“I didn’t see that at all a few minutes ago,” I replied.
“This way then?” Dion asked, already heading towards the sign.
Something rattled behind us, the sound carrying from the opposite end of the darkened hall. Dion stopped, causing me to crash into his back.
“What was that?”
“I don’t know. Probably not something good. Keep going.” I gave him a slight shove to get his legs moving.
The noise came again, a little closer than before. It was hard to see much of anything now. I concentrated on placing one foot in front of the other, making sure I kept hold of Mel and practically attached myself to Dion.
We were almost to the exit sign when a door slammed shut, lifting the hairs on the back of my neck.
“Fuck this,” Dion lilted, picking up his pace to the point of nearly running.
I shared that sentiment whole heartedly. I didn’t know what caused that and I wouldn’t be turning back to find out. Rushing forward, he misjudged the layout and slammed into the wall, bouncing off it with another curse, nearly knocking me on my ass.
“To the right,” I urged, sweeping out a hand to make sure there wasn’t anything blocking the way.
He heeded my directive and lead the way down a smaller hall, this one narrower than the previous. At the end sat a small block window, streetlights just barely shining through from outside. Another slam echoed from behind us as we made it to the door.
“It’s locked,” Dion stammered.
“So then unlock it,” Mel retorted, squeezing up beside me.
“No shit? There isn’t a keyhole,” he snapped back.
“Get out of the way.” I grabbed one of his shoulders and pulled him backward so that I could take his place. I ran my hands along the cool metal doorframe, hoping to find some hint as to how it opened.
“Anything?” Mel asked.
“Wait.” I skimmed a palm back up. A few inches above the door handle there was an engraving. I traced over it.
“Six…six?” I retraced to make sure I hadn’t missed anything, feeling a small dip where the center digit should have been.
“What’d you say?” Dion asked.
“There’s a number missing. The one I think.”
“How the fuck are we supposed to fix that?” Mel stressed.
“I have an idea,” Dion answered. “But we need to go back to the room.”
“Why?” she queried.
“We’re going with you,” I replied.
I more felt then saw Mel look at me. I’m sure she was wondering why I just said that. I wasn’t going to jump into the logistics with her. Dion had proven he knew his shit. The guy might’ve been ‘off’ in his own way, but since we’d linked up, he’d helped get us this far. He helped save her life. I was going to do what I said I would and make sure he stayed alive.
Forming a single file line, we made our way back down the narrow hall. Another door slammed as we reached the exit sign again. What was this, the third or fourth time it’d happened? I was starting to think that someone was screwing with us.
I rescinded that thought the second we rounded the corner.
Purple and green lit up two of the masked trio lurking in the main hall. I determined one was female based on how small they were beside their friends.
The LED lighting from their masks helped illuminate the third person.
He—because no way was a woman built like this guy--wore a mask that was all white. A bloody red leviathan cross was centered amongst splatters of red. The eyes were nothing more than black slants. A creepy Cheshire smile finished it off.
The man himself was dressed in all black, a hooded jacket concealing his head. This wasn’t Ciaran. I knew that much. There was a much more sinister aura wrapped around this man, as if it were pouring out of him with every breath.
And between us was room six-one-six.
Neither of our respective partners made any sign of moving. We all just watched one another to see who would dare go first. As our stares deadlocked, I realized I never heard the overhead bell go off. Had they been inside the inn this whole time?
“What do you need?” I asked Dion, my voice low, eyes trained on the other end of the hall.
“The one off the door.”
That was brilliant. Only problem was, how were we going to get this number, and then make it back to the exit door?
“I can do it,” Dion said softly, as if he’d just read my mind.
“Are you sure?” Mel asked, what sounded like genuine concern colored her tone.
It caught me a little off guard. Not five minutes ago I was certain she wished I would’ve tossed Dion to the wolves.
“I used to run track.”
That explained his athletic build. He took a steadying breath and rolled his shoulders. At the same time, the man with the Cheshire smile let a knife slip from beneath the sleeve of his hooded jacket.