spell he’d been under, temporarily lifted.

Rai threw an arm over the back of his chair and took his time sizing Sao up. He made her wait for him to finish all his imaginary measurements. “It wouldn’t happen.”

The girl’s jaw was slack.

“From the beginning, I wouldn’t ‘wake up’. I don’t sleep.”

“What do you mean? Like you don’t close your eyes?”

“I can close my eyes, but I don’t sleep. No need.”

“Liar.” For a moment it looked like this disgusted her enough that she was going to ditch them. But the trouble she’d come in with made her stay. “Alright, pretend you never have to sleep. What if you went into another room or had to go away for a while, and came back, and he was gone? And you knew that meant something bad happened to him, but nobody believed you?”

“If this guy went missing, I don’t think I’d be the only one worried.”

When her hands balled into fists, he noticed conspicuous bruising on her knuckles. “Just pretend, then. One day you went to watch the sunset…”

“A normal one or a pink one?”

“What?”

“We watched one today,” Rai said. “Are all sunsets here hot pink?”

“Okay, a pink one. Pretend you went up somewhere high to see it. And he annoyed you so you turned away. Not even that long. When you were finished watching - and it became dark - you turned around and he was gone. You knew you had to help him but had no way to get to where he was, and everyone around you kept lying saying they knew where he was and he was okay, but wouldn’t tell you where.”

Rai pretended. “I assume I’ve already tried his phone and checked his house? And that ‘everyone’ includes any other acquaintances of his, and the police?”

The girl looked like she might punch him or burst into tears.

“Please, just tell us who it is that’s missing.” Sao’s voice was so unnervingly soft that the girl jumped. “You’re clearly worried about someone. A friend?”

“Maybe. I mean, yeah. Her name is Rose. She’s in my class. She’s the best friend I had… that I have at the moment.”

“What happened to her?”

Sao usually left questioning to Rai but when he wanted something, he was hypnotic. Meeting eyes was akin to strolling into quicksand. The girl had a little more spine than Marinell did, and kept her neck up, but looked past him. Oddly, Sao didn’t seem to be looking at her face either - he was eyeing her book.

“She’s gone,” the girl told the space behind Sao. “We went to see the sunset on one of the towers at school and she fell off. Now she’s gone. I don’t know how to call her and I don’t know where she lives.” A vicious look at Rai. “But I know she wouldn’t go without saying anything. Even if she hated me or left because of me. Rose was good with words, and she didn’t leave any. That’s how I know something bad happened and everyone is lying when they say she’s okay. I need you to help me find her.”

“She fell,” Sao echoed. He glanced at Rai; they were evidently thinking the same thing. “I presume there are others at your school, and someone took her to the hospital. It’s not right they keep you in the dark but–”

“That’s the problem. Hospital’s exactly what everyone is saying, but it doesn’t make sense. That she’s okay. If she’s really okay, I would know. I didn’t see any ambulance that night, either…”

Sao exchanged another look with Rai. “Maybe she’s too hurt to talk right now.”

“Then I really have to go see her.”

“I'm sure your teachers will let you know when she’s better.”

“You’re acting like them. Lying. Everyone here just lies, so bad, I can smell it. But you’re not from Temperance. You’re different, right?” This was posed once again to Rai, who desperately needed another coffee. “You can talk to the principal about this and make him cough up the truth.”

Shake him down. The kind of proposal you’d hand the dirty cop in a noir drama. Rai suppressed a snort. “So you both go to the school in town?”

“Not in town, it’s outside of town by one mile. And I don’t just go there, I live there.”

“This is the school with the faerie principal?”

“If you know that then you should call him by his name. Muka. He’s not evil, but he's easy to scare, so that’s probably why he’s lying. You’re probably wondering what’s even scary around here… just the stupid letters. Everyone’s got them, there’s no reason to worry but… Hey, I know! You can look into who’s sending the letters too. When you’re done finding out what happened to Rose.”

The fiery dame had more than one proposal for them. Were all kids in this town as dramatic as the two they’d met so far? Rai wanted to continue playing along, but he’d hate himself for it once they were back on the road. He’d had his share of disappointments as a kid; piling expectations onto interesting-looking adults never paid off. “This all sounds intriguing, but I’m sorry. I’m not sure I can help.”

“I just told you what you should do. It will be easy.”

“I don’t think some strangers can just walk into a school pointing fingers.”

“No. But you’re not just strangers. You’re a detective.”

The words came out thick, but she’d finally managed to get one over them.

—

Birdsing (pronounced with a ‘zing’ according to the elderly administrator who met them) was not a ghost town yet, but sure as hell not long for this world.

Rai lacked political know-how, but being a resident of Mainline, the largest district of Core Cities Central, he had seen firsthand entire districts emptied out; upturned by gentrification, better offers elsewhere, sudden and tragic accidents, environmental disasters. Existence was a competition, an endless tussle between landlords and job providers and crime and cops and everything else.

He had never considered what would happen if a place was just allowed to live out its time, without fuss. But in retrospect, it was obvious - like any living thing, it would just deteriorate and eventually die. That’s what was happening to Birdsing.

So the place did fascinate him, in a way. He wouldn’t have driven out to Interstate purely for an idiotic tunnel adventure.

The police station was easy to find. It was the only block with lights on, a stumpy structure in a neighborhood of mostly-abandoned homes. The houses were pretty sizable, with tall windows, expansive porches and lawns, all at least two storeys each. They sat in serious silence, watching through blackened glass, weeds crawling up the realtors’ signs. It was a wasteland, in the sense it was a complete waste of construction. There weren’t even squatters to take advantage of it.

The station was clean. Not just clean, but hollowed out, with light patches showing where rugs and shelves had been before, which made it seem all the more ghostly.

The administrator, an ancient ex-cop who came to them as a muddle of bones and liver spots, talked about how lively Birdsing was back in the day. Carnivals, familial gatherings at the lake in the summer, all the pretty girls. Rai did recall the GPS briefly marking out a dried-up lake.

Just five years ago, there was the parade. Just five years ago, he said sadly.

The station had to shut down by the end of winter. In preparation for its closing, about a year earlier, a Core Cities audit team had come by to collect all records for storage or disposal. The city archivists then digitized the records to dump into the bottomless void that was the Central police database. In the process, some sharp-eyed cleric had found that an entire page of items reported in the files were missing.

There was nothing of exceptional importance on the list, but the Birdsing police (which Rai suspected was just the one passionate old man) promised to locate the missing items.

He’d followed through, and it was policy to have Central HQ collect it. The request had gone out, loitered in the system until it was almost too late. But then came Rai looking for any boneheaded excuse to drive to the I76.

So here they were.

While Sao egged on the old man, Rai did a quick inventory of what they had come to collect, cross checking it with the document on his phone. There wasn’t much, and it all fit into one small cardboard box.

There was a thin folder at the top of the stack. This wasn’t part of the inventory, but the old man said he had managed to scrounge up some things the original crew had overlooked, and didn’t want them to miss again. Sao thanked him, and he had actually saluted. Rai thought the papers inside looked like failed tests from a photocopier.

Rai found the majority of the reported items were toys - a stuffed bear and cow, a plastic doll with a scratched face, a bunch of trinket puzzles made of metal loops and clear plastic. (Kids from all around came just for the fair, claimed the ex-cop, wiping a tear.) There was also a jacket embroidered with fraying pink flowers, an umbrella, a flask (empty), a wallet (in good condition, but also empty) and a loop of keys.

Lost-and-found junk.

Rai scanned the list twice and inquired about one of the line items.

The ex-cop was indignant and directed him to check again; everything was in the box for sure. And Rai did eventually find a plastic bag with the date and ID he was looking for, though the object inside didn’t look like a hard drive.

The old man was reluctant to let them leave. Or maybe it was the box he didn’t want to part with. Either way, when they traded goodbyes, Sao managed to utter something so touching that the man burst into tears.

Rai couldn’t remember what it was. His mind was on the tunnel at the time.

He managed to send confirmation of the pickup to Mainline Police HQ with his phone before they left town. There was still phone reception in Birdsing. For a place that seemed so disconnected, so on the verge of death, there was still a signal connecting that old man, that emptied building, and anyone who might still be living in the almost-ghost town, to the outside world.

Rai hadn’t given much thought to that signal until he’d lost it.

—

“I’m not a cop,” Rai said. He could immediately tell that wasn’t going to fly.

The girl bared her teeth, in pain or about to inflict. “I saw the box in your gross car. It had a police sticker.”

“You got up close to a gross car just to take a look inside?”

“I know it’s gross because I got close to look inside.”

“You shouldn’t do that. You never know who might be in a car with the lights off.” This seemed to alarm her, so he quickly added, “I’m just bringing some things back for my other friends. They’re policemen. I’m not.”

“He’s an investigator,” Sao said, unhelpfully.

“Not while we’re in Interstate.” Rai folded his gloved hands, and turned to Sao. “I’m only allowed to investigate in Mainline. The best I can do outside my designated region is get permission to record observations on approved cases.”

“So you are a cop.” The kid was a rock.

“I can’t arrest people. I don’t get a gun. Everything I do has to get written up, and I can’t even try to put in any kind of request if I don’t have any way of getting online.”

The girl’s face went slack again. But not in submission. “You’re so stupid. You keep making excuses for things that are really easy. Just use the Business Center.”

“I plan to.” Rai wondered what websites offered maps suited for printouts.

“You know, that’s not a bad idea, Rai.” Sao said, saccharine enough to make Rai’s gut churn. “It couldn’t hurt to just send one email.”

“Not sure what the Mainline police are going to think, but we can try. Just don’t expect too much.”

“What do you say?” Sao asked.

“Liars!”

Rai spun his chair out so he could face her. The oversized book hanging off her was misleading; she was taller than he’d first thought, maybe taller than Guy after all. “We’ve listened to your case and told you what we think. If this were a serious investigation, we would start by calling hospitals and the family, not marching in and slamming your principal to the ground while you dance around in the back screaming ‘liar’.”

Sao’s cool little glance was a warning. Rai took a deep breath.

“Okay, okay, first things first. What’s your name?”

“Cherry.”

Fitting enough, considering her red hair. “Since you said you can’t call Rose or her hospital by yourself, I’m guessing you don’t have your own phone. Too bad, because a contact number is usually the first thing we need. You also said you go to the nearby school, right? Myrmilion? So we know where to find you if we need you.”

She nodded. Being needed appealed to kids; Rai remembered the feeling. The hope that you might be the linchpin, the savior to swoop in and save everyone when things went sour. But when real sour situations came around, responsibility wasn’t always so appealing.

“So if we’re calling around, we’ll need Rose’s full name, at least. And the day she was supposed to have gone to hospital.”

“But I don’t think she’s in the hospital. That’s the point.”

Rai sighed and rubbed a gloved hand through his hair. “But everyone says she is. How are we supposed to prove everyone wrong without any evidence? The thing to do in these cases, you see, is to pretend you’re following along. Listen to everything they say. Write it all down. When you have all the details in front of you, then you know the cracks you’re seeing are real cracks in the story and not just some feeling.”

“I can do that.” She whipped the book in front of her so suddenly that the hard corner almost took Rai’s nose off. “I’m a writer.”

Rai thought of the slow tapping he’d heard from the Business Center. “Good for you.”

“I wrote down everything I remembered from that night.” Cherry began flipping through the pages, or rather the loose leaves she had stuck between the pages of her enormous book, which Rai saw bore the name Faerietales Omnibus.

“Do you like faerietales, Cherry?” Sao asked.

“No. They’re stupid and lame. But I like to look for the cracks. There are loads of them. And then I think of ways to make them better.”

“That sounds… rather difficult.”

“It’s not. The old writers leave out all the important little things. When someone dies, there’s blood, for example. Unless it was poison, but then they should tell us what kind of poison. And real faeries are nothing like the ones in the stories.”

“Those stories were written before ‘real’ faeries began calling themselves faeries.”

Her eyes narrowed; clearly Sao didn’t look mature enough to be making those kinds of claims. “Then somebody needs to update them. They aren’t realistic.”

“A difficult proposal.” Sao considered the apple, turning around in his hand. “Faerietales are more like analogies. Often intentionally mismatched from reality so that they are never too specific to any real person’s experience.

“Take a subject, and let the reader - whoever they might be - fill in the blanks. For example, you read death and think of blood. But I think of a heart attack in the night. You want the know the name of the poison, but someone like him-” Sao tilted his head toward Rai. “- would think it more urgent to know a poisoner’s motive and how the poison was delivered, before reading up on the specifics of the chemical compound. He may already had a poison in mind, having read of it before. But that’s him. Stories can’t be perfect fits, even if they try to be. No one person can ever claim they’ve experienced it the way one’s written, because of the holes. At the same time, with that space left for everyone to fill in their own details, the story can be made one’s own, by anyone.”

Cherry’s knuckles drained white with the death grip she had on the Omnibus.

“It’s quite impressive, when you think about it. Not so easy to improve.” Sao did not linger on Rai’s bug-eyed stare. “Cherry, is that book from your school?”

She nodded.

“May I see it?”

“No!” She wasn’t that far gone. The book clapped shut. So much for kickstarting a case.

“Fair. But there wouldn’t happen to be a bit of blue ink on the inside of the back cover? Where someone set down too thin a piece of paper, and the pen bled through when they wrote their plans for the future. Orange ink. Something about a million dollar fashion job, a pool and a plane, an apartment at the top of a skyscraper. There was something about faeries too, if I remember, though it might have been a little impolite…”

Cherry looked like she might throw up. Rai instinctively slid his chair back.

Sao sighed, set down the apple. “If so, that was my friend’s book.”

“Your friend? Him?” Cherry aimed an unsure finger at Rai. They exchanged baffled looks.

“No.” Sao flipped back to his benign smile. “Someone from a long time ago. Thank you for the reminder. I may visit your school sometime after all.”

Just moments before, Rai had been praying for something, anything to silence Cherry. But he wasn’t sure he liked Sao’s approach. At least they would have something to talk about on the drive home.

A cloud of garlic oil and cooked mushroom wafted into the dining area. In the center of the cloud was Guy, once again doing acrobatics with the plates. His act screeched to a halt when he laid eyes on Cherry. “Not you again.”

“Go away, Guy, we’re talking.”

Guy drew himself up to his full (if meager) height, raising his voice while he was at it. “You think you can tell me what to do?”

“I just did!”

The pitch of their voices made the room ring. The candle’s flame shivered.

Cherry swivelled, grazing Guy’s apron with her book. “So? Get out! I’m here on business!”

“What the hell are you talking about? Business? I’m the one who should be saying that - this is literally my job. You’re the one who needs to get out! You’re bothering the patrons!”

Then came Marinell out of the kitchen, wiping his hands with a ragged towel that he dropped on the floor and nearly tripped over. “Cherry? You need to let us know when you’re coming. You know that. It’s late, you should really be in bed…”

Cherry opened her mouth wide, but thought better of it. Rai’s or Sao’s lecture hadn’t done the trick, nor had Guy’s shrieking, but Marinell’s limp protests did her in. She gave a blubbery huff and ran from the dining room.

—

Marinell seemed happy to forget the altercation in the dining room. Or maybe it happened often enough that tonight didn't phase him. A truly brain-melting number of times it would have to be, to harden those tissue paper nerves.

He hadn’t been as confident with the faulty credit-card machine. Before their host could fall weeping to the ground, Rai offered up the sum in cash.

They followed Marinell to the lobby register for a receipt and change. Sao offered to give him a bit of breathing room and nodded toward the lounge. He and Rai took (what they thought) would be a last long look at the grand fireplace.

“You came prepared,” Sao said.

Glancing at the lobby, where Marinell was hunched over the counter, counting, Rai muttered, “I always carry some cash when taking a drive out to Interstate.”

“I see.”

“You regret signing up for the trip yet?”

It was Rai who immediately regretted saying it, but Sao just smiled and huddled closer to the flames.

Their reciept came. Handwritten and signed. “You’ll be heading out, now, sir? Sirs?”

Guy came bounding down the staircase. “Maps! I was thinking you’d need some maps, right? Not that I’m saying you don’t know where you’re going, but…”

“I know where I’m going, but I don’t know how to get there,” Rai said. Guy seemed to like that, grinning and nodding like a dashboard toy. “I was wondering if we could use your computer to print out directions.”

“Sure, sure! It’s thirty for an hour in the Business Center, but if you do it in half, you can just pay fifteen. Of course guests - that’s guests staying in rooms - get it free for the duration of their stay, but…” He trailed off. Rai let him. It was a lousy feeling.

“I’m sorry, Guy. This place is great, you guys have been great - I might actually come back sometime. But I have work I really have to finish back at home.”

“Oh. It’s alright. As long as you had a good time here.” He turned to his employer. “You get the fifteen dollar down payment. I’ll prepare the computer room. I’ll bet that little rat left the pens and paper a mess.”

Guy left the room with slightly less bounce than he’d come in with.

Once it was only adults in the room, Rai was surprised to hear Marinell try his hand at the business pitch Guy had just attempted. “It is almost eleven.”

“It’s all right. I can go a long time without sleeping. I went almost three months once.”

This was too much for Marinell - Rai could tell because it was like he hadn’t even heard it. “But the roads are dark here… I’m sure you’re a safe driver, but if you’re tired, perhaps you don’t even need a room, but the lounge…?” He seemed confused as to what he was suggesting.

Rai looked wistfully over the lounge to show he really would have considered it, at a different time. The cream-cushioned crescent of sofas, the clawed-foot sideboard with mysterious drawers, the wall of bookshelves, the rose-pattern carpet, and of course, the huge crackling fire. Sao, looking like he could happily spend the rest of the year where he was. The long gothic windows on either side of the mantel, filled with dark -

And in the glass, the shape of a person. Once spotted, the shape darted off.

It was Marinell who reacted first. He began hyperventilating and reached an arm out for the couch. The cushions were so plush they caved completely under his weight and he dropped face-first into the corduroy covers. “It’s him,” he gasped, paddling like a drowning swimmer. “Them. The watch– the may-”

“Please, take a seat,” Sao said. Marinell reached out to him, seeking support that the couch had failed to give him, but as his hand came forward, Sao backed away.

“Don’t mind him. He has a condition,” Rai said.

“I don’t,” Marinell began, but they were already out of the room.

—

The buffet of frigid air dried his mouth and eyes on contact. His joints stiffened in protest as he waded out into the cold. Rai felt zombified. But that was minor compared to what was waiting for him at his parking space.

“She did it! It was her!”

“Liar! Look at your own hand!”

Seemingly cornered, Cherry had her back pressed against the chipped side of Rai’s car. The book was lying at her feet; a page or one of the inserted sheets coming loose and floating off into the night. Her hands up to her elbows were splattered with mud.

Guy stood in front of her. In his fingers dangled a bent kitchen knife. He held it as far from his body as possible, like a dead rat.

Before the yapping machines could get started up again, Rai held a hand out in front of them. “Quiet for a moment.”

He had to admit he was satisfied to see the command obeyed immediately, both locking their mouths shut and screwing up their lips, so he could see them putting in the effort. Rai held a hand out for the knife, and Guy carefully laid it into his gloved palm. Rai then waved Cherry away from the car so he could assess the damages.

All four tires were slashed. The last and most hastily cut was still leaking air.

The kids were watching him, his hand that was now closed around the knife. Were they scared? They should be. But what could he actually do, right now?

He obviously couldn't start screaming. “This… is really disappointing.”

Sao came jogging up. Upon seeing the sinking car, let out a wheeze not unlike a deflating tire.

“It was him, he had the knife!” Cherry barked, one hand pointed at Guy and the other raising her book like a shield.

“You idiot,” Guy yelped. “I was only holding it because I was taking it away from you.”

“It’s a hotel knife. You work there, I don’t. Plus, I don’t go around carrying something like that.”

“Yeah, you had it because you were just in the hotel. We all saw you there!” Guy turned to his interrogators. “I’m very sorry. But we all saw her-”

“He wants you to stay because all he cares about is money! You should just go, even if the tyres are flat, before he finds another way to scam you!” Cherry belted into the sky, as if complaining to the heavens. “Thirty dollars to use a stupid computer! Who ever heard of that?”

After making sure that, besides the tires, his car had come into no more harm than it had come in with, Rai shook his head and directed Sao back toward the hotel.

Naturally, the kids found this outcome dissatisfying.

“Aren’t you going to do anything?” Cherry whined.

“Cherry, go home. Or back to school, if that’s where you live.” To Guy, he said, “Back inside. Can you finish prepping that computer? I still want to use it.”

Guy was more than willing to scuttle back into the hotel.

“You’re going to let him go?” Cherry asked.

“I hardly think he’ll be fleeing town,” Sao said.

“But he can drive. He could run away at any time. He…”

Sao tilted his head at Rai, raised a brow. Rai gave a ragged sigh, his breath clouding the air. “Alright, alright. For all that talk about liars, Cherry, I kind of expected better from you.”

Her wide, dull, eyes turned downward.

“Did Guy really do this? Think about what I’m seeing. What was I doing today - I was in my car. So I know where my car went. It went through a whole lot of mud. When cars go through mud, their tires get covered in the stuff. And who happened to get a lot of mud on them since the last time I saw them, most likely from touching those tires?”

No response. Enough damage had been done, all around. Rai dared to check Sao for a reaction, but Sao only had eyes for the book.

“W-wait.” Cherry looked from Rai to the car to the hotel, noticeably avoiding Sao in her survey. She puffed up her chest and worked up a pained smile. “So you’re not stupid after all. You could totally find out what happened to Rose. You just don’t want to.”

“Is what happened to her another trick question, where you already know the answer?” Rai knew his stares could be just as potent as Sao’s. “Did you do something to her?”

The book slipped out of her hands. With a cry of anguish, she scrambled to collect the wayward sheets. He wasn’t sure she’d heard him.

“Wait,” she said again. “I’m sorry I called you a liar. But you’re just like the others in a different way. Why don’t you believe me?”

The smile was gone now, her face appropriately pathetic. But her voice was still all whiny indignance. He hated to respond in kind.

“Go home and go to bed for now. Maybe we’ll talk about it tomorrow. Since it looks like I’m not leaving tonight.”

—

The Business Center was at last ready. “You have access as long as you want. All night, complimentary,” Guy said. “Compensation for your car. We’re really sorry about the lack of security.”

When Rai didn’t seem sufficiently grateful, he went on, “And you can read any magazines you want and use the lounge, but we'll have to put the fire out before Marinell goes to bed.” After further consideration he added, “Don’t worry about Cherry. She’ll get back okay. Somehow, she always does. Even if you wish she wouldn’t.”

“Did you call Hode?” Marinell asked Guy. He had recovered slightly, knowing that it was only Cherry who had run by the window. Though, Rai had to wonder, who had he been expecting?

“It’s way too late to call him now. But Hode’s an early riser, so he’ll get the new tires here, first thing in the morning.” Leveraging a stool, Guy set his elbows on the reception counter. “Again. I’m really sorry. Look, you can have some complimentary refreshments too. Marinell put out some biscuits and coffee, so help yourself.”

That meant a few hours of coffee by the fire - appealing enough to Rai. Marinell and Guy were more torn up by the whole situation than he was. “I’ll be in the Business Center then. Sao, you can sleep in the lounge or the car. Whichever you’re feeling.”

Sao was only mildly displeased. He had slept in the car for well over 24 hours cumulative over the course of their acquaintance; a few more hours wasn’t going to kill him. But Guy began babbling protests and began shaking his head. Marinell looked like he was going to leap over the desk and pummel Rai into the lobby floor.

Rai lurched over the counter, driving them back. “Look, I’d love to get a room, I just don’t have the cash. Unless your card machine’s fixed now, or you’ve got an ATM around.” Or another compensation gift, he did not say.

Tact was wasted on Guy. “Do you really not have any money left?” he whined. “You don’t even know the room rates.”

“Okay, let me see them.”

Laminated pamphlet in hand, Rai had to concede that the Saturn Hotel’s offerings were cheaper than expected. Two-person accommodations obviously exceeded the cash he had on hand (and Sao, ever the contemporary, was not carrying anything but his cards), but a comfortable stay wasn’t totally foregone.

“You know what, I think we can splurge for a single-bed room.”

Guy took the sheet. “The single room with two twins beds?”

“The one with a single bed.” Rai tapped the cheapest option on the list. “It’s the only thing in our price range, anyway. Sounds alright, Sao?”

Sao gave him a dainty smirk.

Wringing his hands, Marinell inexplicably began trying to upsell. “Single-bed rooms only have a desk and chair. No couch. And there’s no space for a futon.”

“But there’s a bed and bathroom, right?” Did this idiot think pushing harder would conjure up two hundred dollars extra, out of thin air?

“Yes. But there - there’s only one bed.”

Rai was ready to throw his hands up and walk out. Would it make Marinell happier if Rai held onto his money? To know Sao would just as happily sleep the night away in a drafty car? But he caught himself just before he lobbed that fact at Marinell’s wet red face.

He’d walked into that one. Rai hoped his own face wasn’t burning up. He made the mistake of turning to Sao for support, but Sao had gone to lean on the railing over the lounge stairs, his back turned. It might have the flickering of the fire but it looked like he was shaking slightly. Suppressing laughter.

Grinding his fingertips into the counter, Rai said slowly, “The one bed is for him alone. Because I’ll be in the Business Center, using my complimentary all-night offer.”

Marinell was still skeptical.

“Sir, I think they’ve made their choice, Guy said gently. “I’ll get some blankets and give room 218 a quick wipe-down. You get the guestbook and payment.”

Rai penned his details onto the first page of the huge velvet guestbook, his block print joining a list of elaborate looping signatures. The novelty of it all would have appealed to Rai if it wasn’t accompanied by the sweaty gaze of the middle-aged manager.

Marinell softened a little when Sao rejoined them to observe Rai’s awful penmanship. Rai tried to convince himself that his writing was at least more legible than the rest of the scrawl on the page. As a member of the Central Police’s archive team, Sao’s main duties involved transcribing old handwritten records for digitization; he should appreciate the difference.

To check the date and time, Rai pulled out his phone, and tugged the glove of his right hand off with his teeth so that he could tap the screen on.

The flash of blue light from his hands almost sent Marinell diving behind the desk. “Wh- what is that?”

Not a conversation Rai was in the mood for at the moment. “Skin condition. It’s natural, don’t worry.”

“It’s quite helpful, at times,” Sao chimed in, totally unneeded.

“Man, I wish it was. The blue stuff’s my family aura. Life Fountains, you know about them? I’m half LF, mom’s side.” Rai scribbled in the date and 11:32pm, then shut the book. The pages came together with a fulsome puff.

“I’ve heard a bit,” Marinell murmured. “Mountain folk, magic blood... Aren’t they immortal?”

Rai frowned. This was a topic he was never in the mood for. “Not this one.”

“But you can believe him when he says he doesn’t need much sleep,” Sao said.

The proof in Rai’s aura-bound hands and Sao’s reassurance managed to suppress Marinell’s qualms about the bed situation. Or maybe he was just exhausted - looking at him, that seemed more likely. He mumbled the checkout policy, handed them two hefty brass keys, and led them up the stairs.

—

Room 218 was at the far end of the building’s west wing; possibly at the ends of the earth for the time it took them to get there. They went up a winding staircase and down a very long hallway, and then turned right and followed another long hallway that concluded with a large bay window which overlooked more darkness.

The furnishings were visibly aged, the desk corners chipped and the carpet faded, but Guy had done a decent job of freshening up the room. The heating vents were blasting away and everything was thoroughly dusted; fresh sheets had been laid; the bed smelled faintly flowery. Guy had even left an extra blanket and towels for two folded at the foot of the bed, along with a card for the guest feedback.

“That boy is quite the professional,” Sao said, inspecting the card. Shifting aside the rest of the pile and tossing his coat over it all (the apple, still pristine, rolling out of a pocket) he dropped happily onto the bed.

The vents in the floor and walls creaked.

There was no sound less sensual to Rai’s ears. Sao, though, closed his eyes and drank it in. “This isn’t bad at all.”

Rai could not be out of the room fast enough.

He made himself sound imminently busy; he had to get the box out of the car for safekeeping, he really wanted some more coffee; he urgently needed to look for maps. It was only once he was walking back from the car that the silliness of his excuses set in.

For one, any thief attempting to take the Birdsing records box would realize there was nothing worth taking the moment they picked it up. He half-doubted that HQ even cared if the teddy bear and cheap trinkets even made it back to the city.

Guy was waiting for him at the front door, and locked it behind him. The kid was finally running out of steam, yawning a goodnight before heading down to his room.

Rai poured some coffee out of the electric percolator. He could tell there wouldn’t be enough for the whole night. He was going to have to ration. With the fireplace empty and the lights dimmed, the lounge lost most of its dreamy radiance. He really shouldn’t have been in such a rush to leave the room. Wasn’t he paying for the space? And didn’t he and Sao have plenty to discuss? That leatherbound Omnibus of Cherry’s. Sao was convinced it belonged to his old friend and apparently there was writing in the back that proved it. Cherry’s reaction indicated he was right. On top of hating liars, she didn’t seem to be a very capable one herself.

If he had hung around by the bed, they could have traded observations on her, too.

Rai hitched the box under one arm, raised his coffee with his free hand and eyed the staircase that would take him to the upper hall (and the trek) back to the room.

Marinell had more prescience than Rai had given him credit for: the bed situation was awkward as hell.

It was true enough that Rai had no intention of sleeping - he never even used the bed back in his own apartment, despite making it and changing the sheets once in a while to keep up appearances. He definitely wasn’t bothered by seeing Sao snooze. If anything, he’d seen too much of it, possibly more than a supervisor should have put up with. Sao slept in the car, on park benches, at bus stops, on the bus, in the office; on the office couch or face down over his desk, during work hours or ‘overtime’ (which occurred when a daytime nap got out of hand and he didn’t realize work hours were over). Sao could close his eyes and tune out anywhere and anytime, maybe that was why Rai let him get away with it, for the novelty. Having a quirky assistant made for funny stories, ones you could tell anyone and laugh about.

But there were still some boundaries. Rai had never seen Sao sleep in a bed. It was too mundane to imagine; he had to force himself. And that made it feel like a violation.

Rai put the notion out of his mind as he settled in for a night in the Business Center.

—

Unless lightning worked differently in Temperance, the internet was not ‘lightning-fast’ as advertised. Boxed between shelves in the business cubicle (from the inside, he could tell it had once been a broom closet) Rai tried to consider the positives: without his home files, he had no work to do and a lot of time to kill. He could wait.

As the connection crawled, Rai sipped his surprisingly decent complimentary coffee and flipped through some magazines borrowed from the racks in the lounge. There were editions as recent as last month, probably thanks to Guy’s upkeep. Guy had a taste for families and fashion, or believed their guests would. The models in the Men’s Fall-Winter showcase were wearing painfully chic coats that looked like Sao’s. Lumpy leather piles like Rai’s were out of vogue at the moment.

Time trickled by. Rai still managed to print three maps and just about commit the route to memory before two hours had passed.

The hotel connection had relented, eventually, with the maps but with videos it drew the line. No matter how low the quality or what site he tried, the buffering rate was practically nonexistent. He checked the cable, went for a walk around the lobby, swapped magazines, and was rewarded with three seconds’ worth of a movie review.

Rai stretched, cracked his glowing knuckles and crossed his arms. Had that progress bar moved at all? Frozen on the screen, a woman drenched in blood with kelp in her hair glared back, as unimpressed as he was. She was supposed to look scared, but apparently the acting in Curses from the Deep (in theaters now) left a lot to be desired. Rai would hear out the reasons and make his own call, if the damn review ever loaded.

He took another stroll around the lobby. Maybe this was good for him - the extra exercise, the time away from screens. For the last decade or two, Rai hadn’t exactly engaged in healthy amounts of either - any moderation he’d had before the age of ten could only be credited to Grandpa Cadmus.

What did kids in Temperance do for fun? What had Cherry been doing in the Business Center?

Rai opened the browser history. Guy made sure the workspace was spotless, but he hadn’t cleaned out this little nook - there was a month’s worth of pages left on record. Poor Cherry. Her illicit activity was unprotected from anyone with basic computer knowledge.

According to her history, Cherry had no interest in traditional social media but was a prolific user of the web novel platform Storycentral. The navigation promised thousands of works under the flags of fantasy and sci-fi, action and romance, mystery and drama and - most tantalizingly - 18-plus (which, to Rai’s shock, Cherry never touched). She remembered to log out of her account, but the browser backlog revealed all. He scrolled through what seemed to be her latest submission, unable to hold back a grin. A roughed-up faerietale. Exactly what she’d told them over dinner.

Not discreet with her words, but an honest kid.

The single comment left on her story was needlessly cruel. Typical internet fare; the average user age of Storycentral could not have exceeded fifteen. Rai considered hitting the signup form and leaving an encouraging word or two to counteract the critic, before repeating that demographic estimate to himself. He might be twice the age of the rogue commenter. It was smarter to steer clear.

Smarter, but not kinder. That sounded like something Sao would say.

Rai drank his coffee and returned to the blood-soaked actress. He was starting to feel a little bad for her.

Without moving her mouth, the woman said “Oh!”

Rai stiffened mid-sip. He adjusted the speakers but got nothing more. The sound, though it seemed like a female voice in the moment, had actually been too distant to have come from the computer. Teenagers spooking each other outside? Guy sneaking in some time with friends. No, he didn’t seem like the type.

The vacant lots of Birdsing and the darkness beyond the windows lingered in his mind. Rai wondered if there were enough people, teenagers or loiterers or anyone at all, to even make noisy nights a possibility.

The hotel was silent.

And his cup was empty. Another hour gone; he was clear for a refill. Rai stepped out of the Business Center, took one step toward the coffee kettle and heard a thud. He froze. A second later the night split with what was absolutely a human shriek. High pitched and sharp as a knife. His brain replayed it, turned it over, drilling for observations before the memory faded. A girl’s voice. Or a terrified man. Any words spoken were lost in a maze of echoes.

It came from somewhere in the building.

Rai returned to the computer in a daze. He picked up his phone and automatically panned for Sao’s number. The dead dial tone hit him like a hammer.

The bloodied woman on the scream gaped at him, at his idiocy.

Before he could think of a reason, Rai grabbed the box from Birdsing. Brandishing it before him like a battering ram, he charged up the stairs, down the hallway, and down the second hallway, which seemed to have doubled or tripled in length since the last time he came through. Stopping just short of flinging himself out the window at the end of the hall, he turned and wrenched the key out of his pocket and kicked open the door to 218.

The door hit the wall behind it with an explosive crack. Sao, in his cocoon of blankets, snapped upright before his eyes even opened. He swiveled blearily, one hand raised in defense, the other gripping a pillow, ready to swing. “What? Who? Morning already?”

Sao had gone to sleep with the TV on. A sitcom was warbling away on the ancient CRT, casting a sheet of flickering light across the room. Sharp shadows filled the cracks and corners; outlined the scars that covered Sao’s face. He must have washed the day’s concealer off before getting under the covers.

This was a sight Rai shouldn’t be seeing, but was relieved he was.

Sao fumbled to his feet, still grasping the pillow. “What, Rai. What time is it?”

“Uh, it’s nothing. You can go back to sleep.”

Sao blinked and seemed to realize how idiotic they both looked with their choices of weapon. Pillow versus cardboard box. He fell back onto the bed and pointed Rai to the hardwood desk chair. “That was quite the entrance.”

“I didn’t mean to make that much noise.” That was an utter lie. “I thought I heard yelling from somewhere in the building.”

Sao sat up. “From the rooms?”

“I couldn’t tell. I heard it from the lobby.” Rai tossed the box on the desk and sat. He found he was still holding the ceramic cup (empty - thankfully he’d drunk it all before that wild sprint) and two magazines under his arm. “I tried to call you to see if you heard it too, but forgot there’s no fucking signal in this place.”

“I see. You came to ask in person. Sorry to say, I’m not at my most vigilant.”

“Yeah. I haven’t heard any more so… I’ll just keep an ear out. Sorry to wake you. It’s just a little past two in the morning.”

That was not ‘morning’ for Sao. But he thanked Rai and glanced at the collection now stacked on the table. “Are you planning to spend the rest of the night in the room?”

“Maybe. I brought up something to read.” Hoping he looked appropriately casual, Rai picked up one of the magazines. Fall Fashions for the Whole Family. Cooking and costumes for your ‘little ones.’ Great.

“Well, grab a pillow. And feel free to browse the channels.” Sao squinted at the television. “Though I’m not sure what else is on. It seems most of the local channels stop broadcasting for the night. I didn’t know they still did that.”

“This is fine. I might go get some more coffee.” Staring holes into the toothy family on the magazine cover, Rai tried to convince himself of what he was saying.

“Have a good night.”

Sao tugged the covers up over himself again. He moved a little stiffly, and Rai wondered if Sao was feeling the same wariness Rai was about the bedroom with both of them present, the inappropriate normalcy of it all. He didn’t wonder for long. If Sao was uncomfortable, it wasn’t enough to keep him up. His head hit the pillow and he was out.

There were no more noises to be heard that night but the creaky pipes and the tireless loop of the sitcom laugh track. And Rai did go down to get more coffee, at around three thirty. In the Business Center, the video on Curses from the Deep had only mustered half a minute of footage. He’d sat through five episodes of family-friendly mishaps (and one hideously abused laugh track) in the time it took to load that much.

Before shutting the computer down and closing up the Center, Rai let loose what had managed to load, at top volume. The woman’s unconvincing shrieks and the commentator’s nasal tone filled the lobby.

In case anyone was there, just out of sight, listening. Ghost or otherwise.