ProloguePROLOGUE The crow waits until the guilty one disappears; then he flies down the hallway. How he wound up in this part of the hotel, he cannot recall. He has no memory of the tartan wallpaper, the dim flicker of the sconces. He does not know which humans lie behind which doors. He knows only to obey the scream of his instincts. Leave. Now. Go. Danger hangs over this place like a blackening cloud. The people inside are not to be trusted. The crow rests for a moment on the horse hanging from the sky. He dares not wait long. Soon they will all rise again. Soon there will be much commotion. He did not catch more than a glimpse, but a glimpse was all he needed. Such an ugly shape the limbs made, the neck contorted. The thing hardly looked human at all. The crow takes to the air again, finds himself ever more eager to return home to his kin. What will the rest of the murder think? He flies around and around, yet still he cannot locate the path back to the aviary. It's no use. He's trapped like the rest of them. Excerpted from The Hitchcock Hotel by Stephanie Wrobel All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.
