“You’re absolutely right about that,” Manfred said. “Someone has paid to put them in an expensive place, but you know that. I want to know who’s actually footing the bills, and why.”
“It’s something to do with Olivia,” Lenore said.
Fiji could have danced with relief. The point was in sight. “What about Olivia?” she said.
“I don’t know,” Lenore said. “But it’s to do with her. I’ll tell you something. Some of the guests really do go over to Magic Portal every day to consult there, whatever that means. But whoever’s in the top front room on the corner stays in almost all the time, watching.”
“I think that you were brave to come tell us this,” Fiji said to Lenore. “I really appreciate it. And while you’re here, I have a thing or two to tell you. I was going to come by later today.”
“Really?” Lenore seemed a little excited that Fiji had planned on visiting her, which made Fiji feel like a scumbag.
“Here’s the thing,” Fiji said. “This year, Halloween is going to be quiet in Midnight.”
“Oh?” Lenore looked doubtful. “I know that last year lots of people came to town to enjoy your house and yard.”
“Yes, and that was fun.” Fiji smiled at Lenore. “But this year, we’ve heard that with the weird suicides, and the shooting, something really serious might happen.”
“That sounds pretty bad.” Lenore sighed deeply, her eyes fixed on the wall as she thought. “Okay, I’ll arrange for a party for the residents in the dining room, and I’ll talk to the transient guests. I really do appreciate the warning.”
“No problem. I should have come by earlier,” Fiji said. She felt both awkward and unworthy.
“Harvey especially should stay in,” Manfred said abruptly. “What?” Lenore turned to face him, looking puzzled. “You know I’m a psychic,” Manfred said, trying to smile and failing. “I think Harvey will be in extra danger.”
It was clear to Fiji that Lenore was conflicted. The hotel manager didn’t know whether to be pleased that Manfred had thought enough of Harvey to warn him, or if she found the whole idea so ridiculous that she didn’t give it any credence at all. “Thanks,” Lenore said. “I’ll remember that.” After she left, Manfred and Fiji were left to look at each other in a resigned way.
“It was a real vision,” Manfred said finally.
“I know,” Fiji replied. “And you’ve told her. If she doesn’t believe, she doesn’t believe, and frankly, I think we have enough on our plates to worry about.”
“Are you still hearing the voice?”
“Not today. But I feel him move, more and more. He’s flexing.
And I saw the Rev carting off more dead animals this morning. He’s building up his strength.”
Abruptly, Manfred said, “If it’s me, Fiji, I’ll man up. I promise you.”
He smiled at her in what he meant to be a reassuring way. But Fiji had a suspicion he was thinking of Estella.
“Thanks, Manfred,” she said, trying to hide her own lack of enthusiasm under a steady voice.
When she was alone, Fiji felt dismal again. Even the guys were worried about having sex by appointment. (Well, at least one guy.) Though she realized that had little or nothing to do with her as a woman, and she understood the sacrifice required of her, she was unhappy and anx ious to get it over with.
Which is not the way you should feel about the first time you have sex.
At least, that had always been her impression.
If she survived to see November 1, her life would be her own again.
35
The next day was Halloween. And Samhain. And Saturday. And the waning moon. And the longest day in the history of the world, if you were Fiji.
To everyone’s astonishment, a warm front came in from the west. The skies poured rain in the morning and early afternoon. The roads and sidewalks were washed clean. The front window of Midnight Pawn was streaked with drops that blew under the awning. Fiji’s garden, in its last hurrah before winter, looked fresh and vivid; inside The Inquiring Mind, Mr. Snuggly tucked himself under Fiji’s counter to be safe from the thunder.
The Rev went to the chapel under a giant and ancient umbrella. He’d asked Diederik to dust and vacuum his house, which Diederik was glad to do. It didn’t seem like a good morning to be kneeling in the little chapel.
In his room at the Midnight Hotel, Quinn worked on the details of a sort of quinceañera within the half-demon clan in New Orleans. When he couldn’t distract himself with that any longer, Quinn again read over the translated account of the ritual as Arria Auclina, Etruscan vampire, had written it down scores of years before. Auclina had heard this account firsthand from the witch involved, but she hadn’t been present. Lemuel had sent them all copies so they would understand what had to be done.