Page 9 of In the Dark

It was fun. Fun and games, until suddenly it wasn’t anymore.

A mechanical bell tone sounded when she entered the main lobby. Glaring colors popped out at her in retro shades of orange and green, a throwback to better times. A plaid couch opposite a rack of magazines echoed the motif and carried it through the room and into the next.

The short, nearly bald man behind the counter gave her a look when she entered, then looked once more.

“Can I help you, miss?” The man blinked like his nervous system was about to shut down. Faster when she approached the counter and slapped down a stack of twenties.

“Room,” she told him.

“Any particular preference, or…”

Karsia glared at him and imagined the things she could do to end his life. It would be a simple thing. The never-married forty-something-year-old was as thin as a rail and still lived with his mother. His life’s story whispered to her, the good things he’d done, and the bad.

How fun it would be to push him to go through with his deepest, darkest wishes. How unbearably easy to assure him that yes, killing his mother was the right thing to do, something he’d only dreamed about, because then he would finally be free to go where he wanted. Be who he wanted.

No, a dark voice whispered through her subconscious. Better to be rid of him entirely. He was nothing to her. A nuisance. Thinking about her naked and picturing the things he’d like to do to her. It was filthy.

She raised her hand in preparation to snap his neck, surprised when she felt a large fist close over hers.

“No no, dear. We do not kill people for pleasure.” Morgan sent a smile to the clerk. “Whatever room you have available will do, sir. We’ll take it.”

Karsia ground her teeth and wrenched her hand out of his grip. “Don’t you have anything better to do than follow me around?”

“Sadly, no. I have time to spare. You looked out of sorts when you left my office.”

“So you followed me.”

“Didn’t want you to get lost,” he answered wryly.

The man behind the counter hustled to ring her up and never bothered to ask for identification. And somewhere in the back of her mind, she realized why she hadn’t picked up that Morgan was behind her: She couldn’t read him the same way she could everyone else. He was like a locked room. A vault door slammed shut. His wards were impeccable.

“Are you going to come up and watch me sleep?” she asked, then shot Morgan a lecherous glare over her shoulder. “I’ll make it worth your while if you do.”

He slid his hands into his pockets, leaning forward on the tips of his toes before rocking back. “I’ll have to decline, thank you. I followed you here to make sure you had everything you need. Now that my thirst for chivalry has been appeased, and I’ve stopped you from following through on a truly heinous whim, I’ll say good night.”

Morgan tipped his head and swiveled lightly on his heel.

Karsia stared after him, her mouth open. “You’re leaving?”

“I appear to be, yes.”

“You followed me here…and you’re leaving,” she said. “You can’t just walk out.”

“Don’t sound so sad, dear. We still have our date to look forward to.”

She accepted the key, a physical thing instead of the cards they issued at better hotels, and wrenched it out of the clerk’s hand. “He’s unbelievable,” she muttered under her breath. “Isn’t he just un-frickin’-believable?”

The clerk opened his mouth to answer and she walked off, striding down the hall toward room 207. The rest of the rooms remained quiet as she passed.

It took several tries to jimmy the door open. Finally, she pushed her shoulder into the flimsy wood and made it inside. “Perfect.” She closed the door behind her and leaned against it. “Just perfect.”

It was a scant bit better than the other hellholes she’d frequented. A green duster with faded tropical flowers wrapped around the double bed and tucked in at the sides like wrapping paper. Someone had taken the time to run a vacuum over the carpet and spray a cloud of aerosolized fragrance in the air.

Karsia made the rounds, checking the bathroom and under the bed. There was one thing she could say about the Midwest: dated and drab the décor may be, but cleanliness was a source of pride. The room gleamed, and the positive vibes of the housekeeper lingered behind as surely as the scent of cleanser.

It made her sick.

Suddenly exhausted, she threw herself down on the bed and stared at the ceiling. Her eyes traced paths in the popcorn. She knew she was on the right path by tracking Morgan down. It felt appropriate, seeing him. Something inside her stilled. A constant motion she hadn’t been aware of before, almost like their meeting felt weighted.

Fate, she thought, shaking her head. A glimmer of the innocent she used to be smiled at the thought. The potential for love, if she survived long enough. Love was the leap that couldn’t be denied.

Where had she heard that saying before?

Her mind clouded and her dark passenger rose to take hold again. Karsia scoffed, rolling over and punching the pillow until there was an acceptable indentation.

She was prepared for Morgan’s particular brand of wining and dining, thinking ahead to the date. It was a game she’d once played for fun. If he wanted to flirt a little, fuck a little, she would oblige and go along until he told her what she wanted to know. Then he could scurry back to whatever hole in the wall he’d come from and bother someone else.

Instead of thinking about it further, she pushed herself up and moved to the door to flip the lock. Isolation was necessary; it reduced the chances of her hurting anyone. That way, the only one standing in the firing range was herself.

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