Technomancer (Unspeakable Things: Book One)

person from another place that mixes with this place. She has stepped through from another of the spheres.”
    “Spheres? You mean planets?”
    “Not exactly. Imagine a dozen shapes all slowly spinning like soap bubbles. Imagine them touching one another, adhering to one another.”
    “Different worlds then?”
    “Ah—more like different
existences
. Occasionally, the rules in these places are different.”
    “The rules?” I asked. “You mean the rules that govern our physical world?”
    “Yes. In one, the sky may be metal. In another, time may run backward. That sort of thing is rare, however. I’ve never seen a place like that myself.”
    I stared at him in the dark room. “All right,” I said. “Then Ezzie is from one of these places, am I right?”
    “Yes.”
    “And where did the groom go, the man Jenna Townsend told me vanished from her hotel room. She said this hotel
ate
him.”
    The big Ukrainian slouched back into his chair. “She is probably right. I do not command my own hotel these days. Things come and go as they please.”
    I glanced toward Ezzie. “This is your power, isn’t it, Rostok? You can open up doors to other—existences.”
    “Yes,” he said. “But only to one place. I can do other things as well—but only here at the Lucky Seven.”
    I thought about that. He could summon monsters in this hotel. I had to wonder what he had summoned here to make himself rich and powerful. What horrible secrets these walls must hold.
    Rostok went on explaining the situation while I pondered the implications.
    “In a way, that is the power of all the objects, all the domains,” he said. “They each connect to other places where the rules are different. Your sunglasses, I believe, connect to a place where metals are soft like rubber. From them the rules of that place leak and change their surroundings.”
    “You said you’ve changed your mind about me. What else can you tell me?”
    “I’ve said too much to a person of your low status. You have no domain. You know almost nothing about us. You have no history with us, Draith.”
    “Then make me a player,” I said.
    “It is not so easy. I can’t simply declare such a thing. We are like a family of spiteful people. We fight amongst ourselves, but still we have a certain level of respect forone another. You are an outsider. A wandering rogue with a minor item—barely worthy of notice by the Community. But the killer must think you are a threat, because you have been close to many deaths.”
    “Can you give me another name, then, another suggestion?”
    Rostok muttered and shook himself. “No. But I will give you your freedom. Go.”
    “I’m cold and hungry,” said Ezzie.
    Rostok chuckled as I stood up to leave. “Stay away from my gambling machines, Draith. Or I will feed you to Ezzie. Your fat will warm her.”
    This last statement startled me. Could Ezzie be a larger version of the thing that had burned down my house? The thought was disturbing. I headed to the door and it slid open at my approach.
    I was sorely tempted, but I didn’t look back at the strange pair in the room. I was fairly certain I didn’t want to see what either one of them looked like. Not even in the half-light.

I couldn’t leave a lead dangling, not when Rostov had left me in the dark—literally—and Jenna Townsend was a big lead. Besides, she had my gun. I left the casino and walked into the hotel that bordered it. I walked to the front desk and requested a courtesy phone. Jenna answered quickly. “Robert?”
    “No, it’s Quentin,” I said. “What are you doing?”
    “Packing,” she said. Disappointment was evident in her voice.
    “Do you want me to come up there?”
    She hesitated. “You left a gun in that bucket, you know.”
    “Yeah, I know.”
    “When I found it I freaked out.”
    “Sorry,” I said. “I’ve got some information.”
    “About my husband?”
    “Maybe.”
    She hesitated again. I was very strange—as strangers went—and it was late at night.
    “Come up,” she said finally. “Room eighteen eleven.”
    I hung up and headed for the elevators. I felt a bit shitty, as I didn’t really have a lead on her lost groom. I had only a foggy idea of what might have happened to him—something like Ezzie. I consoled myself with the idea it was all for a good cause. People were dying and vanishing. Maybe I couldn’t get Jenna’s husband back, but her tragedy and my experiences were almost certainly related. If I could