by Tasha Black
“We’ll think of something,” he said with a smile. “Now where’s your dead animal?”
Dru was thinking of quite a few things, but she wasn’t about to say any of them out loud.
She pushed the thoughts away and pointed to the north side of the hotel.
They walked past the ruined north wing again. Viktor observing it thoughtfully, as before.
She was about to ask him if that wing had been in use when he was last here, but she spotted the animal in the snow.
Like the rabbit, this creature was out on the edge of the meadow, alone in a sea of white.
But its carcass was larger and even from here she could see the flame-red fur rippling in the breeze.
“It’s the fox,” she breathed.
Viktor nodded.
“What would kill a fox?” Dru wondered out loud.
The creature had startled her last night, but it was beautiful, even in death.
And more importantly, it was a predator.
What would kill a predator?
As they grew closer, she could see the scene was the same as with the rabbit. The fox lay motionless on the snow, flecks of scarlet blood on the pale ground beside it.
But the animal itself appeared untouched, as if it had been killed for sport.
It looked almost like a little dog, sleeping and dreaming of the big, wild woods.
She felt unexpected tears prickle her eyelids.
“Drucilla, what’s wrong?” Viktor asked.
She shook her head, feeling very foolish.
“Give me the bags,” he said softly.
She pulled them from her pocket and handed them over.
Viktor bent, and with a sorrowful expression, he quickly bagged the poor fox.
“Where do we go with him?” he asked quietly.
“This way,” she said.
They headed around the back of the hotel.
There was a stillness in the night that felt fitting to their unhappy task. But Dru felt her mind whirling.
What would have killed a fox?
She caught movement at the edge of the woods out of the corner of her eye, but when she turned to look there were only trees.
“What is it?” Viktor asked.
“Nothing, I guess,” she said, shaking her head. “I thought I saw something.”
They continued around the back of the abandoned wing, and Dru led the way to the entrance to the basement, which was tucked between the abandoned wing and the solarium.
She slid the skeleton key out of her pocket and opened the door as Viktor watched.
Bracing herself, she headed down the stairs and into the darkness. She pulled the chain and the bulb seemed even more dim than usual. Somehow, it wasn’t quite as scary this time, with Viktor as company, their footsteps echoing together on the stones.
“So the trash is kept down here?” Viktor asked.
“Yes,” she told him. “But the whole basement is riddled with tunnels. It’s legendary. Some of them were originally dug to help people hide while they were trying to escape slavery.”
“The Underground Railroad,” Viktor said.
“Exactly,” Dru agreed. “And after that, they were used during Prohibition to hide the alcohol that got distributed by the mob to all the Poconos resorts.”
He nodded.
“And finally, there was the jewel thief,” she went on. “He supposedly left a fortune down here somewhere, before he disappeared.”
“Do you believe it?” Viktor asked her.
She shrugged.
“There have been so many people here looking for that treasure,” she said. “I mean, really, it’s been like fifty years. I’d think someone would have found it by now.”
She turned the corner to the trash bins and Viktor handed her the bag.
It was so light that it hardly seemed anything was in it at all.
“What?” he asked.
“Nothing,” she said, tossing it into the bin. “We should get out of here.”
“Agreed,” he said.
They headed back down the tunnel to the stairs that would take them outside.
Viktor’s presence beside her was comforting, even though she couldn’t help but think about the weight of the three-story hotel above them, pressing down on the arched stone ceiling of the catacombs.
The tunnels were so narrow.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Sure,” she said. “It will be good to get out of here.”
“The building has stood this long. It’s not going anywhere now,” he said with a half-smile, as if he had read her mind.
“Nonetheless,” she said, speeding up to get to the steps.
As she emerged outside, she caught movement at the tree line again, but this time a person was silhouetted against the snow.
It was a man. He was standing near the groundskeeper’s cottage.
“Hey,” she waved.
He waved back and she headed over, Viktor in tow.
The man strode toward her as if to meet them in the middle.
She felt a little relieved when she saw the cameras hanging around his neck. He was obviously a tourist.
“Are you a guest of Hemlock House?” she asked the man, when they reached each other.
“Yes,” he replied, nodding once.
He was short, with thick glasses and a shock of dark hair.
“I’m Dru Holloway,” she said. “I work in guest services.”
“Oscar Hawkins,” he said. “Ornithologist.”
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Hawkins,” she replied. “Listen, you’re welcome to explore the grounds, but don’t let the groundskeeper catch you near his cottage. He doesn’t like anyone over there, and he keeps some toxic items on hand for cleaning and fueling the equipment.”
“Oh, wow, don’t worry about me,” Oscar said, hands up. “I wouldn’t go near anything like that. The birds can scent it, and they won’t let you get close. Even trace amounts can be fatal to avians.”
“Got it,” Dru said. “Just steer clear of the cottage and you should be fine. Happy birdwatching!”
He scuttled away, clearly not interested in making friends.
“Thank goodness,” she said, turning to Viktor. “I guess that’s who I saw walking around before we went to the basement.”
“Do you get a lot of birdwatchers here?” he asked.
“Tons,” she said. “Global warming has changed what’s available to see in the region. The mountaintop is still a great spot to find Pennsylvania birds that aren’t in other parts of the state anymore.”
“Hilltop,” he muttered.
“Please don’t make me break our treaty,” she teased.
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he told her. “So what are your plans for the evening?”
“I need to lock myself up and get some writing done,” she said. “Then I’ve got a shift at the desk. Should be interesting. We’ll be full up because of the comet.”
“I’ll walk you to your room,” he offered.
“Thank you,” she replied.
They walked around the back of the hotel, past the solarium and to the backstairs that led to the servants’ wing.
She wondered if he would walk her all the way up.
He opened the door for her, clearly intending to see her right to the door of her room.
She climbed the stairs ahead of him, suddenly feeling self-conscious. Had he asked her what she was up to because he wanted to spend more time together?
She would have said yes, but now that she had said so firmly that she needed to work, it would sound weird to change her story.
She reached her room and turned around.
Viktor stood a few inches away, his big body looming over hers.
She swallowed and glanced up.
His impossibly blue eyes were pale in the dim light of the hallway. He observed her hungrily, and she felt her heart rate speed up like she had sprinted the whole way in.
“W-would you like to come
in?” she heard herself ask.
“Lock yourself up,” he whispered, “and get some writing done. I’ll see you later, Drucilla.”
He turned on his heel and headed down the corridor toward the main stair before she could catch her breath.
11
Dru sat at her desk, hands on the keys of the old typewriter, as she gazed out the window and tried to spin her tale properly.
But it seemed as though her ghost story required a melancholy mood that she wasn’t quite feeling at the moment.
It was that look in Viktor’s eyes, and the strength of his arms around her in the woods the other night, giving her a sense of warm anticipation instead of the trepidation a spooky story required.
She ran her hand absentmindedly across the surface of the desk, feeling her grandmother’s initials carved there. She’d been doing it habitually since she found them. Sometimes, it helped her focus.
Finally, her bedroom faded, and the world of the novel descended on her. She lost herself until the alarm on her phone went off, telling her it was time to head downstairs for her shift.
She stood up, stretched, and grabbed the typewriter and journal to take down with her, feeling good about making some progress. She left the room with a spring in her step and headed for the front desk.
“Hey, Dru,” Hailey said before she could even get down the stairs.
“How’s it going?” Dru asked.
“No, no, no,” Hailey scolded her. “Oh, no. You’re not getting away with that.”
“Getting away with what?” Dru asked.
“Getting away with what?” Hailey echoed. “I don’t know, how about getting away with noticing the weird trunk guy is secretly a hottie, and then hiding out with him in the solarium?”
“Oh, that’s not—” Dru began.
“—and then taking him with you to clean up a dead animal,” Hailey continued. “You might have convinced me you just bumped into each other in the solarium, but roadkill duty? That shit is reserved for boyfriend material.”
Dru glanced around the lobby to make sure they were alone, and then felt a little silly about it.
“Nothing is going on with us,” she said quietly.
Outside of the fact that I can’t stop thinking about him, even when I’m asleep, apparently.
“So why did you have to make sure the coast was clear before you said that?” Hailey whispered back, arching her brows even higher. At this rate, they were going to end up jumping completely off her face.
Dru couldn’t help but giggle.
Hailey’s face broke into a warm smile. “I knew it.”
“Nothing is going on with us, though,” Dru protested. “That part is true. But, yeah, he is… hot.”
“Yeah, he is hot,” Hailey said. “Girl, lock that down before someone else does.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” Dru said.
“What? Me?” Hailey laughed. “I would never hone in on your racket. But there are other women out there.”
“Not here,” Dru said.
There were a few female guests, but she was pretty sure there wasn’t exactly a lot of competition. Unless Viktor was into married women, or geriatric sisters.
“Not here yet,” Hailey corrected her. “But we’ve got loads of people coming in for the comet. All you need is one woman with a little initiative, and some big boobs and whammo, he’s gone.”
“Well, he’s just a hotel guest,” Dru shrugged. Though it didn’t really feel that way. She felt… a connection. But that was too silly to say out loud.
“Just jump his bones,” Hailey advised. “It’ll be an inspiration for your book.”
Could it really be that simple?
“Noted,” Dru said. “How was your shift?”
“Boring,” Hailey said. “No sign of Tyler.”
Dru laughed.
“Well, I’m off,” Hailey said. “Ciao.”
“Ciao,” Dru replied as her friend headed off.
She had just unpacked the typewriter and set the journal on the desk, when the front doors swung open.
A man appeared in the doorway, his wide-shouldered frame silhouetted by the porch lights. He wore a woolen overcoat, and she could see the crisp white shirt underneath, open just enough at the collar to show off a bit of his tanned chest.
Dru didn’t think she’d ever met the man before, but something about his face was familiar. His head was shaved bald, so it was difficult to determine his exact age, but his solid jawline and the tiny crow’s feet next to his gray eyes told her he was a bit older than she was.
He hadn’t said a word, but somehow, she could already tell he was a man who was used to getting what he wanted. Maybe it was those steel-gray eyes.
“Welcome to Hemlock House,” Dru said.
“Hey, there,” he said, his tone more friendly than she expected. “I’m checking in.”
“Here for the comet?” she asked politely as he set his suitcase down.
“Huh?” he asked.
“Oh, there’s a comet passing soon,” she said. “Some of our guests are here to see it from the top of the mountain.”
“Yeah, I’m here for that,” he said. “I just didn’t hear you.”
“What’s your name, sir?” she asked.
“Johnny Smith,” he said. “My girl called ahead.”
She entered his info into the computer, then waited a few seconds for it to catch up.
“There you are,” she replied. “You’re in the Ruby Room. Since you didn’t pre-pay, I’ll need your credit card and driver’s license, please.”
“I’m paying cash,” Johnny said, pulling a large money clip out of his pocket and peeling off bills to hand over. “I don’t believe in credit cards.”
Dru had never seen someone pull that much money out of their pocket before. There had to be a few thousand dollars folded into the clip.
“Good for you,” Dru said, rethinking how old he must be. People in their thirties didn’t say stuff like that.
“Here’s your key,” she said, grabbing it off the hook. “May I see you to your room?”
“I’m good, sweetheart,” he said with a sly grin. “But here’s a little something for all your help.”
Without missing a beat, he took her hand in his, like he was going to shake it. But instead, he passed her a neatly folded twenty-dollar bill.
When had he even had time to do that?
Before she had time to react, he shot her a wink and then jogged up the stairs.
Dru shrugged and slipped the tip into her pocket. She’d have to go into the register to break it down to smaller bills next time she opened it. The vending machine didn’t take twenties.
What an odd man.
The more she thought about it, the more she was sure she’d seen him somewhere before. But she couldn’t quite place him.
The phone rang and she grabbed it. It was already shaping up to be busier than most nights.
“Hemlock House, front desk,” she said. “This is Dru.”
“Hey there, it’s Jenna Wilder, from the Topaz Room,” a familiar voice said. “I was just calling down to see if there were any room openings.”
“Let me check on that for you,” Dru said. She knew there were no openings. There were sticky notes all over the front desk and computer begging for a spare room for the Wilders. The poor things really wanted privacy from that daughter. They certainly weren't having the romantic getaway they had planned.
She opened the occupancy program and clicked through, knowing what she would find.
“I’m so sorry, Mrs. Wilder,” she said. “We don’t have any openings yet. I have a note posted on the desk, so none of us will forget to call if anything becomes available.”
“Thank you, Dru,” Mrs. Wilder said, the disappointment coming through in her voice.
She hung up, and Dru did the same.
Though she meant to focus on her typewriter, Dru found herself examining the journal instead.
The non-words swam before her
eyes, the graceful letters looking familiar and alien at the same time.
She ran her finger along the top of the desk absent-mindedly, but of course her grandmother’s initials weren’t here, they were only in her old room.
She tugged on her locket instead and ran her thumb over the letters J-A, comforted by their familiar scrawl.
Suddenly, the air went out of her lungs and she nearly leapt to her feet. She’d been looking for a key, but…
What if there was a reason the handwriting looked familiar?
What if the journal belonged to Nana?
What if I’ve had the key all along?
It was so simple that it couldn’t possibly be right.
But the journal had been in her grandmother’s old room. The initials were literally carved into the desk where the thing had been wedged.
Her hands shook as she tried to pull the cryptogram wheel out of the back binding of the journal where she had tucked it.
She spun the inner wheel until the J lined up with the A.
Then she bent over the journal and began to note each letter. She jotted the letter from the wheel over each original letter.
By the time she had gotten the first part of the first word she knew she was right.
J-a-n
She tried to remain calm as she followed the wheel to find the whole name written on the opening page.
Jane Anderson
“Holy crap,” she said to herself. “Nana.”
Of course the handwriting was familiar. Nana had done all her professional writing on a typewriter. But there were a few of Nana’s holiday cookie recipes jotted on index cards tucked into the cookbook at home. The perfectly balanced, loopy letters detailing her process for gingerbread and peppermint bark brownies were exactly the same as the letters in the journal.
And Dru had been carrying the key the whole time.
12
Dru was bent over the journal, lost in the process of methodically translating one letter at a time, when someone cleared their throat.
She looked up and nearly jumped.
Viktor was standing just at the other side of the desk. He smiled at her.
“How is your night going?” he asked.
“Fine,” she said, closing the journal.
“You made some progress?”
