Jacaranda Read Online Free PDF Page B

the ever-present hiss of the fixtures, and the soft, never-ending clanks of the fans on the ceiling.
    Mrs. Alvarez went to a control panel and opened it with a key. She adjusted some levers and the fans slowed, then stopped altogether. The night would be cooler, after all—and soon, there’d be no one left to enjoy the faint circulation in the sitting area.
    One by one, the guests said their good-nights and left for their rooms.
    Footstep by retreating footstep, the place fell quiet.
    Then Sister Eileen turned to the padre, and regarded him with those strange gold eyes. “The…the events , which happen here—they do not always wait for evening.”
    “There is no real reason for evil to resign itself to the darkness, though in my experience it often does.”
    “This hotel is no different. No different at all . We should be on our guard. But not here,” she added, catching Mrs. Alvarez’s eye. “The ladies wish for us to move along, so they can finish their tasks and find their way home. Only those who pay for the privilege care to remain here after the sun has set.”
    They left for the main lobby, where they found Sarah behind the desk, reading another newspaper, or perhaps the same one as before. She set it aside with a smile, happier by far to have customers than to be alone with the island’s daily reports.
    The padre looked at the floor, and its sinister swirl of art; he looked at the young woman, ensconced behind the counter as if it were a barricade—as if it could somehow protect her from the thing beneath the floor. It was a sentinel’s post, more than a welcome desk.
    He avoided the mosaic, stepping around it to the left.
    Sister Eileen stepped to her right. Approaching the desk and the girl she asked, “No new missives?”
    “Still none, I regret to say.” She regretted it enough that the workmanlike smile slipped, and her voice fell a few notes when she added, “I’m starting to worry. I know what you said, but we’ve been waiting for weeks. I just don’t think the Rangers will come.”
    “They will ,” the nun argued. “But they are few, and the miles are long across Texas. Don’t give up on them yet.”
    Sarah pressed, “But if they do come, what would they do? Will they close the hotel, do you think?” The tremble of hope in that last word tugged at the padre’s heart.
    Sister Eileen said, “The Jacaranda is a dangerous place, and the Rangers could document the goings-on here. They could take the facts to the shareholders, and spread the word to the newspapers, send it across the wires. They could tell the world more easily than we might, anyway—and that’s important. Whatever haunts these grounds may not be huntable by the likes of us, or the Rangers either. But we may starve it of its prey.”
    “We try to spread the word,” Sarah whispered. “We try to make it known, but still they come.”
    “And still you remain,” the padre said. It was not quite an accusation.
    Sarah looked at Sister Eileen, seeking some kind of permission. The sister nodded, and Sarah asked the padre, “She’s told you about the deaths, is that why you’re here? Do you think you can help us?”
    “I promise to try. So you should not treat me like a guest. You can tell me the truth: Why do you remain, if you know the danger—and if you are so afraid?”
    Tears welled up in her eyes, but they did not fall and she did not wipe them away. “Whatever is here, running wouldn’t leave it behind. Not even if I went to New York or Africa or China. There’s nowhere far enough to run. So I stay. And I serve.”
    “But what of Tim? Your brother?” he used the nun’s best guess.
    “Tim is my cousin. He was orphaned as a child and raised by my father, alongside me. Tim…” she glanced toward the windows, as if she could see him out there, working. But here, too, the curtains were closed, and she saw no sign of him or anything else. “Tim is the only one, I think—the only one it doesn’t speak to.