Opposition (Apparition Investigations #2)

Case #3: The Horton Grand Hotel (Part 5)

The bellboys showed us up to our rooms. We'd been given two, Bronte and I branching off into one while Rose and Noah took the other—after assured promises they'd be sleeping in separate beds, of course.

Our rooms were linked with a connected door. And as the bellboys swept into our rooms, they carefully lined our suitcases up against the far wall. Then they breezed through the connected door, leaving it open as they checked to make sure everything was in place.

The rooms sported individual fireplaces, with flat screen TVs demurely affixed to the wall above the mantle. Darkly rich wooden furniture, matching the front desk downstairs, decorated the room. There were two beds, the blankets letting loose the wafting scent of detergent. And a desk stood in front of a tall window, the thick curtains pulled back to let in the Californian sun.

Bronte let out a little sigh of pleasure as she sunk into the bed. "Heaven. I'm in heaven."

"Fancy digs," I said, peeking my head into the bathroom. It was small, but outfitted with all the amenities a girl could ask for and towels so plump and fresh I felt the sudden urge to bury my face in them.

Instead, I shut the door and turned toward the connecting door. Through it, I saw Rose and Noah start to unpack. The sound of their voices drifted through easily.

"When do we start?" Oliver asked excitedly.

I went to my suitcase and unzipped the front pouch. I pulled out the Samwise and Frodo figurines and then lobbed them over my shoulder. "Catch."

Both figurines arched through the air and then stilled.

"Ok, we need a game–" Rose said, coming into the room. Her eyes landed on the floating figurines and she grinned. "I never get tired of seeing that."

Noah appeared at her shoulder. I half expected him to scowl at the floating Lord of the Rings characters, but he just stared blankly.

Rose plopped down on the bed beside Bronte. "We need a game plan. I'm positive I heard Zach Birmingham down in the lobby. That means we aren't the only ghost hunters working this case. But, unfortunately, we're probably the only ghost hunters who brought actual ghosts to the party."

"A smart decision, I think, given our hereunto untapped potential," Oliver said, the grin evident in his tone.

Bronte sat up. "Do you think Zach's team is the only one that's here?"

"Hard to say," Rose mumbled.

"I would venture not," Cyril said. "If you plan on pulling in multiple teams for a single objective, why stop at two?"

"Cyril thinks there are probably more," I said.

"Yeah, I was afraid of that," Rose sighed. "Why call in just two? I bet he's right—I bet there's at least three teams, maybe more, ours included. Which means we can't have our ghosts floating around and confusing the haunting."

"Oh, we won't," Oliver said assuredly. He let out a chuckle. "We'll be discreet; Rose will never even see us working."

"I think she's worried about other ghost hunters catching sight of you," I said. "And then thinking you're the ghosts that need to be taken care of. Instead of the real one we're here to find."

"We'll be careful."

Cyril sighed. "No, we'll stay in the room."

Oliver immediately launched into a protest. I drowned him out as Rose started speaking again. "Anyway, I don't think the ghosts should leave the rooms until we get a firmer grasp on the other teams and the haunting. Once we know the playing field, we can come back to whether or not we can let them loose about the hotel."

Oliver continued protesting, his voice rising.

The front desk phone rang.

Rose moved to answer it and my focus split between her conversation with the front desk, Bronte's polite conversation with Noah, and the ghosts arguing about being left behind.

"It's too risky–"

"Yes, that's fine—"

"Glad you could find the time to join us—"

"We'll be careful—"

"No—"

"What if we—"

"Thank you, we'll be happy to—"

"It's fine—"

I pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to drown them all out.

After a second of that not working, I slid from the room and out into the hallway. The door shut behind me with a wonderfully solid click, muffling their voices.

I leaned back against the door, letting out a deep breath.

The elevator chimed at the end of the hall.

I glanced down toward it in time to see the doors sliding open.

A young man and boy strolled off the elevator, heading down the hall in my direction. They were obviously brothers, judging from the black hair and sharp features they both shared. And they were dressed as tourists in jeans, tennis shoes, and T-shirts.

But they didn't hold themselves like tourists. The boy couldn't have been more than ten or eleven, yet he lacked the bounding energy of a child. He walked after his older brother, not bothering to glance at the ornate hallway or excitedly chattering about being on vacation. The only childlike thing about him was the bright red Pokémon backpack slung over one shoulder.

The young man was equally quiet. He pulled along a single, black suitcase, his eyes scanning the room numbers. He seemed...bored, almost. Uninterested. But in a more apathetic way than just the quiet younger boy. Like he'd been roused from a nap moments earlier.

Our eyes met as they continued down the hall. Hazel eyes, I saw. Shifting from brown to green to silver in the span of the hallway, changing with the light. Blending to whatever color suited the situation best.

He's one of them. Ghost hunter.

The thought flared suddenly, causing me to tense. I knew it for a fact. With the same certainty with which you knew how to breathe. Just something solid, something known.

He caught the tension in my shoulders. His brow furrowed slightly, the only indication of an acknowledgment. And then they were past me, moving further down the hall, scanning room numbers.

I watched them as they made it to the end of the hall and let themselves into the last room. Neither one of them glanced back in my direction. They stepped inside and their door shut soundlessly behind them.

Sighing, I leaned back against the door. Zach Birmingham could just be in ghost hunting for the ratings, but those two weren't the bumbling rating-mongers I imagined the TV star to be. Their ease and disinterest had me concerned. Our own team was tense and excited. They were calm and collected.

They'd done this before. Many times, I guessed.

Great. Just great.

We'd brought ghosts to a hotel full of ghost hunters, at least one of them a seasoned professional.

"Crap," I muttered.