The Haunting of Silver Creek Lodge

by Alexandria Clarke

  “I owe you an apology,” Simon murmured.

  I startled. I thought he was asleep.

  “I’m sorry for the way I’ve been acting,” he continued. “I thought you were making the wrong choices for no reason. I should have believed you when you told me letting Boyce invest was a bad idea. I’m sorry for blaming Lily for driving a wedge between us. I’m sorry for—”

  “Hey.” I caught his chin and placed a soft kiss on his lips. “I know, baby. I made mistakes, too. I should have been more honest with you about the Lodge and how it’s been making me feel. I’m sorry, too.”

  He lightly traced the outline of my collarbone. “When you stepped off the roof that day… what really happened?”

  “A woman named Christine Higgins hung herself from that tree,” I said, shuddering at the thought of it. “Her husband had been abusing her. That night, the energy made me feel like stepping off the roof—like she did—would solve all my problems. Like freedom was only one step away.”

  “But you’re not suicidal?”

  “No, baby.”

  He pressed his forehead against mine and cupped my neck. “I love you so much. I can’t lose you.”

  “You won’t.”

  “What if this thing with Boyce goes wrong?” he asked. “What if the ley lines won’t cooperate with us?”

  I pushed his curls away from his eyes. “Then we’ll take comfort in knowing we tried everything we could to make things right.”

  Much of the next week passed without incident. With Lily’s help, Simon drove off additional sightings of his dead brother. Throughout the day, I spotted Simon sitting quietly in a corner with his eyes closed. The combination of Lily’s influence and this meditation tactic seemed to work; he had no further run-ins with nightmarish ghosts.

  Additionally, his knee recovery was off to a good start. Three times a week, I drove Simon into town for physical therapy. It gave us both a break from the building energy at the Lodge. While Simon did his therapy, I worked on Rebel Queen: Volume Three in the nearby cafe.

  For a reason I couldn’t explain, my writer’s block had resolved itself. I knew exactly what I wanted to do with the Queen’s character, what decisions she should make, and how they would impact her. All thanks to one person.

  “Bubbles!”

  I waved across the cafe when I saw the pre-teen come in. When she spotted me, she smiled softly. For once, she didn’t appear to have any fresh bruises. She held up a finger for me to wait and ordered at the counter. Then she came over to my table.

  “Can I sit here?” she asked, clambering into the booth before I could give her an answer.

  “Of course.” I cleared my drawings and materials from her side of the table. “I have your coat in my car, by the way. Don’t let me forget to give it to you on the way out.”

  Bubbles’s smile faded slightly. The last time we’d seen each other, she’d run away because I’d figured out what was happening at her home. Hopefully, her joining me meant she was willing to let me help her.

  “I have a bunch of coats like that one,” she said. Sure enough, she wore a similar coat today, though the sleeves were shorter as if it was last year’s style. She rifled through my half-completed drawings and notes for my storylines. “Are you writing?”

  “I sure am,” I said, beaming. “You inspired me.”

  “Me?”

  “Yes, you.” I prodded her with the butt end of a marker. “You were the one who made me realize why I liked writing Rebel Queen to begin with, and you reminded me of all the important themes in the story.”

  Bubbles blushed and tucked her chin into her chest. “I was just telling you what I liked about your series. You’re the one who wrote it.”

  “But you’re the reader I’ve always dreamed of,” I said. “I started drawing and writing stories because it was an outlet for all the hard things I couldn’t process. But the reason I decided to publish my stories was to help other people. If the Queen inspired one other person to live more authentically, I considered my job a success.”

  “Do you think I’m authentic?” Bubbles asked.

  “You are so much more than authentic,” I assured her. “You’re brave. Strong. Crafty. Stubborn. That’s not always a bad thing,” I added in response to the questioning look on her face. “Stubborn means resilient. You always bounce back.”

  She blushed again. “I never stood up for myself until I started reading your comic books,” she said. “If it weren’t for the Queen, I feel like I’d be much worse off.”

  I studied her over the lip of my coffee cup. “How are you doing? I haven’t seen you picking any fights recently. Did you give that up?”

  She scratched the scab on her ear that was almost healed. “Temporarily,” she said quietly. “I haven’t needed to pick any fights.”

  “You mean you haven’t needed to cover up any bruises from home,” I corrected her.

  “You can’t tell anyone,” she hissed across the table. “He’ll get mad if you do. My mom tried to go to the police years ago. He almost killed her.”

  I swallowed hard and tried not to let the pain I felt for Bubbles show in my expression. “He hurts your Mom, too?”

  Bubbles glanced around at the empty cafe before nodding. “He won’t let us leave. He makes Mom feel guilty for thinking about it. He hits me when I stand up for us, which I’ve been doing more often.”

  “No one else in town knows about this?” I asked in a hushed tone. “Surely, someone else must have noticed all your bruises. Your mom must look injured, too.”

  “He mostly hurts her where people can’t see,” Bubbles explained. “And she doesn’t go into town often. He won’t let her work. He says her job is to stay home and take care of him.”

  I pinched my lip between my teeth, holding back rage. “Your father is the kind of man the Queen would hunt and kill.”

  “Why do you think I like your books so much?” she asked dryly. “If I had the Queen’s powers, I would have rescued my mom already.”

  “Don’t worry,” I told her. “I have a plan.”

  Her eyes widened. “You can’t do anything rash. He’ll find a way to hurt you. Please, Max. Don’t be stupid.”

  I leaned over the table and beckoned her closer. “Think of me as your Rebel Queen, Bubbles. I’ll vanquish the villain.”

  I winked at her.

  Simon refused to let his knee injury stop him from working on the Lodge. With Keith’s help, he installed new flooring, put up wallboard, painted, and repaired whatever he could. He hobbled around one-legged, using whatever was around to prop himself up, from his crutches to broken furniture to the new toilets we hadn’t had time to install in the rooms yet. When I wasn’t writing volume three, I spent most of my time helping Simon “fix” things. He wasn’t fooled.

  “You don’t have to babysit me,” he said one day when I followed him into the kitchen. He hopped to the sink and filled a cup with water. “The therapist said I could work as long as I don’t put too much weight on the knee.”

  “I know,” I said. “I’m not babysitting. I’m helping you renovate.”

  “You missed the nail and hit your thumb with the hammer six times already,” he said. “Because you were too busy watching me make sure I’m not hurting myself.”

  I hid my bruised thumb behind my back. “I’m not watching you.”

  “Then stop trying to help.” He kissed my temple to offset the brusque order. “You’re distracting me. Besides, I’ve got Keith. He handles what I can’t.”

  Keith worked overtime every day. He arrived at dawn and stayed well past dusk to help us with the renovations. Despite our uncomfortable stand-off last week regarding Boyce, his pleasant manner had returned. He was all smiles, and he often arrived with fresh coffee and breakfast sandwiches for all of us in the mornings.

  “Hiya, Max,” he said at the end of one day, bounding into the lobby with a handful of pretzels while I worked on Rebel Queen. He peered over my shoulder at the half-finished pag
es. “Wow, that’s really coming along. Great job.”

  “Thanks, Keith.” I closed my portfolio and set it aside, away from his prying eyes. “Hey, what do you like to do for fun around here? Once the Lodge is finished and we’re not constantly working, I’d like to spend more time in the town.”

  He popped a pretzel into his mouth and chewed loudly. “Hmm, there’s not much to do here except ski, hike, or camp. Silver Creek is super outdoorsy. In the summer, it’s all about river rafting and trail biking.”

  “That sounds fun,” I said. “What about groups I could join? I wouldn’t mind getting to know some new people. You and Simon have the Gentlemen’s Club. Is there an equivalent for the women in Silver Creek?”

  “Totally!” he said, spraying me with pretzel crumbs. “Boyce’s wife, Marcy, leads a book club. I think they meet up once a month at Boyce’s house.”

  “Great! How do I join?”

  Keith threw a pretzel in the air and caught it with his mouth. “Marcy will be at the gala tomorrow night. Introduce yourself to her and let her know you’re interested in the book club. You’ll be a shoo-in.”

  “The gala is tomorrow night already?”

  “Yup.” He bounced on his toes. “I got a new suit and everything. I’m so excited. Aren’t you?”

  I faked a smile. “So excited.”

  Simon hopped in on his crutches. “You getting out of here, Keith?”

  “I was going to finish the molding in that second-floor bathroom,” Keith said, mouth still full of snacks.

  Simon waved him off. “It’s late. Go home. We can finish it next week. Enjoy your weekend.”

  Keith put on his coat and hat. “I’ll see you two at the gala, right? It’s going to be huge. You can’t miss it.”

  “We won’t,” I promised.

  Keith waved goodbye and headed out. His headlights drew white beams against the dark trees. Simon plopped down next to me on the couch.

  “I’ve never seen a dude so excited to wear a tux and go to a ball,” he said.

  “Something tells me he’s excited for more than the gala,” I muttered darkly. I stood up to watch Keith’s truck roll out of the parking lot. I wondered if he would go straight home or not. “Hey, Simon? We’re all out of hot chocolate mix. Do you mind if I pick some up in town?”

  He lifted his head from the couch. “Right now?”

  I slipped my arms into my coat without waiting for his answer. “Yeah, I’m really craving it. You’ll be okay by yourself for an hour, right?”

  “Sure, I’ll be fine. Do you want me to go with you, though? It’s dark out. The streets are icy.”

  “Don’t worry,” I said. “I’ll manage. You relax. I made your favorite bolognese sauce. It’s waiting for you in the kitchen.” With that, I placed a kiss on his forehead, put on my boots, and headed out into the cold night.

  As much as I loved snow, I hated driving in it. It piled up in the corners of the windshield, blocked the side mirrors, and transformed the winding, single-lane road that led to and from the Lodge into an icy death trap. My blood drummed as I inched downhill, squinting over the dashboard to see through the flurries. When I passed the dented tree that marked the spot where Lily crashed her car all those years ago, a shudder started at the top of my head and made its way all the way down to my toes.

  Keith’s truck was too big for him to maneuver it any faster down the hill, so I caught up with him with relative ease on the main road. I stayed a few car lengths back, so he wouldn’t suspect I was following him. As I suspected, he didn’t head toward his mother’s cute house in the nearby neighborhood. Rather, he turned in the opposite direction, toward a part of town I had yet to visit.

  A few minutes later, he pulled into the parking lot of a small, ugly bar. With a tin roof, shabby walls, and garish neon signs advertising the various beers sold there, the bar didn’t appear particularly inviting. Almost all pick-up trucks were parked outside, and most of them had some sort of camouflage accessory. If I had to guess, this bar catered to the hunting crowd.

  Keith got out of his truck and jogged inside, blowing warm air into his hands. I parked my car around the side of the bar and followed him in.

  Surprisingly, the inside of the bar was rather cheerful. Christmas lights were strung across the ceiling. A few windowsills sported Menorahs and dreidels as if the owners wanted to make sure everyone felt at home this holiday. The place was warm and smelled like cinnamon, not at all the beer and cigarettes vibe I was expecting.

  I stayed hidden behind a crowded high-top as Keith shook off his coat and sat in a shadowy booth toward the back of the bar. One person was already there, nursing a goblet of dark beer. When he leaned forward, the light overhead illuminated his face.

  “Boyce,” I muttered. “Of course.”

  With my hat on and my hood up, I casually made my way across the bar. Keeping my face out of Boyce and Keith’s view, I hopped onto an empty barstool adjacent to their booth. As I ordered a beer, their voices floated out to meet me.

  “Well?” Boyce asked. “Is everything in place?”

  “I got the safe combination,” Keith said, pulling a tattered piece of paper from his pocket. “The stupid old man wrote it down and kept it hidden under a floorboard.”

  Boyce accepted the paper. “You’ve certainly earned your place amongst the Gentlemen’s Club, Keith. To think, I didn’t believe you had the stones. What of the Lodge’s residents?”

  “They’re coming to the gala,” Keith replied. “We’ll get Max alone and bring her to you at the Lodge around midnight, while everyone is distracted by the final auction.”

  “I’ll finally be able to complete the ritual,” Boyce said. “With that insufferable Max as a sacrifice.”

  17

  “Are you sure that’s what he said?”

  Simon paced back and forth. The crutches clanked against the new flooring with each of Simon’s steps. He wasn’t pleased to find out I’d followed Keith instead of buying hot chocolate, but he’d quickly gotten over it when I gave him the info.

  “I’m positive,” I said. “The gala is just a distraction for the rest of the town. Boyce plans on kidnapping me and using me for his next ritual. Tomorrow night.”

  Simon’s left crutch got caught on the corner of the sofa. He stumbled, and I put a hand on his chest to steady him. “I can’t believe this,” he muttered, finally sitting down. “This is what we get for risking it all. Move to a town and get sacrificed for some bizarre human ritual.”

  “You’re safe,” I reminded him. “They don’t want you.”

  Lily, who’d been popping in and out of the conversation as much as the Lodge’s energy would allow, appeared by the fireplace. “It’s because Max is more in tune with the land. Boyce can feel it when he interacts with you. If he sacrifices someone who’s close to the land, it will improve his outcome.”

  “What about you?” I asked her. “What tie did you have to this land?”

  “I was born here,” she revealed. “In the room above the intersection before Earl closed it off. I’m tied to this land more than anyone else. Except maybe Earl and Emory. Boyce must have found out who I was and decided I was the perfect target.”

  “Well, he’s not getting Max,” Simon said ferociously. “I’ll shoot him before he lays a hand on her.”

  “Let’s not be rash.” I rested my hand on his knee. “We have to look at this in a positive way. At least we know what Boyce is planning. We can come up with our own plan.”

  “Our own plan?” Simon repeated. “We’re not schemers, Max. We’re artists.”

  “Art requires creativity,” I told him. “We’re nothing if not creative. If you think about it, this is kind of perfect. Where does Boyce want to do the ritual? In the safe room. Where did Lily suggest we should banish him with the power of the ley lines?”

  Simon lifted an eyebrow. “I hope you’re not suggesting what I think you’re suggesting.”

  “Let him kidnap me,” I proposed with a shrug that l
ooked more nonchalant than I felt. “He’ll take me into the safe room, thinking he’s in the clear for the ritual. Then Lily and the other spirits will join us, and we’ll take him out instead.”

  “No way,” Simon said. “I’m not letting some lunatic drag you from a party and do whatever he wants with you.”

  “It’s a trick,” I reminded him. “Boyce will think he’s winning. He’ll think he’s getting his way. Then we’ll take him by surprise and save the day.”

  Simon shook his head. “Nope. If I can’t guarantee your safety, I’m not agreeing to it.”

  “Tomorrow’s the winter solstice,” Lily interjected. “And it’s a full moon. No wonder Boyce planned his party then.”

  “What does that have to do with anything?” Simon asked.

  Before Lily could reply, she disappeared with a slight pop! A second later, she reappeared on the stairs, looking nauseous.

  “Ugh,” she groaned. “It’s getting worse.” She came down the stairs and laid next to me on the couch. “Remember the energies here are all-natural. They come from the earth and the land. The Winter Solstice marks the shortest day of the year. Many people believed it was good luck when the solstice coincided with the full moon. It gives the land extra power.”

  “So Boyce is going to be super-powered?” Simon said. “Then we’re definitely not participating in this craziness. We’ll get out of town tonight, lay low in Breckenridge or something. When this blows over and it’s safe, we’ll come back.”

  “Safe for how long?” I asked. “Boyce will just try again next month.”

  Simon threw up his arms. “Then we’ll leave! We’ll move again. Get out of here and let someone else figure all of this out.”

  Lily vanished again. This time, she seemed to do it willingly.

  I took Simon’s hand. “Do you remember why you wanted to move here? You were so excited to have a place of your own. To renovate the Lodge and make this into the ultimate honeymoon destination.”