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“We don’t have a credit card, but we do have cash,” Hanna says, taking out a wad of it from her jacket pocket and placing it on the counter.
The man curls his lip, as if the sight of money displeases him. What a foolish fellow.
“I’m afraid we don’t take cash,” he says with a sniff. “We need a credit card and ID.”
Hanna kicks me again, signifying it’s my turn to say something.
“My good mortal…man,” I say to him, and he pushes up his glasses in a nervous gesture. “Where I come from, cash is treated like the treasure it is.”
“And where is that?” he asks.
“Tuonela.”
“Tuonela?”
“The Underworld.”
He purses his lips as he looks at Hanna, who avoids his eyes. “Listen, we reserve the right to turn away guests who might not be a good fit for this hotel, and?—”
I reach over the desk and grab the man by his collar while Hanna nervously looks around to see if anyone is watching.
I don’t care if they are. I lift the man up until I know his feet are dangling off the ground and stare directly into his beady eyes.
“You will accept the cash. You will accept the fact that we do not have this ID. You will give us a room fit for a king. And you will do so without any trouble.”
The man starts to slump in my grip, his eyes glazing over slightly.
“Tuoni, someone is coming,” Hanna whispers frantically.
I release the man just in time for someone to walk behind us and disappear around the corner.
The secretive man sways on his feet for a moment and then splays his hands against the counter. He gives his head a shake and then reaches for the cash. “Yes, of course. A room fit for a king. That will be no problem.”
I give Hanna a shaky, albeit triumphant, smile while he counts out his portion of the cash and hands the rest back to Hanna. He does some more clicking on his computer and hands me a slim yet hard piece of paper.
“Room 354,” he says to us. “I hope you enjoy your stay.”
Chapter 13
Hanna
The Shower
The front desk clerk hands Death the keys, and I immediately take them from him. The last time he thought something was a key, it turned out to be a stick of gum, which he then promptly put in his mouth and swallowed.
I give the clerk a grateful smile, watching him carefully for signs that his brain might have been permanently scrambled, or that he’s playing along and is about to call the police on us once we turn our backs. After all, Death literally had him by the throat.
But the clerk only smiles at us, dazed, before his attention goes back to the computer, as if nothing out of the ordinary just happened.
Imagine the power, I think to myself as I touch Death at the elbow, guiding him toward the elevators.He can get anyone to do anything. We could rule this whole entire world.
For the first time since I discovered I lost nearly a year of my life and that everyone I love thinks I’m missing or dead, I feel empowered, but I know that feeling won’t last long.
How can it?
The world might feel the same, with not much change happening on a global scale in the time I’ve been in the Underworld, but I feel as if I’ve been in a coma, just waking up. To have time taken out from under your nose is probably the most unsettling, unnatural feeling one can have.
I’ve felt unmoored before. When I had to go into recovery for my eating disorder when I was a teen and drop out of dance, I felt like I lost my place in the world. I watched as my old friends went on in their classes, progressing where I should have, while I was stuck on the sidelines, battling my mind and body. I lost my identity. I didn’t know who I was anymore if I couldn’t dance, if I couldn’t be the person my mother wanted me to be.
