Midnight At The Barclay Hotel Novels & Stories

“Camilla Devereaux. What have you done this time?” “Nothing… yet.” I smiled into the phone. “But I’ve got something that’ll make your inbox explode. Meet me in an hour. Skyline Bar. You’ll want to hear this in person.” She didn’t ask questions. Val never did. She thrived on the chaos and so did I. #### The bar was quiet, perched on the top floor of a boutique hotel downtown. Dim lighting, dark leather booths, and enough jazz humming through the speakers to feel expensive. The kind of place that says scandal with a splash of class.

“We do this together. One more sprint and we reach the hotel.” We ran again. My shoes hit the ground soft. The abandoned hotel appeared at the end of the street. Boards covered some windows. The door hung loose, Liam pushed it open. We slipped inside. Dust filled the air. Old furniture sat broken in the lobby. I closed the door behind us and leaned against it. “We made it,” I said with relief. “But for how long? The media storm, the men, Julian, everything is closing in.” Liam checked the windows. He pulled curtains tight. “For tonight we are safe,” he replied. “No one knows this place. Tomorrow we find a new plan. Right now we rest. You look tired, Maya. Come sit with me.”

She hugs me again, quick and fierce, then disappears into the night. I walk. The streets are quiet for Lower East Side, Friday, but early enough that the real crowds haven’t spilled out yet. My heels click against the pavement. The whiskey is humming in my veins, blurring edges, sharpening memories. I pass a hotel I’ve never noticed before. Glass doors. Warm light spilling onto the sidewalk. A small bar visible through the windows, low stools, amber bottles glowing behind polished wood. I go in. The place is half-empty. Jazz playing soft. I slide onto a stool at the far end of the bar. Order a double Macallan. Neat.

"Leave your hotel, turn right at the street corner. The hotel will be on your right. Enter, remove your coat, climb the stairs, turn right. The bar is along the passage a short way, on the left. Nine o'clock. I'll see you then, Mr Noone." The line clicked dead before I could say, "Who are you?"

He just nodded once, like he understood and looked back at the bar. We sat like that for a while. Just two strangers sharing companionship after hiding their secrets in a bottle of liquor. It was almost midnight now. The bar had gradually grown scanty as more people leaves. The bartender was arranging toward the close of work at the far end of the counter, stacking glasses and wiping surfaces. At some point, the stranger still sitting beside me, whose name I still didn’t know and hadn’t thought to ask, flagged the bartender down. “Do you have rooms available,” he asked. The bar actually has a small hotel above the bar, the kind that served the same clientele of people who needed somewhere to

Rainie happened to be staying in one such lodging and Zachary stood outside as he studied the store front above. Whipping out his phone, he googled it—there were empty rooms since it was offseason, and he booked one. Then, he loitered outside a little before heading inside, and a well-dressed middle-aged woman named Barbara came immediately to assist him. As Zachary showed his booking, Barbara smiled. "Welcome, Mr. Slate." Zachary nodded, and she registered him at the front desk and led him upstairs, "Please come with me. I'll take you to your room."

“Decent doesn’t build empires. I did what I had to do. Now security is going to walk you out. Don’t make a scene.” Security dragged me out like I was trash. I held back the tears in the elevator and the cab ride, but the second I stepped into the quiet luxury of the Meridian Hotel bar in downtown New York, they finally broke free. I ordered sparkling water and slumped into a corner booth, trying to disappear into the soft lighting and piano music. My hands wouldn’t stop shaking. “Rough night?” The deep, strong voice pulled me from my fog. I looked up and nearly dropped my glass.

He looked at me and said, "I've called the cops. I guess they'll be here in half an hour. I'll protect you in the meantime. "The second ward has reinforced doors and windows installed due to an incident, so the killer can't barge in that easily. There's a small bedroom with a partition inside. Go and get some sleep. I'll keep watch outside." I nodded and took up on his offer. I was exhausted after the entire ordeal. I lay in bed, feeling well assured. Just when I was about to fall asleep, I noticed a gold bookmark poking out from the drawers of the nightstand. I hesitated a moment before pulling the drawer out. The small drawer was filled with assorted love letters.

She glanced at her two fake friends, “I really don’t want the night to end. Let’s go to the club!” ***** The music was so loud that you could feel it right in your chest, and the lights were dim and sensual and pulsating, promising to shield daring people from the judging eyes of others, and Barbara, clad in her sexy red dress, felt like, for once, she just might be one of those people tonight. The girls headed over to the bar of the exclusive Timeless Club, where Barbie ordered drinks for the three of them… shots. She drank hers neat, letting out a loud howl from the spirity rush she felt, and the sound sent Andrea and Belize into a fit of excited chuckles.

“Midnight’s Mark hasn’t appeared in over a hundred years.” “I didn’t do anything,” I blurted out. “I didn’t ask for this. I just went to the ceremony and then” I touched my neck. “This happened.” “I know,” he said kindly. “And I know my Beta’s reaction was painful.” I laughed bitterly. “That’s one way to describe it. He made it clear I disgust him.” “Darius is… complicated,” Marcus said carefully. “May I tell you something you might not know?” I nodded.