Page 4 of Of Monsters Of Kings

“I need this job,” I whispered, a mouse pleading with cats. “Could you put me in touch with the person taking over?”

Stag smiled without humor. “You seek to meet the new owner.”

The trio chuckled. Not all together. How curious that Stag should chuckle first, then Ox. Then Stag and Sand Cat together. Ox again by himself. Then Sand Cat once more. They sounded like a rusty wind chime. A terrifying chuckle chime.

I gripped my apron tighter. “I do. Could I get their details, please? If the new owner wants to keep the hotel open for a while, then I’m capable of managing everything. And dependable.”

This could work out. Maybe my promotion would come early.

Or maybe I’d die.

Sand Cat tilted his head. “The hotel closes.”

“You mentioned a new owner, though.” I tried to keep my desperation hidden. Skeleton crews were notorious for playing with their food.

“The owner is the same,” said Ox.

My mind squeezed at his reply and the entire situation. I’d never realized my mind could do such a thing, but it did. I closed my eyes after.

These men knew more than me, and they wouldn’t impart that knowledge. They had no reason to. A skeleton crew existed to run operations smoothly for their skull, and I was a nobody to them. These men had enough power to inspire fear in the wise—which I wasn’t today—but they didn’t make choices. Any decisions remained the power of their skull.

And there was my answer.

“Your boss is the owner,” I said.

Three humorless smiles were my prize. I’d solved their riddle… and was no closer to a job than I’d been. If only they understood how badly I needed this.

I had to make them understand. “Is your boss hiring?”

“This place cannot be,” Sand Cat said in weary explanation. “This place is not possible.”

Confidence, Patch. “I’ll make it possible.”

Ox chuckled. Then Stag. Sand Cat chimed in.

I clutched my apron. The linen dress beneath must be dreadfully wrinkled by now. “Take me to your boss, and I will make this possible. I’m capable and?—”

Stag tilted his head. “Dependable.”

“Yes, I am.”

“We see this,” Ox answered.

How odd that they still spoke to me. They’d dismissed me several times, and I’d ignored those dismissals and pestered them to boot. I should be in a ditch already. If ever I’d seen a skeleton crew to fear, this was it, and yet they hadn’t laid a finger on me. Skeleton crews one-tenth as menacing had done far worse to a person for far less.

I should count my lucky stars and make a run for it. Alas, when food, shelter, and medicine were on the line, a person didn’t have the luxury of counting nonsense lucky stars, and foolish decisions felt more like necessary decisions.

“You do not see enough,” I told Ox.

I released my apron, smoothed my dress, then tilted my chin and met his regard. Or tried to. My focus slid off his like water over oil. I frowned at Ox’s shoulder, struck by the sudden thought that I hadn’t looked into his eyes or any of their eyes yet.

But surely I had.

My mind squeezed again, but I forced my gaze back to his, and this time, I managed to lock there for the tiniest instant and not a sliver more.

Ouch!

I lifted a hand to my throbbing head. I stammered to cover the moment, noticing how still they’d gone. “There are many possibilities that your skull would see, I’m sure,”

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