by Krista Wolf
His jaw tightened. The slight change in expression only made him more attractive.
“Look, we have a big day tomorrow,” said Kara. “I’m sleeping. You should too.”
He shrugged. “So I’ll sleep with you.”
“Yeah right.”
She started to close the door but there was something different now. Something about his eyes that actually stopped her.
“A mistake?” he asked. “Really?”
There was no sarcasm in his tone, no spite or malice. He was genuinely asking. Almost as if…
He were wounded?
Kara realized he was waiting on an answer. Clutching the pillow a little tighter, she nodded.
“Yes, a mistake,” she repeated. “That’s all it was.”
A deafening silence reigned. For a moment they just stood staring at each other through the cracked doorway.
“Alright,” Logan sighed. “Got it.”
He left calmly this time, without storming off. His face was stoic, his body language non-existent. Kara couldn’t detect the hint of any emotion at all.
Shit.
The words sounded softer in her head than when they’d left her lips. She’d still meant them, but maybe not as harsh.
She closed the door. Latched it. Jumped back into bed.
A mistake. She sighed. Sure.
Kara pulled the covers tight beneath her chin. For the thousandth time in her life, she convinced herself that’s all they could ever be.
Twenty-Nine
Kara leaned over her second cup of coffee, squinting down into Jeremy’s notes. Everything was perfectly arranged, lined up in order of importance and relativity. As always, he’d been thorough and meticulous.
“So do you see what I’m saying?”
He sat across from her, cleaning his glasses yet again. He was always cleaning his glasses. Kara could never tell if it was a nervous habit or if he just hated the slightest speck of dust. Maybe both.
“That the Averoigne was haunted from its inception?”
“Yes, sort of,” Jeremy replied. “That it was at least susceptible to spiritual activity, even before Rudolph Northrop got there.”
Kara yawned. She wasn’t sure why, because she’d actually slept well. And other than Logan’s visit, she’d been thankfully uninterrupted.
“So what exactly was here,” she pointed down at the table, “before the hotel was built?”
“Not sure,” said Jeremy. “But with the storm breaking the way it has, I was about to head down to the town library. The city hall doesn’t have the storage for it, so all the town records are kept there.”
Kara perked up immediately. “Really?” All of a sudden she was eager to be out of the hotel for a while. “I’d take that ride.”
Jeremy smiled and dropped his napkin to the table. “Then let’s go.”
She found Logan outside the dining hall, leaning against one of the lobby’s tall columns. Kara spotted him easily from across the big room, talking with a group of three young women.
“Hey,” she said, completely interrupting their conversation. It was so abrupt Logan’s mouth was frozen open, mid-story. It was actually kind of funny.
“What?”
Kara nodded in the direction of the nearest window. “Storm broke.”
Outside, the snow had finally stopped. The sky was a fantastic blue color. The entire landscape was was almost blindingly bright; everywhere you looked there were huge drifts of snow reflecting the sunlight.
“So?” Logan asked. He was leaning casually on the column with one elbow. “And?”
“And we’re going to check out some records at the city library.”
All three women were staring at Kara like she’d just escaped from a mental ward. One of them, a pretty blonde with green eyes, spoke up:
“Like music records?”
Kara resisted the urge to flick her in the forehead. “No,” she scoffed. “Not like that at all. Not even a little bit.”
The girl’s mouth turned down in a scornful frown. She might’ve said something nasty in reply, but Kara was too quick.
“Anyway, Jeremy’s getting us a ride. Roads are still bad, but it’s only a little more than a mile away. So…”
The trio of girls shifted their gaze back to Logan, waiting on his reply. Kara had been curious as to why he’d missed breakfast. Now she knew. She wondered how long he’d been standing around here, charming them.
“No thanks,” said Logan.
Her eyebrows came together. She was struck with a sudden pang of fierce anger.
Or maybe it’s jealousy…
“No thanks?” she repeated.
The smile he returned her way said everything. It was simple, pleasant, unaffected.
Piss off, the smile basically said.
“Yeah, no thanks,” Logan said again. “I’ve got some stuff to check out around here anyway.” As he said the words ‘check out’, his eyes intentionally went to the pretty blonde. Kara’s jaw clenched.
“You guys go ahead though,” Logan finished. “I’ll catch up with you when you get back.”
He waved his hand, then went right back to talking with the three girls. But from the corner of his eye? Kara knew he was still looking at her. Watching her for any sort of sign or reaction, physical or emotional.
She decided she wouldn’t give him any.
“Well don’t go up there alone,” she said sternly, her gaze once again finding his. “It’s too dangerous.” The meaning was not lost between them. “And see if you can have our room cleaned and made up too,” Kara added. She winked at the blonde girl. “You know, the one with the big mirror? The one we’re staying in later on tonight?”
The blonde’s chin dropped ever so slightly. She made an expression like she’d sipped a mouthful of sour milk. So did Logan.
“Alright,” he said. “I’ll talk to Radcliffe about it.”
“Good idea.”
Kara stormed off, not caring whether or not he was still looking. She crossed the lobby, exited the big doors, and took her first breath of fresh air in days.
It was crisp. Clean. Delicious. The cold stabbed at her lungs.
“God, this air tastes sweet!” she shouted, then smiled at Jeremy.
“You’re not kidding.” He scanned over her shoulder, obviously looking for something. “Uh… he’s not coming?”
Screw him.
“Logan’s gonna hang back and prep things for tonight.” It was only a partial lie. Or so she hoped.
“Ah,” said Jeremy. “Good idea.”
He was standing beside a big SUV, driven by a burly, black-bearded man. Jeremy opened the rear passenger door for her and Kara slid in. He slid in beside her. The driver hit the gas, the tires spun for a bit, and then the vehicle started rumbling its way toward the town’s main avenue.
Kara stared back at the Averoigne, all covered in snow. Forget proverbs — it felt as if a physical weight were actually being lifted from her shoulders.
“Storm’s not over,” the man told them as he drove. The roads were borderline terrible, but his wide tires made short work of the powdery chunks. “This is just a break, so you might want to get back to the hotel sooner rather than later.”
Kara was still marveling at how good it felt to be away. “Thanks,” she said. “We’ll keep it in mind.”
Thirty
The town library was an old, multi-level building set into the side of a deep hill. From the road the snowdrifts made it hardly visible at all. The parking lot was only partially cleared.
Somehow they managed to get in anyway. The ride Jeremy arranged for them dropped them off on the salted, dirty sidewalk.
“Be careful where you step,” the burly driver coughed as they exited. “There’s patches of ice everywhere.”
Jeremy thanked him and tipped the guy heavily. He also promised to call him for the ride back in a couple of hours.
Kara watched as he pulled away in a white puff of exhaust. “I can’t believe this pl
ace is even open,” she marveled.
Jeremy laughed. “This is New Hampshire,” he said. “If they let a little snow shut them down, nothing would be open for half the year.”
An argument formed in Kara’s head, one in which she pointed out what the definition of a “little snow” actually ought to be. She dropped it as they passed through the sliding doors and into the wide, spacious landing. Two sets of well-worn steps had been re-treaded with double-sided skid tape. They led both up and down.
“Front desk is this way,” said Jeremy. “Let’s see what we can do.”
Several hours later, they were still lost in a mountain of paperwork.
“This is totally nuts,” said Kara. She threw aside a folded piece of yellowed parchment. “It’s like looking for—”
“A needle in a haystack?” Jeremy finished for her.
She rolled her eyes at the old adage. “How about a snowball in a blizzard?”
“Good enough.”
They were knee-deep in town records, maps, property deeds… even mortgage documents. All things boring and mundane. Kara’s back and neck were sore from hunching over. Her eyes hurt. She was ready to call it quits.
But Jeremy wasn’t.
“You taking another break?” he asked.
“Sort of,” she said. She rubbed hard at her neck.
“Fine, then go scare us up some more drinks.”
Kara’s knees cracked as she stood up. By now they knew everything there was to know about the town. They knew the founders, the farmers, the rich land owners and the past politicians. Anything and everything except what previously existed on the lot where the Averoigne had been built.
I wonder what Logan’s doing right now?
She imagined him roaming the hotel’s halls, charming the rest of the guests. Flirting with the cute blonde she’d seen this morning. Whatever he was doing, it was much more fun than this.
Or whomever he’s doing…
Kara shoved her intrusive thoughts aside as she trudged her way up the steps. It didn’t matter. She and Logan didn’t have anything anyway. And right now she was shivering, her hands curled into claws. Of course the town records had been kept in the lower level of the library — the part built straight into the side of the hill. That part that was bitter cold…
She passed the librarian, one of the only other people in the building, and dropped her last two quarters into the ancient vending machine. With a loud whir, it spat out another two paper cups of mediocre hot chocolate. Kara carried them back down, working hard not to spill anything. You’d think they’d give you lids, but no. She had to laugh. At least her hands were warm.
By the time she got back, Jeremy was sitting up straight. He’d brought one document over to one of the windows, set near the ceiling, where the lighting was better. But where it was also bitingly cold.
“Check this out,” he said.
Kara set down one of the cups and cradled the other in both hands. Peering over his shoulder, she checked.
“This is it,” Jeremy said excitedly. He was pointing down, into a ledger. “This is the lot number that corresponds to where the hotel was built!”
He was excited for the discovery. Kara was excited because it meant she could thaw out her frozen extremities. Jeremy paused for an awful long time. Too long for it to be just for dramatic effect.
“And?” she said.
“And it looks like there was a home there,” Jeremy said. “Part of a larger farm.” He squinted and pushed his glasses back. “A house, definitely. Owned by a man named Victor Walcott.”
Kara shrugged. She’d read through Jeremy’s files on the Averoigne and the name meant nothing to her.
“So what now?” she asked. “We head back to the Averoigne and see if Radcliffe knows anything about—”
“No, no,” Jeremy jumped in. He shook the ledger in his hand. “Now we check the town records for anything we can find on this guy.”
Kara’s stomach dropped. She groaned. “Are you serious?”
Her companion blinked. Unfortunately she recognized the look. “Of course!”
Finding what they could on Victor Walcott required three things: the librarian’s help, another two hours, and Kara almost literally freezing her ass off.
She stood in the back corner of the lower library, pressing her backside against the blissfully warm radiator. It wasn’t until Jeremy yelled out in triumph that she actually moved.
“Got him!”
Kara hurried over, if for no other reason than to increase her circulation. She glanced up as she walked. The tiny windows that peered outside were dark now. She had no idea what time it was.
“Victor Walcott wasn’t a farmer,” Jeremy was saying. “He was the son of a alchemist, who inherited the farm from his parents.”
“An alchemist?” Kara asked.
“Yes, someone who makes—”
“I know what an alchemist is,” she laughed. “Come on Jeremy. It hasn’t been that long since you knew me.”
He stopped, and for a moment he devoted his attention solely on her. His eyes locked onto hers, and Kara felt an old familiar tingle along the nape of her neck.
Uh oh.
The tingle had nothing to do with her retrocognition. It had everything to do with the way she originally fell for Jeremy. How she’d initially been attracted by his purity. His innocence. His blind devotion to the Order, coupled with his drive to do things first and then analyze them later.
Kind of like me, thought Kara. In a way, you’re exactly like that.
It also helped that he was beyond nerdy cute. Handsome in ways that didn’t make sense. He reminded her of when Hollywood would cast a beautiful actor to play a geeky part, but make the character way too good-looking to be believable.
“So…” she shivered. “Alchemy. Got it.” She clasped her own arms. “Can we go now?”
“Soon,” said Jeremy. He reached out and handed her a couple of black and white photographs. “Here. Look at these.”
Kara did. They all depicted the same thing: an old, low-slung house against a featureless horizon. In the third photo, a man stood off to one side. He was slightly hunched, his features blurred as if the photo was taken while he was moving.
“That him?” she asked.
“I think so.”
Kara flipped through the photos again, giving them a second pass. This time she noticed a stacked stone wall, curving around the side of the house.
“This is definitely it,” she announced. “See this wall? It’s still a part of the hotel. I’ve seen photos of the Averoigne during the summer, and this wall is definitely in them.”
Jeremy took the photo from her to study it. As she did, the last photo came into view again…
But the man in the photo had moved.
“Uh….”
“What?”
Kara blinked, staring down in disbelief. The man off to the side of the house was now in front of it. And instead of showing up all blurred and out of focus, he was crystal clear.
The image frightened her. Victor Walcott had his head down, his chin scrunched to his chest. But he was looking up, through the tops of his eyes. Looking out, through the photo, straight at the person holding it.
Straight at her.
“D— Did you see this?” Kara stammered.
Jeremy was preoccupied, still busy peering at the other photo she’d just handed him. But try as she might, Kara couldn’t look away. Her blood ran cold.
Look at him! He’s so furious…
It was the only way to describe it: an undeniable, unquenchable wrath. The man looking out from the photo had a dark, ominous expression. He looked so real — like a living creature — staring out at her through time. Seeing her. Loathing her…
Jeremy’s fingers pinched the photo and took it abruptly from her field of vision. Kara blinked, waiting on his reaction.
“What’s wrong?”
“See him?” asked Kara
“The guy, yeah.”
&
nbsp; “Isn’t he…”
“Blurry?”
Jeremy held up the photo to her. Somehow it had reverted back to its original depiction.
“But… but that’s not what I saw.”
He seemed confused at her words, but not disbelieving. He turned the photo around so that it faced him again. “Well, what did you see?”
“I… I saw the guy,” Kara said. “Victor Walcott. And he— he—”
Just then the librarian stepped into their little area. She moved like a ninja, startling them both. When she saw the mess they’d made so far she shook her head disapprovingly.
“Time to leave,” she said, a note of concern in her voice. “Storm’s back, and everything in town is shutting down.”
Thirty-One
It took Jeremy and Kara only a quick glance out the front doors of the library to realize something right away:
Neither of them were going anywhere.
The storm had returned, and with an all new vengeance. Impenetrable sheets of snow came down thick and fast, so hard it was blowing sideways. The roads were no longer visible. Everything beyond the light of the parking lot overheads was white against inky darkness.
“I’m sorry I didn’t come down sooner,” the librarian apologized. “I… well… I kind of forgot you were still here.”
In the end it was all their own fault and Kara knew it. She still put most of the blame on Jeremy though. He called his driver but couldn’t get a connection. Kara’s phone didn’t have cell service at all.
“What the hell are we going to do now?” she demanded.
The librarian herself actually lived on the premises, in a detached living quarters original to the building. She offered them her living room floor to sleep on. Politely, they turned her down.
“Could we make the Averoigne?” Kara asked. It was funny how eager she’d been to be away from the old hotel, and now she couldn’t wait to get back. “You said it was only a mile, right?”
“No way,” said Jeremy. “With the wind chill temperatures in the single digits? We’d freeze to death. Or get disorientated and become lost. Or get plowed into a snowbank, or—”