Radiant Oddities (Anomaly Saga #4)

6

Alice hesitantly stepped forward and walked into the hotel, followed by Chandler and then the owl-haired man.

The lobby was the fanciest room Alice had ever seen. The red carpets looked supernaturally soft, and the receptionist's desk was made of pure gold. Several famous paintings lined the walls, from the Mona Lisa to Washington crossing the Delaware. Beethoven's "Moonlight Sonata" played over the speakers.

A few people sat on the dark sofas and luxurious armchairs, some of them reading magazines, some looking at their phones. They looked bored.

"Well?" asked the owl man. "Thoughts? Opinions?"

"It's beautiful," Alice said.

"That's what they all say." The owl man let out a nasally chuckle. "And they're right."

"Let's get down to business, Greyhorn," said Chandler. "We'd like to stay for the night."

Greyhorn nodded. "Of course, of course. Follow me."

He led Chandler and Alice up to the receptionist's desk. No one was there. Greyhorn tapped the bell. "Victoria!" he exclaimed. "Guests!"

A tall woman in the most puffed out and ruffled Victorian-styled dress Alice could ever have imagined came walking out of a nearby room. "My apologies," she said, sounding like she wasn't sorry at all. "I was attending to other important business." She turned her gaze on the new guests, and Alice noticed her eyes were a striking purple. Victoria's empty stare, Alice thought, was actually a little creepy.

"What room would you like to stay in?" she asked, still sounding like a teenager who was forced to talk to her distant aunts and uncles at a family reunion.

Chandler reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a single die, rolling it onto the desk. It rolled a three. "The good kind," he said.

Victoria reached out with her pale hand and grabbed the die. She dropped it on the desk. A four.

"Your turn," Chandler said to Alice, handing her the die.

"What do I do?" Alice asked.

"Just roll it."

"But-"

"You'll see."

Alice nodded and shook the die around in her hand, then sent it across the desk. A five.

"Three, four, five," said Victoria. "The will of the game has been spoken. You won a stay in room three-hundred forty-five."

Chandler exhaled a sigh of relief. "Thank you. We'll be going now." He turned to walk away, but stopped as Greyhorn tapped his shoulder.

"Shall I escort you?" the owl-esque man asked.

"No, thank you," Chandler said. "Let's go, Alice."

Alice followed Chandler down the hall, her mind full of comments and questions. "Chandler," she said.

"Yes?"

"Is three-hundred forty-five a 'good room'?"

"I would say so," Chandler said, slipping past an extremely tall man who was walking down the hallway the opposite way. "In room three-hundred forty-five, you don't have to deal with the bats. Or the broken TV that just yells at you. Or the room that's semi-flooded."

"The lobby was so beautiful," Alice said, "but that sounds so gross. I thought this hotel was supposed to be nice."

"It is, if you're lucky."

Chandler and Alice turned into a new hallway that was carpeted in deep royal blue and gold. At the end of this hallway was a fancy-looking elevator. The doors slid open to reveal an interior that was pure white, with swirling designs of pale blue.

The duo stepped inside, and Chandler pressed a button that read '300'. The floors counted up to ten, then skipped until 30, then 50, and so on.

"This is so weird," said Alice as jazzy electro swing music blasted through the speakers.

"This is my favorite song," said Chandler. "Of the elevator selections, I mean. Sometimes they play strange things. Like country."

"Wow."

The elevator opened up to reveal a new hallway, this time carpeted in forest green. Chandler led Alice down to room three-hundred forty-five and opened the door.