Page 51 of Death and Do-Overs

“Did you say something, Mar? I can’t hear you.” Imogen squinted at me and kept on covering her ears.

I wasn’t going to yell over the racket for her.

She said, “Maybe there’s a family of rats doing a jig in the pipes.”

“I hope not.” Though that might explain the orange color of the water.

As we reached the other end of the room, the source of the disturbance was revealed.

Behind the desk sat a room service cart. Atop the cart, a green creature with large ears perched, back hunched over a metal mixing bowl. In his hand was a rusty wrench, which he relentlessly beat against the sides of the bowl.

It looked exactly like Snorfy, one of the goblins I’d encountered at Piccadilly’s midnight market.

“It’s a goblin!” Imogen exclaimed with glee, dropping her hands from her ears. “Mar, a goblin!”

“I see.”

Grit hobbled through the door behind the desk to join the goblin. “Quiet, Snorfy. Guests.”

The noise immediately stopped. Snorfy kept moving his arm in jolts inside the bowl, pausing just short of hitting the wrench against the metal.

As soon as she spotted the stone sentinel, Imogen slapped a hand over her mouth.

“You’re friends with goblins,” Imogen said to Grit, with pure, barely-contained delight. “What does that make you?”

“Reception. What you need?”

“One room with two beds,” I said.

“Four-oh-nine,” Grit said to me, referring to the room I’d already rented.

This was the part where I’d be accused of trashing the place, and expected to pick up the tab. Fortunately for me, I’d paid cash for the room and hadn’t been required to provide a card for incidentals.

Unfortunately for me, I couldn’t choose different lodgings, since the Mournmore was the only game in town. And if the hotel actually took cards, I would know if Nie’d stayed here, too.

“Someone broke into her room. You should call the police if you haven’t,” Imogen said. “And damage is the criminal’s fault, not Mar’s.”

Grit kept staring at me. “Four-oh-nine.”

I set the key for my previous room down on the counter. “We’d like a different room.”

“Seventy-three dollars. Cash.”

I set the money onto the counter. Grit grabbed it and shuffled over to the wall. This time he didn’t have to use his wings to reach the key. One hop got him where he was trying to go.

He slapped the key down on the desk. “New room. Three-oh-four.”

“No comment about the break-in?” Imogen asked.

I grabbed the key and Imogen’s arm, then dragged her away from there.

“What do you think that receptionist is?” she asked.

“Gargoyle.”

“Is that a thing?”

I didn’t know for certain. “There’s one missing from the roof.”

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