Chapter 002

Routine

At 5:00 in the morning, my alarm went off. I reached for my phone, turned it off, and lay there for a few seconds listening to the rain against the window. I didn't feel tired. I sat up and looked across the room. The chameleon was still asleep.

Lucky.

I got up and walked into the kitchen.

Coffee first.

Everything else could wait. I filled the machine, pressed the button, and stood there while it started making that low, familiar sound. My apartment was quiet enough that I could hear the rain through the glass. The place wasn't big. One bedroom would have been nice, but I didn't really need one. The studio worked. It was organized. Mostly.

The journals on the shelf were lined up well enough. The books weren't. Encyclopedias took up one section, followed by books on journalism, ancient Egypt, archaeology, and whatever else I'd become interested in long enough to buy a book about. A few articles were framed on the wall above my desk. Some people framed pictures. I framed articles. I didn't think that was particularly strange.

The coffee finished brewing. I poured a cup and sat at my desk. My laptop was already open from the night before. I searched for something to read. Most mornings it was something recent. Politics, science, local news, something happening somewhere that I probably wouldn't care about by lunch. Other mornings I went backward. Old newspapers. Old records. Anything that made me feel like I was looking through a window at people who were already gone.

This morning, I opened an old article about an archaeological discovery and started reading. For a while, the hotel didn't cross my mind. Then it did.

Miss Caligo.

I reached for my notebook. I flipped back to yesterday.

Miss Caligo

Red hair.
Black coat.
Red shoes.
Platinum watch.
Red stone.
Vanilla / old books.

No ID.
No reservation.
Key already waiting.

Everyone knew.

Nobody asked.

I stared at the page for a moment.

Then underneath it:

Ask someone.

I finished my coffee, closed the notebook, and threw my mug in the sink. Before leaving, I stopped by the terrarium. Scoops was awake now, sitting beneath the heat lamp and staring at me. I opened the container beside the tank and dropped a few crickets inside.

He immediately moved toward them.

"You're welcome."

I grabbed my jacket and checked the time. 

6:08 AM.

I gave Scoops one last look before heading for the door. The apartment was quiet behind me when I locked it. I took the stairs down from the second floor, pushed through the front door, and stepped onto Fifth Avenue.

The rain had slowed to a mist. Belltown was already awake, not fully awake, but getting there.

A delivery truck was parked half on the curb outside a restaurant, its driver carrying boxes through the back entrance. A man in a dark jacket stood beneath an awning smoking a cigarette, watching the street like he had nowhere else to be. A few cars passed through the intersection, tires hissing against the wet pavement.

I started walking. I took the same route I took almost every morning. There wasn't much to think about when you walked somewhere often enough. You stopped noticing the distance and started noticing everything else.

The bakery on the corner usually had its lights on before sunrise.

The bus stop was always crowded by six-thirty.

There was a woman who walked a small white dog around this time every morning. I never learned either of their names.

I passed them both.

She nodded.

I nodded back.

The rain picked up again.

I pulled my jacket tighter and kept walking.

Seattle looked different this early.

The city wasn't quiet. It just hadn't decided what kind of day it was going to be yet. A few blocks later, I caught the smell of coffee from somewhere ahead.

I checked my watch.

6:19 am.

I had plenty of time.

I kept walking toward the Halloway. By the time I reached the Halloway, the rain had started again. I wiped my shoes against the mat before stepping inside. The warmth hit me first, then the smell of coffee. Someone had already started brewing a fresh pot behind the front desk.

The lobby was busier than it had been yesterday morning. A couple stood near the elevators arguing quietly over a suitcase. The concierge was on the phone. One of the bellhops was helping an older man with his coat. Nothing unusual.

I checked the clock.

6:27 AM.

Three minutes early.

I walked behind the desk and hung my jacket in the employee area.

"Morning."

I looked over.

Mara was already there.

"Morning."

She glanced at me.

"You're early."

"Three minutes."

"Still early."

I smiled and looked toward the lobby.

Everything was moving the way it always did. For a second, I wondered if I had imagined yesterday. For the next twenty minutes, nothing happened. Which, at the Halloway, was usually a good thing.

I checked a few arrivals, answered a phone call from a guest asking about the restaurant, and helped a man find the elevators even though they were directly behind him.

The usual.

At some point, the bellhop from yesterday walked past the desk carrying a stack of folded newspapers. He stopped beside me.

"You look tired."

"I woke up at five."

"Why?"

"I don't know."

He nodded like that was a reasonable answer.

He dropped the newspapers onto the counter and started sorting them.

I looked at him.

"You always read those?"

"Sometimes."

"Thought you didn't read."

"I don't."

He handed me one.

"Then why'd you give me this?"

"Because you do."

I looked down at the newspaper.

He was already walking away.

"Thanks."

He lifted one hand without turning around.

I raised mine back.

He didn't see it so I went back to work.

A few minutes later, I found myself looking toward the entrance. The revolving doors turned. A guest walked in.

Not her.

I wasn't sure why I was checking. I looked back down at the newspaper.

The headline was about a new development downtown. I read the first few lines, then realized I hadn't actually absorbed any of them.

My eyes moved back to the entrance.

Nothing.

I looked at the clock.

6:41.

Yesterday, that was around the time everyone started watching the doors. I looked back at the newspaper.

"Don't do that," I muttered to myself.

I turned the page. A few minutes passed.

Mara walked by carrying a stack of folders.

"Everything good?"

"Yeah."

She kept walking. I watched her disappear behind the office door. I looked down at the newspaper again.

Then I noticed the bellhop coming back through the lobby. He had another stack of newspapers under his arm. I waited until he got close.

"Hey."

He stopped.

"What?"

"Yesterday..."

He looked at me.

I hesitated.

"Never mind."

He shrugged and kept walking.

I watched him go.

For some reason, that bothered me more than if he'd actually answered.

Around 8:20, things finally slowed down.

I looked at the clock.

The morning rush had started to thin out, and for once nobody was waiting at the desk. I looked across the lobby. The library came to mind. I hadn't been down there in a few days. I glanced toward the stairs leading down from the lobby. I had a few minutes. I stepped away from the desk and headed downstairs.

The library sat beneath the lobby, tucked into the quieter part of the hotel. The air was cooler down there. The noise from the lobby faded with every step.

I pushed open the heavy wooden door.

The room was quiet.

Good.

The ceilings were high enough to make the room feel larger than it was. Mahogany shelves covered most of the walls, filled with books, old newspapers, studies, and things I had never heard of. Leather chairs sat between the shelves, with small brass lamps beside them.

I liked this room.

Nobody came down here unless they had a reason. I walked along the shelves, looking at whatever caught my attention.

History.

Architecture.

Travel.

Scientific studies.

Old newspapers.

I stopped at a section of newspapers and pulled one out.

Seattle — 1964.

The edges were worn, and the paper had yellowed with age. I opened it.

Construction downtown.

Local businesses.

Weather.

A ferry accident I'd never heard of.

I started reading.

A few minutes passed before something slipped from between the pages and landed on the table. An old Halloway library card. I picked it up.

Halloway Hotel Library

Borrower: Miss Caligo
Date: June 18, 1964
Returned: —

I looked at the name again.

Then at the date.

I thought about the woman from yesterday.

Same name.

Probably nothing.

There were other Caligos in the world.

I turned the card over.

Nothing.

I looked at the newspaper again.

Then back at the card.

The book had been sitting on this shelf long enough for the paper to turn yellow. I put the card back where I'd found it. I closed the newspaper, and for some reason, I didn't put it back on the shelf. I sat in one of the leather chairs and opened the newspaper again. The article was about construction downtown.

A new building.

New businesses.

People arguing about what Seattle was becoming. I read a few more pages. There was something strange about reading old newspapers. Everything in them had once been important. People had worried about traffic, weather, money, politics, construction. Things that felt permanent at the time.

Most of the people mentioned in the articles were probably gone. I folded the newspaper along its original crease and looked at the front page again.

1964.

My eyes drifted toward the library card sitting on the table.

I picked it up.

Miss Caligo.

I put it back.

I wasn't going to spend my morning thinking about a name on an old library card.

I had a job.

I checked my watch.

8:37.

I stood, returned the newspaper to its shelf, and headed back upstairs.

The lobby was louder than it had been when I left. I stepped back behind the desk and checked the arrivals. Mara was on the phone, and the concierge was helping a couple with their bags. A bellhop pushed a cart toward the elevators.

I looked at the clock.

8:39.

Two minutes had passed.

It felt longer.

I picked up the next reservation.

"Good morning. Welcome to the Halloway."

The guest smiled and handed me his identification. I checked the name, found the reservation, and reached for a keycard.

Routine.

That's what I needed. Just routine.

I slid the card across the desk.

"Elevators are just behind you."

"Thank you."

I nodded and watched him walk away. For the next few minutes, I kept busy.

A phone call.

Another check-in.

A question about breakfast.

A guest looking for the parking garage.

Nothing worth remembering.

Which was probably exactly how the Halloway liked it.

A few minutes later, the bellhop came back toward the desk. He stopped beside me and dropped a stack of luggage tags onto the counter.

"You got a minute?"

"Depends."

"Can you cover the desk while I take these upstairs?"

I looked around.

"Yeah."

He started sorting through the tags.

"How long have you been here again?"

"Almost two years."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

I looked toward the lobby.

"You ever go through the old stuff downstairs?"

He looked at me.

"What old stuff?"

"Books. Newspapers. All that."

"Sometimes."

I nodded.

There was a pause.

"You know a Miss Caligo?"

He looked at me for a second.

"Miss who?"

"Caligo."

He shook his head.

"No."

He picked up the tags again.

"Why?"

I shrugged.

"Nothing."

He nodded and walked toward the elevators.

I watched him go.

Maybe he really didn't know.

The rest of the morning passed without anything worth writing down. At least, nothing I thought was worth writing down. Mara spent most of the next hour going between the front desk and the office. Every now and then she'd stop beside me to ask about a guest or check something on the computer. Around ten, she handed me a folder.

"Room 407 called again."

"What now?"

"Apparently the shower is making a noise."

"What kind of noise?"

She looked at me.

"A noise."

I opened the folder.

"Helpful."

"I try."

I smiled and started looking through the maintenance notes.

The Halloway had a way of making ordinary problems feel older than they were. A broken lamp wasn't just a broken lamp. A noisy pipe had probably been making that noise since before I was born.

I handed the folder back.

"I'll send someone up."

"Already did."

"Then why'd you give me this?"

"So you knew."

I nodded.

"Good system."

"It's worked for a hundred and sixty years."

I looked at her.

She walked away before I could tell whether she was joking.

I watched her disappear into the office.

For a second, I thought about the library card.

June 18, 1964.

I looked back at the computer. The reservation screen filled the monitor.

Room numbers.

Names.

Dates.

Normal things.

I got back to work.

By the time my shift ended, the rain had stopped. I finished the last few things at the desk, handed everything over, and checked the clock.

3:02 PM.

Close enough.

I grabbed my jacket from the back and said goodbye to Mara.

"See you tomorrow."

"Try not to be early."

"No promises."

She shook her head and went back to the paperwork.

I stepped outside.

The streets were still wet, but the clouds had started to break apart.

I stood there for a second and looked back at the Halloway.

Ten floors.

Dark windows.

Same building.

Nothing looked different.

I turned and started walking home.

The walk back felt shorter. Maybe because I wasn't paying attention. By the time I reached Edwards on Fifth, the building was quiet. I took the stairs to the second floor and unlocked my door. 

Scoops was waiting for me.

"You hungry?"

He stared at me.

I took that as a yes.

I dropped a few crickets into the terrarium and watched him disappear after them. I took off my jacket and put it over the back of the chair. My notebook was still sitting on the desk. I picked it up, opened it to the page from that morning.

Ask someone.

I looked at it for a few seconds. Then I wrote underneath it:

Asked.

I closed the notebook.

For the first time all day, I stopped thinking about everything.