Knight Casefiles Book 1: Revelations

Revelations [Chapter 18]

Chapter 18

I’ve got to hand it to Mr. Whistler – he knows how to put up one hell of a show. It’s more of a grudging respect, really. On the one hand, I’m pretty sure that I’ll never be able to get along with him, but on another, he’s one of those guys that you can’t help but admire from the sidelines. If my parents had him for a son instead of rebellious old me, my sister probably wouldn’t have to try and hide me from the cameras. He’d already shown how talented he was at playing the hotel manager, and now, as Sigrun and I watched through Margaret and Robert’s gift, he was playing the role of television host that rivaled even Oprah. For a brief moment, I allowed myself to relish the comparison.

The drone of the laptop’s fan made it impossible to hold the image, however, raking against my temples like…a rake. Damn it, I couldn’t even make decent metaphors, I thought, gritting my teeth as I rubbed the sides of my head.

Sigrun’s hand shot from the darkness, a dim silhouette under the gentle glow of the laptop screen. I didn’t have to squint to know what she was holding, which I immediately rejected.

“I want my head clear while watching,” I said, turning my attention back to the screen where Whistler was chattering on about the room he and the rest of the guests – including Margaret, Robert, and my girlfriend – were in, having no trouble at all in keeping their interest. “The drugs you guys gave me earlier are just starting to wear off.”

The bed creaked as Sigrun shifted her position. “It’s not just the drugs, Chris. You’re still fatigued from using Gram.”

“I’m fine,” I insisted. My head protested as a loud bang was heard on-screen. The crowd gasped and Whistler grinned as he lifted the lid of a chest that had unceremoniously closed, offering little in the way of explanation as he gestured for them to move on.

“No, you’re not. Your head is still hurting, isn’t it?” she challenged. “And how many hours did you spend unconscious again? Chris, you’re drained.”

I didn’t respond. Whistler led everyone into a room that was obviously set up for a main event of sorts, which was just as well since they’ve been going on for almost three hours and despite my protests, I really did feel faint. I wouldn’t admit to it, but my arms and legs felt unusually strained now that the painkillers from earlier were wearing off, like they would after going through a marathon with a cow tied to each limb.

Sigrun sighed. “Please let me do this for you. Get some rest.”

Shaking my head, I pointed at the screen. “It looks like they’re finishing up anyway. Just a few more minutes.”

In the darkness, I sensed Sigrun throw her hands up in exasperation as she lapsed into defeated silence.

On-screen, the crowd had taken their seats on the carpeted floor, Margaret placing the camera on top of what must have been a dresser. A few of the classier ones, including Brendan and Glory, both of whom I hadn’t seen since last night, either stayed standing or had found decorations they could use as seats. Mr. Whistler didn’t seem to mind and pressed on with his speech.

Like I said, the room had obviously been prepared for a show. From what I gathered during Whistler’s preamble, it had originally been a first-class suite for those who could afford it. Unlike the room Sigrun and I were in, this one was decorated with far richer ornaments, glistening even underneath the cellophane they were covered with.

Perhaps it was just an effect of the room’s current lighting. Though a chandelier hung ready for use above the guest’s heads, it was switched off along with the rest of the electricity-based lights. Instead, candles were scattered liberally across the room, their placing casting odd shadows on the faces of those present. I searched the room for Elaine and Margaret and found them seated on either side of Mr. Whistler. Okay, now I was sure he had it in for me.