Devil's Playground Page 8

  “Have you met their mother?” Alison asked.

  Evelyn quickly thought back but couldn't recall him mentioning what lie he used. So, she decided to keep her mouth shut and smiled.

  “It’s a private matter,” Aleksandr said, his abrupt tone enough to have Alison flush. He ignored her discomfort, focused only on the twins. “You guys know the drill. Lock the doors. Early to bed.”

  “We’ll be good,” they nodded.

  Evelyn wondered just how far their version differed from the norm. As subtly as she could, she rechecked the room, this time looking for anything that could double as a booby-trap. She didn’t see anything. The twins leaned over the edge of the bunk for a farewell hug. Given how short Aleksandr was, it was a bit of a trust fall, but they never hesitated. Each picked a shoulder, and they clung to him like he was leaving for years. Like they’ll never see him again, Evelyn thought.

  Murmured whispers passed between them before Aleksandr tried to push them back up. They refused to go, clutching onto him until he pulled them entirely from the top bunks. A few more whispers and what could have been a sniff, they let him put them down.

  “Listen to Eve.” His voice was thick, and he swallowed hard to get rid of it. Quickly, he hooked his fingers under each of the kids’ chins and tipped their heads up. “Unless she says something stupid, then you guys are in charge.”

  They nodded.

  He turned to leave, seemingly surprised to find Alison blocking the doorway.

  “The boss is doing rounds tonight,” she said weakly.

  “Shit,” he hissed under his breath, the hint of his Russian accent slipping out. Catching himself, he looked over his shoulder to Evelyn. “I could be fired if they found you down here.”

  Evelyn scooted off of the bed and grabbed her duffle bag.

  “That’s okay. I should check in with my dad and I need a shower.” The idea of being alone made bile rise up from her stomach. She fought hard to keep it from showing on her face. It was a losing battle, so she twisted and busied herself by searching through her duffle bag's pocket, plucking the two room keys free. She handed one of them over to the nearest twin. “If you guys need anything.”

  Obviously, she wasn't as good as them at having silent conversations, but she thought she got the main points across. Call me as soon as the boss leaves.

  They nodded in unison. Either they understood already, or texted her all the questions they couldn’t ask now. Either way, she couldn’t risk saying more knowing Alison was within earshot. They stood there, looking small and frail. No matter how hard they tried to hide it behind an expression of prepared conviction, they couldn’t keep the traces of fear from inching into their wide eyes. Evelyn’s arms twitched with the sudden urge to hug them. It was hard to leave.

  “Be happy,” one of them said with a smile.

  Evelyn grinned. “You too.”

  There wasn’t anything left to say. Nothing to stall with. Aleksandr shuffled behind her, impatient to get moving, feeling the looming threat of the soon approaching boss. The last thing they needed right now was to lose the safe hiding place the staff accommodation supplied. She almost laughed when the thought popped into her head. This was a lot easier when we only had to worry about demonic beings. Juggling responsibilities and authority figures messed things up.

  Aleksandr’s resolve to leave quickly snapped when the opportunity presented itself. As Evelyn slipped into the hall, he rushed back in and said another farewell, again keeping his voice low. At length, he stepped outside to join the two women. The door instantly slammed shut behind him, and there was a series of clicks. A half a dozen locks that probably weren't supposed to be there.

  “Is something wrong?” Alison asked.

  “It’s just been a hard day,” he dismissed.

  Refraining from further questions, Alison took to trying to distract Aleksandr with constant, light-hearted chatter. It allowed him to walk in silence for the greater part of the hallway. It also gave Evelyn the ability to glance back to the room door without being caught. They’re safer right now than you are, the voice of reason whispered in her head. At the elevator, Aleksandr once again hesitated.

  Forty-three victims. Bundy. Sadist. Hunters. The words crowded into her head, each one carrying a crippling weight. She didn't want to go. Alison's brow furrowed in confusion as she eyed them each carefully.

  “You need to swipe for this elevator,” she said with a weak smile. No one moved. “Don’t worry, I’ll get it."

  She reached out, swiped and called the elevator down. Evelyn tried not to flinch at the little beep.

  “Just,” Evelyn shrugged helplessly, “be happy. Or busy.” Be anything but afraid.

  A small smile twitched the corner of his lips. “You too. I’ll text you if I get off early. My shift’s scheduled to finish at 3 a.m.”

  “I’ll be ready,” she promised.

  Aleksandr held out his hand, and Evelyn could only gape at it, knitting her brows. It was oddly reminiscent of their first encounter, only with the roles reversed. When they had agreed to work together to save the twins from the Furies. He had looked at her outstretched hand like it was an alien artifact. They had only parted ways with a handshake after his parents were dead, and they had managed to flee. If the world were fair, that would have been the last time they would have ever seen each other. Now, the same simple gesture held a new meaning. An acknowledgement that they both didn’t want the other to die. Evelyn suspected that he hadn’t made the offer to many other people in his life. She took the battered hand, wrapped her fingers around knuckles that had been shattered a dozen times over, and shook it. He thinks one of us is going to be dead by 3 a.m.

  “It’s only a few hours,” Alison said with a nervous giggle.

  Neither of them acknowledged her. With a sharp ping, the elevator doors opened. The carriage was empty and as Evelyn got inside, she felt every square inch of the open space pressing against her like a crowd of people. She couldn’t pinpoint the moment when being alone had started to feel like a threat.

  Aleksandr watched her until the doors closed and Evelyn was left staring at her own reflection distorted in the dull metal. Then there was the whirl of the machines, and the unsettling absence of elevator music.

  It was almost a relief when she was back on the ground floor. She hurried out into the corridor, ignoring the odd looks her presence drew. Head high, shoulders back, she retraced her steps until she was once again in the organized chaos of the hotel lobby. It was a simple test of how much of the map information about the layout she had managed to retain. She weaved through the crowd, her head already pounding with the sudden onslaught of noise and flashing lights.

  Once she was back at the front desk, she cut to the right and entered into the gambling pit. The guest elevators closest to her room were situated on the far side. Lighted pathways cut through the forest of metal and neon. The noise was deafening. Every other breath had the taint of either alcohol or cigarette smoke. Her eyes darted about, trying to keep track of all the people around her. It was an impossible task. There was barely a single machine free. Waitresses, dressed in green and covered in glow-in-the-dark jewelry, slipped through the masses, effortlessly carrying an array of glasses. Groups passed her, laughing and filling the space, causing her to sidestep them. Her skin crawled as faceless multitudes passed; close enough that she could feel the air stirring against her bare arms.

  The edges of the key card dug uncomfortably into Evelyn's fingers as she tightened her grip on it. Only relenting when she felt that the thin slip of plastic was about to snap. Picking up her pace, she emerged out of the gambling area and onto a wide marble floor. Before her, a short hallway dedicated to guest elevators brimmed over with people. In keeping with the casino’s theme, each of the sliding doors was refurbished to look like airlocks on a spaceship. The doors opened randomly, allowing groups of excited people to flow out and into the casino itself. Far fewer people were waiting to go up. Keeping to the fringes, she t
ried to be subtle about her surveillance of the crowd. It was easier to pick up little snippets of conversation than it was to keep track of the faces around her.

  With everyone eager to get on with their nights, the hallway experienced vast ebbs and flows, filling rapidly when the door opened and emptying just as quickly. Evelyn didn’t have to wait long for her turn, but she lingered, ensuring she was the last one to enter her carriage. As the shortest person in the elevator, she couldn't tell how many people were in there with her. So she pushed closer to a group of already tipsy women that, among other things, babbled about the phones they had forgotten in their rooms.

  Food and entertainment venues filled the first three floors and the elevator stopped on each of them. Cramming to capacity, Evelyn was forced back against the wall, barely able to hold onto her rising panic as strangers crowded into her personal space. The situation improved once they passed the three floors. A few people got off on the sixth floor. A woman on the eighth. Another couple on the ninth. Bit by bit, their numbers eroded. When there was only a handful left, Evelyn looked around, taking stock. A couple that wasn't afraid of public displays of affection. An overworked woman scrolling through the messages on her phone. Three men that favored the word ‘dude’. She almost missed the man in the back corner. He kept to her peripheral vision, his hands in his pockets and a baseball cap pulled down to cover his face.

  She watched him for a moment. He didn’t look up. Not even for a second. Didn’t move. It left a bitter taste in the back of her mouth. At the next stop, the ‘dude’ men got out. Evelyn took the opportunity to switch to the opposite corner, shuffling around those that remained until she could press her back against the side wall. The new position should have given her a clear view of the man’s profile wearing the baseball cap. But, when chanced a casual glace, the back corner was empty. A spike of fear speared her when she caught sight of him in the corner of her eyes. He had switched with her, moving to keep himself, his face, out of sight.

  The working woman got off next and the man stood still. Then the couple. The man remained a dark pillar in the back of the carriage. Anxiety squeezed her chest, the sensation growing when she glanced at the series of call buttons and found them all dark. She had deliberately kept from pressing her floor. He hadn’t picked one either. The realization settled in the pit of her stomach like a lump of ice as the doors slid closed. Without the next destination selected, the elevator sat where it was, the soft notes of piano music drifting through the speakers. The man remained where he was. A dark shadow on the edge of her vision. She took a deep, calming breath and glanced up at the display. Ninth floor, she thought. The idea of making a run for it when the doors opened again crossed her mind.

  What if he follows? What if he had picked this floor and it’s an ambush? In an attempt to maintain her composure, she reminded herself that she didn’t know for sure the man was Vlas. Or Radmiar. The notion felt hollow since he was still hiding his face. From her, and undoubtedly, from the security cameras.

  Time stretched and Evelyn began to pray that someone in the lobby would hit the call button. It almost felt like a physical blow when there was a beep and the doors opened again, still on the ninth floor. The man still didn’t move. Evelyn didn’t know if she should run. He’s waiting for me to choose. Trying to be casual, she pretended like she had only just realized she had forgotten to hit the floor and glanced over to him.

  “Which one do you need?” she asked him, struggling to keep her nerves from entering her voice.

  She threw in a smile for good measure. Seconds ticked by and the man said nothing. Just go, she commanded herself. No sooner had her mind settled on the decision than the doors slid closed again. They sealed with a whispered gasp. Her hands clutched the strap of her duffle bag as the man took his first step forward. There was a stagger in his stride as he moved forward. The stench of alcohol followed him in a cloud. For half a heartbeat, she believed the lie, willing to dismiss him as a man too drunk to pay attention. Then she noticed that, despite all his stumbling, his face was always perfectly hidden behind the bill of the baseball cap. And his hands never left his pockets to help with his balance.

  With a seemingly drunken swipe, he dragged his hand down the rows of buttons, illuminating half a dozen. Like he didn’t have the coordination left to select a single floor. Evelyn’s stomach tensed as the last of her doubt died. Repositioning herself to keep some distance between them, she was forced deeper into the carriage. Her eyes never left the man as she slipped the strap of her duffle bag over her shoulders, nestling the bulk of the bag against her back and freeing her hands.

  The elevator lurched. Music continued to play, filling the silence as the elevator rose. All the while, the man stood before the doors. Right in the center, stone still, blocking her path with his head low and his hands shoved into his pockets. He wasn't wavering anymore. The lights above the door clicked off. Evelyn silently bounced on her toes, rolling her shoulders as she tried to think. To plan. She had just enough sense left to shove her room key into the side of her bra, safely nestling it against her phone. It didn’t have her room number on it but she wasn’t about to risk the man getting it. Vlas or Radmiar? she wondered. They approached the next floor. Planned exit or coincidence? It didn’t matter. It was her only chance out and she was taking it. She drew in a deep breath, letting it out slowly as she waited for the bell.

  With a metallic ding, the doors opened. Evelyn crouched low, rendering the man a human shield against any attack. Keeping her weight on one foot, she kicked, stomping her heel against the back of the man’s knee. A startled gasp left him as he buckled. He dropped to one knee, giving her just enough room to leap over him and out into the hallway. One quick glance told her that they were still alone. She whipped around, walking backwards, fists up and ready to strike. The stranger was back on his feet. He charged forward but the doors were already moving again, already only a few inches from closing. A feral snarl left his mouth. He slammed his fist against the metal, making the doors rattle. Distracted by his burst of anger, he failed to get a hand through the gap. In the last second before the doors sealed, Evelyn watched him reach for the buttons.

  The elevator rose and she burst to the side. Running up and down the hallway, hitting the call button for every other elevator present. A few of them opened immediately and she reached in, blindly hitting the buttons before moving onto the next. Some she hit high. Some low. Evelyn didn’t know if Vera was waiting, if she could see anything from her ‘second location’, but hoped that all the chaos of the elevators might create some confusion. Buy her some time. Slamming through a heavy metal door, she entered the stairwell.

  She longed to head to her room. To flee to the safety it promised with its door and locks and phone to call security. It was so close. One floor up. She was halfway up the first flight of stairs before it hit her. All of the buttons the man had pressed had been for higher floors. Do they know where my room is? Is that where he was trying to take me? Spinning on her toes, she started down. Get to the front desk. Change your room. The decisions gave her something to focus on. A goal to run towards. Sliding down the safety rails more than touching the actual stairs, Evelyn raced down the floors. Her heart slammed against her ribs, sweat marked her forehead. She kept going, speeding up every time she was forced to pass by one of the doors. It was impossible to shake the images that pushed into her mind. The absolute convictions that they were hiding on the other side of the doors. Waiting on every floor. Like trap door spiders. Just waiting for her to pass. To come close enough to strike.

  It didn’t feel real when she reached the ground floor. Sweat glistened on her forehead and the burst of activity had left a deep burn in her thighs. The bare, stone walls of the stairwell turned her panted breath into a bellow. She hesitated at the final door. The last chance for her nightmare image to become a reality. Keep going. Before they catch up. Go! Exploding onto the hallway of elevators, side-stepping the crowds, always moving forward. The second the
crowd thinned, she forced herself into a sprint. Her shoes squeaked across the marble floor until she was back in the gambling area. Years of footwork practice had never seemed more relevant.

  She didn’t see the man again. You wouldn’t know if you did, a voice in the back of her head accused. You never saw his face. Constantly looking around her, ignoring the strange glances from workers and patrons, she hurried through the pathways. The further she got, the easier it was to believe the voice in her head telling her that she was being paranoid. That didn’t stop her from pulling out her phone, resolved to text Aleksandr and the twins. False alarm or not, if felt like she should tell them.

  A sharp gasp pulled from her mouth as the phone buzzed in her hand. Swallowing thickly, she looked around, expecting to have to explain her actions away to a few people. She didn’t. No one was paying attention. She couldn’t spot a single person looking in her direction with more than a few seconds of mild interest. The complete indifference made her feel utterly alone. Like she was right back in that ghost town. Like she could scream and rage and barely draw anyone’s interest.

  Her heart stammered when she looked back at her phone. A single text message illuminated the screen.

  Come out, come out, wherever you are.

  Chapter 8

  Aleksandr fiddled restlessly with the cuffs of his dress shirt. It was too clean. Too crisp with starch. He felt like he was going to stain it with sweat and dirt the moment it touched his skin. Alex wouldn’t have a problem with it, he reminded himself. And you’re Alex Cooper from Mooresville, Alabama. Repeating it helped. Like a little anchor tethering him to a far bigger lie. Alex Cooper from Mooresville, Alabama. A town too small to bother putting in sidewalks. Couldn’t if they wanted to. Whole dang town has historic significance. We keep it the way it was back in 1818. The longer he thought as ‘Alex’, the easier it was to nail the accent. It was perhaps the most useful skill his parents had ever taught him. A good alias wasn’t just a name you could throw out when questioned. It was a whole identity. Another life you can step into. A disguise that could fool the world.