Jasson stood, frozen, surrounded by home.
This wasn't right. It couldn't be right. Jasson wasn't home.
This place was hollow. Lifeless. The hum of the street was missing, along with that undefinable feeling of another loved one being home.
Lifeless light shone in through the windows, but nothing was beyond. Just a smear of green and blue, the hint of Earth beyond the glass. A too smooth face that smiled too broadly.
A trap. It had to be a trap.
Jasson gripped the knob with sweaty palms, afraid. Dare he try? Would he be struck down for trying to leave this slice of paradise? Some glinting blade, hungry beyond this illusion of home?
The handle turned.
Click.
A wind of damp air blew in.
Nothing.
Just the rich red wood floor and white plaster walls of the hallway. Jasson peeked out, expecting to see a never-ending corridor, a monster looming in the distance.
The receptionist waved to him. She, at least, was real.
Jasson would have crept down the hall, except that would make him feel awkward in front of everyone. So he waved to the stinking men as he passed them getting into their room, then sauntered up to the counter. He wiped the sweat off his hands.
The receptionist greeted him perkily, saying, "Hello! Did you have any questions about your room?"
"Yeah," Jasson kept his back to the wall, "It's…not what I was expecting."
"That's room Ten for you," the receptionist said, "I wanted to tell you about it, but that group came in right after you. Room Ten is…how should I put this?"
The receptionist tapped her chin and said, "Let's just say that this hotel's designer took the phrase 'your home away from home' to heart. Now, don't ask me how, but Room ten is our most magical room. It somehow recreates your home. And not just a painting of illusion. This magic is beyond simple illusions. That room is physically real."
Real. Jasson's thoughts spun. Why this room?
Jasson said, "You sounded surprised when you said my room number. Why? Is it a roulette?"
"The room chooses the guest," the receptionist said, "I don't get how it works myself, but the hotel decided that you deserved our premier suite. Incredible, really. Usually, it chooses kings and royalty for that room. You wouldn't happen to be a lost heir to the empire or something? The divine of travel tends to smile upon humble travailing emperors."
"No, no." Jasson waved his hand, "It's just me."
"Are you sure?" the receptionist said, "I understand that orphans are common in these situations. Perhaps your parents didn't tell you that they found you floating in a barrel down the river?"
Jasson recalled waking up on the battlefield and said, "Nope. Positive."
"Curious," the woman said, "Very curious. That's the role of this hotel. We provide shelter from the full storm. Would you like a wake-up call, by the way?"
Strange, Jasson thought, I wonder…
"Can I take anything from the room?" Jasson said, "I could use some stuff from home."
"Of course," the receptionist said, "But we will need to charge you. It's not cheap. Just bring them up front when you're checking out. Would you like a wake-up knock? The storm won't be over yet, but you can always leave early."
Jasson said, "How do I know how much the items cost-"
A door slammed open in the hall, and the group from earlier stormed out. Five dripping, stinking, and in two cases half-naked, men stormed into the hall. One had a towel wrapped around his head, making his red face look like a tomato carrying an enraged beehive.
"What the *##@ is this place?!" the man in the lead said, "Some kind of trap?! Why do you have that information?!"
Jasson retreated and gave the men a wide berth. What were they perturbed about?
"Of course not," the receptionist said, "We simply designed the windows to show whatever your group finds most familiar. A common denominator of mental comfort, specially designed for our group room."
The leader leaned over the desk and kept arguing, and Jasson held his nose. They stunk terribly. The receptionist didn't look the least flustered, and Jasson didn't want to be around if they attacked. A hotel like this couldn't be a pushover if the guests got violent.
On his way back to his room, Jasson noticed that the door to the group's room was open. He peeked inside.
The room was a set of bunks, a bathroom with a running shower, and a window beyond. The curtains were flung open, exposing a view of…what was that?
Jasson squinted at the window, pulling out his phone. Unlike his aggressively bland view, these windows showed detailed scenery. But it was no beautiful vistas nor busy city streets.
Dim lighting, underground, with light streaming through a grate above. Chains hung around a maze of boxes and crates. Along the walls were cages, containing subdued shadows of varying sizes. It looked like the sewers from video games, but wide and open and…rustling.
Well, that doesn't look legal, Jasson thought as he snapped a quick picture, the reflexes of his old life resurfacing.
"Hey!" someone shouted, "Get away from there!"
"Sorry!" Jasson said reflexively and burst towards his room. A short glance over his shoulder had him breaking into a jog. Then a dead sprint.
"I'll kill you!"
They were gaining fast, and Jasson barely made it in time. He snatched the knob, grateful he'd left it unlocked, and barged inside. He swung around and slammed against the door.
Force ripped at the closing door, but Jasson braced himself and pushed the door as hard as he could. With one final heave, he pushed the man back before the man could get solid footing.
"AAAAOOW!"
The door didn't quite shut. The man's fingers were in the way. Panicked, Jasson slammed the door twice more, and the second time the fingers disappeared before the resulting in a click. Jasson flipped the lock, turned the bolt, and wished for a welder as they pounded..
The pounding stopped and Jasson sagged against the door, sliding past the childhood drawings in crayon, and collapsed into a panting pile on the floor.
Who were those people? Why were they here? They were soaking wet, stinking like they'd fallen in a…sewer…
Jasson crawled to his feet and wobbled to his corner chair. The one that had carried him through Junior high. Comfort incarnate. Jasson sat, pulling his knees up as he wrapped himself with a blanket. Then he pulled out his light crystal and started to charge his phone.
"Wait," Jasson looked beside him, his old fast charger dangling, "Does this work?"
Jasson plugged his phone in.
Doot.
"YES!" Jasson sagged. So the power worked here. A hot shower, then pick up some clothes before checkout. He needed shoes…but all he had were some unused hiking boots. Maybe he'd steal his brother's. Then there were his devices, maybe a power bank, and…
"Wait, wait, wait." Jasson set his phone down, "I was focused on those men."
Jasson cracked his knuckles, then fished out a fidget toy as he thought out loud, saying, "Were they actually going to attack me? Yeah. Why? I barely did anything. So who were they?"
What clues did they give?
Jasson said "I don't imagine that they wanted to be covered from head to toe in crap. It was raining hard, so…did they get washed out of the sewers? Were they living down there? Maybe…what did I even see?"
Jasson pulled up the photo he took. The view wasn't quite in focus, but Jasson could make out the basics. There were tents, and cots, and a fire. They were living in the sewers. With cages.
Why? Were they slave traffickers? But the shadows didn't feel human. Some were too big, others too small. And some were just right but still wrong. Frozen in an inhuman pose that felt familiar.
And there, peeking out of the shadow of that eerie cage, was an egg. Large. Looked like it was made of marble. Familiar.
"It's a weeping angel egg," Chills ripped across Jasson's skin, "So these are…monsters? Why? Were these guys responsible for- no. Yes? That…"
Jasson sighed and put away his phone. There was nothing he could do for now. He might as well enjoy his time back home.
"Hmm," Jasson said, "I don't think I can fit a TV in my locker. Not that it would work back at the manor. And they said that I would be charged, but not how much. It's not like I can go out and ask with those men there. Still…shower first. Then new clothes, shoes, and…video games."
****
Jasson was torn. There was too much to take. How much was each item? He couldn't budget without going up to the desk. He seriously didn't want to ring up more than he could pay for. Who knows how a place like this extorted debt?
A loaded suitcase and backpack full of clothes. Toothbrush and paste. Every pair of good shoes he could find. But his locker was out of space and he dare not pay to expand it. This place did not seem like the kind of hotel you walked out with the towel.
Those were all no-brainers, but the problem was that Jasson had found his Bitendo Change. It could be charged with his light crystal, and he had plenty of offline games. But…it couldn't be cheap.
And he was forgetting something.
It nagged at Jasson as he hauled everything he wanted downstairs, forming a pile in front of the door. He frowned, climbing back up to his room, then grabbing a soda from his mini fridge. What else did he want?
"Almost everything takes plugging in," Jasson said, "I wish my family had some solar panels. Or that we kept our camping gear inside. Could do with a tent."
Jasson had tried the other doors, but not even the garage was there. Only the main house and basement. The windows showed ambivalent colors rather than a suburban neighborhood, and every exterior door led back into the hallway. He wasn't really there.
Jasson said, "The problem is that I can think of a use for almost anything. Or that it doesn't work without power."
What was his budget? He needed to conserve finances. He had several hundred gold after transferring all of those cat videos. He wouldn't be able to do that again for a while. Didn't want to flood the market.
"One more item," Jasson said, "And if I have leftover gold, then I'll just save the money. There's that app after all. But…what to buy? What's useful in a fantasy world of magic and danger? We're building a house but…I can't think of anything for that. What do I need?"
Jasson wandered over to where he'd left his phone. Could he charge his Bluetooths? He knew where some old wired Peach earbuds were. How about-
"Woah," Jasson said, holding his phone, "Is that all? You barely charged. I don't remember this being a slow charger."
Jasson unplugged his phone and went up to his room. His change of clothes was already in the shower, so now all he had to do was get ready for bed.
"Still," Jasson said as he plugged his phone in beside his bed, "I wanted to finish packing first. What should be my last item…what would dad suggest I-"
Jasson burst out laughing, collapsing onto his bed. He giggled, the type that meant a rather dreadful prank was about to be sprung. Oh no. No, no, no.
It couldn't be that easy. He had magic now. But…
Jasson giggled as he swung out of bed. Down, down, down. Into the basement. Past the long storage and dusty Christmas supplies. The light from the stairs faded, and Jasson reached for the switch in a smaller room.
Click
The lights illuminated the preparations. Food storage, water storage, just enough to get through a hurricane. At the end of the room, a tall black safe. Since Jasson was left home alone so often, his father had secretly given him the code.
Jasson stood, safe door open, bouncing up and down with joy. For inside such a formidable safe was not gold nor wills not even precious memories (those were in a formidable safe upstairs). Inside was a find unique to an American household not in California or New York.
Guns.
"I can't believe I didn't think of this sooner."