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“A lamp?” I suggested, glancing at the one we’d used to read the key under.

“There are like . . . five hundred lamps in this hotel.” Zee flopped into a chair and kicked his boots up onto the table, getting comfortable now we were officially staying. “You know who’d be good at riddling this shit out? Tom Collins. You remember he wrote those cryptic clues on the bar ceiling for us to find?”

He had done that. He could just have written “Gone to Gideon Cain’s,” but instead he’d decided to be cryptic, for reasons known only to him.

“If you enjoy inciting his wrath,” Victor said, moving to the window again to watch the snowflakes flutter against the glass. “By all means, call him.”

“Sounds like Daddy Fangs is scared of our barman.”

“With good reason. Anyone who is not a little wary around a djinn is a fool.”

Zee rolled his eyes at Victor’s gloomy tone and slipped his phone from his pocket. “Fuck.” He waved it around. “No signal.”

“The storm is likely blocking it, and the hotel does not have Wi-Fi,” Victor explained.

Zee tossed his now useless phone onto the table. “Then you, Brainy McFangs, figure something out.”

“If we get access to a landline, we can call our hotel’s reception desk,” Victor said. “Tom Collins will then be able to join us in a limited capacity . . . assuming he agrees to assist us.”

Having Tom here would be like having our own profanity-riddled ghost. With the potential for the doors to be locked again, and Zee’s questionable stealth skills, Tom could be useful.

“There’s a phone on Larimer’s front desk,” I said, then settled my gaze on Zee.

Victor was looking at Zee too.

Zee’s grin grew. “Hark, did I just hear the word . . . distraction?”

“Can you lure Larimer away from his desk long enough for me to make a call?” I asked.

“Kitten.” He cracked his knuckles in front of him and jumped to his feet. “You do be askin’ an artiste. Now lemme cook.” He strutted out of the room, calling back, “You guys comin’?”

“This will be interesting,” Victor mused, with a little sparkle of anticipation in his silver eyes.

CHAPTER 5

With the storm having shut everyone inside, the hotel lobby bustled with activity, and the LARP attendees seemed to be making the most of the shut-in, gathering in small colorful groups. Nobody seemed all that concerned that the storm might be supernatural, or that two of their own had gone missing the previous evening. They had no reason to be concerned, with their friends around them and lots of free food.

Zee hopped off the grand staircase’s bottom tread and sashayed to the front desk like the diva he was, hips swaying, tail swishing. He fit right in among the guests dressed as everything from trolls to longbow-carrying elves with a sprinkling of clichéd vampires mixed in.

Ding!

We definitely were not getting Zee a bell.

Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding!

Larimer emerged from the door at the back of the reception area and swiped the bell out from under Zee’s hand. “Good morning, sir. How was breakfast?”

Zee leaned on the end of the desk. “Yes, hello, breakfast was grand. Delicious pancakes. Bacon, top-fuckin’-notch. The water was angry, though.”

Larimer’s stoic mask didn’t falter. “Angry water?”

“Yes, very angry. Full of bubbles, very bad. I’d like to complain. Officially.”

“I see. This angry water . . . Do you think it could have been sparkling water, sir?”

“Hm, no, I don’t think so. It definitely did not sparkle.”

“Then perhaps you should take that up with the bar staff.”