Page 2 of Of Monsters Of Kings

I whistled low. “Frank will be very upset.”

This was Frank’s hotel, so he should be. I, on the other hand, just needed a job with the right hours and pay.

Entering room thirteen, I started by yanking off bed linens. The wet kitchen cloths were next, then the sopping towels from the bathroom. I heaved the pile outside and stuffed the linens into the cleaning cart.

I peeked at reception again.

Another man stood next to Ox. Conventionally handsome too. This one must’ve eaten a stag when young, for he’d retained its powerful grace. Though his physique was slender by comparison to Ox, I couldn’t say which of the men might’ve won in a fight.

I turned from the double trouble. Frank would arrive soon. The hotel owner wasn’t around often, but he always came today around this time to hand out the weekly pay. I shouldn’t get caught gawking. None of the other cleaners had intervened, and they’d all been here longer than me.

I’d follow their lead.

I walked inside to do the dishes. This guest had used one cup, a knife, and a plate. My favorite type of guest.

Shower next. That meant bleach.

I smiled on my walk to grab the spray bottle from the cart. If dishes were the least enjoyable part, then the smell of bleach was the most enjoyable. And?—

I stopped in the doorway, staring at the empty landing.

“Where’s my cart?” I blurted.

I’d left the cart right here. Someone must’ve taken it. Maybe another cleaner had wanted to start the laundry? Yet that didn’t make much sense. We had a process at the hotel, and pinching carts to start laundry wasn’t it.

Frank could arrive any second to find me fumbling around and not working. I hastened to lock the studio, then jogged to the laundry bay at the end of the landing. My feet slowed at the sight of a giant red X slashed across the laundry door. More graffiti.

I glanced over my shoulder, but the two men weren’t up here any longer.

Cupping my hands around my eyes, I squinted through the tiny glass panel in the metal door and spotted my cleaning cart shoved inside. Another cleaner did take it, and without me hearing or seeing them do so. The cart was a creaky, jiggling thing too. Part of me felt impressed.

No matter, I’d wheel it back. Frank would never know.

I yanked on the laundry door, then stared when it didn’t budge. Locked? At this time of day, the laundry bay always stayed open. What on earth was going on? I shoved the master key from my lanyard into the lock and twisted, then twisted harder.

Nothing.

My key, which had always worked on this door, suddenly wasn’t working.

I leaned on the concrete wall beside the laundry bay and took a deep breath, holding it.

This changed things. Without the cleaning cart, I couldn’t do my job. If I couldn’t do my job, then Frank’s veins would bulge. He’d fire me, and I wouldn’t get paid. Without money, Mother and I wouldn’t eat. More importantly, without money, I couldn’t afford Mother’s medicine. In conclusion, without a job, my mother would die. And she was very adamant death couldn’t come for her yet.

Oof, I released the held breath.

Frank’s problem just became mine.

I jogged down the crumbling stairs to ground level, then started across the uneven pavers of the courtyard toward reception. Strangely, the two men didn’t appear to have budged a single inch. They stood in the same spots and in the same positions, too—Ox with his closed fists by his sides and Stag with his arms crossed. They didn’t appear to have moved whatsoever, yet my noisy cart had been silently locked away, a red X decorated the laundry door, and they’d changed the lock too.

Frank couldn’t get here soon enough.

I was halfway across the courtyard when a third man exited reception. I froze on the spot as Mother’s warning blasted through my head.

Men in three, I steer clear of thee.

The presence of three men changed everything. At once, I accepted that Hotel Vitale was closed and acknowledged the threat to my life.

Get out of here.

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