Between the Shadow and the Soul

Chapter 1-1

Chapter 1Ryan turned his collar up against the wind and paused to consider his progress. Lake Tahoe was a calm, blue jewel behind him, and the Lakeview Hotel loomed above with a dozen dark eyes. His lungs burned, unaccustomed to the thinner air and the excursion, and he switched his duffle bag from his left shoulder back to his right for the final dozen stairs. The smell of pine trees filled his head, and though he didn’t exactly enjoy climbing an infinite number of stairs with a heavy bag and an icy wind biting the back of his neck, he had to admit it was a beautiful location. Idyllic.

He heard people behind him but didn’t see anyone until he reached the top. A group of women formed a loose crowd around the door, talking and laughing, their voices carrying far in the thin air. They wore matching black and purple T-shirts, identifying them as members of the official Shadows and Souls fan club. He had one, too, though he was saving it for the panels on Saturday. He didn’t know any of them by sight, but they weren’t strangers. Not this weekend.

By the time he reached them, he was out of breath but beaming, and he put out his hand to the nearest woman with a boisterous, “Hello! My name is Ryan.”

She turned and looked at him with a pasted on smile, as fake as his was sincere. She barely touched his fingers before dropping her hand back to her side. He didn’t miss the way she wiped her fingers on her pant leg. Maybe his palm was a little clammy but was that really necessary?

“Susan.”

“Susan. Black-Eyed Sue, right?”

Her face softened, her smile turning into something genuine, if not exactly warm. “Right. And you must be…GhostMaster?”

“Got it in one.”

The other women crowded in closer, putting him at ease as they each took a turn shaking his hand. The youngest of the group, Pam (PamaRama) pulled him into an embrace that took him by surprise. She was slight, barely over five feet and probably no more than ninety pounds, and she made him feel like a giant bear in comparison.

“I’m glad you could make it. I want to hear all your theories about the second season.”

Ryan smiled. “I have a lot of theories.”

“They have a bar here.”

“She’s already scoped it out,” Sue said dryly.

“It’s the most important part of any convention,” Pam insisted. “In fact, it’s getting chilly out here and there’s some Bombay Sapphire calling my name.”

“It’s early for me,” Millie protested.

Pam hooked her arm through Millie’s. “You can still keep me company. It was great meeting you all. Ryan, once you get settled in your room, come and find us.”

“Will do.”

Sue held open the hotel door and gestured for Ryan to step inside. “The registration table is just through those doors, in the lobby. They’ve got a goodie bag and they’ll point you to your room.”

“Thanks.”

“Find me at the cocktail party,” she said before turning toward the twin elevators on the other side of the lobby. Ryan stopped short, mouth falling open.

The Lakeview Hotel had begun its life as Lakeview Manor, built by a Hollywood mogul in the 1930s. While most of the country struggled to scrape out a meager existence, Charles Tompkins had hosted the Hollywood elite, the Jet Set, the movers and shakers of the Golden Age. During the sixties, though, it had fallen into a state of disrepair and wasn’t converted into a hotel until the early eighties. On the California side of the border, its lobby was free of the smell of cigarettes and the sounds of slot machines.

On the outside, the hotel was impressive, but the lobby overwhelmed him. Gold leaf stretched as far as the eye could see, reflecting the light from ornate crystal chandeliers, and in the corner was an ebony baby grand piano. Blue and gold oriental rugs covered the polished marble floor, gold veins sliding through the black stone like baby snakes. The black wingback leather chairs looked like the most comfortable chairs in the world, plush and sturdy, and he wanted to sink into one. It was, by far, the nicest hotel Ryan had ever stayed.

“Welcome to ShadowCon 2014!” The volunteer was a young lady with a bright smile and even brighter red hair. Her name badge simply said Cat. He answered her greeting with a smile. He knew the name, though he didn’t interact with her much on the fan forums. “What’s your name?”

“Ryan Jackson.” He showed his ID and accepted his goodie bag and name badge.

“Our first event will be the cocktail mixer tonight at seven. After ten, it’ll be twenty-one and over only, due to the open bar.” She leaned forward and lowered her voice. “And don’t tell anybody, but there’s going to be a special guest.”

Ryan’s eyes widened. “Is he going to be there?”

Cat mimed zipping her lips closed. “I can’t say.” She opened her binder to another page and pulled out a color-coded map. “You’ll still need to check in for your room, but I have a master list here, so I can give you an idea of how to navigate this place.”

“How hard can it be?”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s built like a maze. I swear, it was designed by somebody who wanted people to get lost.” She frowned at the sheet. “Jackson, right?”

“Yes.”

She ran one manicured nail down the sheet. “I don’t see your name here. Perhaps it’s under your roommate’s name?”

“I’m not sharing a room.”

Her frown deepened, and she flipped to the second page, then back to the first page. “You better go talk to the front desk.”

“Did they lose my reservation?”

“I don’t know. Maybe our list is incomplete? Did you just book your room?”

“No.” He wasn’t about to tell her that he booked it four months ago, when the convention was first announced. He didn’t attend fan conventions often, but as soon as the guest list for ShadowCon 2014 was announced, he transferred the money from his savings account, bought his ticket, and made his reservations. “I’m sure it’s just a typo or something, though. I’ll go get it straightened out.”

Her smile returned. “I’ll be here until six, so let me know if you need anything. And if they did mess up your room, let me know. I’m sure we’ll find room for you. We’ll have a better idea tonight after the party.”

Ryan smiled, surprised and more than a little touched by the offer. “Thank you, Cat. I’ll let you know.”

His shoes squeaked with each step, echoing off the bare walls. He passed a mirror on his way to the front desk, grimacing as he caught his reflection. He looked like a tomato with his bright red face and his even brighter hair, sticking up in all directions. He’d heard once that gingers only came in two varieties—smoking hot or ugly as hell. He wished he could say he belonged in the first category, but he had no real reason to believe that was the case. He quickened his step, making a mental note of the location of the bar and the ballroom as he passed the doors.

The man behind the counter didn’t look up from his tablet as Ryan approached. And he didn’t even seem particularly interested when Ryan announced himself. “Hello. I have a room under the name of Jackson.”

“First name?”

“Ryan.”

He didn’t look much over the age of eighteen or nineteen. Definitely not the kind of person Ryan would expect in an establishment like this. He was probably the manager’s son or the owner’s nephew or something like that. He was cute, though. Cute enough that he could get away with a bad attitude. He barely glanced at the computer before shaking his head. “No, I don’t see you.”

“Okay, well,” Ryan leaned forward, “I do have a reservation. Can’t you search in another system or something?”

The young man—Paul, according to his nametag—sighed and typed something on the keyboard. He made a show of hitting enter several times and then turned the monitor so the screen faced Ryan.

“You’re not here.”

Ryan pulled his travel folder from his bag and plucked free the print-out of his confirmation. He presented it to Paul with a small smile. “As you can see, I’ve had my reservation for quite some time.”

“And as you can see, your name isn’t here.”

Ryan stared at him for a beat, waiting for an apology, or a solution, or anything other than the blank stare that accompanied the announcement.

“Can I talk to your manager, please?”

“Sure, I guess.” Paul picked up the phone and pressed a button. Ryan heard the beep-beep-beep through the receiver and the echoing ring-ring-ring in the adjacent office. The doorway of which was only about three feet away. When the manager answered, his gruff what echoed from the speaker.

“There’s been a mistake with a reservation.”

“Handle it.”

“He wants to speak with you.”

“Fine. I’ll be right there.”

Ryan bit the inside of his cheek and tapped his fingers against the marble while he waited for the disgruntled manager to make his appearance. When he finally emerged from his little office, Ryan summoned his smile again, determined to be as pleasant as possible.

“What can I help you with?” He absently rubbed his bald head while he spoke, two heavy gold rings reflecting in the light. They were too big for the man’s pudgy fingers.

“I think my reservation was lost.” Ryan tapped his print-out. “As you can see, I made this reservation months ago.”

The manager fumbled his glasses out of his vest pocket and peered at the paper for a good minute, maybe two. “And you’re not in the computer?”

“I didn’t see his name,” Paul drawled.

The manager removed his glasses and slid the paper back across the counter. “I’m sorry, but we’re all booked up. There’s a convention this weekend, you know.”

Ryan took a deep breath. “Yes, I know. That’s why I made it a point to book my room in advance.”

“Sir, there’s no need to take that kind of tone.”

“I’m not—” He exhaled, realized his smile was gone, and dug deep to retrieve it again. “I’m sure we can find a way to solve this issue.”

“The casinos always have rooms available. Perhaps you can give one of them a call?”

“You know, if I were here for the hiking or the water skiing, that would be a good suggestion. But I’m here for the convention, and so I’d like to actually remain on the premises. I’m sure you can understand.”

“Sir, I do understand. But we simply do not have another room. We’re completely booked.”

“So you’re telling me there’s nothing you can do even though I paid a nonrefundable deposit on the room? Are you at least going to r****d me that money?”

“If we have no record of the deposit, we can’t r****d it.”

“What do you mean, no record of the deposit?”

“You’re not in the system, sir. Not your reservation and not your deposit.”

“I can provide proof that you took money from my account for the deposit!”

Another shrug.

“Can you take my phone number in case there are any last minute cancellations?”

“Of course.” He wrote down Ryan’s number with big, sloppy handwriting, folded the paper, and tucked it into the same pocket with his glasses. “If we have any availability, you’ll be the first to know.”

“Yeah, thanks.”

He turned from the desk and saw Cat was busy with an onslaught of new arrivals. She handed out their bags and badges with the same smile she gave him. He wasn’t surprised they were all women. The weekend’s guest of honor was far more popular with the female viewing audience. It was almost a shame Ryan wasn’t interested in ladies. He was here for the same reason they were. A chance to meet the star up close and personal. Maybe shake his hand. Maybe get a hug and a smile or two.

With nothing else to do and exhaustion weighing on his legs and shoulders, he trundled to the nearest wingback chair and collapsed against the cool leather, his duffle bag resting between his feet. From where he sat, he could see the lake through the huge front window, looking as placid and blue as ever. He liked it. Maybe spending the weekend at one of the casinos wouldn’t be too bad if he could get close to the lake. Exploring could be fun. But not as much fun as meeting Johnny Marlowe. He would camp out in the lobby if he had to, but he was absolutely not going to leave this hotel.