Copper King Hotel was a small marvel of Darkess Noir. The simple planning of the property along with the majestic design of the building created a modern interpretation of ancient architecture. Gods would not protest to staying here, yet it was not in service to only a higher class of people. Any person could stay, and every kind did. The deprived were as welcomed among the halls as the rich. And the rich were not afraid to be among those they might consider homely. For some reason, somehow, this place called out to those that needed a room for a night, a week, or even a lifetime, to rest or to rediscover something once forgotten, lost in the recesses of the mind. At least, that was how many described this place to be. There never was public evidence of anything supernatural.
Parked in the lot was a car with the engine idling. Emily sat as the driver with Rachael sitting passenger while Marcy and Olivia were in the backseats. The heater filled the space with warmth and a hum.
“This is it,” Emily said with a certainty that would make true her words.
“This is it?” Rachael repeated with great doubt. “We’ll see.” Too much kept getting in the way to trust there would not be yet another obstacle.
“I believe it is,” Olivia added her own positivity, and pleaded, “So, bring Andy back.”
Rachael sighed away her pessimism, then raised her arm over her shoulder to reach slightly into the back and held out her upturned hand. Olivia hooked her fingers with Rachael’s and the two squeezed as a reassuring gesture.
“I will,” Rachael declared without any reservations this time.
“We’ll be waiting for you right here,” Marcy offered a final comfort and promise.
Rachael nodded with deep sadness. Afraid to let her feelings be recognized, worried that they might cause the others to try dissuading her from going, she stepped out of the car. None of them attempted to join her nor protested against her going alone because they knew she had to do this on her own. There was no turning back, and she began toward the building.
Inside the establishment was warm in many ways. For one, this place offered an escape from the night’s chill. As well, the atmosphere permeated with positivity. In the center was a small respite with black, leather couches and chairs surrounding a handcrafted coffee table which offered a comfortable place to wait. Blood red, ochre, and amber-colored squares of varying sizes patterned the carpeting. The walls were an off-white colored marble, the hue an almost orange peach. Hanging from the ceiling was a chandelier providing an orange illumination. The tones made the very air appear copper.
Rachael’s immediate action when she entered was to look and see who manned the front desk. To her relief and surprise, the concierge was as described, old and young, masculine and feminine, ugly and beautiful. How that translated into a person was uncanny. She stepped up to the desk, getting an even closer look only to be left further uncertain, and signed her name in the open ledger. Now all she had to and could do was wait which she did in the provided area.
No more than five minutes passed when the concierge looked at a clock hanging on the wall and then stepped out from behind the desk. Rachael was surprised but glad that he had done so so soon. She expected to be sitting for hours. Instead, she was already up and following behind.
Down one hall and then down another. Up a flight of stairs and up another. Rachael had stayed a short distance back the entire time and tried her best to be incognito because she did not know if she needed to be. She might as well, just in case. Though, a few passing guests noticed her skulking. Eventually, she and the man reached the fourth floor.
From room to room, those unoccupied were checked until the concierge soon found himself standing before ‘door’ 444. But it was not really a door. Many would most likely not see it as such, instead only consider it to be remarkable décor. Two large slabs of grey marble stood side by side. On the surface of one was the torso of an angelic figure emerging forth from within, arm rising upward. On the other was another angel appearing to be sinking in, arms at its sides, hands already submerged within the stone. The seam between the two pieces was what gave away that this was, in fact, an entrance to something far greater than a simple room. This was it.
Yet, the concierge did nothing. That was when he called in a soft speech, “Are you going to wait back there all night? Or do you not wish to enter?” Clearly, he had been aware of her the entire time.
That made Rachael feel a little foolish, but she shook the feeling and quickly approached. As she was making her way down the hall, the concierge slid a key into the lock and turned with a kerchunk that seemed to echo throughout the whole hotel. The door was unlocked, and one slab swung back on its own. On the other side was nothing but blackness so pure that it appeared to be oil.
Rachael stood before the hollow Gateway not knowing what was to come but completely ready. She took a step forward, but her foot never planted down. Instead, she instantaneously found herself at the end of a grand hall. Her first response was to look back for reassurance that that was where she had come from. What she found behind her was the Gateway that now encompassed the entirety of that side. Now having the answer, her focus returned forward to the rest of the hall, seeing six white doors on each side. No doubt one would lead to Andy. Yet, she understood that they had to wait. What came first was meeting the requirement.
Rachael began walking down the white marble that pathed the way to a massive arch and opened into a great whiteness. She looked up to the high ceiling as she made her stride. Overhead held beautiful depictions of fury. At the beginning of the hall, men fought and killed one another. By the end, all surrendered themselves to their angry Gods.
Beyond the archway was a vacuum of white that went on in every direction forever. There was not even ground, though, stepping found footing. All to be discovered within this null was the entrance, three tall windows placed opposite the entrance, as well as two velvet sofas placed between the apertures, and a table placed between the pieces of furniture.
There sat the Goddess on the seat furthest away. Her head slightly hung, and her shoulders were slumped. Eyes were shut and chest slowly rose and fell. She was very much asleep.
She was, or perhaps took the form of, a beautiful, older woman. There was rosiness to her cheeks, a paleness to the rest of her complexion, two defined lines on both sides of her face that gave maturity, and her pitch-black hair was short with thick locks. She dressed in a fine, fluffy gown that gave curves to her thin frame.
Rachael had approached and was standing beside the table, taking in the presence of the omnipotent being and feeling comfortable. This individual in no way seemed to be a God. There was no cruelty about her. And her greatness felt contained. Not a shred of fear was felt when declaring the words, “I beseech you to redeem me.”
The Goddess opened her eyes slowly as if waking from a pleasant dream. Then she turned her head slowly as curiosity crossed her expression. She asked, “Have we met?”
Rachael paused for a moment to think. She could not say for certain because she had interacted with many gods who had taken on many forms. So, she answered honestly, “Not that I know of.”
“We have,” the Goddess contradicted. “Many, many times. My apologies for not being certain it was you. I’m happy to meet like this again. Very few ever visit. But I’m glad to have your company every now and then. Oh.” She shook grogginess from her head. “Sorry. You were speaking. I didn’t quite catch what you just said before I went on. I’m still half asleep after all.”
“I …” Rachael wondered if she should change her answer but chose to remain honest, “don’t remember meeting you.”
“You never do,” the Goddess proclaimed. “But that doesn’t dishearten me in the least. You’re only mortal after all. I still always enjoy our time together, regardless. Please, take a seat,” a hand offered the opposite couch as the place to sit.
Rachael took cautious steps over to the couch and planted herself down on the smooth velvet. Now, face to face with the Goddess, she wondered what words would be exchanged and prepared to ask the first thing that came to mind, ‘how many times they had met.’
Having met so many times, the Goddess answered the question that must have been asked many times without the question needing to be asked anymore, “We have met an indefinite number of times. Certainly, our conversations tend to overlap. But there is always something new to discuss. It really depends on how I lead these conversations.”
“So, you know why I’m here?” Rachael assumed.
“To save your brother,” the Goddess was aware. “And knowing that, I also know these conversations can only last a few minutes at a time. You can’t wait around for too long to entertain me. And I’d never want to keep you from what’s important.”
“That means you know what the outcome will be,” Rachael pressed.
“Yes,” the Goddess admitted to an extent. “Well, within an approximation. There are always two outcomes. Though, I chose to forget which you are destined for this time. Holding that knowledge was too much of a burden even for one like me.”
“Two?” Rachael said under her breath. She only ever thought that there was one way this would end if she was able to get this far. But two meant success or failure.
“Are you alright?” the Goddess concerned.
Rachael nodded with determination. “Regardless, I’ll see this through.”
“There is always turning back,” the Goddess presented. “Take the key and simply go home to your world.”
“I would never do that,” Rachael remained steadfast. “And you must already be aware. That’s why you said there were only two options. Not three. Or four. You’ve seen me do this so many times and that never changed.”
“Then break the cycle,” the Goddess encouraged. “Be the first.”
“Never,” Rachael rejected. “Not when that would have me abandon my brother just to save myself.”
The Goddess smiled. “I do enjoy getting to see you. And it seems that won’t change anytime soon. You are far from any common mortal whose existence between realities and realms wavers so easily. All of you align so well that I wonder if there is a day you transcend to be a being like me. It is time to send you on your way.”
The Goddess placed her hand on the table and slid it across the surface. A knife materialized from beneath. Simple in design, the only outstanding details were a curved golden hilt, a single-edged silver blade, and being a larger-than-expected size. With one finger making the slightest push on the back of the blade, the knife spun so that the hilt faced Rachael, then it was pushed over to her.
Rachael slowly reached out. Fingers curled around the golden base that felt cold and clingy. And when she picked the knife up, it felt weightless in her hand. She swallowed anxiously at what needed to be done.
“The blade is so sharp you will find no resistance when you cut,” the Goddess assured before revealing the tradeoff, “You will not even bleed. But there will be pain. Greater pain than you would suffer if you did this elsewhere for it is part of the price you must pay.”
“How many?” Rachael asked for the finger count.
“I cannot say,” the Goddess offered no answer.
So, Rachael began. Her hand was placed flat on the tabletop with fingers spread apart. She squeezed the knife tightly as she considered which to cut. She chose the obvious, the pinky. The blade hung just above her knuckle. She wondered what the pain would be like. Unfortunately, there was no true way of preparing for what she might feel. She had been hurt plenty of times, but never severely. Her only comparison was a head injury that she barely remembered. Fear was swallowed. She considered a countdown. That only caused her to draw the blade back which would only make this more difficult. Then she just stabbed.
The knife stuck into the table and her finger was separated from her hand. The pain was beyond anything any person would have felt in their life. The initial feeling could only be described as needles being pushed their full length into the opening, one after another, pushing those already inside her hand even deeper. The agony crept quickly and was already at her wrist and beginning up her arm. It was something so unbearable, her instinct was to lop off her entire hand to stop the pain from continuing, to literally destroy herself further in hopes of ending her suffering.
Instead, she stabbed again removing her ring finger. There was thought that the pain, or adrenaline, or the shock from the first dismemberment would conceal the second. The pain was intensified by twice as much and spiked up her entire forearm. Her instant reaction was to vomit, and she could not hold it back. Bile was spewed on the floor, between her legs. Her next instinct was to cut her arm off at the elbow. But this one she resisted. Desperately, she looked to the Goddess hoping that was enough.
The Goddess merely stared at the display with a passive expression.
Another was needed. But Rachael could not cut another finger from the same hand. The pain was already at her shoulder. She could only imagine it reaching her brain. The thought alone made her want to drive the knife into her eye.
The madness of her desperation came up with an extreme idea. She placed the knife down, balanced on the back end so the edge faced upward. All fingers were held over the blade, ready to be surrendered in a single motion. She did not know how many more needed to be given nor how many she could give until her own body succeeded in self-destructive ideations, but she would rather give as many as she could, as quickly as possible. Hopefully, six would be enough. Even if that was more than what was required, it would be better than finding out the slow way.
Hand raised. There was a moment of hesitation just like before. She acted against the feeling by slapping down sooner than intended. That made her aim off. Her pinky missed and, in her attempt to correct her swing, the tip of her finger struck the bottom of the blade causing the knife to begin falling over from its position. Now everything was going wrong. She tried to pull her arm back. That was when pain traced up her hand. Fingers squeezed tightly as she closed her eyes and made one sharp shriek in agony.
There was comfort in the darkness behind her lids, but she knew she needed to look. And what she found when she did was blood on her hands and a cut above the knuckle of her ring finger. When she opened her hand, the finger fell from its place, dangling from a few strands of muscle and skin. It had only been partially cut, but it was already ready to be tributed to the Goddess. It just needed to be cut the rest of the way off.
She began reaching for the knife. Hell no! She did not want that thing close unless absolutely necessary, and she pushed it away instead. Then she took this into her own hands. She bit her dangling finger and began to pull. There was pain but a kind that she smiled at. It was so mild to what the knife inflicted that it was practically a tickle. She was laughing as the muscle and skin stretched, tore, and snapped. Her hand fell limply into her lap as she exhaustedly held the finger with her lips. After a heavy breath, she spat it out on the table.
“That is enough,” the Goddess accepted the tribute. She placed her hand on the table, drew her arm back having a key materialize beneath, and then moved her arm forward again to push the object across the table.
“Thank … you,” Rachael exhaustedly expressed her appreciation. She slowly reached over and picked up the key. Then she stood with the same sluggishness and returned to the hall of doors.