Wings

Chapter 11

I spend nearly an hour in the breakfast room of the hotel, savoring my food and finishing a book on my tablet. When I make it back to my room, I am surprised to hear movement from inside. At first, I think it is housekeeping, cleaning up and putting out fresh towels. But I quickly realize that is impossible. Housekeeping usually starts around nine in the morning. So, by the time they reach my room, it would be closer to nine-fifteen or nine-thirty in the morning.

I cautiously open the door, prepared to slam and run, or fight, depending on what I see. What I see through the crack in the door, still stuns me. Inside the shadowy room, a figure rummages through my stuff. At first, I think it's a random burglar, although how a regular burglar would have gotten access to my room is beyond me. But the more I study the figure in the half-shadows, I realize the "burglar" isn't just a regular, run of the mill, burglar. It's the clerk from last night, Rupert. The one who refused to help me get back into my room. What the hell is he doing?!

I ease the door open a little more, praying it doesn't creak and give me away. Once the gap is just big enough for me to slip through, I ease myself into the room. I slowly close the door with a soft click. I crouch down, tugging my jeans' leg up, and slip my knife from its sheath around my ankle. I'm fairly certain that whatever this little bastard is up to, it won't bode well for him or me. Better be prepared, just in case.

As I rise from my crouch, I adjust my grip on the knife's handle. I pause for a moment to consider how I should play my next move. I don't want to harm him before I find out what he's up to, but I also can't judge if he's armed or not. And even though I am not a mere mortal human any more, I also am not as endowed as Azrael is. I'm stronger than most humans, so rendering him incapacitated will be a piece of cake. But I'm also still human. I can still die if he is armed with a weapon, or if he gets my knife. Or, god forbid, he's found my sword.

My first instinct, usually my stupidest idea, is to call out to him and brandish the knife in hopes he freaks and confesses everything. Like I said, not my smartest idea. Instead, I creep up behind him, thankful I have made a careful study of the flooring. I know every square inch of walking space, which squeaks, which creaks, and which are blessedly silent. I reach the night clerk just as he starts in on my bag. With a last light spring, I land behind him. I aim a swift kick to the back of his knees, driving him straight down to my level. Before he can even shout in surprise, I have my right arm wrapped around his throat, the knife in my right hand pressing lightly against the skin just above the carotid artery. "What the hell are you doing in my room?" I hiss into his ear.

"I... I um... was demoted to housekeeping?" he squeaks.

"Try again," I growl, pressing the knife's edge just a little harder into his skin.

"Okay, I... um..." He gulps softly. "I wish you'd take that knife away from my throat..." he says.

"Not until you tell me what you are doing in my room."

"I...um...I was..."

"Quit stalling," I warn, adding just a little more pressure. By now, there is a trickle of blood trailing down his neck. "What. Are. You. Doing. In. My. Room?"

"I... can't say..." he finally admits. "I'll be killed if I do."

"Can't say or won't say?" I ask. "Because it sounds like you won't say. And trust me," I say, leaning down to whisper into his ear. "I have ways of making you talk. Painful ways. Ways that will make you wish you were dead." I quickly flick the knife's edge up, nicking his cheek with the point. Rupert grimaces. "So, what's it going to be?"

"Fine," he concedes. "Someone asked me to do a little digging on you. Find out whatever I could about you. She... she would pay me handsomely for breaking into your room. I was supposed to just search your stuff and take pictures of everything I find."

"Who?" I growl through clenched teeth. Although I have a pretty good idea.

"I... I don't know! I swear!" Rupert cries. "She never told me her name!"

"Describe her then."

"Um... tallish, like almost 6 foot? Slim build. Caucasian. Twenty-fiveish? I didn't get a good look at her," he confesses. "She was wearing designer sunglasses. And the most distinguishing feature on her was her hair. It was like a platinum blond. Gorgeously long, but swept back in a fancy up-do."

Damn. Diana's on to me. But what's her end game...? I pull back on the knife, but keep it at his throat. "Rise and sit." I command, pointing at the bed. "And you try anything and I will bury this knife in you." I back up a bit to give him room to rise up off his knees. But I keep the knife pointed at him the entire time. Once he sits on the edge of the bed, I place my bag out of his reach. Then I command him to hand over his phone. I tuck it into my back pocket. I back up to where Azrael left the room's sole chair, grabbing the heavy piece of furniture and dragging it back to a spot in front of Rupert with ease. I slowly lower myself into the chair, my knife still pointed at him.

"What now?" he asks.

"Now we wait," I respond. "We wait until my partner returns. Then I'll decide what I will do with you."

"What... what do you mean?"

"Well, letting you leave here completely intact isn't really an option," I muse. "You could return to your boss and tell her everything..."

"I wouldn't, I swear!" Rupert cries.

"Yes, you would," I snap, my eyes flashing. "I know your kind. You're always looking to make a quick buck! You'll go scurrying back to her reporting everything you've seen, heard, and done, in the hopes she'll still agree to pay you!" I pause to consider him. "One choice would be to cut out your tongue... but you could still show her the photos and write out the rest. I could take your phone and destroy the evidence... and break your hands... then by the time you could even begin to write again, your boss would be over you and probably have killed you." A sly grin creeps across my face. "Or... I could save her the trouble and just kill you myself. Yes... that sounds like a splendid idea... just kill you."

"Oh god, please no!" Rupert begs.

"Let's wait until my partner returns and see what he thinks..."