The Room around them was quite nippy, but the two coyotes managed to stay warm while they lay under the sheets, not quite sleeping, but not quite ready to sleep either. There was a lot on their minds, much more than their relaxation would show, and Quince Owens knew that things would eventually bubble to the surface. The sheets around them were wrinkled from hours upon hours of tossing and turning silently, not offering a word to one another.
Quince just simply couldn't stand it anymore, and rolled over to face his wife, and only ended up staring at her back. He knew their mairrage had been a bit shaky recently, but after these three days here, everything was going to be fine. They were going to tell all of the kids the truth, let them deal with it in college, and they would escape to a place where they would never be bothered by it again. As it was, he and his wife were the only two that stayed together through the incident, and they were going to fight through the ponderous and cumbersome thoughts and come out the other side a stronger couple.
"Jacqueline, hon..." he whispered, hoping to get a reaction from her. After a few moments of frozen time, she rolled over to face him, their muzzles inches apart from each other. Quince couldn't resist giving her a kiss on the lips.
"What..." she asked, sounding slightly irked by his interruption, but not all too opposed to it. They really needed to talk this out.
"Are you... Worried about the kids?" he asked, letting his paws snake around her form and bring her into a close hug so they could whisper qwithout being overheard.
"They'll... They'll be fine" she said, apparently trying to sound confident, but Quince didn't need to look at her to tell her voice was shaking. And with what they had gone through, it was no doubt.
Even now they had reason to panic and drive off, seeing as they were finally back in the place they had vowed never to return to. The others from their old group were out "antique shopping", so the kids thought, and he made himself chuckle a little bit at that assumption. They had thought of somethign right off of the bat, and that was what came out, since the kids would never want to go look at old stuff for hours. But they had been gone a long time, getting their closure and emotional therapy back at the site. Quince had been worrying for a while, but he now knew that his fears were groundless. There was nothing that they could do to keep them from attaining happiness. Nothing. They were going to be walking down a crystal clear road that only had one destination. They were almost free. Almost free.
“But Qiunce, hon…” She pleaded, her own arms wrapping behind his neck. “How long does it take Helia and the rest to get some closure…” she asked softly, the whisper only a faint trance of sound in his ear.
“They’re… Worse off than we were. We had it easy…” He shivered a little bit, asd almost in response, she did as well. He could feel her body shaking, shaking with a grief that penetrated into both of their bones. Their pain, their regret, it was all shared between them. A burden the rest had to take alone.
“You’re right hon… We’ve finally found some peace” his wife sighed, closing her eyes and laying a paw against his chest gently.
In silence they rested there, and Quince got more time to think. Of course, with more time to think, comes more time to question, and with more time to question, comes a deluge of doubt. It poured over him slowly as he began to think a bit more. It didn’t take hours and hours of sobbing and crying at the site for them to feel a little bit better. They should be back by now, shouldn’t they? Then again, they had been cooped up in this room for horus now, just trying to get some feverish rest from the reality that bombarded them from every angle. They were probably just down in the lobby, smiling and waiting for them, remembering the good days before everything crashed and burned.
Rap rap rap.
Quince’s eyebrows raised a little bit. Somebody at the door perhaps? With a turn of his hair his golden brown hair fell over his ears, some random strands draping from the tip. Sheesh, were the kids that bored already? Man, what he would give to be their age again, to not have to care about finances and other burdens that were instantly put on him as an adult. They were being pampered with college while he had to make discoveries on his own about how hellish life was… But-
RAP RAP RAP!
Well now, somebody was impatient… With a groan, he called out. “We’re sleeping… Or trying to” His voice was rather harsh and had a biting undertone to it, showing that he was rather upset at being disturbed.
RAP RAP RAP!
Whoever it was seemed to be a bit impatient, and Quince put bets on it being that heinous bitch Nella. That little bitch, literally, had nearly destroyed everything they had worked for.
“Go away!” he shouted irritably, the slight fangs starting to appear in his mouth. He could hear a little bit of whimpering from his wife Jacqueline, but he only responded with a low growl that the annoying very *friendly* person would probably hear on the other side of the door.
Thankfully, the incessant knocking ceased, and he breathed a sigh of relief, as did his wife. Instantly, he felt kind of bad for shouting and growling like that; poor Jacqueline was probably a bit scared now. After everything they had been through, it was her that had to bear the majority of the horrendous burden. She had been the one who had actually gone through with their idea, and the one who had finalized the selection. Pity rushed through his mind, and he patted her on the back softly.
“It’s alright, honey, sorry about that” He cooed gently, his ears flattening against his hair. His long muzzle gave the tip of her ear an affectionate lick. “I think I was a bit too… Forward about that”
“Everything’s fine…” she said to herself, her eyes shut tightly, and her paws pulled tighter against his neck, almost cutting off his air stream. “Everything’s fine…” She kept repeating that to herself, over and over, almost as if Quince was just a stuffed doll to squeeze.
After a few moments of that, she rolled over on top of him, seeming like she just wanted to be close to him. That was understandable, seeing as the heat in the room was solely coming from them under the blankets. But they were going to be fine, just like she said. Just like she said.
This was starting to discomfort the male coyote, and his expression slowly went from apologetic to sympathetic. She must be having one of those mental lapses that had been so rare with her. But he had helped her through each one, and this one would be no different. She had been through hell, experienced hell, and even created hell.
“It’s okay hon… It’s over, nothing’s going to haunt you anymore” he murred in her ear, bringing a paw slowly up her back to stroke her hair gently. Physical contact had always been something that calmed even the most nervous patients. Though, he had to admit, in some cases, it made matters much worse, but he knew his wife very well, and trusted his own knowledge.
“Just relax…” he continued, each individual finger combing her hair gently. “It’s all over, only a bright future ahead o-“
Quince shielded his eyes. There was a loud cracking sound, and then a little sound like rain hitting the floor. Light flooded into the room relentlessly and everything seemed to get quiet in an instant, almost as if some divine being had willed it so. Quince felt a sharp pain in his shoulder, followed by a barrage of small pinpricks that assaulted him on his side. The side that faced the door.
Or what was left of the door. When he turned his head to the side to see what the hell had just happened, his eyes met a rectangle of blinding light. He squinted. Slowly, the image came into focus. Standing there, in the doorway, was a figure silhouetted by a pure and angelic light that seemed to pierce into Quince’s bones. Pierce his very soul. It saw everything. It knew everything. That d**ned light.
His wife screamed, and yet he heard nothing. His eyes dropped down a second to his shoulder, and there, as he thought, there were pieces of shattered wood sticking out in a few places. Blood around the remnants of wood began to trickle out of his body to freedom, only to be caught and matted into his fur.
As his eyes returned to the doorway, he stared in disbelief. The figure had gotten bigger. And was getting bigger, and bouncing slightly up and down… It almost blocked the entire rectangle of light now. Almost as if he-
He felt a warm rush of water splash over his face. It was an insidiously strange feeling, having warm water poured onto his muzzle like this. But it was kind of sticky, and a bit thicker than the bathwater he thought it would be. Quite peculiar indeed. As he looked up at his wife though, he began to think. She looked rather strange, didn’t she? She had her mouth open, almost like she was screaming, and her eyes were kind of… Dull. It wasn’t until he saw the glint of metal coming out of the back of the throat that he began to realize what was actually happening. It was the blade of a knife.
Panic surged through his body, and he felt more of that revolting warmth splash onto his face. Blood. It was blood. His wife’s blood. Jacqueline’s blood. He heaved suddenly, his body convulsing spastically under the lifeless body. She was dead weight, just sprawled there…
Blood painted his face once more as the glinting knife slipped its way back out of her throat. With a silent flop, she fell flat onto his neck, like she been resting on him earlier. It was almost like she had fallen back asleep… She would have a good sleep, wouldn’t she? The best she’d had in a while…
But with her head out of the way, he could see the figure above him. The figure that was in the doorway. The figure that had just stabbed her. Killed her. Drained her blood onto him. Reality began to seep back into his mind little by little, and the shock that had enveloped him earlier slowly began to recede into the recesses of his mind. His head swam, and the light began to hurt his eyes a little bit. That d**ned light.
What he was, or who for that matter, just stood there with a black hand holding a kitchen knife that dripped a ruby red substance onto the lifeless figure below. It was straddling Jacqueline’s stomach between its thighs, and held the stained blade in both obscured hands. The blinding light hid all of the figure’s features from Quince, so the coyote could not get a very good look at the attacker. The killer. The murderer.
Quince couldn’t get a good look though, because without a word or sound, the figure raised both arms above its head, knife pointed straight ahead. Straight for Quince. But when it reared back, something came off of its head. The hood had fallen off. Now the light showed the murderer plainly. All too plainly.
Quince’s eyes widened and his pupils dilated to mere specks as he stared on the face of his wife’s killer. His killer. He didn’t believe it. There was no way it had happened already. Those eyes, the expression, the unnatural visage… It couldn’t be happening already, could it? No. Not possible. Everything was fine. Jacqueline had said so herself. Many times.
Again, reality hit him hard like a steam roller and he could only stare. Nothing more. He was trapped. Unable to move. “Y… You…” he managed to sputter as the figure froze, apparently aware that its hood was off now.
“Yes, me…” the killer announced. The voice was shaky, and cracked with every syllable, jumping inconsistent octaves and more. Quince couldn’t even tell if it was male or female just by the voice. “You won’t let me, will you? You’ll deny me happiness… Deny me bliss…”
Before Quince could put up any semblance of a response, the room was filled with a piercingly guttural shriek, and the figure reeled from his mount.
The blade shimmered in the light, still crying crimson tears, still begging for more. As the figure plunged downward, Quince’s eyes rolled up into his head.
The dagger’s thirst was momentarily quenched.
The lounge hadn’t changed a single bit since everybody had left in a mass exodus to get some futile weapons that probably wouldn’t even help them in the long run. Kitchen knives, baseball bats, whatever cliché they could pull out of a d**ned zombie film would most likely do them no good. If she remembered correctly, the maxim was “Bringing a knife to a gunfight”. That seemed an accurate presentation of the situation at the moment. A very accurate presentation.
Thankfully, the lounge was empty except for her, since she didn’t have anything with her that could even be classified as a weapon. Clothes and basic necessities were all she needed for college anyways, so she was rather confused why the others packed more than that. Well, unless they were going to be a culinary art major, in which case they would have a heavy load of knives…
Leena just lay there, lounging roguishly on the sofa. Her posture was reminiscent of a luxurious roman, eating grapes straight from a vine, but her attire didn’t fit the profile. One stocking covered leg was draping over the back of the burnt orange fabric, which covered the back of every piece of furniture in the room, and one arm was loosely hanging off of the front, her limp wrist bent from pushing up against the thick carpet. Her other arm was resting over her raised leg’s knee, the sleeve shortening a little bit and showing off her paws. At the end of the sofa, on the armrest, sat her head, looking up at the ceiling blandly, with a few strands of lacey hair obscuring her vision. A few of those loose strands were cascading off of her ears in a webbed fashion and any kind of spider would envy.
While pondering all of the pointless possibilities, a scent caught her off guard. Before she knew it, she was up on her stocking covered feet, and staring daggers at whoever was standing there. It was a foreign scent, one she barely even recognized, but the instant her eyes confirmed her suspicions, it was all too familiar.
“Hello again” the dragoness chided, sounding reminiscent of a mother preaching ethics to her child. “Remember me?” Her gloved hand came up and rested just above her bust.
The moments of crushing silence took a hold of her as her gaze locked in on the figure standing in front of her. Of course it was her, the dragon that shouldn’t exist. That strange female who came and interrupted this trip for the worse. “Of course” Leena replied dryly, not even bothering to humor her the joke. “Hard to forget somebody who bursted into the hotel just minutes ago”
The dragoness apparently got a chuckle out of this one, but nothing more than a few polite sniffs were given. “Funny” was her flat and drab response. Her tail flicked.
After their brief exchange of words, the underwhelming silence set in once more. This made Leena’s ears twitch a considerable amount, since staring down a theoretically extinct species wasn’t a normally calming experience. Minute after minute passed by, and she began to wonder if the dragoness standing calmly in front of her ever had to blink…
During this standoff, Leena thankfully had time to think about the situation at present. While, yes, they were in some kind of unforeseeable and paramount danger, she knew there was much more to this situation that met the eye, and this stranger in front of her was the master to key to unlocking every hidden door in Raven’s Hollow. If she could just keep her in the hotel this time, they could probably tie her up somehow, then either force the answers out of her or be polite about it. She was voting for the earlier one, because in her twisted way of thinking, the quickest and most convenient path to victory was always the correct one, unless there was an obvious trap. Why would she even consider bothering herself about what other people think, or what they feel for that matter? As long as everything turned out okay in the end, she was more than happy to walk down that path, no matter how dark and shaded.
The standoff ensued, and the relentless void between the two of them seemed to become actual matter. Leena almost swore she could reach out and touch the conversational black hole that had developed between the two of them. If uneasiness could be personified, Leena was the living embodiment of it.
As much as Leena wished that the silence would end, she wanted it to end gracefully, not broken by a heaving sigh that made the stranger’s shoulder’s drop. There were no words, no witty comments, just a painstakingly slow sigh that make Leena fidget a bit. Again, she waited in vain for a witty remark at how great of friends they were going to be, or how funny the silence was sometimes, but there was nothing but even more stifling nothingness. Just as Leena was sure that the lack of sound would drive her mad, the dragoness gave in. But she didn’t speak, no, she only began to walk towards Leena, nothing else.
But with the way that eerily self-assured gait made her look, Leena found her in a much worse mental state than before. Every step was perfectly silent, and in a perfect line in front of the other foot, which gave her a slight swish of her hips that transferred into her sleek and whipping tail. And when the dragon’s eyes met Leena’s, she could swear that she felt a surge of electricity course through her spine and to the rest of her body. Maybe it was just nervous shivers, but-
The next thing Leena knew, she was all alone in the lounge, just standing the same position she was in earlier. The dragoness had walked right by her towards the stairwell with that self-assured swish that she could only describe as thingyy. It was strange how she had just kind of frozen up like that in the one moment she had waited for her entire life. The one moment that she could never have again.
After giving herself a thorough mental slapping, she turned back towards the stairwell, where the strange dragoness had gone. Thankfully, she wasn’t standing at the bottom of the stairs and staring at her like Leena had expected, but what worried her more was the fact that she was going up to where all of her friends were tied up with the futile attempt at defending themselves. Instantly, her imagination ran wild like a train off of its tracks, and images began popping into her head. Images she wished she had never seen.
Bloody walls, bloody halls, and a crimson rug to boot. Thankfully, her imagination focused on the rug instead of the black shapes that lay upon in like slugs. With a little bit of a grunt, she made the image disperse into small bits, and in time it was gone all together. If she kept thinking like that, she was going to start losing her mind, and if something as vague as a hint of violence would most likely send her out of the deep end and into the ocean.
She remembered something though – something she learned in Biology class. Not that she had actually paid too much attention, but there was a fascinating subject that had kept her interest long enough for her to stay awake through an entire period. Behavioral reactions. The mere fact that a few simple chemicals could alter a person’s train of thought was something that both terrified her, and fascinating her beyond words. But these musings along were not the trigger that caused her to act rashly. No, it was a crucial point of information that seemed to rock her at her base.
Fear was a natural reaction to stimulus, and a basic instinct to survival. If she wanted to survive, she was going to have to listen to even her most paranoid fears. And the fear that drove her legs into motion was suddenly grounded by a sound that made her quake from the bottom up.
A banshee’s shriek that would make any Siren fall from the sky.
The top floor of the Raven’s Hollow Inn was by the far the most luxurious of them all, with its beautiful and soft rugs lying on top of plush carpeting. Even the wallpaper gave off a sense of ornate grandeur. The gold and brown patterns weaving their way down the hallway intertwined with each other indefinitely and tangoed to the end of the hall, making a sharp turn and returning down the other side of the room in a never ending circle. Branching out from the walls were candle holders, each one with a glittery silver finish that would make anybody’s eyes sparkle in awe. Every candle in the hall was lit, but the dancing flames were slightly distorted by the curved glass cylinders that surrounded every one of them.
That was why Milo had chosen this floor to stay in, even though it was the hardest to get his luggage to. Lugging all of those heavy suitcases with his father had been quite the chore, but at least he got to live a life he had always dreamed of, if only for a few days. He felt like a king.
Milo’s eyes reflected pure amazement as he took measured steps down the hall, taking his time. Maybe he was playing up his role as king of the fourth floor, but as long as nobody was around to see him prance around like a pompous noble, he was perfectly content playing pretend. His chest was pushed out ever so slightly, and his ears were perked up above his head, and his tail was lifted high in the air behind him, almost reaching the top of his neck. Ever step he took was smooth and even, and his head never bobbed up and down like those of the lower peasants. Infidels, rebelling against him…
He began to play an entire scene through in his mind, of the wicked king suppressing his people and making them work for nothing more than a haystack to sleep in at night. Eventually, the peasants have had enough, and they’re going to rebel! But King Milo the Wicked will not stand for such blatant effrontery! They must be put down!
Milo heaved a sigh and let his posture slacken, like it was the air that had been holding him at his regal position. His self-consciousness instantly reprimanded him for being such an immature little kid, daydreaming about exciting fantasies coming to life. He now knew that the characters in storybooks had it easy. They had a guarantee that the good guy would always prevail, that justice would triumph over evil and create a better world for everybody to live in. Milo envied that. With the situation as it was now, he was scared out of his wits. There was no such thing as the blind courage and self-confidence that storybook protagonists carried with them, there was only self-doubt and fear. Fear that everybody might get hurt. Fear that it would be all his fault.
The pressure building up inside him. What if something happened, and those people figured out they were in the hotel? Then it would be all his fault for leading them here. What if somebody thinks he’s kidding and goes outside to see? His fault again for telling them.
But why was he worried? The only things that could go wrong just involved simple human error, and if that could somehow be removed from his calculations, things would be perfect. So he finally consoled himself, thinking he had done the best he could, given the circumstances. The only problem that existed at the moment was that everybody would now look to him for answers. And if he was unofficially elected the leader, how would he handle that pressure? It wasn’t bad enough that he had alerted a group of a knife throwing psychopaths about their presence in Raven’s Hollow, but now he had to guide everybody he had ever called a friend safely out of this.
He could do it though. Stoic confidence or no, he was going to have to deal with everything one step at a time, and if he got bogged down over future details that might not even exist, he wasn’t doing any of them any good.
“Time to find myself something useful then” He stated monotonously, trying too hard to sound like a confident leader, which, with his gratingly peppy voice, only made him sound like a kid playing pretend in a sandbox. Milo realized his inadequate voice, and hung his head in shame while heading towards room 409, the room he had personally picked out without help from his father. Upon request though, his father had taken the room next door to his, so Milo could taste a little bit of independence before making his way in a dormitory where independence was shared between two roommates.
After a small walk towards the end of hall, since each hall had only ten rooms, he spotted the golden plaque on the door that announced the room number to him in bold and emblazoned black numbers. Room 409. Beyond this solid door, to which only he had the key, was a safe haven for Milo: a realm where he was in sovereign over everything. Finally, a place of peace, and a place of comfort… Maybe he should just relax in his own room for a while before heading back down.
Slowly he sighed areached for the handle. That single sigh contained every bit of stress and tension that had been taking up shop in his body ever since he had walked outside into that fog. No, even before that. For his entire life. He had been longing to have some completely alone time, with no interruptions, no father telling him to finish practicing his piano, and most of all, nothing to get done. Now that he had the chance to lay down and be alone, he cherished the anticipation of it. His paw stayed clenched around the doorknob, like a small kid who just licked a frozen light pole. With painful deliberation, he began to twist the knob, and-
Click.
“Oh, heh…” Milo chuckled, reaching into his pocket to get the keycard his parents had given him. Luckily, since Milo hadn’t even seen a single staff member for The Dancing Raven, his parents had apparently found somebody at the front desk when they first got to this place. Propping the decorated plastic card in between two fingers, he slipped it into the slot, and waited for the beep and a green light. The green light came, but the beep didn’t. Instead, he heard something else.
A scream.
His blood seemed to curdle right then and there, and shivers raced relentlessly through his body at mach speed. What… Was that? That sound… It didn’t even sound like a person! His tail froze behind him in mid wag, and with a slowness that made him seem like he was underwater, he turned towards the stairwell. It wasn’t on this floor… For that, he was thankful, but in an instant the floodgates of his mind opened. Before, it had only been a slight trickle of fear in the dam that held back an ocean of paranoia, but that shriek began to crack the wall ever so slowly as it replayed over and over in his mind. The barrage on the dam continued, and in a few moments, he was lost in a deluge of panic and dread, swept off of his feet by a tidal wave of terror.
His feet acted without him, and without even sliding the card back out of the slot, he took off charging towards the stairwell. But the one thing he himself did not know was where he was going to go. Was he going straight down to the first floor to see if anybody was back there yet, or was he going to search the other floors for the source of that banshee’s cry? He only wished he could make decisions this quickly. Before he could even think, he had thrown open the door and was tearing noisily down the stairwell. Everything seemed to blur together, and his mind was already on autopilot, with his course set for what could quite possibly the worst possible place to be at the moment. Regardless, he was driven blindly down a flight of carpeted stairs, wondering how an echo could seem so deafening.
Milo stood in the hallway of the third floor, not remembering opening or shutting the door behind him. His eyes made a quick sweep of the area, just to make sure everything was okay. Yani was nearly tripping over herself as she ran wildly towards the stairwell, and even with the quick and cursory glance Milo had given her, he could tell she was afraid. And with good reason. Her eyes were plastered with panic and worry, but Milo didn’t need to see her eyes to tell that she was in the same state that he was.
A shirtless Ren was emerging from his room, a blank expression spread across his face like butter on bread; it fit his slackened posture perfectly. His black furred paws were jammed in his jean’s pockets all the way up to his forearm, and his back was slanted ever so slightly backward. Milo had no time to pay attention to him, and since there apparently wasn’t too much of a problem on this floor besides ignorance, he turned silently around and ran ahead of Yani to the next floor down. Tail flying behind him, he burst into the second floor hallway, opening the single windowed door so quickly that it smacked the far wall and nearly hit Yani, who was trailing behind him and asking questions that he couldn’t answer. He had no time to answer these questions, he had no time to even tell her that he didn’t know the answers. All he knew was that somebody was either in danger or had a sick sense of humor.
He knew something was wrong the instant he put a foot onto the carpet in front of him. A scent slowly made its way towards him, and he winced ever so slightly from the caustic smell. It...
It smelled like blood.
So it wasn’t a joke… Somebody was hurt. Badly. If it smelled this strongly already, then somebody is either dead… Or dying.
His legs felt like jello. Or maybe like thin sticks, threatening to snap at any moment and leave him there. Even his arms felt like they were holding twenty pound weights, and his paws were clenching and unclenching every second.
When his eyes finally focused on the hallway, what caught his attention surprised him. There was nothing out of place in the hall. Not even a single candle was out. The ornate carpet wasn’t stained with red, the wallpaper was as clean as if a maid had just finished hand washing it. The perfection in the room bothered Milo more than the smell did.
As he looked around, he caught Yani out of the corner of his eye, completely stationary. She smelled it too, did she? He closed his eyes for a moment, and tried to focus. Who lives on this floor…? Me and dad and the only ones on the top floor, and on the third floor is… Ren and Yani, I think. First floor is Nella and Rellian… Nile and his family are both here…
An infantile fear rushed through him, and nearly forced his body into action. He thingyed his head to the side and sniffed a little bit more than before, hoping to catch a direction of the scent. Nile’s parents, according to Milo’s father, were in room 204 by themselves, apparently having the same idea of letting their son get a little taste of freedom before being ensnared by college. The smell…
It came from room 204.
As the realization hit him, Milo’s eyes began to widen, and he took a measured step forward, feeling like he had just finished running a marathon. Nile… Nile was okay, of course he was. He was Nile, he was perfect, he had everything going for him… He couldn’t die. That wouldn’t be fair.
Another step, and Milo began to pick up his pace, trying to be as quiet as possible. Since that shriek was only a few moments ago, he was positive that the attacker would not have enough time to make it to the stairwell before Milo did. Yes, Milo was at the end of the hallway, but he was already out of his room; since he didn’t see any gore out in the hall, he was positive the act had taken place inside of the Owens’s lodging. And then, since a scream meant the victim was still alive, he would have had to murder them, as well as make his way out to the hallway, which put him at a major disadvantage to Milo.
Milo knew, though, that he was the one at a disadvantage here. Since the attackers couldn’t have left by means of the stairwell, he must be hiding in one of the rooms, or still in the original room. Once Milo thought about it though, he realized that unless the killer had a master key for the entire hotel, he could not have opened any of the other doors. But if the killer did not have a master key, then how did he get into the room in the first place? Had Mr. and Mrs. Owens left their door open for some reason? Or did they invite the killer in on accident, thinking that it was one of the kids, or maybe the other parents coming back from shopping?
It alarmed Milo how calmly he was thinking under this much stress and pressure. Quickly, he flushed fear out of his mind and steeled himself for what might lay ahead of him. It could be Nile himself lying in there, already gone… No, he wouldn’t allow thoughts like that to creep into his head. He was going to stay strong, stay positive, and make sure everybody was okay. He had hopped into this leader position, and now he was going to live with it.
After what seemed like an eternity of walking, he found himself in front of the door to room 204. As he expected, the door was cracked open, and there was no light on inside of the room.
The stench of death hung heavy in the air beyond that door, and like at his own room, his paw clenched the doorknob crushingly and refused to turn an inch. He was going to do it. He was going to confront this killer, if he was in here… His gaze travelled back to the frozen Yani, who suddenly seemed a lot shorter than she usually was, seeing as her posture had dropped to that of a drunkard. She was slightly hunched over, leaning back on her heels, and hugging herself while clutching her shoulders tightly. A bit of pity rushed through Milo and he fought the urge to make his way over and comfort her, but he kept his stolid façade on like a mask, and furrowed his brow a bit. Ever so slowly, he pushed the handle inwards. The instant he did, he was indeed very happy there were no lights on in there.
He could smell it. It burned his nose and made his senses reel. The smell of fresh blood, warm and wet, crept through the room stealthily. Milo swore he could almost taste the irony taste on his tongue.
Everything was almost pitch black though, and the small sliver of light that pierced the darkness came from behind him, so his own shadow was an obstruction to his observation. And in truth, he wished his shadow was bigger than it actually was, if it was, it would have blocked something horrid. Something he wished he had never seen. Something he would never forget.
Piercing light shot from the doorway and invaded the dark room, showing Milo exactly what he did not want to see. The first thing that came to his mind was how the different the carpet looked in this room, but that thought was quickly replaced by the grim reality that stared him aggressively down.
At the foot of the bed, was a half lighted figure on his knees, its paws clasped above his lowered head almost like he was praying. Milo didn’t need to look twice to know who it was. There were no other coyotes in the entire hotel besides his parents, and Milo was positive that Mr. and Mrs. Owens didn’t wear gray cargo pants. But if Nile was the only one in here, then that meant that he was… Already…
Thankfully, Milo heard something. It was a whimper, barely even coming from the kneeling figure as she shook, followed by a few inconsistent sobs. Slowly, Milo’s hopes began to raise, and he squinted his eyes little bit to try and get a better look at the scene in front of him. From what he could see, the room was just like his upstairs. Starting in a slightly narrow hallway with a bathroom door to the left, and it abruptly opened up into a two room bedroom. There was an ornate desk shoved against the sunset themed wallpaper. The desk itself was a dark mahogany color, and the chair in front of it matched it flawlessly. There seemed to be nothing wrong with the right side of the room. But thanks to the walls around the bathroom, he could only see the feet of the beds, and barely even that.
As hesitant as Milo was to go through the doorway, he took a bit of consolation that Nile was in there, and hopefully unharmed. If the killer truly was in there, then Nile wouldn’t just be kneeling there, he would be charging out the door. But he had to make sure of everything, and he reached out with a paw to find a lightswitch. Thankfully, it was close to the right side of the door, and he found three switches. Right as he was about to flick his wrist upwards, he stopped, hearing a voice.
“Keep… Keep them off…” Came a choked voice that Milo almost didn’t recognize. But as he turned his head back to the middle of the room, he noticed that Nile’s head was tilted towards him. Milo didn’t need to turn the lights on to tell that the other coyote was looking him right in the eyes.
“N… Nile…” Milo managed to cough out, dropping his paw reluctantly back to his side. They were safe in here apparently, even though the overwhelming smell was making him sick to his stomach. He felt exactly like he was in an endless freefall, and his stomach was left far behind.
“Why…” Nile asked, obviously directing the question towards Milo.
The only answer Milo could give was a somber shake of his head. It didn’t take a brilliant scientist to figure out what had happened in here. But he had to make sure before he made any other decisions, so he made his way forward into the odd smelling room. As he rounded the corner far enough to see the beds, he finally confirmed the truth of what happened. There were two black lumps lazily laying underneath the covers, and the white sheet s all around the two were discolored with something dark. Something that smelled like death. The discolored sheets had plenty of rips in them, and Milo didn’t even have to think about how they happened.
“N… Nile…” Milo whispered gently, hoping to at least give the other coyote a bit of comfort. “I’m sorry…” Milo turned his attention back to Nile, who was staring at him with hollow and sunken eyes. Milo couldn’t bear to even look at the hollow frame that he thought was his friend, and quickly averted his eyes to the splotched floor.
“Milo…” Nile croaked quietly, his eyes drilling into Milo’s skull. He could feel it, the constant glare that made him want to crawl into a corner and hug himself for a while. “You… You should be sorry!”
Milo’s head jerked towards Nile from the sudden shout, and saw that the coyote was already on his feet, shoulders raised and paws balled into tight fists that clenched and unclenched constantly like a nervous habit. It was oddly unnerving, the way his friend stared at him. The formerly empty stare was replaced with one of rage, where his eyes looked a little bit smaller. Milo didn’t need any light to know that his friend was on the verge of a violent breakdown.
“Nile…” Milo started, tilting his ears a bit backwards so they were flush against his hair. This wasn’t like Nile at all… He had always been perfect, absolutely stoic against everything that had come his way. He had endured every hardship and pushed through every obstacle without even making a single complaint. To think that his very own role model was-
“Why did you lead them here…” Nile coughed, putting a fist in front of his mouth to cough a little bit more. “You knew they would do this… It’s all your fault Milo!”
“Nile, I-“
“Shut the hell up!” Nile shouted, interrupting him once more. Slowly, the larger coyote took a step forward, making his way towards Milo with great deliberation. It was then that Milo noticed exactly how much blood was covering his friend’s clothes, and even his paws. With the light in the door showing him for what he really was, Milo wasn’t sure if he should run for it, or try and console him. With the dancing shadows from the candle leaping around his body and forming unnatural shapes across his face, Milo wished he didn’t’ have his glasses on.
“Bu-“
“I said, shut the hell up, squirt!” Nile snapped, biting the air to the side of with an audible crunch from his teeth. This wasn’t like Nile at all… This wasn’t the same person he had looked to for guidance, and looked to for comfort when things went wrong. It used to be that all he had to do was look at Nile, and he would be filled with inspiration and drive, with enough energy to overcome whatever problem would come his way.
Milo took a step back, his head lowered so that he couldn’t see Nile’s face. He couldn’t bear to look at his former role model anymore. I’m not a squirt… He’s just angry. He’s just looking for somebody to blame… But Nile was better than this, wasn’t he? He was above these mental breakdowns that Milo was so prone to. He was better than this.
Milo gulped softly, and steeled himself. Just show him pity, let him know that he cared. Slowly, his foot made its way forward into the room, and he was only a step away from Nile. “Look, Nile, I’m-“
The air left his lungs, and the next thing he saw was the ceiling dancing above him, laughing at him. Mocking him. He had been gullible.
His chest heaved up and down, and his vision was focusing and unfocusing at random. There were multiple overlapping pictures on the ceiling, and the walls seemed tilted inward, then outward, then-
He felt something welling up inside of him, and before he could blink, the carpet next to him smelled like bile, and he winced, closing his eyes and looking up. It had tasted awful… It still burned, and he looked up at the face above him. The multiple faces slowly merging into one. The one face that he didn’t want to see, that strangely contoured face of a stranger. He wasn’t Nile…
“I sai… I said…” Nile shouted, his voice hopping random intervals. “I said… S…” She couldn’t finish it, and he instantly knelt down next to Milo.
Milo winced away, wishing he could get up, but his body was so out of balance that he could barely move at all. His gut felt like somebody had just taken a sledgehammer, and… He winced, feeling his stomach heave again, but could only gasp for air dryly as nothing happened.
“M-Milo… I…” Milo heard him say, but everything but the pain was far in the back of his mind. He said something else, but with the world spinning as it was, there was no way that he could understand him. Slowly, the lights began to dim, and the last thought he had before passing out was why there was a power outage without a single strike of thunder. Things seemed to have no cause or reason in Raven’s Hollow.