The Grand

One Flight Over

"Master Locke," Max said while handing over a key to his suite.

Edward took the key nonchalantly, one of the perks of the hotel was having a permanently assigned room (or was it a cage). Max was one of them though Edward remained unsure as to what they called themselves. Had Bram Stoker been correct in calling them vampires? Or had it been a wild guess?

The barrister was a bit of an expert on how to spot one in a crowd. Those like Max were seasoned manipulators and knew that hiding from within the flock maintained their hunting grounds. When he looked hard enough, inconsistencies appeared in their breathing. Every so often Edward noticed their faces would distort and shimmer; a sign that they moved quicker than his eyes perceived.

These occurrences were rare and nothing more than a moment of inattentiveness on their part. By keeping an eye out for the signs, it seemed to make their movements easier to catch.

Edward also assumed they had always been here in some fashion. People simply chose to dismiss the supernatural as a trick of the mind. A bit like a quick glance at the clock and becoming confused as to why the seconds hand was frozen in time.

"Max. Pleasure as always," he said to complete the lie.

Someone who could not manage a convincing lie, did not survive for very long when facing opponents in court. Edward ranked well amongst the best and yet his skills were juvenile when compared to the Grand's staff. The concierge for example was far older than he let on and that was based solely on his accent and height.

"Anyone else at the Hotel tonight," the barrister asked.

"The Mayor is in the Artemis suite for a private engagement Sir," the concierge answered.

Not much to go on but enough to know he was not invited. Not that he cared to visit that particular suite. Those suites were linked to the South wing which he explored previously to get a better idea of what lurked within.

Edward half-expected to find torture chambers filled with rows and rows of bodies being drained. There were probably rooms that served such purposes, but the South wing contained luxury suites with no windows.

That is except for room four-fourteen which led to God knows where. There were rumours that a maid once made her way to that wing and just walked through without a care of what lay beyond. Fortunately for the barrister, he knew well enough to avoid going anywhere near that door.

"Ah yes, I expect the Mayor will be rather exhausted from that particular engagement," Edward said with a hint of sarcasm.

He did not expect Max to answer or outwardly acknowledge his statement. That would have been a serious lapse in professionalism, not unlike his own faux pas. Still it was nice to speak the truth even though it was filtered through a veil of sarcasm.

Edward looked about for something to do. Management arranged for collaborators to stay at the hotel on occasion. During those evenings Edward was a welcomed guest, free to enjoy the luxuries within.

For those less scrupulous, there were plenty of diversions not on the menu. The Mayor was probably partaking in some of that entertainment right now. Were there no limits to the depravity of a politician? Were his hands any cleaner?

Tuesday nights were quiet, but by the sound of it, there was plenty of fun to be had in the West wing. That was unfortunate since his favourite restaurant was in that wing.

Disappointed, the barrister headed over to the East wing, passing by the marble pillars then along a series of ticker tape machines. A crowd had enveloped them, looking at the golden machines encased in a crystal dome. Edward rarely paid those devices any heed, preferring not to gamble on the stock exchanges.