Grimm by Mike Nicholson Page B

and hard as if trying to work out what to do with him. “You need to look into your local history a little more,” he croaked, and with that he turned again and walked towards the door.
    That was almost a helpful answer,
Rory thought smiling.
    Re-entering the labyrinthine hotel, Rory noticed that periodically they passed numbers on the wall as they were about to turn into each corridor. They had already passed two, three and four and moments later Rory looked up and saw a number five.
    “Not that way,” said Grog seeing Rory pause.
    “Is that Corridor Five?” asked Rory, remembering Granville Grimm’s comment. “Why is it off limits?”
    “It just is,” said Grog unhelpfully.
    Rory took another step in the direction of the corridor and at that moment the most fearsome noise started; a clattering, banging, wheezing, dreadful sound. Rory yelped and leapt towards Grog.
    The butler looked uncomfortable with the noise itself, not tomention the fact that Rory had heard it. He limped away hastily without another word.
    “How long has it er … been like
that?
” asked Rory, now keen to keep close to Grog as some residual crashes and bangs finally dwindled to silence.
    “Long enough,” Grog replied.
    Rory wasn’t sure what exactly was going on in Corridor Five, but it sounded a lot worse than a case of dodgy plumbing. Bella Valentine’s account of her terrifying time at the hotel popped into his head. He suspected that he had just heard something of whatever it was that she had encountered that had left her with shredded nerves and a slot in
The Chronicle.
    Desperately trying to be positive that the hotel might still reveal some selling points, Rory hit upon an idea. “Is there anywhere that I can see the view from?”
    Distinctly unimpressed at this enquiry the wheezing Grog gave Rory a withering look, but grudgingly pointed a gnarled finger towards a small archway. Leaving the butler to recover his breath, Rory began to feel his way up a long spiral staircase. Shoving on a door at the top, he found himself blinking in the daylight, blasted by fresh air. He stepped out onto a tiny balcony perched on one of the hotel’s turrets.
    Rory looked down, glad that he didn’t suffer from vertigo and traced the route he had taken up Scrab Hill. The ledge where he had stopped was one of the hill’s clearest features, the cable car station nestled like a little garage just above it. The ledge itself looked like a space large and flat enough to stage a football match on, and from this new vantage point, Rory could see that the derelict building, which he had noticed earlier, blended into the hillside at the far end.
    Given all that he had seen, Rory wished he could just abseil down the hotel walls in a bid for freedom, but with escape not an option he took a last deep breath of fresh air and ducked back inside and downstairs. Still with the view of the ledge in his mind, Rory remembered his encounter with Ramsay earlier on.
    “Would it be possible to see the kitchens?” he asked Grog.Grumbling, the little man turned on his heel and the gloomy tour resumed. After a few twists and turns Rory was surprised to find a bright light shining through a small window in a door ahead. In contrast to everything seen so far at Hotel Grimm, whatever was beyond this door was gleaming. Not only that, but Rory breathed deeply as he realized that an aroma of fried onions and garlic had cut through the smell of damp which had followed them thus far.
    Grog opened the door without a hint of creaking hinge. The shine off the smooth surfaces, the bright lights overhead, and the gleaming white and brushed steel of appliances gave the impression that they had just entered a spaceship. The contrast was so great that Rory glanced back, double checking that this room and the twilight world, which the rest of the hotel occupied, really belonged to the same building.
    Grog coughed more loudly than usual by way of introduction and a head appeared above