“No, you don’t understand” Jack said, to the maid from housekeeping who, as Jack had initially guessed did not speak English particularly well, “I don’t NEED clean sheets every day. I only NEED clean sheets when I ASK for clean sheets. Otherwise, it is a WASTE of TIME for YOU and ME. I am trying to help YOU… comprende?” 

The housekeeper looked at him with a blank face, and after saying something in Spanish that Jack didn’t understand she continued to push the cart full of laundry and sheets away down the hall. 

“JUST STOP CLEANING MY ROOM!” Jack yelled as the housekeeper picked up her pace toward the now closing elevator.  

As he returned to the now sterile interior of his room Jack huffed angrily. “Oh course she doesn’t speak English, that would have been too easy.” He spoke aloud to no one in particular.

He looked to his dismay at the neatly stacked pile of notebooks and papers that sat on the cheap wooden hotel room desk. It wasn’t very often that anyone or anything managed to get a rise out of the warlock, but this particular housekeeper had done just that, she had also reinforced Jack’s theory that if he were to begin actually making a name for himself in Santa Somabra he would have to get himself a more permanent living arrangement. 

Pacing the room Jack thought through his options. “I’m not wealthy enough for those upscale places in city and I’m not Chinese enough for Chinatown, and I will NOT quarter myself in the slums.” Jack looked again around the room, the cogs of his dark mind turning. “There are some inherent benefits in this hotel’s location… It’s far enough away from the prying eyes of the city center and yet just a short ride down the freeway and I’m downtown.” 

The plot began to formulate somewhere in the back of his mind, and after again taking in the sterility of his room and muddled neatness of his notes it became clear there was only one truly adequate and effective course of action.

A crooked smile appear on his scarred face as he quickly moved to begin preparations.

—————-

“Housekeeping?” Lona asked as she knocked on room 27’s door, using that same tone of voice she had used 26 other times that day. There was no answer, which typically either meant the guests were gone or asleep or…  otherwise engaged. 

She knocked again to naught but resounding silence. Then pulling the small master-key from her apron pocket, she unlocked the door and pushed it open. She looked into the purposeful darkness of the room taking a few cautious steps and calling out again, “housekeeping.” It was then it all went black as a man in his underwear hit her over the head with lamp. 

—————— 
“That should do it.” Jack said as he finished drawing his casting circle around the now unconscious maid. 

“Okay, just lie still.” He said laughing to himself a little. 

He picked up a small dusty tome and flipped through the pages until he came to one where the corner of the page had been folded. The words were written in a dark ink that had faded over the centuries, however they were still legible and held the same power they did as the day they were inscribed. 

“Ahem” He cleared his throat, “Servi mei resurgent expergiscimini et revertimini ad me . Tenebricosum ministra mihi hanc formam semel.”

At once the charcoal inscription began to glow a dark purple and the candles that were once the the only light in the room went out. The building began to shake to its foundation and unbeknownst to Jack, all the windows in the hotel shut at once, giving the guests a terrible fright, but one only minor compared to what was to come. 

The housekeepers body began to shudder and writhe, her eyes rolling back into her head as if to see something hidden within. 

A laugh came from her body, but instead of the soft and silky voice of a young Spanish woman, it was the high piercing voice of something inhuman. 

Then, as if on cue with the laugh, as quick as the commotion had come so was it gone. 

“For Christ's sake Pip, every damn time! There is no need for the dramatic nonsense.” Jack scolded in a harsh tone.

“Well, it’s been awhile, I’m sorry… just please don’t say that name again.” whined the being in an oddly high pitched English accent. 

“I’ll say CHRIST as much as I want thank you very much. You’re an imp, so act like it and stop whining. We have work to do.”

“GHAA! That hurts!” The imp cried.

“Shut up, or else next I call your spirit it will be to inhabit the body of a mole!” Jack snapped.

“Aye, what’s the plot this time then?” Pip, squeaked sheepishly. 

“Well, I need to get myself set up in this town. I need a pace of my own, a base of operations if you will.” Jack explained, now pacing the room— still in his underwear—  talking out loud to himself as much as to his fiendish companion.

“So what ya` thinkin` then? Dread fort on a hill? Tower of darkness?”

“No, actually this hotel would do quite nicely.”

“The hotel? This place is a dump?”

“If I wanted your input Pip, then I would have asked for it,” Jack snapped. “Anyways, yes this ‘dump’. The only thing we need to deal with is the guests and staff, but for you and I that should be no problem.”

“Alright, alright, and after we take the hotel?”

Jack stopped his pacing and stood looking out the room’s sliding glass door. In the distance, not too far off he could see the bright glow of Santa Somabra. 

“We set our eyes on the heart of this city and see just how much our profession is worth.”