Page 136 of Black Hollow: Awakening

DANNY

December 25 | Wednesday | Near the Mirth Motel

Dan walked along the snow-covered street, heading toward the motel. The pockets of his jacket didn’t offer much warmth, so he kept rubbing his hands together, trying to fight off the unpleasant, biting numbness. He hadn’t taken his gloves when leaving Will’s house, nor a lot of other things. Having packed in a hurry, he had chaotically tossed into his bag whatever he could get his hands on. His biggest regret, however, was not taking any money, but he wasn’t going back for it. Not for anything. Ever.

He still couldn’t believe Will had done that to him. He knew he hadn’t behaved as he should, that he’d said a bit too much, but to kick him out of the house for it? Their relationship had been going sour for a while, but that was no excuse. Will could have given him a week or two to get his act together. Seriously, who kicked out their roommate right before Christmas?

Upon entering the motel, Dan almost let out a sigh of relief as his body registered the change in temperature. The relief vanished, however, the moment he saw the man sitting at the reception desk, who was eyeing him with a stern expression.

“Got the cash?” Thomas Mason asked aggressively. He was a scrawny, blond-haired guy of about thirty. The motel belonged to his father.

“Not yet,” Danny replied truthfully.

“You said you’d scrape something together in a few days!”

“I know, but I can’t right now. It’s Christmas.”

“Exactly,” Thomas stressed sternly. “It’s Christmas, and I’m letting you sleep in my motel. Do you think this is a homeless shelter? Fork over the money or grab your things and piss off.”

Dan heard the door open behind him, but he was too absorbed in the conversation to notice the new guests.

“Just give me a little more time, okay?” he asked in a low voice, approaching the desk. “A week at most!” he added, seeing the man’s expression. “I swear I’ll throw in something extra.”

“Oh yeah?” Thomas’s lips twisted into a sour smile. “And I think you’ll sit here for a week and then piss off. And I won’t get my payment or anything extra.”

“Please,” Dan whispered desperately. He hated groveling, but he had no other choice. “I have nowhere else to go.”

“Do I look like a charity? You don’t have the cash, so get the fuck out!”

This exchange was interrupted by a familiar, composed voice:

“Do you accept checks?”

Danny turned and saw Nathaniel Kubrick. The man was unmistakable. That characteristic purple hair, now almost blending in with his suit of the same color. If not for the dark, elegant coat, Kubrick would have looked like an eccentric supervillain ripped straight out of some superhero movie.

He was accompanied by an unusually tall woman with a tan complexion. She had long, perfectly straight blonde hair, blue eyes, and heavily painted, intensely red lips. Danny recognized her, too. Emma Gray. Kubrick’s personal assistant.

“Uhh… Sure,” Thomas confirmed, thrown off, only now paying any real attention to his guests.

Kubrick approached the desk. He took a checkbook and a pen from the inner pocket of his coat, then leaned over to write out the check.

“This sum should be enough to cover this young man’s debt,” he announced, handing the check to the receptionist.

“Well, it’s enough,” Thomas confirmed graciously. “For another month or so.”

Danny shot him an indignant look. He’d seen the amount Kubrick had written on the check, and it would have easily covered half a year of renting a cubbyhole in this smelly place.

“He won’t be staying here for a month. In fact, he won’t be staying here a day longer. Pack your things, Daniel.”

Dan swallowed nervously, not knowing how to react.

“Pack your things,” Kubrick repeated with more force.

It wasn’t a threat, not even a command; the man’s tone still held a note of politeness, yet Dan couldn’t bring himself to openly protest. He headed to his room. He stopped in the very center and took a few deep breaths, feeling the stress wash over him.

He wasn’t going to go with him. He wouldn’t do it.

Hurriedly packing his things, Dan went to the window. He tried to open it, but it wouldn’t budge—probably his own fault for thinking it was drafty and slamming it shut as hard as he could.