Page 114 of Victorious

It took Mitch’s tired brain a moment to get that Bethany must be the name of the place they were in. “Just passing through,” he said.

The manager deflated. “Yeah, don’t blame you. Used to be a destination town, what with the giant mall that way, and the theme park over there, even some farmland tours. But the farmland got bought off, and the mall closed ten years back, and the theme park shuttered last year, and now it’s just the kind of place you pull off when your eyes get tired.”

Mitch bobbed his head in sympathy as the manager slid two key cards across the counter. “Twelve and thirteen. That’s on the second floor, so you have a better view.” His mouth quirked when he said it. A joke, considering the only things the place looked out onto was frozen fields, and concrete, and a pool.

“Pool’s closed for the season,” offered the manager. “I’m legally obliged to tell you that. But help yourself to some refreshments,” he added, pointing limply at a table in the corner. On it sat a coffee pot, a stack of paper cups, and a single very ripe banana. “It’s complimentary,” he added.

Mitch nodded, unenthused. “And Wi-Fi?”

The manager scratched his head. “The signal’s a little iffy in the rooms. But it works fine out here in the lobby.”

Calling it a lobby was generous, thought Mitch. As for the Wi-Fi, not ideal, but it was only for the night. He paid cash, and turned to go, but not before noticing the NO DOGS sign beside the door, along with a trolley full of pamphlets, advertising Bethany’s many attractions. Clearly a relic from better days. Mitch plucked one from the cart.

As he trudged back out into the lot, his watch chimed its six-hour warning.

He dug the pills from his coat pocket, tapped one into his palm and swallowed dry. Then looked up and saw Syd watching from beside the truck. Studying him with those blue eyes. More and more, she reminded him Victor. Not her face, but the thing behind it. That silent intensity.

The first time she’d caught him taking one of the black pills, she’d frowned, and asked him what it was for.

And what could he say?

Oh, this? This is a shot in the dark. A Hail Mary I bought from an unreputable source on a corner of the dark web because the thought of leaving you out here on your own scares me more than the idea of coming back.

No, he couldn’t tell her that. Instead, he’d made the mistake of saying they were for “hypertension,” hoping that would put the matter to rest, but her face, already pale, had gone white, her eyes widening with worry. “Are you okay?”

It had taken weeks to convince the kid that he was fine, and even now, she eyed him the way she would a porcelain cup at the edge of a table, something poised to shatter if and when it fell.

As for the pills, he could just stop taking them. He’d thought about it. After all, he was almost positive they were a scam. A sugar pill, judging by the taste that lingered in his mouth. But every time the six-hour alarm went off, signaling it was time to take another dose, he found himself reaching for the pill bottle.

It had become a soothing habit.

Like rubbing a rosary. Or tossing salt. Or touching a scar.

Sydney’s gaze slid past him. “What’s that?” she asked, pointing at something in the dark.

When Mitch squinted, he could just make out the moonlight glinting off of a distant curve of metal. Little more than a shadow against the deeper dark.

“Old amusement park,” he said, handing her the pamphlet he’d swiped from beside the door.

“Creepy,” said Syd approvingly as she turned through the brochure. “Hey, there’s a place with all-you-can-eat pancakes. Think we can go tomorrow before we hit the road?”

“Sure,” said Mitch, hoping that hadn’t been shuttered, too.

Dol scratched at the back door, and Sydney tugged it open. As the dog leapt down out of the truck, Mitch cast a glance back over his shoulder at the motel lobby. “Do your best to keep the dog a secret.”

“That shouldn’t be hard,” she said, gesturing at the massive Great Dane, whose head came roughly to her shoulder. “He’s so inconspicuous.”

“Smart-ass,” said Mitch, holding up the keys. “All right, take your pick.”

For the first time, Syd’s expression brightened. “I get my own room?”

It was worth the flicker of anxiety he’d felt, just to see her smile.

Mitch took in the motel’s layout as they climbed the stairs up to the second floor. Ten feet off the ground, two sets of metal steps, one on either end, both leading down, one leading up as well, presumably to the roof.

Sydney had chosen number 12, which meant he got 13. Bad luck. The thought rose up automatically, but he brushed it aside. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe in bad luck—on the contrary, it had been plaguing Mitch his whole life—but at some point, he’d learned to live with it.

“If you need anything,” he said as Syd unlocked her door, “I’m just a room away, and you can always—”