We dart down the halls, the slippers on Elizabeth’s feet padding silently in place of the normal click of her heels. I get my shirt back over my head and wince at my disheveled state in the reflective golden doors of the elevator. Elizabeth paces back and forth as we wait for the doors to open, “I, I should tell you about Kernan,” her empty hands twist together and fall apart in a nervous dance, “We’ve had some dealings in the past and um, it didn’t go well.”

“Dealings?” I ask, carefully.

The elevator arrives before she answers, and we slip on.

“Dealings?” I prompt again when we get underway.

She chews her lip and avoids my gaze as she continues, “I was already working as manager when Kernan arrived.” She answers slowly, “He had a difficult arrival. At a time when we had a lot of guests all arriving from the same time and place. I was pretty eager to help them move on; those people deserved a proper afterlife.” She adds with determination. “Anyway, I approached Kernan, tried to help him understand the situation and what he needed to do in order to move on and he got pretty upset with me,” wincing at her own words. “You see, he has some pretty serious issues with people telling him he needs to move. He came from a very turbulent time in Ireland, there were some famines and then some mass evictions-”

I’ve heard of this- “The famine clearances?! In the mid-1800s?”

Elizabeth frowns, “I’m not sure exactly, but yes around then, you know about it?”

“I learned about it in school,” I answered soberly.

“Well, you have some context,” she sighs, “The landlords at the time had taken to hiring thugs to throw people out and then burning the buildings so no one could return to them. Kernan was still in his cabin when the fire was started.”

“Oh god.”

She nods, confirming my appalling suspicions, “He has no intentions of ever leaving the hotel.”

My frown deepens, “That doesn’t seem healthy.” Guests arrive wanting to leave. A hotel is an appropriate façade for this place, it’s meant to be temporary.

“It’s not as if there’s a rush,” she snaps back at me, “he can stay as long as he wants.”

Unsure why my thought was met with hostility, “I didn’t say otherwise,” I answer gently.

“I’m sorry,” she sighs again, “I just, the point I was trying to make is that if I go in there, I’m likely to escalate the situation rather than defuse it. I’m not the right person to handle this, I need you to talk to him.” The vulnerability in her voice stands out because I’ve never heard her use it.

The elevator arrived as she was speaking and the moment the door opens, we hear shouting. We share a look and race through the landing to find the source, quickly running into a keeper blocking the hallway. It turns as we approach, its wings twitching in agitation. An object comes flying out of a hotel room door and clatters against the opposite wall.

Since the keepers are without mouths, they communicate with us by impressing their thoughts on us telepathically. It looks at me and I know it was here, resetting the room as it’s meant to, when the man returned and began throwing things. It will finish what it came here to do and if the man hits it with anything else, he will be punished.

“Give us a chance to talk to him,” Elizabeth pleads quickly, “You could take a break, or reset some other rooms and come back to this one later.”

Another object, along with some colorful curses, comes hurtaling out the door, sailing just past the keeper’s head.

The Keeper narrows all of its eyes at the doorway. It doesn’t want to, but it’s going to give me a chance, not out of pity for Mr. Walsh, but out of respect for the manager. I have one hour and not a moment more.

“We’re very grateful,” I thank the keeper. It relaxes and places something small in my hand before turning and pushing its little cleaning cart down to the next room. The object is a little rectangle, but I have other things on my mind at the moment, so I shove it in my pocket for later.

Frenzied laughter bubbles out from Mr. Walsh’s room, “That’s right! Walk away!” the man yells at the retreating keeper.

You wouldn’t think it heard for how little it responds to the taunt, but Elizabeth folds in on herself, like Kernan’s words had been arrows meant for her.

“Elizabeth-” I start, failing to continue when her eyes meet mine. I thought something about this night was odd from the beginning. We’ve dealt with rowdy guests and imminent threats of Keepers doling out their brand of punishment, but I’ve never seen her rattled. It’s this man, Kernan, something about him deeply unsettles her.

“Why don’t you go get us some coffees while I get this started.” Some protective instinct swells up within me and I suddenly want her far away from here.

She starts to agree and then shakes her head with a troubled wrinkle between her eyes, “No, no I should be here, in case you need me or something, just, go talk to him,” chewing again at her lip, “and be careful not to say anything about leaving,” she adds quickly.

I want to hug her, hold her until whatever has frightened her is forgotten, instead, I offer an easy smile and don the persona of the man I am in my suits, “Don’t fret, madam. I’ll have this handled in a moment.”