Although part of this was revenge against the concierge’s tyranny, Catherine and Joshua tried to help me. I’m grateful, but at the same time I know they’ll be punished for it. In the span of eternity it might only be a blip—but it’s still pain. And I hate that he’ll have that power over them.
“You have to go,” Elias whispers. His hand slides over my arm, drawing me closer. “Please, Audrey.” He buries his face in my hair, his breath warm on my neck as he pleads for me to leave him. “Before it becomes real.”
Real. I straighten, my mind working to put together the pieces. “I’m real,” I say to myself, considering the words. Elias is still begging me to go, but I’m thinking about the night we went to the fountain. Lourdes gave me a muscle relaxer, a pill that didn’t work for the staff. But I felt its effects. I hear the music from the side of the road in this hotel, a song Elias couldn’t hear. I can touch people—something Catherine said she couldn’t do.
I have a moment of clarity, my body calming, if only for a moment. I realize what it means—at least, what it means in the Ruby: I’m real. I’m connected to both realities. I’m still alive, my heart beating, my brain sending electricity through my body. Is that why Kenneth wants the guests from the thirteenth floor to stay away from his staff? If I could touch the guy in the lobby, make him shiver—what exactly can I do to Kenneth?
I’m about to find out.
I put my hand on Elias’s shoulders to push him back, and he looks me over with such sorrow, such loneliness, as he expects me to walk to the elevators and out of his afterlife. I lean in and kiss him, put my hand on his cheek. He lets me, closing his eyes as he holds back his tears. But the thing is, I’m not going to the elevators.
Without a word I turn and walk directly toward the front desk. I hear Catherine gasp, the shuffle of feet as if someone is about to come after me. The little door behind the desk opens, and Kenneth appears—his face red with rage. Before any of my friends can interrupt, he waves his hand angrily and they groan and fall silent behind me. I don’t turn back, imagining they’ll all be dead. Burned up and punished for helping me. My hands ball into fists at my sides.
Kenneth steps up to the counter, his chin lower, his eyes blazing. “I see you’re still here,” he says in a low growl. “Perhaps you don’t truly understand your situation.”
“Or maybe I do,” I say. There is a flicker of worry in his expression, but he’s quick to try and cover it, laughing.
“I think not,” he says dismissively. “You see, Miss Casella, your body—”
“Yes, Kenneth,” I interrupt. “I know. The Ruby already showed me. I’m dying on the side of the road just two miles from here. But I wouldn’t accept what happened. I came back for my family.”
“What?” His sinister expression falters. “That’s—why would you do that?” he demands.
“At first,” I say, courage growing by the second, “I thought I could get them out.” Kenneth chuckles, but I keep talking. “And when I realized I couldn’t, I thought maybe I’d just kill you.”
He stops laughing. The words fall around him, and he tries to comprehend the meaning, doubt settling in his expression. The first inkling of fear. “You . . . can’t,” he says, sounding confused. “You can’t,” he repeats, trying to convince himself.
I understand now how he controls the people in the Ruby. Fear. Lourdes, Elias, my brother, all of them—they’re not really here; their bodies can’t feel pain. Kenneth has no power over them. Not if they don’t let him. In death he can hurt them only because they think he can. They make it real. And in the Ruby it’s only real if you make it real.
But I’m not part of them—I’m still connected, even if it’s only a little longer. In the background I still hear the song, but it’s fading away. I’m dying. I’ve been dying since I got here. I close my eyes, and when I open them, there are people all around. Checking their bags at the front desk, the bustle and chatter of a lively hotel. They speak with the desk attendant I saw on that first day. The others, walking over the grave of the Hotel Ruby.
Kenneth shoots a frightened gaze around and then reaches to grab my arm, half pulling me onto the desk. “I run this place,” he shouts, spittle dribbling over his lips. “I’m in charge.”
I think back to when he told me my head was bleeding, only to find there was no injury at all. He’s trying to do it again, but I’m no longer under his spell. When he understands this, I see the slow realization slide over his fat little face.
“You can’t hurt me, Kenneth,” I say calmly “You can’t do shit.”
“What?” He shakes his head in disbelief, baring his teeth. They’re sharp and pointy, but he doesn’t intimidate me. Not anymore.