That might have been the end of any semblance of responsibility for Nora, if she’d really thought about it at the time. Once her mother had figured out Fallen’s trick, she’d yelled for hours, eventually crying about her need to have a drink to keep it together. Fallen had had to promise to create a budget for her mother’s alcohol.
After that she drove Nora to the liquor store herself. Her mother would fill a box with wine, demanding the storeowner carry it to their car without even a thank you. Fallen hated thanking the man for bringing her mother’s vice to the trunk, but it wasn’t his fault, so she did it anyway. Fallen knew then that her mother would never offer hope or comfort to her or Fenn again as a parent. So she decided not to think of her as Mom. Her mom was gone. To protect her heart, Fallen tried to think of the woman as Nora after that.
She had gotten through high school that way—as the Band-Aid holding Nora, and her family, together. Before Fallen left for college, she’d coached Fenn on the finer points of the budget and keeping a tight watch on the bank card, and she’d lectured her mother on making sure she went to work.
And then the guilt marched in because she’d accepted a place at a school on the other side of the country, taken on loans and debt of her own because she wanted a life for herself. She’d left Fenn, knowing in her heart of hearts that he wasn’t ready to be the adult yet. She had escaped. And she’d called home, sure, but she had disconnected emotionally from him. She had to.
Of course their mother had a way of convincing Fenn she was okay. She called him her angel. Nora took back the bank card, eventually. She lost the car, eventually, and then in the end, Nora left.
Fenn had finally called Fallen shortly before she was to start her third year of school and told her how desperate he was. She packed up, and when she got home after his phone call, she’d realized he’d been going hungry. He was embarrassed that he hadn’t been able to keep tabs on their mother the way she had.
Fallen had tracked down her mother after talking with the bartender at Nora’s favorite spot. It seemed Fritz was her new love, a fellow alcoholic, and the man she was now living with. Nora was still employed, but barely. The bartender said she’d told him just the other day that her hours at the call center had been cut, and she was taking unpaid leave for her frequent absences.
So now Fallen and Fenn were here, fighting to keep their heads above water—without any help from or hope for Nora, though that was to be expected by now. The mortgage on the old brick rambler with the failing roof was in arrears, but luckily they hadn’t been asked to move out yet. Fallen dreaded every mail delivery and suspicious truck that drove by, wondering if this was the moment the bank would reclaim the house.
But damn it, she was determined to get Fenn through high school. And they would stay in this house until they were forced to leave. After that? Fallen’s stomach dropped when she thought about it. After that she had no clue what she would do.
···
A few days later, Desta found Fallen in room 510 just after her lunch break. Though slightly out of breath, she immediately stepped to the other side of the bed Fallen was making and began to help. Fallen had wanted to kiss her for the kindness until the woman started in with her telltale cough. Amazingly, Desta was able to continue to tuck in corners while covering her mouth.
When she was finally able to catch her breath, she delivered her news: “Big boss is coming in a two weeks. Got to make sure everything is as good as can be.”
Fallen nodded. Not quite two weeks in and she was barely getting the hang of this housekeeping thing, which was so much harder than she’d ever imagined. There were smudged windows, toilets that seemed to have been used by something other than humans, and random bloodstains on sheets she tried not to think too much about. All were difficult to clean. Her Payless Velcro sneakers were indeed getting the workout Desta had told her they would.
She’d been hired by Desta, and for a few days had thought the woman was in charge of everything. But now she knew that while Desta knew all the ins and outs of the building and staff, she didn’t have a fancy title or office.
The manager in charge, Melanny, was a woman who seemed about the same age as Desta with the personality of a rock. She handled scheduling, and apparently also scowling. As a result, Fallen usually came in the back door of the hotel with her master key and avoided the lobby as often as she could. She used a workplace iPad to communicate with management and update the rooms she’d finished cleaning. Morning meetings were mandatory and used to update all housekeeping and maintenance staff and check their uniforms for infractions at the same time.
When Fallen met the housekeepers for floors 8 and 9, she got excited about the potential for friends closer to her own age. But when she introduced herself, instead of responding with their names, they’d just snickered.
After that, since Melanny called out issues to be addressed by floor, Fallen just dubbed them 8 and 9 in her head. She didn’t need their names. Or their friendship.
“What does the big boss do here?” Fallen dug the TV remote out from the crack between the headboard and the mattress.
“Welp, he owns the place. So he sort of makes sure it’s still standing. He’ll meet with each of us and tour the floor. It’s supposed to be a time to show him where there are repairs needed. But really, he’s checking to make sure you’re doing your job. If you see something that can be fixed with glue or a little paint before he gets here, let me know, and I’ll show you where I keep that stuff.” Desta grabbed a rag and started on the mirror above the dresser. “You’re still doing room 514, right?”
Fallen was frankly a little sick of Desta being so specific about the always-empty room. “Yup. The ghost who lives there is real neat. Just moves the dust around.”
Desta paled a bit, like Fallen mentioning a ghost was bad luck or something, before busting up with another round of coughing. She held on to the dresser for a second, so Fallen stepped closer, worried the woman was feeling dizzy.
She held up her hand. “No. I’m fine. I just need to actually get out there and suck on one of these. Eases the coughing.” Desta pulled a package of cigarettes out of her pocket.
“I don’t think it works that way. Good luck, though.” Fallen waved at Desta as she left the room.
Actually, room 514 was Fallen’s favorite; it was so easy. She was in and out in fifteen minutes. She dusted, made sure everything was still there, and once a week she freshened up the linens. As she thought about the impending visit from the owner, Fallen made a mental note to try the tap and shower to make sure everything was in order there as well.
She did room 512 next, the even side of the hallway being her path of choice before lunch.
A little while later she gathered her cleaning supplies and marked 512 down as clean and ready on the hotel iPad she had with her. Then she turned toward room 514, her last task before taking a break.
Chapter 2
Hallucinogen
Fallen opened her eyes slowly. The last thing she remembered was falling backward onto the bed in room 514. She’d been so tired all of a sudden. And now she looked up at twinkling stars and could hear a crackling fire nearby, along with murmurs and a little light laughter.
The air was crisp, and she sat up to find she was still wearing her maid’s uniform, complete with her nametag, though her surroundings were entirely different. She pinched her arm. It hurt and left a red mark.
Fallen got up in a hurry when she felt a creepy crawly on the back of her thigh. She attacked her legs with her hands until she was sure whatever had been there was gone.
As she looked around at the trees, she felt panic rising. Had she been drugged and dragged into the woods somehow? Fallen let her eyes adjust to the dim light offered by the night sky. Then she carefully stepped through the woods to hide behind a tree. Her horrible work sneakers seemed to glow, and she cursed silently as she tried to stay camouflaged.
Her heart pounding, she waited like that for more minutes than her nerves
were ready for. Finally, when nothing had pounced on her and no one came looking, the happy murmurs coming from the direction of the fire seemed the logical place to start poking around.
Fallen tiptoed through the night, drawing closer. Soon she could see tongues of flame dancing between the trees, promising warmth. Maybe her attackers were there, waiting for her to wake. Maybe heading toward them was the exact wrong thing to do. Still, she came to the edge of a clearing and peered around a large oak that towered over her like a canopy.
She got an eyeful, and then hid again while she tried to figure out what she’d just seen. She struggled to make it make sense. Fallen was pretty sure she saw nicely dressed couples toasting marshmallows and drinking wine. Digging her fingernails into the bark, she let the bite remind her she was actually awake. And then she looked again.
This time she watched a man turn on the radio in a car parked close by. An old song replaced the crickets and crackles of the fire as the background for the evening.
Fallen shook her head. This was so out of her realm of expectations, she wasn’t sure how to classify it.
“Fallen!”
The sound of her name nearly made her pee her pants.
“You made it! Come on over.”
Through the shadows, the tall man was silhouetted, except for his glistening white smile, a friendly smile. He waved her over like she was a stubborn child.
She stepped forward, because hiding when people knew she was there just seemed stupid. The man grabbed her hand and pulled her into the circle. The people there welcomed her by name. She did not recognize a single one of them. They weren’t even vaguely familiar.
After a moment she accepted a glass of wine from the tall man. The couple closest to the car began to slow dance. The mood was far from captors at a kidnapping. It was more like friends celebrating the start of a weekend.
Fallen looked down at her uniform. She felt very out of place. She tried to catch bits of conversation, but it was as if she had water in her ears—everyone sounded just a little out of her range.
Maybe I’m on drugs?
That actually made the most sense. As she cleaned she’d somehow stepped on a drug needle or ingested a hallucinogen.
She sat on one of the logs that circled the fire. The flames had such vibrancy. They burned blue towards the middle, each one clearly defined.
One hell of a drug.
The man who’d handed her the wine came and sat next to her, and she could understand him when he addressed her directly.
“Is your drink not to your liking? I can get you something else.” He touched the edge of her glass.
She shook her head no, responding as if she’d been invited to this party, not awakened in the woods like an alien ship had dropped her off.
“It’s good. Just enjoying the atmosphere. Do you know how I got here?”
The tall man had an air of authority and deep brown eyes. He was older than she was. His hairline was receding a bit, but he wasn’t unattractive. He wore jeans and a button-down shirt.
He narrowed his eyes. “Don’t you remember? Do you feel okay?”
Fallen gave him a smile and a nod. She decided not to say any more, pretending to listen to the music while she sipped her wine instead.
The man stood and offered her his hand. He pulled her into his arms when she set her glass on the uneven ground and stood.
“So glad you made it.” He directed her in a little twirl, following the music still drifting from the car radio.
She hummed by way of response. Her mind scrambled in her head. Nothing made sense. This dream, this crazy dream, was so real. Her sneakers shuffled through leaves as they danced.
Fallen held on to the man’s shoulder and hand. He clearly had a plan for the song. She tried to get a better look at the people around them, but they seemed a bit out of focus. She couldn’t figure out the color of the car.
When she looked over her dance partner’s shoulder, just past the ring of the campfire, she saw another man, this one sharp and clearly focused. He looked as confused as she felt, and he locked his gaze with hers. She watched as he put his hands though his thick, dark hair, messing it up. He was distressed. She understood the feeling.
He blinked repeatedly and ran his hand down his face. He seemed to acclimate more quickly than she had, and soon he was looking at her again.
“Is this real?” he mouthed.
Fallen patted her dance partner on the shoulder. “Excuse me for a minute.”
She didn’t give a reason, but to her relief he merely nodded and stepped back to allow her to walk past him. He then turned to talk with a woman sitting on a log, and Fallen backed carefully into the woods to meet up with the man who seemed as stunned as she was.
She ducked under a low-hanging branch and moved some ivy out of the way. He waited between two trees. She looked around, but didn’t see anyone else.
The sight of him was a visceral punch to her heart. His deep blue eyes and stunning face made her stumble a little. He was the kind of handsome that made a girl long for a mirror to check her makeup.
He stepped forward and held out his hand, but he didn’t touch her. He was tall—even taller than the other man—and easily a head taller than she. His shoulders were broad under the plain white tee he wore over khaki pants held up with a canvas belt.
It was a uniform, like what she wore.
He spoke first. “Are you real?”
“Normally I’m very real,” Fallen replied. “Not sure about the last thirty minutes or so.” She stopped in front of him.
He put his hand on her upper arm, looking around at their surroundings. “Are you in danger?” He pulled her close, prepared to protect.
“I don’t think so. Over there is a group of people dancing and drinking wine. The man you saw me dancing with—he knew my name.” She rested her hand against his hard stomach.
He looked down at her. “God, your beautiful face is such a pleasure. May I touch it?”
Fallen nodded and swallowed. Maybe he was the bad guy after all.
He grazed her cheekbone with his knuckles, then used his fingertips to lift her chin. He looked at her face like she was a jewel in a case. The chill started at the base of her skull, trickled down her spine, and ran all the way to her toes.
“That’s a face worth fighting for.” He moved his hand away, setting it behind his back like a gentleman who didn’t want to take too much.
He looked like a mix of Superman and an old-time movie star. Of the two men she’d encountered here—while she was either on a crazed drug trip or in a kidnapping scenario—the one in front of her made her feel safe.
“I’m scared because I don’t remember how I got here, and all of those people seem to know me,” she told him. “Do you know me?”
“No, sweetheart. And I don’t know how I got here either.” He pulled her behind him as the noise of a person approaching filtered through her confession. Superman went for his hip, like there should’ve been a gun there.
The man she’d danced with called out to Superman. “Thomas! You made it. You and Fallen want to join us?” The dancing man still had a welcoming smile.
Fallen went on her tiptoes and whispered. “See?”
Thomas turned his head a little and whispered back, “Fallen’s your name?”
She nodded at his profile.
The dancing man stepped around Thomas, making a big show of pulling Fallen out from around him. “Little lady gets away from me all the time.”
Fallen allowed the dancer to take her hand, but she gave Thomas a look that she hoped clearly conveyed that this was all complete bullshit. She could feel sweat from the man’s hand on her palm. Thomas followed as the man pulled her back to the circle.
“Hey, Russ! Can you get Thomas a beer? He looks spooked.” Dancing man waved at a log close to the fire and motioned for Thomas to sit.
“Incoming, Lad!”
Russ tossed the beer to the dancing man, who seemed to be named Lad, based
on the way his head snapped up. But Superman Thomas was holding the beer before Lad could catch it. His reflexes were amazing.
She then noticed that Thomas’ uniform had changed. He still wore a white T-shirt, but now he had on jeans and hiking boots, a plaid shirt tied around his waist. While she watched Thomas with her mouth hanging open, he looked her up and down with an equally shocked face, though he quickly recovered and thanked Russ by name with a little wave.
Fallen looked at her feet, and instead of her white Velcro sneakers, she found cute black flats with little red roses embroidered on them. Her dress was vintage, a tea-length black-and-white masterpiece with a soft, white sweater tied around her shoulders.
She felt the tears rush in then, making the roses as blurry as some of the voices around her. She turned and found her wine glass on the ground. She kept her back to the crowd as she lifted it and attempted to wipe away the physical manifestations of her fear. Her wine rippled as her hand shook. She couldn’t make it stop.
Thomas’ shadow appeared next to hers as he whispered, “Don’t let them see you upset.” Then in a louder voice he asked, “Can I ask Fallen for a dance, Lad?”
Fallen turned to face Thomas.
“Sure. But finders keepers, so don’t get too attached,” Lad called from the circle.
She looked up at Thomas, and he took her glass, setting it on a folding table near the car.
“You Send Me,” another golden oldie, came on the radio, and Thomas pulled her into dance position.
She squeezed his hand as it held hers.
Thomas led her easily through the slow dance, nodding and smiling. “Is that right? Nice. That’s great.”
He pretended they were having a conversation, and he leaned down as if to hear her. Instead he spoke.
“Sweetheart, we’re going to get out of here. Okay? Figure out what the hell is going on.”
She nodded. At least he seemed to have a plan in place.
“Are you a good guy?” Her intuition was so sure of him, but she was completely confused, so she had to ask.