by Skylar Finn
“No,” he declared. “But I did want to get your opinion on something.”
“What’s that?”
He leaned over the table, folding his hands together. “You already know that I was looking into buying King and Queens from Oliver Watson. That hasn’t changed, but originally I planned on renovating it to match White Oak’s brand.”
“And now?”
“Now that Oliver’s no longer with us and Riley is alone, I think I’d like to do something else with the place,” Nick said. “I’d like to restore it to its original structure in honor of the Watson family. It would be updated, of course, but the integrity of King and Queens would remain. What do you think?”
A server stopped by to pour us water and take our drink orders. Nick ordered a bottle of wine and immediately returned his attention to me. I sipped my water, savoring the ice cubes. Despite the temperature outside, the restaurant was quite warm.
“I think it’s a great idea,” I said. “King and Queens is a historical landmark, but as far as a tribute to the Watson family goes, who exactly are you trying to impress? Riley’s the only Watson left, and I’m not sure she even cares that King and Queens is gone.”
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about actually,” Nick said. “Out of everyone I’ve seen Riley interact with, you seem to be the one she trusts the most. I was wondering what she might think of me if I decided to go through with this. She’s been through so much, what with becoming an orphan in a matter of weeks. I don’t want to move forward with this if you think it would upset her. Do you think you could ask her about it?”
I leaned my cheeks into my hand then realized both my elbows were on the table and folded my hands in my lap instead. “Honestly, Nick, Riley hasn’t been my biggest fan in the last couple of days. We’re in a bit of a tiff.”
“Did something happen?”
“Let’s just say we’re not as close as you think we are,” I said. “I’ve only known Riley for a couple of weeks. Is she important to me? Yes. But do I always know what she’s thinking? Absolutely not. I’m still learning about the kid.”
The wine arrived, but Nick dismissed the server and poured it himself. “You’ll work it out,” he said. “You and Riley have a special bond. I can tell. I’ve never seen a kid take to someone like that before. By the way, William was right. Don’t bother with the menu. I can get the chef to make you whatever you like.”
“I’ll have a hot dog.”
He looked up, startled.
“I’m joking,” I said. “Steak is fine.”
“Steak it is,” he said, placing the wine in a holder near the center of the table. “By the way, what did you want to talk to me about?”
For a hot minute, I’d forgotten that I was upset with Nick at all. Then I remembered the reason my mother showed up at White Oak in the first place.
“You called my mother,” I said.
“Ah, yes!” he said, beaming. “I meant to let you know. I had one of my assistants locate her number. I thought you might like some familial support here while we hash out the details of what’s going to happen next.”
“That was very nice of you,” I said. “But the problem is that my mother and I haven’t spoken to each other in about ten years. We’re not exactly the Gilmore Girls.”
Nick shifted in his seat. “Oh?”
“Yeah, so when she turned up here, it wasn’t exactly a nice surprise,” I said.
He bowed his head over his hands. “Crap. I’m sorry. I had no idea. Should I ask her to leave?”
“No,” I said, surprising myself. My conversation with Stella about confronting my past came back to me. It was now or never. “But I would appreciate it if you could find her a different room to stay in.”
“Done,” Nick said. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed.”
“It’s okay.” I picked up the menu again, determined to make sense of it this time. “So tell me about this steak.”
4
King and Queens loomed at the bottom of the mountain. It was smaller than I remembered. The new wing was gone, and the old section of it looked much newer. The slopes and the resort brimmed with guests. More experienced skiers zoomed past me, kicking up waves of snow. I cut wide arcs through the powder, taking it slow. The crisp wind blew my dark curls into my face as I neared the bottom of the bunny hill. I spotted Noah there. He was not much taller than me, and his secondhand snow jacket swamped his skinny outline. He didn’t quite fit in with the rest of the guests at King and Queens, who all wore expensive ski gear. Noah had dark hair and gray-blue eyes I always admired. In the mirror, mine were a similar color, more like the depths of the ocean than a stormy sky. I performed a hockey stop as close to him as I could—something I’d just learned during my last private ski lesson—and showered his battered all-weather pants with snow.
“I thought you might do that,” he said. “So I came prepared.”
He launched a snowball at me. It hit me square in the nose like an exploding slushie. The ice dripped into the collar of my new ski vest, chilling me to the bone. I pushed Noah playfully into the snow.
“Not fair!” I called.
He burst out of the snow bank with a giggle. “You started it!”
I unbolted my skis and stepped out of them. Then I grabbed his hand and helped him up. “Truce? For now.”
“Truce,” he agreed. “Is that a new vest?”
I glanced down at the bright neon purple. “Yup. My mom got it for me. She said the other one was too last season, whatever that means.”
Noah grinned and plucked at a tear in the sleeve of his own jacket. “I’m always last season.”
“I wish I could get you a new one,” I said.
“I don’t think your dad would like that.”
“No, he wouldn’t,” I replied, frowning. “Hey, maybe I could give you my old one!”
“The sleeves would be too short,” he pointed out. “It’s okay. I don’t mind wearing this one. I’m used to it.”
He shivered, as if the layers of his coat weren’t thick enough to keep him safe from the frigid mountain air.
“Is your mom working today?”
“Yeah, she’s—”
A massive hand clapped down on Noah’s shoulder and grabbed a fistful of his jacket, tearing a bigger hole in it. The man it belonged to was long and lean, dressed in a designer suit and a long, fancy overcoat. His lips were turned up in a snarl.
“What did I tell you about talking to my daughter, you idiot boy?” my father demanded, shaking Noah by the collar.
“Dad, stop!” I cried, pushing my father’s waist to get him away from Noah. It was to no avail. My father was as tall as the surrounding trees.
Noah gagged as my father’s fist pressed against his throat. A few skiers slowed down, casting curious glances in our direction as if wondering if they should step in or not. But my father owned King and Queens, and the guests didn’t dare interfere with him out of worry of being banished from the grounds.
“You aren’t supposed to be here,” my father hissed into Noah’s ear, ignoring my protests. “When your mother has a shift, you stay in the library, quiet and out of sight. Do not talk to the guests. Do not talk to my daughter. Do you understand?”
Noah fought to free his vocal chords from stress and gasped, “Yes, sir.”
My father released Noah, launching him into the same snowbank I’d pushed him into just a few minutes ago. Now, I felt exponentially terrible about it, but I didn’t have time to worry about Noah as my father turned on me.
“As for you,” he said, advancing one terrifying step at a time. “Our family does not interact with trash like him. He’s not your friend. Don’t go looking for him. If I find the two of you together ever again, I’ll make sure you won’t be able to sit properly for a month.”
I nodded vigorously, but my father didn’t turn and storm off as he usually did after threatening a punishment. His eyes bore into mine, and the longer I stared at them, the more they
lost their steely blue color. Then, all at once, they turned the color of hellfire. The world darkened around us as my father’s skin peeled away from his face and body, revealing a terrifying black creature underneath. His long fingers ended in sharp claws, claws that reached toward my face—
I woke to the sound of a piercing scream, but it took me a moment to realize it was coming from my own mouth. I clapped a hand over my mouth and pressed my face into the pillow. It was damp with sweat, as were the sheets. The door to the bedroom flew open as Jazmin and Riley thundered in.
“What happened?” Jazmin demanded, crawling onto my bed and turning me over to see my face. She took me by the shoulders. “Lucia, what’s wrong?”
I tightened the hand over my face, shaking my head back and forth. Riley lingered in the door, her eyes colored with worry. She squeezed herself in a tight hug.
Jazmin tried to take my hand from my mouth. “Lucia, why did you scream?”
My stomach heaved. I shot up from bed, accidentally bumping Jazmin in the process as my feet got caught up in the tangled sheets, and ran into the bathroom. I tossed the lid of the toilet out of the way and heaved into it. Bile—black and frothy—gushed into the water. It looked like sewer sludge, not my half-digested steak from last night’s dinner with Nick. Behind me, Jazmin rushed in and pulled my hair away from the bowl as I finished.
“Oh my God, what is that?” she gasped with absolute disgust.
“What’s wrong with her?” Riley asked from the bedroom.
“I don’t know, honey,” Jazmin said. “Can you get me a washcloth?”
Riley shuffled in, giving me and the toilet a wide berth as she grabbed a clean towel from the rack and offered it to Jazmin.
“Run it under the faucet first.”
Riley obeyed then handed the towel to Jazmin, stretching her arm out to the fullest length in order to stay far away from me. Jazmin pressed the cool damp towel to my forehead, coaxing me away from the toilet. I slumped over, utterly spent.
“Are you done?” Jazmin asked. She let me lean into her as she wiped off my face. “Is that all?”
I nodded. My stomach stopped roiling once that crap was out of my system. Jazmin flushed the toilet, and the black sludge whirled around the bowl before disappearing down the drain. I looked away from it, pressing my sweaty face against Jazmin’s neck. Riley edged gradually out of the room.
“I’m gonna go,” she said. “I’m in the way. Jazmin, you got this?”
Jazmin cradled my head. “Where are you going?”
“To ski,” Riley replied.
“Right now?” Jazmin asked. “You’ve been gone for two days straight. Aren’t you sick of the cold?”
“No.”
“I’d appreciate it if you could stick around,” Jazmin said. “I could use your help getting Lucia to the clinic.”
Riley shuffled from one foot to the other. “I don’t see how I’m supposed to help.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah, seriously,” Riley said. “I’m sure if you call the front desk, they’ll send someone up to look at Lucia. You don’t need me. I’ll see you later.”
Just like that, she stepped out, leaving Jazmin to look after me on the floor of the bathroom. Thankfully, Jazmin was a little hard wearing around vomit than Riley was. This wasn’t the first time she’d had to clean up after me, but it was usually too much wine that was the culprit. I’d only had one glass of Nick’s expensive pinot noir last night. Jazmin picked me up from the floor and transferred me to the edge of the tub. She ran the water.
“Can you get in on your own?” she asked. “I’m going to call the front desk to see if someone can come up and look at you.”
“I don’t want to see anyone,” I mumbled, slipping my feet into the water. It was cold, soothing my overheated skin. “Don’t call anyone.”
“Lucia, I’ve never seen anyone throw up the kind of crap that you just did,” Jazmin said. “It was black. You could have internal bleeding or something. I’m not going to let you wait this out. God, what’s the number for the front desk?”
“One.”
“Oh.”
She dialed, turning her back to me as I slid into the sudsy bathwater. “Yes, hello? I’m with Lucia Star in the suite on the top floor. We’re staying under Nick Porter’s name. Can you send up a member of the medical staff? I think there’s something wrong with my friend. Okay, great. Thank you.” She hung up. “Okay, they’ll be here in five minutes, so wash yourself off and put a robe on or something. Lucia?”
I had nodded off. “Huh?”
“You’re not going to slip into the tub and drown, are you?”
“No.”
She disappeared for a second then returned with a chair, which she placed by the door and sat down in. “Just in case.”
After Jazmin had tracked down a maid to change the sheets on my bed, she tucked me in and answered the door for the nurse from the clinic. The woman who responded to Jazmin’s call was about the same age as my mother, but she wore the classic White Oak polo shirt and khaki pants. She set a medical bag on the bed and sat down as Jazmin watched nervously over her shoulder.
“Good morning, Miss Star. I’m Brenda,” she said. “I heard you were sick this morning? Can you tell me what happened?”
“Threw up,” I muttered, sinking beneath the sheets in an attempt to hide. No matter how motherly and caring Brenda was, I didn’t want her, or anyone, to see me like this.
“It was black,” Jazmin added.
Brenda pressed the cold tip of a digital thermometer to my forehead and drew it to the other side. It beeped, and she checked the reading. “She has a fever. Do you know what she ate last night?”
“She went to Porter’s with Nick.”
“Mr. Porter?”
“Yes,” Jazmin said. “She went to Porter’s with Mr. Porter.”
“Hmm,” said Brenda, putting away the thermometer and drawing out a sleeve to test my blood pressure.
“What?” Jazmin asked.
Brenda wrapped the sleeve around my arm and pressed the stethoscope to the inside of my elbow. “Well, my first guess would be food poisoning, but I highly doubt she could’ve gotten food poisoning from Porter’s.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s Porter’s,” Brenda said. “No one has ever gotten sick from the food there. The quality control is unparalleled.”
“Then what’s wrong with her?” Jazmin asked.
“She probably just caught a bug or something,” Brenda said, packing up her things. “It happens. I’d steer clear of her as much as possible until it passes. Wash your hands. Stomach viruses can be highly contagious.”
Jazmin stopped her from leaving. “That’s it? That’s your diagnosis? You didn’t do anything.”
Brenda didn’t take offense. “I’m afraid there isn’t much to do other than keep her hydrated and let the virus run its course. She’ll be back to normal in a couple of days.”
Already, the nausea was wearing off. I scooted up to sit higher against the pillows, feeling stronger. “I feel a little better actually.”
“Good,” Brenda said. “Hopefully, most of it has already worked its way out of your system. I’ll have room service bring up an electrolyte drink and something plain for you to eat. In the meantime, take it easy. Okay?”
“Thanks, Brenda,” I said.
She smiled as she exited. “No problem. Let me know if it gets worse, even if it’s just a little bit. The roads are still pretty bad, and there are a lot of emergency calls going out right now. It could take a while before we could get you to a hospital.”
“That won’t be necessary,” I said.
“We’ll definitely get in contact with you,” Jazmin said. “I’d like you to check in on her again tomorrow.”
“Jazmin—” I said.
“Hush, you,” she commanded. “Thanks for your time, Brenda.”
“Of course. The two of you have a nice day. Get some rest, Miss Star.” She waved over
her shoulder. “I’ll let Mr. Porter know about your health. I’m sure he’ll want to check in on you too.”
She left the suite. Jazmin crossed her arms and glared at me from across the room.
“I’m not buying it,” she said.
“What?”
“You’ve been weird ever since we left King and Queens,” she said. “All of sudden you’re throwing up black bile. There’s no way this is just a stomach bug. Does this have anything to do with—?”
“With what?” I challenged.
“You know. The psychic stuff.”
I brushed my damp hair away from my face. “I don’t know. I feel awful. Can you just let me sleep it off?”
She began backing out of the room. “Okay, fine. I’ll leave you alone. But if you need anything at all, don’t get out of bed. Let me know, and I’ll get it for you.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I was afraid to go back to sleep. The nightmare was too fresh in my head. The most confusing thing about it was that I most certainly had not been Lucia Star. In those few minutes, I was someone else entirely, a child around the age of nine or ten who grew up around the King and Queens resort. It didn’t make any sense. I wasn’t a Watson. Whose head was I in? I had seen that demon before in real life—in the hidden basement at King and Queens. That was the most terrifying part of the nightmare, the reason I’d ripped myself out of unconsciousness. If that thing followed me to White Oak, I was doomed for sure.
An hour or so after Jazmin had retired to her own room, someone knocked lightly on my door and Riley popped her head in.
“Can I come in?” she asked quietly.
“Sure,” I said.
She sidled in and lingered near the foot of the bed. She wasn’t flushed like she usually was after a ski session, and she also wasn’t wearing any of her gear.
“I thought you went skiing,” I said.
“I was going to,” she replied, perching on the edge of the bed like a parrot on a drunk pirate’s shoulder. “But I couldn’t stop thinking about what happened this morning. I’ve never seen you like that.”