Between Shadows

Between Shadows: Chapter 04-B (The Roaring Lantern)

The restaurant was clearly marked with a line of old lanterns, swinging lazily in the cold breeze. When she opened the door, she was met with a rush of warmth from the hearth near the center of the dining area, roaring to life as a man stoked the flames. The outskirts were dimly lit with lanterns, with an antique chandelier lighting the rest of the space.

A waiter led them to a curved corner booth. Evelyn and Lorian removed their jackets before settling into the plush seating. Evelyn sat in the corner, letting out a contented sigh as warmth seeped into her bones, enjoying a comfort she hadn’t felt since she arrived at the hotel.

“Comfortable, isn’t it?” Lorian grinned.

She briefly closed her eyes. “You have no idea.” Reluctantly, she opened her eyes again, turning to look at him. “But don’t think you’re getting off the hook.”

“It can wait,” Lorian said. “Order first, then I’ll talk.”

The waiter approached, then set down a pitcher of water and two glasses, filled them up, and left the pitcher with them. “Can I start you off with the usual?” he asked.

Lorian nodded. Bourbon for him. Evelyn asked for a mule. Lorian skimmed the appetizer menu, looking for something warm, before settling on French onion soup for both of them, with a side of breadsticks.

Evelyn sipped her water, giving Lorian a look. “Bold of you to assume you know what I like.”

“It’s warm. Kind of hearty. Good for this kind of weather.”

Satisfied with his answer, she leaned back into the seat. “So, how many drinks does it take to loosen your tongue?”

“We could start with unpacking this afternoon,” Lorian said, reluctantly. He rubbed the side of his neck, then ran a hand through his hair.

“Tell me you saw it,” Evelyn said, before he had a chance to back down.

“I did.” Lorian paused.

“And you got in the elevator with that thing?”

He nodded, slowly. “Look, I was trying to calm—”

“I think gaslighting might be the word you’re looking for.”

“Fair.”

“Why?”

He dragged a hand down his face. “Where do I even start?”

“You could start by explaining what we saw,” she said, locking eyes with him. “What was that?” For a moment, Evelyn thought he might deflect again. She could see the start of an explanation before the door abruptly closed.

“Silas—” Lorian stopped himself. “Truly, I don’t know. He stays put. Acts like a gatekeeper. Makes sure the wrong people stay away and the right ones just—”

“What?”

“You know. You’ve been there.”

“That was a dream, Lorian. He was different. Polite. Pleasant, even,” she said. “It didn’t have a smile so wide he had to tear skin and dislocate his jaw. He lacked those teeth. He was just normal.”

Lorian grimaced at that depiction. “We really gonna talk about this before drinks?”

Evelyn nodded, pinching the bridge of her nose. “You’re right. If you’re going to be like this, I may need something stronger.”

“Bourbon’s a safe bet. Peach, if you need something flavored,” he said as the waiter approached with their drinks. “Peach bourbon.” The waiter nodded, setting the drinks down before heading back down the stairs to the bar.

“Lorian, I don’t drink,” she whispered. “I got the lightest thing they have.”

“Trust,” Lorian said with a grin. He took a drink of bourbon and relaxed against his seat as the warmth settled into his chest. “This’ll make for a much easier Q&A.”

“Okay,” Evelyn said. She took a drink, eyeing him over her mug.

Lorian tried again. “He was one of Silas’s pet projects—more of a safety precaution. Keeps most people from wandering in and getting lost.”

“And what? Eats the rest of them? I swear, if you tell me that thing is at the center of all these disappearances—”

He waved a hand. “No, no. Nothing that grotesque. He just looks scary. Unless the hotelier doesn’t want you there.”

“Silas, you mean.”

Lorian nodded slowly. “Kind of. I just— I don’t know how much control Silas actually has over him. He’s sentient, to some extent. Has the hotel’s best interest in mind. Not sure if that extends to us or not.”

Evelyn laughed. “That’s a hell of a thing not to know. Lorian, you were in the elevator with it. It looked like it wanted you dead.”

“Did it?” Something like concern crossed his face for a moment. Evelyn glared at him. “Okay, okay. It was mildly terrifying. Truly.” He paused. “I felt like I was being pulled in. And a bit— I don’t know. Like he’d only attack if I broke eye contact with him. Something was keeping him in check.”

“Questionable survival instincts,” Evelyn muttered, taking another drink.

“Look,” Lorian said. “This was supposed to be a friendly Q&A session, not grilling me over decisions in a potentially life-or-death situation.”

Evelyn downed the rest of her drink as the waiter returned with the second round of drinks, peach and regular bourbon. She pushed her mug to the edge of the table. The waiter grabbed it and returned to the kitchen a little too quickly, as if sensing the tension.

“All right.” She nodded. “What can you tell me about your Silas?”

“Ev, you know I can’t—”

She put a finger up as she took a sip of the bourbon, wincing. “Still strong,” she said, coughing once. “I’m more curious about you two. Your relationship. It seemed serious, once. Like you might take him back if he came knocking on your door again.”

“He tends to let himself in,” Lorian said with a roll of his eyes, more to himself.

Evelyn raised an eyebrow. A question formed, but she let it go. “No, let’s start simple. How did you meet?”

Lorian chuckled. He finished the rest of his drink, setting the empty glass aside and wrapping his hand around the new one.

He took another swig. “I was in your position not too long ago, raiding the archive. I wasn’t getting paid, though. I was allowed to do personal research as long as I kept things tidy. Vacuuming, dusting, keeping some semblance of order. Silas was actually wrapped up with the courts and wanted things…buried. Unorganized. Not total chaos, but difficult enough to go through that people couldn’t start forming a timeline.”

“Oh. That explains the mess,” she said. “So, you helped him?”

Lorian shrugged. “I didn’t have much of a choice. You saw the sorts of letters he wrote. Talking to him wasn’t much different. He could say a lot, and you just found yourself drawn into whatever game he was playing. One day, I was doing some research for an article, and the next, I was helping unpack two semis of copied documents at a law office.”

Her eyes widened, surprise genuine. “You buried them alive,” she said quietly.

“Truly, I felt awful. Mostly for the paralegal who’d just graduated. You’d think it was Christmas. Didn’t realize ‘til later it was Silas’s favorite way to answer a discovery request.” He took a longer drink. “And they specifically asked him for everything.”

Evelyn gave him a knowing look. “You’re doing it again.”

“What?”

“Defending him. Justifying his actions.”

“Old habits,” he muttered. “After that, he started taking an interest in me.”

Evelyn, mid-drink, tried to stifle a laugh.

“That hard to believe?”

She shook her head. “No, no. Just that his shamelessness knows no bounds. Go on.”

“He wanted to keep me around. Father was still running the Nightjar at the time, and I wanted to do my own thing. Silas offered to hire me at the Filigree,” he said, reluctantly. “They didn’t have much in the way of management at the time. High turnover, and none of the Linwoods seemed to trust anyone with operations.”

“It was more than just Silas and Faye?”

Lorian nodded. “Extended family. They stayed long enough until Faye could hire staff she liked. She found a few. Still looking for the rest, I guess. She still manages the archive, the finances, operations, and she’s handling the remodeling plans.”

“That’s kind of a Silas thing, isn’t it?”

“It is, but he wanted a fresh set of eyes,” Lorian said. “Faye knows her stuff, but she’s not buried in it like he is. He’s been stuck on the sub-basement for decades—” He paled.

“Decades, you say.” She took another drink, deciding not to probe further.

“Twenty years.” Lorian rested his elbows on the table and tipped his drink back as he drained it. He set it aside, raising it to the waiter. “He’s been dreaming this place up since he was a kid.”

“He gave you his life story or something?”

“We’ve known each other for fifteen years.” Lorian waved her off. “Appetizers are coming. You should at least pretend to have looked at the menu.” He stacked the menus, pushing both toward her.

“Small menu,” Evelyn said. “I was stuck between the roasted duck and the salmon. Truthfully, I haven’t seen anything on here that doesn’t sound amazing.”

The waiter approached with soup and another glass of bourbon. “Hope everything is to your liking,” he said. “Do you need a few more minutes?”

Evelyn handed him the menus. “I think we’re ready. The roasted duck sounds wonderful. What’s in the cherry mustard sauce?”

The waiter grinned. “One of Lorian’s concoctions, actually. It was a spin on his mother’s favorite pan sauce. Softened cherries, shallots, and garlic, Dijon mixed with rosé and maple syrup. Not to butter him up or anything, but it’s a hit around here.”

“You can cook?”

“So long as he’s not catching the stove on fire, he actually has a knack for it.”

“We could have left that part out.” Lorian rubbed his temples as Evelyn filed that away for later. “I’ll take the cedar plank salmon.”

“Enjoy,” the waiter said, picking up the menus.

Evelyn was already a spoonful into the soup, clearly pleased with Lorian’s choice. Lorian dug into his own, leaning back again. “In my defense, I’ve never had that happen outside a commercial kitchen.”

“I needed this when I first got here,” Evelyn said. “The Filigree has nothing on this place. And here I thought they’d won me over with their lamb soup.”

Lorian grinned. “Just don’t let Faye hear you say that.”

She pointed her spoon at him. “Still not off the hook. After we eat.”