Dawna started crying with almost hysterical intensity and Emma heard. Her voice became more alert: “What’s wrong? Celia, tell me what’s going on.”
I threw my head back against the wall and let out a long breath. “Keep the doors locked and turn on the magical barrier if you haven’t already. And keep a One Shot handy. Something was impersonating you. It’s dead now.”
Her voice got suddenly shaky as my words hit home, and her sniffling gave way to crying. “I need to get back to Birchwoods. Tell me we’re going back today.”
One crying on the phone and the other crying on the couch. My relaxing weekend with the girls had backfired big-time.
Just then there was a knock on the door and the announcement, “House detective. Ms. Graves? Could you open the door?” Great. The local law had arrived and I was wearing nothing but a robe that was covered with blood.
Yep. This day was going to suck moss-covered swamp rocks.
17
“I’m sorry, but I really don’t care what your corporate office said! I’m saying that your faulty barrier nearly got us killed.” I slammed my hand down on the front desk and then threw what used to be a snow-white towel onto the elegant marble. It landed with a moist thud, thanks to the fact that it was covered with blood and visceral chunks of what used to be a demon. “This would be me if I wasn’t a professional bodyguard who just happened to have the right tools on hand to kill this thing.”
Yes, I’d made sure the towel had been blessed before I marched off with it. But I wanted to make it crystal clear to the management that I’d nearly died … in their spa. I wasn’t a happy camper. Not only that, but my friends were suffering. Real therapeutic weekend.
The young desk clerk, whose name badge read Cyndi, turned white as a sheet and raced through the door into the office with a hand held over her mouth. The dark-skinned manager named Leonard made an expression of extreme distaste as his colleague noisily emptied her stomach behind the wall. He produced a trash can from behind the counter, grasped the towel’s one relatively clean corner, and pulled the bloody mess into the wastebasket. “Ms. Graves—that was unnecessarily vulgar. There’s no need to traumatize my staff.”
I threw up my hands and pointed to the elevator. “Why not share the love? I’ve got two traumatized friends upstairs and I want to know what you’re going to do about it. A demon should not have been able to get in this establishment. When did you really last have that barrier serviced?”
He looked down his nose at me and I didn’t appreciate it. At least the detective had treated me like a victim. He’d let me get dressed before he sealed the room to do his investigation. “As I explained to you, we regularly attend to maintenance of our security shield. The police will be here momentarily to investigate and we’ll let you know the result once we have the report.”
“And as I explained right back, there are many different levels of maintenance. Was the shield renewed this month? This quarter? Was it even this year? That has nothing to do with the investigation. Surely there’s an inspection certificate of some sort that I can look at. You have one in the elevator and in the kitchen. Isn’t that public information? Or should I start calling the news media to see if they can find out?”
That did it. He tried hard to control his features, but the panicked look on his face said that either he didn’t want any sort of bad press or he really didn’t want me to see an inspection report of the barrier. “That won’t be necessary, ma’am. The Oceanview Resort and Spa is always happy to satisfy our customers.”
And so began the negotiations.
It was nearly fifteen minutes later by the time the rooms and spa treatments were comped, my credit card was refunded, and I had a guest pass to “give us another try.”
I was shaking the hand of the nice manager, who by then was close to sweating bullets and not hiding it well, when Dawna came bolting out of the elevator. Panic preceded her like a cloud as she shouted, “Celia, you’ve got to come quick. Emma is totally freaking out!” Dawna held the elevator doors open, practically vibrating with anxiety.
Yay, she was talking again. But those weren’t the words I was hoping for.
Oh, crap. “I told her to stay in her room.” God, if she saw that mess … they were going to have to lock her in a rubber room. The buzzer started sounding and the doors were struggling to shut. The wide-eyed manager nearly shoved the gift certificate into my hand. I was betting he was planning to scoot out the door before anything else went wrong.
The elevator was a calm respite and I reveled for just a few moments in the soft music, dim lights, and elegant wood paneling. Dawna stood beside me with her eyes shut, probably trying to keep hold of her sanity.
Then the doors opened and sound and motion assaulted me. Two uniformed housekeepers were trying to hold Emma on the floor while the house detective was taking pictures of the “crime scene.” The Unitarian minister had apparently already left.
Emma was screaming as fast as she could draw breath. The pretty young Latina maid looked up at me as she struggled to keep Emma’s arms from thrashing enough to hurt herself. She had to shout to be heard over my friend’s screams: “My manager went to call nine-one-one. Maybe the EMTs can give her a sedative or something. The poor thing was beating her head into the wall. We were afraid she was going to really hurt herself!”
I knelt down beside Emma and cradled her face, forcing her to look at me, while the other women tried to hold her body still. “Emma! C’mon, girlfriend. Look at me. It’s Celia. You need to calm down.” I tried to get her to focus on my face, but I could tell right away that she was beyond actually seeing anything. Maybe they were right. A sedative was what she needed. Mostly, though, she needed to get back to Birchwoods. Unfortunately, that was better than seven hours away and I was afraid if we didn’t get her back there fast, she’d wind up in some hospital up here—and might never get out.
The detective let out a frustrated noise. “I wish we could put her somewhere soundproofed until the ambulance gets here. Or maybe just teleport her mouth somewhere.” He and the maids let out a chuckle, but the word made me get to my feet so fast the maids probably thought I was about to start screaming, too.
There are few things faster than a phone call. One of them is a teleporter. Combine the two and I might know a way to help Emma.
I skirted around the detective with an apology and raced for the phone while Emma’s screams made my ears ring. Complimentary room or not, I was betting they were going to stick this international call on my bill.
And probably the cost to clean up the blood that I’d just tracked farther into the room. Oops.
I turned on my nearly dead cell phone long enough to find the number of a recent call. I barely got the number written down before the phone died. The charger was somewhere in my bags, but I didn’t want to waste time looking for it.
The phone rang once, twice, then, “Kanalai Palace,” said the calm, unhurried voice on the other end, with a distinct accent I’d come to recognize. “How may I help you?”
“This is…” I paused, glancing at the detective who was taking in my conversation without seeming to. I didn’t really want to identify myself as royalty, but it was probably the only way people on the siren island were going to listen. I turned away from him and lowered my voice. At least if he was going to listen in, he was going to have to work at it over the screaming. “Princess Celia. I have an emergency at my location and I need to know whether Okalani is available to transport someone to a physician.”