Magic, Myth and Mysteries

A Seriously Bad Trip, Chapter One - Emily Conover

“Excuse me…sir? Can I…help you?” The hotel concierge, Christophe, was unable to keep the distaste out of his voice. The person standing in the middle of Hotel Beaumont’s pristine lobby was not dressed in a manner that befitted a guest of the establishment. They had a strict dress code, even for arrivals, and this interloper was violating every single one of the rules.

Not only was he missing shoes, but instead of wearing the required collared shirt, tie, and belt with his pants, he was wearing a black mesh tank top and what appeared to be black leather pants. There was a heavily detailed tattoo of two snakes on the man’s bare arm that Christophe averted his eyes from as soon as possible. The damn thing looked alive.

On top of that he was smeared with body glitter, lip gloss, and a few other substances that Christophe didn’t wish to speculate about. To make matters worse he was wearing sunglasses, inside, despite the fact that the sun had set over an hour ago and he reeked of patchouli, weed, and sweat. Everything pointed to someone stoned out of their mind.

The man swayed his head back and forth, in a manner that reminded Christophe of a snake and replied, “I’m looking for someone.”

Christophe pressed his lips into a grimace that tried its best to pretend it was a smile. “I doubt you’ll find them here.” There was a banquet being held for the city’s elite in the ballroom and Christophe didn’t want any riff-raff ruining it or the Hotel Beaumont’s sterling reputation.

“Perhaps they’re at the Hotel Palais?” He named an establishment two blocks over that was popular with rock stars, Hollywood starlets, and Euro-trash.

“Nah.” He inhaled deeply. “They’re here.”

Christophe cleared his throat and contemplated paging security. “Are you a guest here?”

“Nah,” the man repeated as he took a few more steps into the lobby.

“Well, if you aren’t a guest, then I’m afraid you can’t go any further into the hotel. You’ll need to vacate the premises.” Christophe took a stunned step backwards as he could have sworn he saw the tattoo on the man’s arm move. When his eyes refocused he saw that the man had made a beeline for the hallway that led to the ballroom.

“Sir, you can’t go back there. You really must leave.”

“Not yet. I just found them.”

Christophe ran to stand in front of the man to impede his further progress. “This hotel does not allow randos to just waltz through the halls. You cannot be back here.”

The man ignored him and pointed to the set of double doors leading to the ballroom. “Is that where all the muckety-mucks are having dinner? I don’t want to crash some blushing bride’s reception. Last time I did that my cousin read me the riot act for like, a lifetime. Of course, she’s under house arrest at the moment so maybe I could get away with popping in on a few after I’m done here. Bridesmaids are just so,” he pumped his hips back and forth a few time, “ready, you know?”

Christophe gritted his teeth. This man was really beyond the pale. “Sir. I really must insist you-” The words died in Christophe’s throat as the man chose that moment to pull his sunglasses down to look at him. The man’s eyes changed from a piercing blue to a golden yellow and the pupils turned into slits.

“Are you the devil?” Christophe stammered.

“Nah.” The man shoved his sunglasses back on and patted Christophe on the arm. “You may wish I was though. Luci was an angel to start with, after all, and I’ve always just been me.”

Christophe stopped hearing or seeing anything after that. When he came to, he was sitting on the floor in the hall, his chin and neck wet from drool, with no memory of how he got there, but a nagging sense that he’d once been an exhibit in a zoo.

He checked himself into a clinic the next day to have tests run to check for everything from a stroke to seizures, but the tests were all inconclusive. Christophe quit his job, bought himself a small farm and spent the rest of his life taking in animals that had been in petting zoos.