Last Line(s): Quinn gave a hesitant nod. She wasn't sure she entirely
understood what he was talking about, but she was familiar with not
feeling at home in a place that was supposed to be hers. She wondered
if the halls of Hell – if Hell even had those – felt just as big
and empty to Issac as the halls of her old house had felt to her.
She looked out the window and watched as they passed
underneath a bridge, gaze lingering on the colorful graffiti covering
the concrete support beams.
The hotel they arrived at twenty minutes later was
paradise compared to the one that they had been staying in the night
before. They hadn't gotten their room key yet, but the lounge across
from the front desk had a rich personality to it. The pillars that
jutted out from the hardwood floor looked like they belonged in a
Greek temple. The carpet that lay between them looked like it
belonged to royalty. Every chair had ornate carvings and plush,
velvety cushions. It was the kind of hotel that she would have
expected to be part of some larger hotel chain, but she hadn't ever
heard of Abe's Lodge. The name made her think of cozy log cabins
nestled in the woods – it didn't fit the more gothic touch that the
building had.
She looked back at the front desk.
Issac was almost finished registering for the hotel.
The woman at the front desk apparently hadn't questioned their lack
of ID like most hotels did – she seemed content with the wad of
cash Issac had pushed their way. But she was studying Issac, too, as
he printed his name neatly on an old-fashioned ledger. Quinn didn't
like the way that her eyes scanned Issac's face. If the woman looked
close enough, Quinn was sure she'd be able to notice the little
robotic quirks Issac did his best to hide.
“I can't remember the last time you used an alias,
Azazel,” the woman commented.
The pen went still in Issac's hands.
Quinn's felt the palms of her hands go clammy as she
glanced at Issac. There was no way for someone to recognize him like
this. Her mind immediately went back to the blood that had gotten
underneath Issac's fingernails when he went to meet with Jean
Sullivan – and to his description of a single silver bullet that
had been left on the desk near Jean's body. Was she going to be shot,
too? Was Issac going to get shot?
But then Issac let out a quiet sigh and straightened.
“Did my handwriting give it away?” he asked.
The woman leaned on the desk. “It always does.”
Quinn looked between the two.
“Issac?” she quietly asked.
The woman gave her a smile. Quinn took a step back. She
had been too distracted to notice it earlier, but the woman had a
pair of fangs that glinted in the light of the desk lamp.
Quinn didn't need Issac's help to figure out what the clerk was. But
even though Quinn had just realized a vampire knew some of Issac's
secret, her pulse steadied. Her hands didn't feel like they were
coated in sweat. And when she hesitantly gave the woman a smile of
her own, Quinn knew that the color had returned to her cheeks.
Issac turned to Quinn.
“Quinn, this is Bell,” Issac said.
“It's short for Isabelle, but no one calls me that
these days,” she said. Bell leaned a little farther across the desk
and held out a hand. After a moment of hesitation, Quinn shook it.
“I'm surprised you're taking this so well – most humans freak
when they see the fangs.”
Quinn's gaze traveled over to Issac. His face was
mostly emotionless, but she didn't miss the gentle glow to his eyes
as he rested his elbow on the very edge of the desk. “I was worried
when you knew Issac's name, but he's not. You must be friends.”
Bell chuckled. “Oh, we're more than that.”
Quinn blinked.
“Issac never mentioned having a girl-”
Bell laughed again; Issac found the floor to be
incredibly interesting.
“Not that,” she said. “We were a long
time ago before I figured out some things about myself. But we've
stayed in touch ever since that ended, and he's always welcome at the
lodge. I wouldn't go as far as to call us best friends, but we're
certainly more than just casual acquaintances.”
As she spoke, she pushed herself off of the desk and
gestured at the little pin underneath her name tag. A warm feeling
settled in Quinn's chest when she saw the orange, white and pink
lines. Quinn was so busy giving Bell a shy smile that she missed the
way that Issac suddenly started studying how Quinn held herself.
Bell turned around and grabbed an old-fashioned metal
key from a rack behind her.
“Well,” she said, “it looks like you're all set.
I hope you two enjoy your room.”
She dropped the key in Issac's hands.
Issac gave a little nod and uttered a quiet word of
gratitude.
He headed away from the front desk with his suitcase in
tow. Quinn started to follow him, but she paused when she saw what
was on the TV above the lounge's inactive fireplace. She wasn't
surprised by what was playing. Hotels and motels always seemed to
have some kind of news channel on in their main rooms. But the news
was almost always for the entire country or state. It wasn't
localized.
This channel was.
The screen was displaying nines faces, each in its own
rectangular box. There were four on the top, four on the bottom, and
one off to the side. That last one was the only one that was in
color; the first eight faces were all a dull gray. The only
similarity between them all was that they were on the screen.
Quinn ran the names through in her head: Terry. Sylvia.
Kaia. Percy. Suzanna. Emile. Logan. Adam.
She heard the wheels to Issac's suitcase skid to a stop
at the mouth of the hallway.
Bell let out a quiet, tense sigh.
“Not another one,” she muttered. “Jesus Christ.”
A moment later, Quinn found Issac by her side. Even
though he was facing the screen, she could see his eyes glancing off
to the side – almost as if he was trying to look back at Bell. His
grip on his suitcase's handle tightened; his posture grew more tense.
There was something about the way that Issac carried himself that
always made him seem older than he looked, but he seemed practically
ancient with the look of defeat he had on his face now.
“What happened?” Issac asked.
Bell didn't say anything for a moment.
When Quinn turned to look at her, Bell's hands were
balled up into fists on the front desk. She didn't meet either
Quinn's questioning look, and didn't seem to notice Issac when the
wheel's of suitcase rolled across the hardwood floor.
Issac stopped in front of the desk.
Quinn hesitantly joined him.
“People keep going missing,” Bell finally said. “It
started a few months ago. No one really knew Terry and Sylvia – I
think everyone here assumed they had just left town. But then Kaia
went missing, and...”
Bell faltered.
Quinn's mind flickered back to two-year-old tabloid
covers and Reddit threads filled with outlandish theories. The
disappearance of America's youngest robotics star had fascinated the
nation for just a handful of months before it faded into obscurity.
Quinn couldn't remember the last time she had seen her face looking
back at her in grocery store aisles.
“...I knew Kaia wouldn't go without any warning,”
she said. “She hadn't been here long, but she didn't have a reason
to leave. I keep hoping that they've found her when they run the
story, but they just keep adding names to the list.”
Issac's expression softened.
“...Do you think it's someone supernatural?”
Bell glanced up.
“It's the only thing that makes sense,” she said.
“I'm not sure about Terry and Suzanna, but I know for certain that
everyone else that went missing stayed here at least once on their
own – and only the supernatural can do something like that. If it's
not one of us, it's certainly a hunter.”
“Is there anything I can do to-”
Bell shook her
head and let out a heavy sigh.
Running her fingers through her hair, she turned back
to the laptop that was propped open on a part of the front desk that
ran adjacent to the part she had been leaning on. “The best thing
you can do is stay safe. Whatever you're doing right now to hide that
you're a demon? Keeping doing it. Whoever's doing this won't be
phased by your age – they'll see you as a trophy.”
The details in the first paragraph were interesting. 
) So, I guess these supernatural beings live in harmony among humans and try to conceal their identity as much as possible. 
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