Between the Shadow and the Soul

Chapter 1

Ryan turned his collar up against the wind and paused to consider his progress. Lake Tahoe was a calm, blue jewel behind him, and the Lakeview Hotel loomed above with a dozen dark eyes. His lungs burned, unaccustomed to the thinner air and the excursion, and he switched his duffle bag from his left shoulder back to his right for the final dozen stairs. The smell of pine trees filled his head, and though he didn’t exactly enjoy climbing an infinite number of stairs with a heavy bag and an icy wind biting the back of his neck, he had to admit it was a beautiful location. Idyllic.

He heard people behind him but didn’t see anyone until he reached the top. A group of women formed a loose crowd around the door, talking and laughing, their voices carrying far in the thin air. They wore matching black and purple T-shirts, identifying them as members of the official Shadows and Souls fan club. He had one, too, though he was saving it for the panels on Saturday. He didn’t know any of them by sight, but they weren’t strangers. Not this weekend.

By the time he reached them, he was out of breath but beaming, and he put out his hand to the nearest woman with a boisterous, “Hello! My name is Ryan.”

She turned and looked at him with a pasted on smile, as fake as his was sincere. She barely touched his fingers before dropping her hand back to her side. He didn’t miss the way she wiped her fingers on her pant leg. Maybe his palm was a little clammy but was that really necessary?

“Susan.”

“Susan. Black-Eyed Sue, right?”

Her face softened, her smile turning into something genuine, if not exactly warm. “Right. And you must be…GhostMaster?”

“Got it in one.”

The other women crowded in closer, putting him at ease as they each took a turn shaking his hand. The youngest of the group, Pam (PamaRama) pulled him into an embrace that took him by surprise. She was slight, barely over five feet and probably no more than ninety pounds, and she made him feel like a giant bear in comparison.

“I’m glad you could make it. I want to hear all your theories about the second season.”

Ryan smiled. “I have a lot of theories.”

“They have a bar here.”

“She’s already scoped it out,” Sue said dryly.

“It’s the most important part of any convention,” Pam insisted. “In fact, it’s getting chilly out here and there’s some Bombay Sapphire calling my name.”

“It’s early for me,” Millie protested.

Pam hooked her arm through Millie’s. “You can still keep me company. It was great meeting you all. Ryan, once you get settled in your room, come and find us.”

“Will do.”

Sue held open the hotel door and gestured for Ryan to step inside. “The registration table is just through those doors, in the lobby. They’ve got a goodie bag and they’ll point you to your room.”

“Thanks.”

“Find me at the cocktail party,” she said before turning toward the twin elevators on the other side of the lobby. Ryan stopped short, mouth falling open.

The Lakeview Hotel had begun its life as Lakeview Manor, built by a Hollywood mogul in the 1930s. While most of the country struggled to scrape out a meager existence, Charles Tompkins had hosted the Hollywood elite, the Jet Set, the movers and shakers of the Golden Age. During the sixties, though, it had fallen into a state of disrepair and wasn’t converted into a hotel until the early eighties. On the California side of the border, its lobby was free of the smell of cigarettes and the sounds of slot machines.

On the outside, the hotel was impressive, but the lobby overwhelmed him. Gold leaf stretched as far as the eye could see, reflecting the light from ornate crystal chandeliers, and in the corner was an ebony baby grand piano. Blue and gold oriental rugs covered the polished marble floor, gold veins sliding through the black stone like baby snakes. The black wingback leather chairs looked like the most comfortable chairs in the world, plush and sturdy, and he wanted to sink into one. It was, by far, the nicest hotel Ryan had ever stayed.

“Welcome to ShadowCon 2014!” The volunteer was a young lady with a bright smile and even brighter red hair. Her name badge simply said Cat. He answered her greeting with a smile. He knew the name, though he didn’t interact with her much on the fan forums. “What’s your name?”

“Ryan Jackson.” He showed his ID and accepted his goodie bag and name badge.

“Our first event will be the cocktail mixer tonight at seven. After ten, it’ll be twenty-one and over only, due to the open bar.” She leaned forward and lowered her voice. “And don’t tell anybody, but there’s going to be a special guest.”

Ryan’s eyes widened. “Is he going to be there?”

Cat mimed zipping her lips closed. “I can’t say.” She opened her binder to another page and pulled out a color-coded map. “You’ll still need to check in for your room, but I have a master list here, so I can give you an idea of how to navigate this place.”

“How hard can it be?”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s built like a maze. I swear, it was designed by somebody who wanted people to get lost.” She frowned at the sheet. “Jackson, right?”

“Yes.”

She ran one manicured nail down the sheet. “I don’t see your name here. Perhaps it’s under your roommate’s name?”

“I’m not sharing a room.”

Her frown deepened, and she flipped to the second page, then back to the first page. “You better go talk to the front desk.”

“Did they lose my reservation?”

“I don’t know. Maybe our list is incomplete? Did you just book your room?”

“No.” He wasn’t about to tell her that he booked it four months ago, when the convention was first announced. He didn’t attend fan conventions often, but as soon as the guest list for ShadowCon 2014 was announced, he transferred the money from his savings account, bought his ticket, and made his reservations. “I’m sure it’s just a typo or something, though. I’ll go get it straightened out.”

Her smile returned. “I’ll be here until six, so let me know if you need anything. And if they did mess up your room, let me know. I’m sure we’ll find room for you. We’ll have a better idea tonight after the party.”

Ryan smiled, surprised and more than a little touched by the offer. “Thank you, Cat. I’ll let you know.”

His shoes squeaked with each step, echoing off the bare walls. He passed a mirror on his way to the front desk, grimacing as he caught his reflection. He looked like a tomato with his bright red face and his even brighter hair, sticking up in all directions. He’d heard once that gingers only came in two varieties—smoking hot or ugly as hell. He wished he could say he belonged in the first category, but he had no real reason to believe that was the case. He quickened his step, making a mental note of the location of the bar and the ballroom as he passed the doors.

The man behind the counter didn’t look up from his tablet as Ryan approached. And he didn’t even seem particularly interested when Ryan announced himself. “Hello. I have a room under the name of Jackson.”

“First name?”

“Ryan.”

He didn’t look much over the age of eighteen or nineteen. Definitely not the kind of person Ryan would expect in an establishment like this. He was probably the manager’s son or the owner’s nephew or something like that. He was cute, though. Cute enough that he could get away with a bad attitude. He barely glanced at the computer before shaking his head. “No, I don’t see you.”

“Okay, well,” Ryan leaned forward, “I do have a reservation. Can’t you search in another system or something?”

The young man—Paul, according to his nametag—sighed and typed something on the keyboard. He made a show of hitting enter several times and then turned the monitor so the screen faced Ryan.

“You’re not here.”

Ryan pulled his travel folder from his bag and plucked free the print-out of his confirmation. He presented it to Paul with a small smile. “As you can see, I’ve had my reservation for quite some time.”

“And as you can see, your name isn’t here.”

Ryan stared at him for a beat, waiting for an apology, or a solution, or anything other than the blank stare that accompanied the announcement.

“Can I talk to your manager, please?”

“Sure, I guess.” Paul picked up the phone and pressed a button. Ryan heard the beep-beep-beep through the receiver and the echoing ring-ring-ring in the adjacent office. The doorway of which was only about three feet away. When the manager answered, his gruff what echoed from the speaker.

“There’s been a mistake with a reservation.”

“Handle it.”

“He wants to speak with you.”

“Fine. I’ll be right there.”

Ryan bit the inside of his cheek and tapped his fingers against the marble while he waited for the disgruntled manager to make his appearance. When he finally emerged from his little office, Ryan summoned his smile again, determined to be as pleasant as possible.

“What can I help you with?” He absently rubbed his bald head while he spoke, two heavy gold rings reflecting in the light. They were too big for the man’s pudgy fingers.

“I think my reservation was lost.” Ryan tapped his print-out. “As you can see, I made this reservation months ago.”

The manager fumbled his glasses out of his vest pocket and peered at the paper for a good minute, maybe two. “And you’re not in the computer?”

“I didn’t see his name,” Paul drawled.

The manager removed his glasses and slid the paper back across the counter. “I’m sorry, but we’re all booked up. There’s a convention this weekend, you know.”

Ryan took a deep breath. “Yes, I know. That’s why I made it a point to book my room in advance.”

“Sir, there’s no need to take that kind of tone.”

“I’m not—” He exhaled, realized his smile was gone, and dug deep to retrieve it again. “I’m sure we can find a way to solve this issue.”

“The casinos always have rooms available. Perhaps you can give one of them a call?”

“You know, if I were here for the hiking or the water skiing, that would be a good suggestion. But I’m here for the convention, and so I’d like to actually remain on the premises. I’m sure you can understand.”

“Sir, I do understand. But we simply do not have another room. We’re completely booked.”

“So you’re telling me there’s nothing you can do even though I paid a nonrefundable deposit on the room? Are you at least going to refund me that money?”

“If we have no record of the deposit, we can’t refund it.”

“What do you mean, no record of the deposit?”

“You’re not in the system, sir. Not your reservation and not your deposit.”

“I can provide proof that you took money from my account for the deposit!”

Another shrug.

“Can you take my phone number in case there are any last minute cancellations?”

“Of course.” He wrote down Ryan’s number with big, sloppy handwriting, folded the paper, and tucked it into the same pocket with his glasses. “If we have any availability, you’ll be the first to know.”

“Yeah, thanks.”

He turned from the desk and saw Cat was busy with an onslaught of new arrivals. She handed out their bags and badges with the same smile she gave him. He wasn’t surprised they were all women. The weekend’s guest of honor was far more popular with the female viewing audience. It was almost a shame Ryan wasn’t interested in ladies. He was here for the same reason they were. A chance to meet the star up close and personal. Maybe shake his hand. Maybe get a hug and a smile or two.

With nothing else to do and exhaustion weighing on his legs and shoulders, he trundled to the nearest wingback chair and collapsed against the cool leather, his duffle bag resting between his feet. From where he sat, he could see the lake through the huge front window, looking as placid and blue as ever. He liked it. Maybe spending the weekend at one of the casinos wouldn’t be too bad if he could get close to the lake. Exploring could be fun. But not as much fun as meeting Johnny Marlowe. He would camp out in the lobby if he had to, but he was absolutely not going to leave this hotel.

The crowd moved as one to the front desk and got their room keys with absolutely no problems. As they disappeared into the narrow, old-fashioned elevators, Ryan pushed himself to his feet, thinking vague thoughts of rum and whiskey. Only to lose his balance when Isaac Tesla (also known as Johnny Marlowe) walked through the front door, dark shades covering his baby blue eyes, clad in a battered aviator’s jacket and jeans so tight he looked as if he was poured into them. Ryan quickly looked around to see if anybody else had noticed, but somehow, Johnny timed it perfectly to miss the scattered arrivals.

Cat immediately jumped to her feet, shock and awe flickering over her fine features before her professionally polite smile returned. Frankly, Ryan was amazed she could speak at all. Just looking at the man was enough to make his mouth run dry and his heart race and the back of his neck prickle with adrenaline. Johnny Marlowe was even more stunning in living color than he was on TV, and he was pretty damned stunning on TV. He was also a little shorter than Ryan expected, but hey, nobody was perfect.

He paused to talk to Cat for a few moments, and even though Ryan was only a half dozen yards away, he couldn’t hear a single word over the rush of blood in his ears. Johnny carried his own bag, and he adjusted the strap before crossing to the check-in desk. Paul lost his too-cool-for-school attitude as soon as Johnny approached, a blush spreading over his cheeks as he clumsily pecked at the keyboard.

“We have, uh, two rooms under your name, correct?”

“Yeah, but I only need one.”

“One?”

“Yes. I’ll take whichever is bigger.”

“They’re both suites.”

“Then whichever suite is bigger.”

“Um, okay, just a minute while I get your key, sir.”

Ryan felt like he was walking under the surface of the lake as he approached the front desk. He had no intention of talking to Johnny Marlowe, but he wasn’t going to let that suite get away. He had the money to cover it, and he didn’t trust Paul not to blink sluggishly at him and insist there still wasn’t a room for him. Ryan reached the counter just as Paul muttered something about the keycard not working and disappeared into the back office.

He tried not to make eye contact, but Johnny whipped his shades off and looked around the lobby, taking in the decor before his gaze settled on Ryan.

“Hey, man, how you doing?”

Ryan blinked, glanced around, and realized that Johnny Marlowe was speaking to him. His heart rate instantly tripled, and why hadn’t it occurred to him that maybe the person he was there to meet might actually talk to him? Somehow, he thought he could just sidle up to the counter and pretend to be invisible and Johnny would go ahead and play along. Ninety-nine percent of the time, that was a plan that actually worked, whether Ryan wanted it to or not.

“Good. Been better.”

“Better than this?” He made a gesture as if to say look around. “It’s gorgeous up here.”

“Yeah, it’s great. But I’m probably going to have to hike down that mountain again if I can’t find a room.”

“Last minute trip?”

“No. They lost my reservation.”

Johnny frowned. “That sucks. What’s your name?”

“Ryan.”

“Ryan, are you here to meet me?”

“I am,” he admitted with a small, embarrassed huff.

“Well, I can’t have one of my own fans turned out on the street. Hey! Paul!” Johnny leaned far over the counter and waved frantically until he caught the young man’s attention. “Forget about what I said about only needing one room.”

“So you want both suites?”

“Yep. Better make another key.”

Ryan opened and closed his mouth, then reached for his wallet. Johnny stopped him with an easy smile and shake of his head. “Don’t worry about it. My treat.”

“Oh, but…”

“Hey, this room has been bought and paid for for months. Seriously, don’t worry about it. Besides, it’s nice to see another dude around here, you know? I mean, I like all the cute girls, don’t get me wrong, but a guy starts to feel a little outnumbered.”

Ryan nodded dumbly. Sure. That made sense. Paul returned with two small envelopes in hand, passing them both over the counter to Johnny. Johnny studied them for a moment, then handed one to Ryan. “Looks like you’ve got Room 420.” He grinned. “The party suite.”

“I can walk you up,” Paul volunteered.

“No, we’ve got it, don’t we, Ryan?”

“Yeah. Absolutely.”

Johnny smiled at Paul and dropped a wink, then turned to the elevator. Ryan had no choice but to follow him, still trying to understand what was happening. He didn’t have a chance to wrap his head around anything before the elevator doors dinged open. The elevator had been installed at least forty, if not fifty, years earlier, and it was quite narrow. It shrunk even more as soon as Ryan stepped inside the tiny car, his head suddenly full of the smell of Johnny’s cologne and leather jacket. He tried to keep a respectable amount of space between them—an impossible task given Ryan’s large frame and the confines of the car. The walls were mirrors, but it didn’t give the illusion of space. It made Ryan dizzy as he stared at the repeating image of his idol.

“It’s a good thing I’m not claustrophobic.”

Ryan’s face instantly flushed red, but when he risked a glance at Johnny, he saw the other man was trying for lighthearted banter, not some sort of accusation.

“Thank you again. What you did for me is…really cool. I mean, I always knew you were really cool, but this is just…you know…”

“Cool?” Johnny supplied with a grin.

“Exactly the word I was looking for.” Ryan could have stared at Johnny’s smile forever, but his pleasure was very abruptly cut short when the slow moving car came to a screeching halt. It sounded like the end of the world and Ryan braced himself for the sudden plummet to the ground—are we high enough to die?—but the car remained frozen. Ryan had time to see the needle hover between three and four on the old-fashioned dial before the lights flickered out.

“Shit.”

“You’re not scared of the dark, are you?” Ryan meant the question to be light, but his voice sounded thin, the words shaky. Maybe you’re not afraid of the dark, but apparently I am.

“Um, is there a phone or something in here?”

“I don’t know, let me…” He reached out, intending to feel along the panel, but instead of cold buttons, he touched something very, very warm. And instead of pulling his hand away immediately, he let his fingers linger.

“That’s not—”

“Oh, sorry.” He jerked his hand away. “I’ll check my cell.”

“Good luck. I haven’t had any reception for the past hour.”

Ryan had no idea what his reception was like. He fumbled through the side of his bag, finally closing fingers around the ancient Nokia. He held down the power button until the screen flashed, surprisingly bright in the confined space. He heard Johnny on his right, breathing in a slow, even rhythm, felt his body heat against his arm. All of his senses were attuned to the man to his right.

And yet, there was clearly a man standing directly to his left.

Ryan stared without blinking, waiting for the apparition to fade, or for his eyes to adjust to the dim light. It was just a reflection. It had to be. Except the only light in the elevator came from his phone, and that was barely enough to light a few inches away, let alone outline the dark shape beside him. He shouldn’t be able to see anything at all.

“So?”

Ryan jumped at Johnny’s question. “What?”

“Do you have reception?”

“I…do you…”

“Do I what?”

Ryan shook his head, remembered Johnny couldn’t see him, and muttered, “Nothing. No, I don’t have any bars.”

“How long do you think it’ll be until we’re missed?”

Ryan barely heard the question. The figure had moved, was now standing directly in front of him, so near he should’ve been feeling breath fan across his lips. He’d never been claustrophobic, but the walls were moving in tighter, and Johnny felt closer than ever, and Ryan needed a drink. Water. Whiskey. Something. Sweat poured down his brow and the back of his neck, clustering in giant, itchy beads.

“Hey, buddy? You okay? Don’t freak out on me, okay, big man?”

“I’m not.” He rasped the words, too busy freaking out to realize how freaked out he actually sounded. The figure was even nearer now, and solid, definitely not a reflection in the mirror. He didn’t feel any breath, but he smelled something hot and sour and damp, like ancient mold. He closed his mouth and tried to breathe through his nose, but he couldn’t catch the oaky, spicy scent of Johnny, and when he opened his mouth, he tasted the mold. He couldn’t see anything more than an outline, though something about the irregular shape had him convinced he absolutely didn’t want to see any details.

Johnny took his shoulder in a solid grip. “Hey, seriously, it’s going to be okay. We won’t be stuck here forever. Ms. Carroll, for one, would never allow it.”

Though Ryan had no idea who Ms. Carroll was, Johnny was right. None of the members of the Shadows and Souls Fan Club would allow their main reason for this whole weekend to be stranded any longer than necessary. Sooner or later, they’d realize their guest of honor was missing, but that was very small consolation in the face of what a felt like a complete mental breakdown.

“Do you…see that?”

“I can’t see shit.”

Though he wanted to throw up, Ryan held up his phone, casting green light over the figure. He was right. Oh God, he was so completely right. This was definitely something he did not want to see.

Flesh hung off the man’s jaw and nose in shreds, and his lips were a wreck of tissue and blood. One eye was swollen shut, the other missing entirely, leaving nothing but a giant, gaping hole.

“I see the door,” Johnny said. “Oh, wait, look.”

“What?” It was more of a grunt than a word.

“There’s a panel. Hold the phone right there. Don’t move.”

“Uh…’kay.”

The man’s skin looked gray in the reflected light, and he didn’t move. Didn’t flinch away from the light. Didn’t turn his head or breathe or give Ryan a chance to catch his breath. But Ryan didn’t lower his arm. He kept his hand steady as Johnny pulled the panel open, revealing a red emergency phone. Great, great, now get us the f**k out of here before I start screaming and never stop.

“It’s ringing!” Johnny announced. “Oh, hi, is this Paul? Paul, great, good to hear your voice. So I’m stuck in the elevator. Oh…oh, really? No…we’re definitely stuck…I understand but why don’t you get the maintenance man to work on it, okay? Humor me. Thanks.” He hung up the phone with a disgusted snort. “Where did they dig that dude up? I think he’s a junior high dropout.”

“What did he say?” Ryan’s tongue was thick, stuck to the roof of his mouth.

“That both the elevators are on the lobby level.”

“What?”

“He said he’s looking at them right now.”

“What?”

“Maybe he’s smoking drugs. He reminds me of a dope fiend. Hope the maintenance guy isn’t his dealer.”

Ryan laughed with a slightly hysterical edge.

The lights chose that moment to flash, stuttering on and off like a strobe light.

“What the f**k!” Still crouched low, Johnny flung himself back, landing on his ass in the corner.

The figure turned its head slowly and stared down at him for a beat, then disappeared between the blinding flashes.

The elevator started to move again. Less than a minute later, the doors opened to an empty hallway.

“Did you see that?” Johnny whispered.

“Yeah. Yeah, I did.”

“Let’s get drunk.”

Who was Ryan to say no to that? Maybe the smell of whiskey would be enough to overcome the stench of decay that lingered in the elevator. Even after they fled for the safety of Johnny’s suite, Ryan could still smell it. Clinging to him.