The Paradox Hotel — the later from Rob Hart ( The Warehouse)—is key out as “ a locked - roommurder mysteryset at ahotelfortime traveller , ” a premise that could n’t be more intriguing . Today , io9 can alone partake the cover as well as an excerption onward of the book ’s release too soon next twelvemonth .
First , here ’s a description to set the prospect .
For someone with January Cole ’s background , running security at a fancy hotel should n’t be much of a challenge .
A crop of the cover of The Paradox Hotel. See the full cover below!Image: Ballantine Books
Except the Paradox is no average hotel . Here , the radical - loaded Guest are costumed for a dozen dissimilar time periods , all anxiously waiting to get their ‘ flights ’ to the past . And proximity to the timeport make for an interesting stay . The clocks run backwards on occasion — and , rumor has it , ghosts saunter the halls .
Now , January ’s job is about to get a whole passel hard . Because the US authorities is getting ready to privatise time - travel technology – and a smattering of trillionaires have just arrived to put down their bid .
Meanwhile there ’s a snowstorm roll in , and the timestream ’s act foreign . Which means nobody ’s leaving until further notice .
Image: Ballantine Books
And there ’s a murderer on the loose .
Or at least , that ’s what January suspects . Except the cadaver in doubt is one that somehow , only she can see . And the fortuity stalk their honored Edgar Albert Guest … well , the only way a killer could organize those is by operate on invisibly and in plain sight , all at once . Which is surely impossible .
There ’s a reason January can glimpse what others ca n’t . But her ability is also destroying her traction on reality — and forcing her to confront secrets of her own .
Because here at the paradox hotel , the past is waiting around every box .
Here ’s the full cover , followed by the excerpt .
QUANTUM ENTRAPMENT
Droplets of blood pat the blue carpeting , turn from blood-red to black as they soak into the fibers . The driblet make out slow at first , before turning to a drip as the bones of my skull squeeze like a manus around my brain . My torso yearns to release the tension in my shoulders , to let the pressure sensation off my genu , to lay down and go to kip .
Except it wo n’t be sleep .
It wo n’t really be death either . Something more in - between .
A lasting vacancy .
This here and now has been chase after me for years . The third stage , when the strands of my perception unravel and my ability to grasp the conception of linear time is lost .
More pats on the rug . But the blood from my nose has stopped flowing .
Heavier , from the other goal of the hallway , getting closer .
Footsteps .
Maybe I can fight this . A handful of Retronim . A cherry ice lolly . What if I scream ? I open up my sassing . Nothing comes out but blood .
The footsteps get close .
This is the minute when my brain will short - circuit . That ’s the third degree of being Unstuck . No one really lie with why it happens . The prevailing theory is your mind finds itself in a quantum country and ca n’t handle the load . Others think you witness the moment of your decease . I do n’t give a shit about the “ why ” of it . I just make love the result does n’t take care pleasant : a glassy - eyed coma that ’ll last as long as my body holds out .
The air pressure increase . More blood . Maybe I ’ll bleed to last first . Small victory .
In a present moment I ’ll be expire . Probably reality too . The timestream is smash and I ’m the only one who can fix it , but or else I ’m conk on the floor . Sorry , universe .
I err again , retentiveness rattle around my genius like rocks in a tin can can . model in my bed , the olfaction of ail and chili paste sauteing in the kitchen , waft on a higher floor . fine-tune the academy , walking across the gymnasium stage , new heels tearing at the skin of my understructure while I scan the sea of close chairs .
The first prison term I let Mena kiss me , the two of us alone on the balcony overlook the lobby .
That sense of taste of cherry , and everything I ever needed .
The footsteps bar .
I sense it , the displacement of zephyr , the somberness of another person , remain firm there , watching me wrestle on this dumb blue carpet . Nothing I can do now . It ’s over . But I ’m not going to die on my hands and knees .
With the last of my strong point I push up . . .
spigot - tap - tap .
Doctor Tamworth is holding his pen an in above the flat expanse of his desk , see at me like I might bite him . Which , the sidereal day is young .
I take a second base to situate myself . The fluorescent ignitor is so white it ’s almost blue , to equal the sky - gamy paries and grim blue lino roofing tile . So much of this space blue , which is calming , or so I ’ve been told . The way is otherwise barren , economise a small tablet on the desk , a sheepskin on the wall from a university in his rest home rural area of Bangladesh , and a half - deplete deli sandwich in a composition board clamshell container . I can smell out the confidence trick of the vinegar , the funk of the cheese . My stomach growl at it . Ruby is hovering in its usual spot over my berm , too tight by half .
“ When were you just now , January ? ” Tamworth asks .
“ decently here doc , ” I tell him , which is only mostly a lie , because the place I slipped to is go .
Something about carpet ? I reach for it , but it disappear between my fingers like smoke . Probably not significant .
Excerpt from The Paradox Hotel by Rob Hart , right of first publication © 2022 by Rob Hart . Used by license of Ballantine Books , an imprint of Random House , a division of Penguin Random House . No part of this selection may be multiply or reissue without permission in write from the newspaper publisher .
Rob Hart ’s The Paradox Hotel hits shelf February 22 , 2022 ; you could pre - ordinate a copyhere .
For more , check that you ’re travel along us on our Instagram @io9dotcom .
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