Piper has this unique ability to twistanythinginto her desired outcome; a trait I'm certain makes her a successful attorney. It only took a few more early morning coffee runs for her to convince me to interview to become their nanny.
When Ishani was born, I wished she was my own. It had been years since I had held a newborn baby, and admittedly my children were cared for by their nannies, something I wish I pushed harder against James about.
She was everything I was not. Pure, innocent, perfect, beautiful… but most of all she wasn’t mine, and would not fall prey to my curse one day.
I had no plans when I took the job. No direction, outside steering clear of Death and not placing down any roots. That is, until I first beheld the twinkle of light in Ishani’s eyes. It was mesmerizing and as she grew; it only pained me more that it was something I would never have again.
The Kapoors had become my family, even if I had broken every rule there was just to stay with them.Honestly, it was a miracle they believed any of my lies…
I pulled Ishani’s artwork down off the fridge, tucking it away with my other mementos. I couldn’t bear the thought of losing her, but I couldn’t bear the thought of killing someone again, which is why I’d just have to make sure no one comes around.
Dropping the duffels by the door, I grabbed my coat, pulling it on with my Converse as I took one last look at my little home. The space was bare, but my memories filled the room. Ishani, twirling in front of the windows overlooking the busy city street. Her favorite red dress ballooned around her legs and the bright smile she flashed me every time she passed. Or the thousands of sheets of paper she’d tossed around the empty living room while I was busy making dinner one evening. The apartment was empty of furnishings, but her energy was everywhere. Preserved.
It was the end to what felt like an era. One where happiness was tangible. Heaving a sigh, I turned the lights off and locked the door, headed to meet a stranger in the night for an updated passport, a disgusting amount of cash, and a new fake identity like some sort of criminal.
Then I’d head back to the hospital to kick Piper’s ass in chess. She had no idea that with over a century under my belt, I was good enough to be a chess Grandmaster. That is, if I wasn’t so scared to be recognized and carted off to a lab to be studied. Still… I was damn good.
six
There were only a few times when I’d fled in the night over the years. Yet with every move, I fell into a groove of change. A new identity—name, background, license, passport, job history…
You name it. When I’d been bold enough, I even dyed my hair, but the black was a pain to get rid of so I’d opted to cut it all off when I moved to Seattle. Even though it went against everything he stood for, Death was the one who helped me when I needed to change identities, and he had connected me with Nemo.
We’d never met in person, but Nemo became my keeper of sorts. Finding information I needed, forging my documents, and even managing my fortune. Nemo was a ghost. Keen on keeping his identity a secret, he would send an errand boy to exchange my forged goods.
I’d grown used to meeting strangers in busy places with suspicion and short words.
I sat on the paisley-patterned chair, tapping my fingers against the armrest, fighting the urge to check my phone for the tenth time. It would be no different from the old clock above thereceptionist's desk. Nemo’s lackey was late, and I couldn’t stop a bead of sweat from making its slow descent down my back.
A man coughed across the foyer, catching my attention as a posh-looking woman made a fuss at the reception desk and a man held a leashed dog beside her. People came and went through the spinning doors, and I wondered if the bald man who walked through a few moments ago was the person I waited for. He looked hurried as he made his way to the elevator. My mind began to reel as I continued my tapping, waiting for the mystery person to show themselves.
Why couldn’t he have just delivered it to my apartment?
A little boy ran through the foyer, breezing right by me as he dropped a piece of paper. It landed beside my foot and before I could snatch it up and call him back, he was rounding reception, taking off down the hall again. Picking it up, I pulled my bag up over my shoulder as the words at the top drew my attention.
I crumpled the note in my hand and made my way toward the elevators. The hotel was busy, and I waited patiently asguests filtered out. Once inside, I searched for the button for the fifth floor, but found nothing. That number was conspicuously missing—only buttons for four and six remained. Frowning, I examined the panel more closely.
Suddenly, the doors slid shut, the overhead light flickered, and the lift began its ascent without any prompt, causing me to stumble backward and grip the railing.
My stomach churned as the rapid ride came to a sudden halt, my knees buckling beneath me. The doors opened with a cheerful chime to reveal a hallway that looked nothing like the Fairmont. I peered down the empty corridor, grimacing as shadows shifted along darkened walls, the faded paint and stained carpet giving the place a dilapidated feel. At the end of the hall stood a massive wooden door, golden numbers painted across it, filling the entire door from top to bottom. 515.
I clenched the strap of my bag a little tighter and took my first step into the eerie space, glancing around. My pale skin glowed green under the harsh fluorescent lights, matching the way my stomach churned. The walk to the end of the hall could have lasted hours or mere seconds, but by the time I reached the door, my fingers trembled as I reached for the bell.
Before I could even press it, the door swung open, revealing a young boy. No older than sixteen, his brown hair was greasy, swept back behind his ears. Red stains marred his shirt, dragged down in finger marks as if he'd eaten something red and carelessly wiped his hands across his front. Ketchup, maybe?
“Um—I’m sorry, I think I have the wrong room,” I muttered, unfolding the paper with my name and room number.
“Astoria?” he asked, stepping back and motioning for me to come inside.
I paused, taking him in with disbelief. There was no way… “Nemo?”
“In the flesh.” He flashed a mischievous smile, his eyes sparkling with an eerie, unsettling flame. A warning bell went off in my mind—he felt otherworldly…
Like Death.
“You want your stuff or what?” he barked, suddenly fisting my shirt and pulling me inside, slamming the door behind me.
“Yeah…” I mumbled, still trying to collect my jaw from the floor as I stepped into his weird space packed with monitors and tech I’d never seen before.
