The Innkeeper Novels & Stories

“Yeah, I’ll let them know we will be here until the stolen property is returned and to set up camp for the Berserkers.” “You and your team are more than welcome in our guest house.” “We are comfortable in our current accommodations. Thank you for the offer, though.” I left the room, and he followed, grabbing my good hand. I turned to face him, “Yes.” “Would you have dinner with me?” “Like a date?” I asked, confused. “Yes.” “It is not allowed. You are our client.” I stated and added, “Don’t werewolves have mates?” “They do, but some choose their own. I like you a lot, Nerine. You could do a lot of good here.”

Kharef's lips curved ever so slightly at that. The nearest inn stood beside the city's central square and unlike the grand guest houses of Memphis, it was simple but welcoming. Warm light spilled through the wooden windows and the smell of roasted lamb and fresh bread drifted into the street. A cheerful middle-aged innkeeper greeted them the moment they stepped inside. "Welcome!" His eyes immediately fell upon Maritza. "My, your wife doesn't look well." Maritza almost corrected him but Kharef answered first. "She's recovering."

In my spare time, I signed up for a blog under a fake name and wrote random musings no one would ever read. Having all these was enough for me. … Graduation season arrived as scheduled. While everyone else had family to help them move out, I hauled my peeling suitcase and headed straight for the neighborhood slums. The little money I had was only enough for a dark, dank basement. The landlady, Isabella Donati, looked like a sharp-tongued old crone. To save 50 dollars on rent, I took over the snow shoveling and trash removal for the entire run-down apartment building.

"Why would a respected professor assault someone like that? What, is she blind to her own condition?" "A compulsive gambler isn't a good person. The police should really investigate her." "This housekeeper is terrifying. No one will dare hire her again." "So this whole performance was just to scam money to pay off loan sharks?" Just as netizens were verbally tearing into the mother and daughter, the paternity test results came out. A staff member named Evan Brooks walked into the hall, holding the report. When he looked up and saw the nude photos, he awkwardly lowered his head.

“Besides, if we were to look it the other way round, we are the most dangerous ones in this village.” A few of the villagers whispered when they saw us. They probably noticed our weapons. Maybe they even recognized our symbols. Well it didn’t matter. We weren’t here to make friends anyway. The innkeeper, a small man with a big belly and a bigger mustache, led us inside and handed us the room keys. The rooms were upstairs, tight, musty, and cold, but they had beds, and that was good enough. After all, it was only for the night.

“Hi there. Do you want a room?” The innkeeper, a stout woman with kind eyes, asked warmly, breaking him out of his momentary daze. “Yes. How much is it?” After he paid the money, she showed him to a small room on the upper floor. It wasn’t much but it was enough. “I can make you some tea now if you want. There's no dinner but tomorrow, be sure to come down for breakfast, it comes with the room.” “Don't worry about the tea, I'm fine,” He said, declining her offer as he didn't want to be disturbed again once he was inside the room.

Bruce had joined them on the porch. “What if they don’t wake up?” Trevor asked and hiccupped. Damn, I hate getting the hiccups. “Someone is coming,” Selena said. “I see a dog slowly walking to the door. “Of course,” Bruce remarked flatly as he rolled his eyes. They saw flashes of light come from what looked like downstairs. A woman emerged with a man following behind her. They were in their pajamas and carrying flashlights. The woman went to the front desk. The man came to the door. He unlocked what sounded like two deadbolts and opened the door. “Welcome,” the man greeted. “I’m Horace, one of the innkeepers. I take it you need a couple of rooms.”

When we enter, there are still people drinking in the common area. We locate the innkeeper. "Excuse me," I say. She's a broad woman, penciling something quickly in a book. I've heard of her before but I can't remember her name now. "We need two rooms for the night." She looks up at us. "Only one room left." She glances at Ambrose. "This ain't that kind of place, either." Ambrose opens his mouth but I speak before he can say anything. "Good, we aren't those type. We'll take what you have."

Before he could figure out whether he ought to pursue the issue to suss out if Ari had a problem with that, a car pulled into the drive. "Anybody you know?" Flynn asked. "Nope. Maybe it's one of the new reservations." "If it is, they're early." The sedan rolled to a stop in front of the steps and the driver, a middle-aged man with graying sideburns and a neat goatee, stepped out, followed by a woman Flynn assumed was his wife. "Good day to you," Flynn called. "Welcome to the Misfit Inn." "Oh honey, he's Irish!" the woman exclaimed.

I take her hand and lead her away from the driveway, away from the house with its warm yellow windows and its complicated ghosts. "Come on," I say. "Let's go somewhere that isn't here." We finally got to the inn, it is old and small run by a woman in her sixties named Patricia who clearly recognizes me and just as clearly decides not to make anything of it, which earns her my immediate respect. She shows us to a room on the second floor with slanted ceilings with a wide plank floors and a bed that looks like it's been there since the Revolutionary War. There's a fireplace. Patricia lights it without being asked.