Leila smiled at Rodrigo and his siblings as she rolled down the car window. “Hi, guys. Been a while. So that was you trying to steal my ride, Ruy. Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I, uh...sorry.”

“Where are you headed?”

“Same place as you.” Then realizing how creepy that sounded without context, Rodrigo hastily clarified, “The driver told me you were going to the Bloodstone, too.”

“Yeah, I’m visiting my bestie, who’s back in town for the holidays.”

“We going somewhere here, lady?” the driver asked.

“Sorry. They’re coming, too,” Leila said, pushing open the door and scooting over in the backseat. Raquel and Carlito got in the back with her, while Rodrigo put the bags in the trunk. Then, grateful for the space to get his thoughts together, he sat up front, and the driver took off.

“How’s Hannah?” Raquel asked. For the first few years of elementary school, Leila’s younger sister had been Raquel’s closest friend, regularly coming over to the house, sometimes even to sleep over. It was through their friendship Rodrigo got to know Leila, who he’d been in the same class as, but never had much cause to interact with. Jett and the other boys in Rodrigo’s clique were going through their “girls are icky” phase, and had no trouble expressing how weird they thought he was for hanging out with one.

As Leila still hadn’t answered, Raquel said, “We haven’t talked since graduation. I feel kinda bad about it, but I don’t have her number or anything.”

Finally, Leila said, “She’s okay.” It sounded like they weren’t on the best of terms. Maybe Hannah had turned on her with age, like Raquel had on Rodrigo.

During the fifteen-minute drive, Raquel and Carlito became reacquainted with Leila, while Rodrigo kept to himself. He wasn’t sure what he expected from a place called the Bloodstone, but he was torn between a run-down motel whose sinister name had scared off numerous potential customers, and a Neo-Gothic structure easily mistaken for a church.

Instead, the car pulled up in front of a comparatively normal near-skyscraper on 7th Avenue, a stone’s throw away from Central Park. The dark green building was almost onyx in the night, accented by red-tinted windows. Softening its striking appearance, strands of multicolored Christmas lights hung elegantly from the hotel’s awning and twinkling wreaths flanked the etched glass doors.

“Here we are,” the driver said.

“Thanks,” Rodrigo said, handing the man a twenty-dollar bill before Leila could. After he got the bags out of the trunk, the car drove off.

As they went inside and saw a large, mermaid-themed fountain in the center of the lobby, it dawned on Rodrigo that these were lodgings for the wealthy. The hotel was bustling, the clientele mainly young and middle-aged adults in formal wear, some having brought their kids along. Vibrant potted plants the size of small trees surrounded them. A grand, polished marble double staircase led farther up. In between where the stairs split, stood an illuminated Christmas tree that nearly reached the ceiling, decked out with shiny red and gold ornaments.

Rodrigo was surprised Leila looked as amazed as they were. “First time here?”

“Yeah. It’s wild how the other half lives,” Leila said, wearing her envy on her sleeve.

“But aren’t you chummy with the ‘other half?’” Raquel asked. “I mean, unlike us, your friend’s paying to stay here, right?”

Leila tilted her head to the side, considering. “Huh. Y’know, you’re right. Bianca’s been starting weird fashion trends since we were in middle school, but it’s only started making her money as an influencer recently. Now, she goes on all-expenses-paid trips around the world for photo shoots.”

Raquel leaned closer, her dark eyes sparkling in the light from the crystal chandeliers overhead. “Seriously? How do I get in on that?”

“All right, guys, say bye for now, and wait for me over there,” Rodrigo told Raquel and Carlito, pointing to the closest leather couch. When they were out of earshot, he said, “Nice seeing you again, but I’ve got to go sign in.”

“Oh, so it’s like that?” Leila asked.

“Like what?”

“You were just being polite in front of the kids. You’re still mad.”

“I’m not mad. You just can’t drop out of somebody’s life and expect to pick up like nothing happened. It’s not that easy.” Rodrigo hated how snippy he was coming off, but he couldn’t help it. He hadn’t seen Leila since shortly after he turned eleven, when she, and every other kid who wasn’t his relative, had cut him off like a gangrenous limb. And now here she was, all grown up and gorgeous, acting like they were still friends.

“Uh-huh, you’re not mad at all.” Leila snickered in that familiarly disarming way of hers, making his agitation seem silly. Remembering the reedy girl, her small face often lost in a mass of curls, and not the young woman in front of him, Rodrigo noticed their years apart had made him taller than her, if only slightly. “I like the hair, by the way. The streaks are just dark enough not to look tacky. It suits you.”

“Thanks,” Rodrigo said, though Resent probably got more satisfaction from the comment than he did. Still, he nearly returned the compliment by mentioning how well she filled out her silver sequin top, before coming to his senses and discarding the thought.

Then Leila gave him a nervous look and asked, “Did you ever see them after the...fight?”

The mention of it was enough to re-sour Rodrigo’s mood. From what he could remember, back when he was in fifth grade, two of his bigger classmates had been bullying Raquel, a second grader at the time, for her tomboy attitude. She had been crying at home for over a week, but because it was near the end of the school year, was apparently trying to tough it out. It was Hannah who filled Rodrigo in on what was going on. He had planned to hash it out with the boys. But when he saw them swagger into the lunchroom, within minutes, he went from playing UNO cards with his friends to being covered in chocolate milk and blood, handcuffed to a chair in the principal’s office. The only reason Rodrigo comprehended he had been in a fight was because they had suspended him for the duration of the year over it.

But he wasn’t about to admit to Leila he had no memory of it. “The school sent my diploma in the mail. Never saw them again. You?”

She shook her head, her small gold hoop earrings swaying slightly. “No. They didn’t show up for graduation, either.”

Rodrigo didn’t like reflecting on the incident. Nine times out of ten, when someone won a fight in school, it only bolstered their cred. One of many similarities it shared with prison. But according to Jett and the few spectators still comfortable speaking with him after, what Rodrigo had been involved in was less of a fight, and more of a savage beatdown. A beatdown, his biggest regret about wasn’t that it had happened, but that he couldn’t recall inflicting it.

“Listen, I should go meet up with Bianca. I’d give you my number so we could stay in touch, but you don’t seem to want to.” Leila headed toward the elevators, stopping briefly to stare back at him as if she expected him to chase after her.

When she was gone, Rodrigo approached the granite-topped front desk decorated with white tulips on either end. Behind it, a balding middle-aged man with a thin mustache was talking on the phone, growing more annoyed by the second.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

“For the last time, ma’am, what you were quoted was the reduced nightly rate, not the weekly rate. I’m sorry about the confusion. Best of luck finding somewhere else to stay.” After hanging up the phone, the receptionist sighed deeply, then looked Rodrigo up and down. A smug smile crossed his face. “Good evening. Can I help you?”

“Hey, I have a reservation, I think.”

“You think?”

“Well, my friend told me she’d take care of—”

“Sorry, but are you waiting for a parent? We don’t allow unaccompanied minors here.”

Rodrigo took a breath. He was already frustrated enough with how things had gone with Leila. He needed condescension right now like a hole in the head. “No. Look, like I was saying, this girl Adena should have called.”

The man’s smirk flattened into a look of contained fear as he straightened his posture. “Oh, good lord. Forgive my unprofessional conduct, sir. Miss Eckhart mentioned two children accompanying you.”

Rodrigo pointed over his shoulder at them on the couch. “Wait. Miss Eckhart? Is Adena on the board here or something?”

“You could say that. She’s the hotelier. Her father, Lucas Eckhart, purchased it nearly two decades ago,” the receptionist explained, and Rodrigo was glad the man glanced down at his computer screen so he didn’t see his mouth hanging open stupidly. “Ryan Alexander staying until January 1st, correct?”

“Yeah. Do you need me to sign something?”

“Unnecessary,” the receptionist said, handing him a key card. He rang a small silver bell, signaling the bellhop. The slim older man who answered the call was wearing a green-and-red uniform that matched the building’s exterior. “Jonathan, show our special guests to their suite.”

Raquel and Carlito came over, and they all followed Jonathan as he carried their bags into the elevator. They stopped on the sixth floor and Jonathan led them to a mahogany door numbered 612. Holding it open for them, he said, “Please, come in.”

Rodrigo was ecstatic to see it was fancier than anything he had imagined. The furniture, cushy carpet, and impressive abstract paintings all along the ivory walls made the main room pop. The television was the biggest he’d ever seen outside of a store and boasted 4K Ultra HD. There was a glossy Ferrari red grand piano in the corner which he didn’t know how to play and had no intention of touching, but added to the room’s sophisticated air. From what he could see of the bathroom, it was gigantic and mostly made of marble.

“Whoa,” Raquel said, walking off to explore.

Jonathan placed Rodrigo’s bags on the floor. “There are several excellent restaurants downstairs. If you need anything, give room service a call at no expense. The number to contact them is on the night table in each bedroom. I hope you have a pleasant stay.”

Rodrigo stretched out a ten as a tip.

Jonathan gently shook his head. “Thank you, sir, but your money is no good here.” He left the room, closing the door behind him.

“I am thoroughly enjoying the unease and respect we suddenly command,” Resent said. “Are all Adena’s slaves on loan to us?”

“Uh, no. I can imagine the slave trade is thriving in Hell, but fortunately, you’re nearly two centuries too late in these parts. These people choose to work here and probably get paid well for it.”

“The beds are huge!” Raquel yelled from one of the bedrooms.

Following her voice, Rodrigo found Raquel and Carlito with their shoes off, jumping on a king-size-bed and giggling like they were far younger than they were. Seeing them enjoy themselves so much, knowing nothing but trouble was on the horizon, a wistful smile tugged at his lips. He’d let them savor the rest of today and leave breaking the cruel realities for tomorrow. After they had tuckered themselves out, he asked, “So whose room is this going to be?”

“Dibs on the bed we didn’t just jump all over,” Raquel said.

“Bro, come check out the fridge!” Carlito yelled, having already run off to another room. Rodrigo joined him in examining the minibar packed to the brim with non-alcoholic beverages and snacks.

“Enough procrastinating. It’s time we trained.”

Rodrigo wasn’t about to argue. Resent had been amazingly patient today, and after facing his first real demon, he knew training was essential. “Guys, I’ve got some exercise to do. I’ll be back in a couple of hours. Watch a movie or something. Just don’t leave the room or open the door for anyone.” When they agreed, he left.

He considered contacting Adena about a training spot, but she’d already done more than enough for him for one day. If the roof was off limits to the public, it would be perfect. The hotel was the tallest building in the area, so no one in the surrounding buildings should see anything. Even if someone did, with his nebulae being pitch black, they’d probably think he was doing Tai Chi. Rodrigo rode the elevator to the top floor and searched the corridor.

“How about that decrepit one, over there?” Resent asked.

An elderly janitor was coming out of a doorway that had a staircase beyond it. The man locked the door with a normal key and ambled to the elevator. Rodrigo waited until the man was out of sight before walking over to the door. He glanced around the empty corridor for security cameras and when he found none, thought about forcing it open.

Resent took control. He pressed the tip of his index finger to the keyhole, then turned it. When he pulled his finger away, Rodrigo glimpsed the bit of a key on it made from the nebulae before it dissipated. That they could be used as a skeleton key was something to keep in mind. He gave Rodrigo back control. “Feeble-minded fool.”

The roof was spacious, and it wasn’t too windy out. Rodrigo didn’t foresee any problems, so long as he kept an ear out for passing helicopters. He put his coat and scarf aside, then started off by working on how high he could propel himself upward.

After about an hour, Rodrigo slammed the nebulae downward and rose into the sky higher than he ever had. At about twenty feet in the air, he dared throw in a flip. When he was five feet from hitting the ground, he broke his fall by using the nebulae like a parachute.

“Congratulations. You can finally jump higher than most demons can while on the verge of death.”

“Come on, give me some credit. That time was practically perfect.”

“And if you can execute it that way under duress, it’ll be useful for evasion and maneuvering. You’re still sorely lacking in offense.”

“I’m working on something,” Rodrigo said, creating a small sphere in his left hand with the nebulae. Maybe because he hadn’t been fighting or training since yesterday, he formed it with a surprising amount of ease. Forming the spikes on it while it was in motion was the tricky part. And yet, the creature revealed a greater flaw in the technique. He needed to make more spikes emerge than an enemy had limbs to counter with, but he struggled to make two.

After another hour passed with middling progress, Rodrigo sat down for a break. “I should check on them.”

“They are in a locked room full of sustenance and have a picture box to entertain themselves. They’ll be fine.”

“I know, but they might...” Rodrigo’s thoughts froze and Resent went silent as well.

Floating a few meters away on small leathery wings was a gray creature, maybe two-feet tall, with a pair of horns, pointed ears, and a barbed tail about the same length as it was. It had on what looked like a red toga that only covered the left side of its chest. The creature waited there, relaxed, fixing Rodrigo with a gaze from its entirely black eyes.

“It’s an imp. This might be an excellent opportunity to practice,” Resent said.

“But it’s not attacking.” It was flying around in a circle. “Hey, what are you doing?”

Rodrigo wasn’t expecting an answer, so he recoiled when the imp stopped circling and responded in a guttural foreign language.

“It says they are not here for you. It can sense my presence inside you.”

“It can sense you? How does that...wait, ‘they?’”

That’s when they started reaching the top of the building, one after another. They varied in height from nearly one foot to three. Eye color, skin tone, number of horns, and the clothing they wore all differed. Judging by their small breasts, a good portion of them were even female. Altogether, there had to be twenty of the imps, bickering in their demonic tongue.

“Inside, now!” Resent yelled. Rodrigo scooped up his clothes as he bolted for the door. The imps didn’t pursue. He thrust his arms into the sleeves of his coat and hurried to the elevator, mashing the button again and again. It didn’t work. When he heard a wave of screams from below, he decided to take the stairs.

“Dammit! Why are they here?” Rodrigo asked.

“Don’t you understand yet? This is it. The invasion has begun.”