Hellequin Chronicles 4: Prison of Hope, Page 3

“She’s going to get her head torn off,” Tommy said as he rejoined me after going off to help Kasey put their bags on the buses. Kasey and five more young teenage girls were alongside him, although I didn’t recognize any of the newcomers.

  “She’s nuts if she thinks segregating the witches is a good idea,” I said, and one of the girls with Kasey said good-bye and stomped off unenthusiastically toward the ruckus.

  “Mara is Chloe’s mum,” Kasey informed me. “They don’t get on.”

  “Poor kid,” I said, mostly to myself, although I heard a giggle from one of the girls standing with Kasey. “What about her dad?”

  Kasey shrugged. “She was close to him, but he left her mum a year or so ago. Mara started to go a little . . .”

  “Crazy,” Tommy finished for her. “You should see her at parent meetings; she’s like a tiny, slightly less mustached Stalin.”

  “She still wears her wedding ring, though,” Kasey added. “Although if anyone brings up Chloe’s dad to her, she goes mad.”

  Emily eventually reached the arguing women, and whatever she said appeared to work, as the teacher threw her arms in the air and Mara smiled triumphantly. She ushered the children and adults onto the bus, including Emily, who stopped to say something that made Mara bristle. Mara’s daughter, Chloe, was last on the bus, which caused Mara to stop her from getting on and say something that clearly upset the young girl.

  “I don’t like her,” Kasey said.

  “She’s horrible to Chloe,” agreed one of her friends, a short ginger girl, whose face was covered in tiny freckles.

  “I can’t say that I’m a big fan,” I said as the bus’s engine roared to life and slowly moved out of the lot.

  “Nice of them to wait for everyone else,” Tommy grumbled. “I guess this is setting the standard for her behavior for the next few days.”

  “I think it’s more than just her,” I said, as the clearly irate headmistress ushered everyone else onto the remaining buses. “If what Emily said was true, there are several witches here who think the same as Mara. It could make for a very long stay.”

  “We’ll just avoid them,” Tommy said as we climbed onto the bus and found seats near the rear. We were soon joined by Kasey and her friends, who kept glancing over at Tommy and me, probably sensing that there were more interesting things to come if they stayed nearby. I really hoped they were wrong.

  The hotel near Lake Ferchensee was a sizeable ten-story building that held enough rooms for nearly five hundred people. In the various meeting, conference, and dining rooms that it contained, you could easily have walked its halls for several days without seeing everything it had to offer.

  It took well over two hours to get all of the children, their minders, and teachers booked in, and even after another hour the massive foyer was still full of people asking for information or telling the staff that their room key didn’t work.

  I took my bags up to the ninth floor, dodging various teenagers who were without constant adult supervision and had decided that the hotel was now their playground to run around in at will.

  Tommy, Kasey, and her friends had already gone up to their rooms on the eighth floor. The school had wisely put into place a policy that ensured a certain percentage of adults on every floor. Tommy’s room was next to Kasey’s, so I imagined he was facing down nights of staying up to ensure she’d gone to bed at the appropriate time and checking for boys every five minutes—even though Kasey wasn’t really the type to either stay up all night or party with boys.

  I dropped my suitcase on my comfy-looking bed and slumped down on a leather armchair next to the large window, which gave me an exquisite view of the lake and woodland surrounding it. Germany has always been a beautiful country, especially in the autumn and winter months, and the southern part of the country was one of those places that was just a little too special to stay away from for long.

  It helped that Hades and his family often spent a lot of time in the area; I always had a place to stay. Even when the country was scarred by war and evil, Hades and his compound had remained untouched. Hades helped where he could to ensure that those who needed to vanish from the ever-present gaze of the authorities at the time did so without fuss, but he was reluctant to get too involved. The war was a human problem, and if Hades had fully involved himself, there was no telling how much it might have escalated. Hitler and the Nazis had support of the nonhuman variety too. People will always want more power, no matter how much they wield, and some will align themselves with madness to gain it.

  I remember wondering at the time, if Avalon and its allies had involved themselves, whether the war would have even taken place, but the answer was probably still yes. The only difference is that it would have been much, much worse.

  I cast my melancholy aside and took the kettle that was on a nearby table to the modestly sized bathroom, to fill it up in the sink before returning it to the table and switching it on. I liked to have a cup of tea after a long journey; it was nice to just take a few minutes to sit and relax while taking in new surroundings. I knew a few people who did something similar with alcohol, but I doubted any school trip would be too impressed with one of the guardians producing a bottle of scotch and settling in for a few hours, so tea it was.

  I prefer white tea, which isn’t tea with milk in it, but will gladly drink green or black. Never instant, though, which is pretty much like drinking muddy water. I grabbed a small sachet of brown sugar and tipped it into the mug before dropping in the green tea bag and pouring the water in. I’d just settled down to enjoy the drink when my mobile rang, the sounds of “Behold a Pale Horse,” by Martin O’Donnell and Michael Salvatori, filling the room.

  I sighed and picked up the phone and discovered that it was Tommy calling. I placed the tea on the table before answering. “This had better be good,” I said.

  “You should come down to reception. Quickly.”

  I was about to ask what had happened, but Tommy had ended the call, so with another sigh I stood and left the room, grabbing my jacket on the way.

  I took the lift down to the ground floor, where the sounds of shouting reached me before the doors fully opened to reveal an irate Mara Range screaming at the hotel manager.

  I found Tommy nearby, standing next to several more adults from the trip, all of who appeared to be watching with a mixture of interest and humor. “What the hell?” I whispered, unsure what the acceptable volume of speech was while watching a witch shout at the hotel manager.

  “She’s pissed off,” Tommy explained.

  I stared at him for a second. “No shit, really? I did wonder what the yelling was for. Any idea why?”

  “She’s mad at you.”

  That made me pause while my brain processed the new information. “Umm . . . what?” I eventually managed.

  Before Tommy could reply, Mara turned toward me and raised a bony finger in my direction. “I refuse to share a floor with filth like him,” she snapped.

  I glanced with mock surprise all around me before looking back at Mara, as those to either side of me made a point of quickly stepping aside. I was unsure whether Tommy didn’t move out of loyalty to me or a desire to be closer to the action. “What did I do?”

  “Sorcerer!” she almost shrieked. “We were told that the witches had the ninth floor, and that only witches would be allowed there. Instead, you place one of his kind there too.”

  “I’m very sorry for your upset,” the manager tried to explain—something I imagined he’d been trying to do calmly for some time. “But whoever booked Mr. Garrett was clearly unaware of this arrangement,” the manager—a tall, thin man with a somewhat haggard expression—said.

  “Then remove him from floor nine this instant.”

  “As I’ve explained several times,” he told her, this time with slightly more force, “we will not make anyone move rooms just because another guest tells us to.”

  “Would you be happy sharing a floor with a member of the Nazi Party?” she demanded to
know.

  The manager’s face hardened, and I got the impression that Mara may have just launched herself over whatever line of good taste existed when one was accusing someone of being a psychopath. “Madam Range, I think there’s a difference here between someone having to share a floor with those who actively hate others, and you having to share a floor with Mr. Garrett, who, to the best of my knowledge, has done nothing untoward to either you or your witches.”

  “I don’t hate witches,” I very happily told everyone. “If it helps, I’m not a member of the Nazi Party either. Just sayin’, in case this conversation goes in that direction.”

  There were stifled laughs from those behind me.

  “See?” the manager told Mara. “He wishes you no harm.”

  “We’ll see how that goes when he’s murdering us in our sleep,” she said.

  “I promise to clean up after I’m done,” I said.

  The manager gave me a “Was that really necessary?” look while someone behind me made no effort to conceal his or her snigger. Apparently my time of helping was over.

  Mara Range stomped toward me and placed a finger on my chest. “I’ll be watching your attitude toward my witches on this trip. If you step out of line, you will regret it.”

  I looked down at the digit and wondered for a second if I should remove it for her. I decided that would make matters much, much worse and ignored it. “So, I guess asking you out for a drink isn’t going to work?”

  “You’re not taking me seriously,” she snapped.

  “That’s because you’re a fucking idiot,” I whispered to her and then smiled while her face contorted with rage and she stormed off toward the lifts.

  Everyone watched while she pressed the button and waited. After about ten seconds, I could sense that people wanted to laugh, but didn’t dare. Another five seconds made it unbearable. Finally the lift arrived, and she stepped inside, causing everyone in the foyer to burst into laughter at once.

  “Well, that was interesting,” I commented.

  “If I were you, I’d keep an eye on her,” the manager suggested before walking off.

  “Wow, she certainly doesn’t like you,” Tommy said after he’d finally finished laughing. “Now you can piss women off before you’ve even met them. That’s quite a talent.”

  “Thanks, Tommy. That was, as always, incredibly helpful.”

  “Ah, don’t be shitty; she’s clearly got her knickers in a fucking twist over something. Nothing you can do about it.”

  I knew he was right. Whatever Mara’s issue with me, there was very little I could do to make it go away. But that didn’t mean I enjoyed being accused of something I hadn’t done.

  “Nate,” Emily called out from the lift as the doors reopened. She ran over to me, an apologetic expression adorning her face. “I’m so sorry about Mara; sometimes she’s gets a little . . .”

  “Psycho,” Tommy helpfully added.

  Emily glanced over at my friend and shrugged. “I was going to go with ‘intense,’ but your word works well enough.”

  “It’s fine, I’m just going to go for a walk,” I explained to them both. “There’s a good place in town; maybe I’ll grab something to eat there. It would be nice if when I got back to my hotel room, Mara hadn’t wired it to explode upon opening.”

  “I’ll talk to her,” Emily promised.

  “You need any company?” Thomas asked.

  I shook my head. “I could use the walk. It would probably be best for me to avoid any contact with Mara or her coven, for the evening. I’m not certain I could hold my temper for a second time.”

  CHAPTER 3

  The manager offered to have a bottle of Scotch sent to my room by way of an apology. I accepted on the condition that it be a decent bottle, but still told him that I was leaving for the evening.

  About ten minutes of walking into Mittenwald was just long enough for me to enjoy the peace and quiet that came with taking a detour through the nearby forest. There are not a lot of predators to worry about in Germany—the days of bears and wolves stalking the land are long since gone, and although I’d heard that some wolves had started to be repopulated in the northern parts of the country, I wasn’t really worried about coming across anything that might give me concern. In fact, the most dangerous thing I saw on my walk was a squirrel, and I think I could probably take one in a fight.

  Despite the cold and the occasional flurry of snow, the real winter weather was probably a few weeks away. It was a shame because, as I exited the forest about a hundred meters away from the town, which was lit up in the night, I remembered how stunning the place was after a snowfall. Plenty of people travel a long distance to stay at one of the Bavarian towns during winter, and owing to the town’s beauty, with good reason. It was still a busy time of year, and a group consisting of several men and women said hello to me as they walked past, the winter cheer easy to smell on them, which made me smile as I returned their greeting.

  The bar I was looking for was about a ten-minute walk from where I’d entered the town, and by the time I’d reached it, I was glad that I’d decided to go out for the evening. Tommy would more than likely have his hands full with shenanigans brought on by imaginary slights, and I didn’t trust Mara not to do something incredibly stupid at my expense. I didn’t want to give her witches even more reason to hate me by breaking their leader into tiny chunks and scattering them over the hotel.

  The bar that was my destination was called Der Bär und Wolf—The Bear and Wolf; the sign outside had a black bear standing on his hind legs beside a gray wolf. They appeared to be walking alongside one another, partners in wherever they were going. There was a large car park out front, which was nearly full to capacity with cars of various makes and age.

  I passed a couple of young men who were standing at the rear of their truck, whispering between themselves. They stopped as I passed by and nodded a greeting, which I returned without slowing down.

  The noise from inside the bar began to wash over me as a few patrons exited the establishment, the open door allowing the sound, for the briefest of moments, to escape into the night.

  I reached the door of the bar and opened it, stepping inside, where I took in the surroundings. I’ve been to The Bear and Wolf several times since its conception several decades earlier. It was divided into two parts. The first held several small tables next to a sizeable bar. There were maybe twenty people standing beside the bar while a jukebox in the corner played the Foo Fighters’s “Everlong.”

  Next to the door was a small plinth, on which sat an open book. A young woman with short-cropped hair stood behind it and smiled as I asked for a table for one. She grabbed a menu and beckoned me to follow her.

  The second part of the bar was in the rear of the building, which I followed the waitress into. It was comprised of dark-red leather booths and wooden tables. Music played through speakers placed high on the wall, although it was piped in from the jukebox at the front of the bar. Oddly enough, none of the riotous noise from those at the front of the bar made it through to the rear. The acoustics were really something, although I think this had more to do with the rune work the owners had hidden on the bare stone wall between the two sides. It probably cost a fortune to have those runes created that would absorb sound the way they did in the bar, but judging from how busy it was up front, the owners probably found it worth the extra cost.

  The waitress seated me in a booth about halfway down the restaurant. I ordered the house beer, and she left me alone to decide on what to eat.

  Someone, probably Tommy, once told me that if you go out to eat, you should always order steak or lobster. Presumably because he’s a greedy bastard. Lobster wasn’t on the menu, but there were plenty of steak dishes. However, as I fancied a change, I went with slices of suckling pig and chips, with a side order of some bread. Bread and chips. You can take the man out of England, but not England out of the man.

  I placed the order, along with a second ice-cold beer, and it cam
e a few minutes later, carried by a petite lady who wasn’t my original waitress. She appeared to be a good decade older than the previous woman, and her strawberry blond hair was in a braid down her back.

  She placed the food and drink in front of me with a smile. “And you weren’t going to come say hello?”

  I got up from my seat and was launched upon, her hug taking my breath away as she lifted me from the ground with ease. “Hi, Petra,” I managed to wheeze as she placed me back on my feet.

  “Nate, it’s wonderful to see you again. Kurt has gone out for the evening, but he’ll be so glad that you’re here.” Petra Holzman’s German accent was much less pronounced than her husband, Kurt’s, a product of her spending so many years working abroad for Hades, helping with security for his various businesses.

  We both sat at the booth, and I took a bite of the wonderful food, which tasted even better than it smelled. “Is Kurt still doing the cooking?”

  Petra nodded. “He wouldn’t give it up for anything in the world, although we have another half-dozen chefs who work alongside him. This place gets too busy for it to be just him anymore.”

  I glanced around at the dozens of other patrons, mostly in twos or groups, eating food that looked delicious and having a good time.

  “It’s been far too long,” Petra said. “We heard you’d come back from the dead after being away for a decade.”

  “Ah, yeah—Mordred and his plans,” I said with a forced smile.

  “Kurt once told me that Mordred used to be a good man. It’s a shame how he ended up.”

  “That was a very long time ago,” I almost whispered. “And he’s never going to hurt anyone else ever again.” Mordred had removed my memories while trying to kill me, but I’d managed to escape. I’d spent the next decade living a life that wasn’t mine. On the plus side, once I’d recovered my past, I’d taken a great delight in being able to put Mordred in the ground permanently.

  Petra watched me for a second, and then a smile spread over her lips. “So, why are you here?”