Chapter Text
“You send me to the nicest places, Frau von Karma,” Klavier remarked blandly as he stepped away from the curb, his cab speeding away behind him. “Truly, I can see why your contact chose this hotel.”
“It’s discrete,” she snapped over the phone. “Mr. Stu Lee should be waiting for you in the dining room, unless he’s done something foolish.”
“Ja, I remember,” he replied. He picked up his suitcase as he talked and began to walk toward the overly ornate hotel’s front door.
There was a rustling on the other end of the line, followed by the sound of computer keys tapping. “Unfortunately I may be slightly delayed in joining you. My flight has been canceled due to an approaching weather front, and the trip would take too long by car. I assume you can hold down the fort until I arrive?”
Klavier smiled, though he knew she couldn’t see it. “I once performed seven encores for a sold-out audience at the Triton stadium, all while prosecuting against Herr Justice. I think I can handle a few days babysitting your whistleblower, Frau von Karma.”
“A case which you foolishly lost.”
He couldn’t quite hold back a laugh at the frustration in her voice. “What does that matter in the end? All we can do is pursue justice. If the defendant is truly innocent, then a not-guilty verdict means justice is served.”
“My father would have hated you.”
“And my brother would have loved you.”
Von Karma snorted, and he could imagine the disgust written all over her face at his statement. He’d often wondered what she would have been like in court against Kristoph; whether her tenacity and devious tactics would have held up against his brother’s underhanded methods.
But they would never know. Franziska von Karma had left the courts years ago to work with Interpol...and Kristoph Gavin would be behind bars for the rest of his life.
“Was there anything else?”
“Yes. When I last contacted him, Mr. Stu Lee thought he was being followed. I’ve booked you both into the same room so you can keep a close eye on him until I get there.”
“Let’s hope Herr Lee doesn’t snore,” Klavier replied. “Until we speak again, Frau von Karma.”
“Gavin.”
His phone went silent, and he stuffed it into his pocket as he reached the hotel’s door. Snow was starting to fall, dusting the shoulders of his coat and the top of his hat. Klavier pushed the door open, pausing inside to brush himself off.
The inside of the building was as spectacular as the outside. Klavier raised his eyebrows as he studied the Gothic interior of the lobby—from the heavy furniture and arched windows, to the somber photos in intricate frames, to the “decorative” water stains in the corners and along the ceiling (though he suspected those were more subpar maintenance than a design choice). The outside had been just as picturesque, though this part of the world seemed like an odd place for a Gothic-themed hotel.
“Welcome to the Raven’s Nest!” The woman at the registration counter caught his attention, her enthusiasm seemingly at odds with her ominous surroundings. “I’m Ellen Poe, one of the proprietors. Do you have a reservation?”
“It should be under Von Karma,” Klavier replied, carrying his suitcase over to the desk. She was dressed to suit her surroundings, in a dark ruffled maid dress that reached mid-calf and a long white apron. “One of the proprietors?” he asked, leaning on the counter as she tapped at the keys of her computer.
“Along with my brother, Edgar. We took over after our father died and made it our own.”
“I see.” He took another glance around the room as Ellen continued to search through the computer. “So it wasn’t always this...expressive?”
“Oh, no. This was all my dream. I’m the artistic one in the family; my brother handles the business.”
“I see.” He waited for a few more seconds, fighting the urge to lean over the counter to see for himself what was taking so long. “I’m actually meeting a friend here. Maybe he’s already checked in?”
“Ah! Right, right, of course. He said you were coming. Let’s see...he’s in room twelve, on the first floor. There should be another key...here it is!” Ellen handed over an ornate black key, and Klavier glanced at the delicate 12 written on the tag before he put it in his pocket. “Well, enjoy your stay at the Raven’s Nest!”
“Danke, Frau Poe.” Klavier smiled at her, giving her a wink that sent the color rising in her cheeks. He picked up his suitcase and turned toward the stairs, glancing at the ornate finial at the bottom of the railing as he passed. It was taller than he was, the point nearly reaching the railing of the first floor. Now that he was closer, he could see that it was hexagonal instead of round, narrowing to a fine point at the top. Pretty enough, but it was merely painted wood, and it wouldn’t take much to break it.
“Room twelve,” he murmured to himself. From what he could tell from the outside, the hotel had three floors. The ground floor at the bottom, then the first and second floor for guest rooms. He found room twelve easily enough, and a quick twist of the key was enough to unlock it.
The room inside was dark, and he slipped inside and let the door close behind him. Better to leave his suitcase here and check the room for anything out of the ordinary before he met with Stu Lee in the dining room.
Well. Anything out of the ordinary that wasn’t Neo-Gothic.
As he reached for the light switch, a flurry of movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention. He stumbled back toward the door, bringing an arm up to protect himself. A heavy club struck his arm with bruising force, and he reached out to try to grab it and wrest it away from his attacker.
His fingers brushed against something metallic, but he was forced to duck away again when his attacker swung it at his face. Klavier managed to twist past him to retreat deeper into the room, hitting the light switch on the way.
The room remained dark. The lamps could have been unplugged or broken...but it was still daylight outside, so if he could get to the window and open the heavy curtains he’d have some light. His attacker advanced toward him again, yelling and swinging wildly.
His self-defense instructor had always said an amateur could be as dangerous as an expert, and Klavier could fully appreciate that now. Whoever was attacking him had no form, and their wild swings were just as likely to take out the decor on the walls as hit Klavier himself. He fended off a few other blows, his shoulders and arms taking the brunt of it, but a low jab caught him in his side and sent him stumbling back a few steps.
Klavier ground out a curse and lunged forward. He deflected another blow aimed at his head, finally getting his hands wrapped around his attacker’s wrist. The other man yanked on his clothes, then caught his hair and pulled hard enough to bring tears to Klavier’s eyes.
They staggered back toward the door. The other man was smaller than Klavier, but fighting as though his life depended on it. Klavier had managed to knock the club away, but now the man was hitting and scratching him, and if he managed to grab both the man’s hands then he had to dodge his knees.
His attacker suddenly shoved him forward, and Klavier released him with a grunt of pain as his lower back crashed against the hard edge of a piece of furniture. Footsteps ran for the door, and he forced himself to lunge forward again, catching the other man around the knees as he tugged the door open.
They tumbled into the hall, Klavier fighting to gain control as his opponent tried to push himself away. The man was fighting like his life was on the line, and he managed to hit Klavier a few more times while they wrestled for control.
Then someone else was there, pulling the man away to pin him to the ground. Klavier let himself go limp, closing his eyes and panting for breath. “Danke,” he said, a little breathlessly.
“Klavier?”
His eyes shot open again. He twisted his head, nearly frozen in disbelief, and found himself face-to-face with the last man on earth he expected to see here. “Herr Wright?”
“You okay?” Wright asked.
“I’m fine.” Klavier pushed himself up to his elbows, wincing a little. “He was waiting in my room,” he explained, “jumped me as soon as I entered.”
“Your room?” The man who attacked him blustered out a complaint. “That was my room, you assassin!”
Klavier stared at him, his features finally clear in the hall lights. “Stu Lee?”
“Wha—yes? How do you know me.”
The bruises on his body ached, and Klavier could only stare at the man for a long moment. “I’m Klavier Gavin. I’m here on behalf of Franziska von Karma.”
“Oh.” Lee blinked at him, nonplussed. “Why didn’t you say so earlier?”
…
It took time to get everything settled. To settle with the Poe siblings for the damage done to the room. To move into a new room—number nineteen, at the other end of the hall. To get Mr. Stu Lee to settle down for the night despite his protest of spies and assassins around every corner.
He didn’t even want to think about why Wright was here. Beyond the awkwardness of running into the man you’d once gotten disbarred...there was the question of why Wright would choose a place like the Raven’s Nest for a getaway.
Not that any of that was his business. Perhaps, like himself, Wright was here to meet an informant, or even a client. In that case, they would do best to ignore each other as much as possible.
He had other problems to deal with anyway.
“Herr Lee,” he began, but the other man cut him off.
“No! I said I would speak to Ms von Karma, and that’s final!
His head throbbed. This man had attacked him in the dark and beaten him up with an ornamental table lamp. Yet he was treating Klavier like the aggressor.
“I was merely going to suggest that you might want to get some sleep. We might have a long wait ahead of us, and the rest would do you good.”
“I’m not sleeping.” Lee was sitting up on the bed closest to the window, knees hugged tight to his chest. “What, you want me to sleep so you can get the drop on me?”
Klavier sighed. “I’m not going to attack you.”
Lee scoffed. “That’s what they all say.”
A headache was growing between Klavier’s eyes. “Do you mind if I sleep?” he asked tiredly. He’d had a long journey to get here, and then some idiot had clubbed him with a lamp over a case of mistaken identity.
“You’re supposed to protect me!”
The headache was even worse. Klavier raised his hands in defeat and scooted around on his bed until his back was against the headboard, mirroring Lee’s position. Maybe he could convince the man to sleep in the morning.
Fatigue started to creep over Klavier’s mind. Lee was silent, chewing on the ends of his fingers and darting glances around the room like he expected an assassin to jump out of the shadows at any moment. Klavier watched him out of the corner of his eye for a moment, then rested his head back against the wall to stare at the ceiling.
He didn’t even notice he’d fallen asleep until an ear-piercing scream jolted him awake.
Klavier stared around the room, senses still muddled in the confusion of sleep. He glanced over at the bed, only to see that Lee was missing, and shot up to his feet with a curse.
The door was closed, but the deadbolt was open. He ran into the hall, heading for the direction the scream had come from. He saw Wright standing at the top of the staircase and came to a stop beside him. “What’s….”
Klavier’s voice faded as he took in the scene in front of him.
The finial from the ground floor, rising nearly to the railing of the first floor, was slick with blood.
Resting near the bottom of the finial, impaled on the wooden point, was Stu Lee’s lifeless body.