Page 48 of A Touch of Treachery
Charlotte took her suitcase from me, and together we fell in with the stream of people heading toward the far end of the parking lot.Most were dressed in either expensive winter gear or even more expensive suits, just like Charlotte and I were, while the workers sported puffy green jackets bearing Henrika Hyde’s personal logo: two large, swooping, interlockingHs stitched over their hearts in white thread.
Several folks were taking golf carts to the resort, but Charlotte and I trailed after the people walking across a wide stone bridge.Excited chatter filled the air, along with the pleasant buzz of people’s auras.
“...can’t wait to try the new desserts in the restaurant ...”
“...got to win my money back from last year’s casino night ...”
“...can’t believe these idiots are paying to do a polar-bear plunge for charity when they could jump in the lake for free ...”
Charlotte and I reached the other end of the bridge, where more golf carts were waiting to whisk folks to their destinations.
The sprawling Glittertop Resort was about halfway up the steep slope and overlooked the lake that curved around this side of the mountain like a dark blue crescent moon.The resort’s hotel was made of gleaming gray stone, dark wood, and acres of glass windows.Walkways led from the central hotel to similar buildings up and down the mountainside like a spider’s legs jutting out every which way.
Wide, flat terraces had been carved into the slope and featured everything from restaurants to pools to hot tubs with steam that wisped up into the chilly air.A chairlift churned up the incline, hauling skiers and snowboarders to the top of the mountain, where snow sparkled like a carpet of white diamonds.
According to Section files, the resort used to be a small, family-owned business, until Henrika had swooped in about ten years ago, bought out the family, and spent an obscene amount of money expanding and renovating the guest rooms, ski shops, and more.
Charlotte and I rolled our suitcases up a cobblestone driveway to the nine-story hotel, which glowed like a gray pearl in the late-afternoon sun.Floor-to-ceiling windows ringed the bottom floor, while crenellated balconies adorned with snarling gargoyles jutted out from the upper levels.The interlocking double-H logo had been carved into one side of the hotel, stretching up more than three stories.
“Henrika’s not very subtle, is she?”I murmured as we headed toward the entrance.
Charlotte snorted with derision.“If you looked up the wordostentatiousin the dictionary, a smiling picture of Henrika would be right next to it.”
Glass doors whooshed open at our approach, and Charlotte and I stepped into the lobby.The double-H logo stretched across most of the gray marble floor, while more Hs were stamped into the square columns that supported the ceiling.My steps quickened.I was already tired of seeing that symbol, and I was more than ready to get on with the business of confronting—and killing—Henrika Hyde.
Charlotte and I stepped up to the check-in counter.
“Name, please?”the clerk asked.
“Desmond Macfarlane,” I replied.
Since Henrika was auctioning off her Redburn formula, Gia had decided that I should use my most common alias, Desmond Macfarlane, a paramortal arms dealer who bought, sold, and delivered weapons to shady groups and individuals around the world, as well as used them in his own criminal enterprises.
“And you, miss?”the clerk asked.
“Charlotte Locke,” she replied in a cool voice.
Charlotte had decided not to use an alias, arguing it was pointless since Henrika already knew exactly who we were.I agreed with her logic, but I still found it hard to abandon my undercover identity.
The clerk tapped a few more keys, then looked up and gave us a wide smile.“Ah, yes!Mr.Macfarlane and Ms.Locke.”He practically cooed our names, much friendlier than before.“Ms.Hyde requested that you be put in our most luxurious honeymoon suite.”
“Did she, now?”Charlotte said, her voice even cooler than before.“How thoughtful of her.”
The clerk wilted a little under her icy glower, but he handed us both keycards stamped with the room number.He snapped his fingers at a nearby bellman, who scurried forward.“Your luggage will be taken to your suite.You are just in time for the cocktail hour Ms.Hyde is hosting for her special guests.”
Cocktail hour?Murder party was more like it.
The clerk gestured to the right.“Those guards will escort you to the penthouse.”
Two men wearing dark suits stood in front of an elevator tucked into the back corner of the lobby.Each man sported an earbud with a white wire trailing down the back of his neck, and the guns holstered to their belts were clearly visible beneath their open jackets.
The two men were almost as wide as they were tall, with thick, blocky bodies packed with muscle, and bright yellow auras pulsed over their hearts, indicating that they were both paramortals.Enduros, if I had to guess.Henrika seemed to have an endless supply of them.
Charlotte and I handed our luggage off to the bellman, although she kept her purse, which hung off her shoulder.Then we headed over to the guards.One of the men punched a button with a beefy finger, and the elevator opened with a whisper.The other guard jerked his thumb, silently ordering us to step inside.Charlotte and I did as commanded, putting our backs to the wall.
The two guards stepped inside the car, one to the right and one to the left.The first man punched a button, the door slid shut, and the elevator started to rise.
Charlotte and I eyed the two guards, who returned our hostile looks with suspicious stares of their own.The mortal hotel workers might think Charlotte and I were honeymooners, but these two men knew exactly who we were, and they were prepared to attack us—kill us—for the slightest offense.
