by Kristie Cook
I stilled in his grasp, only inches from stroking him. “Let me take care of you at least.”
“Ah, Michaela, you already did. Watching you come like that . . . something I never thought I’d do again. And drinking your blood while you did—it was my own personal heaven.” He tugged on my wrist, pulling me to my feet. “There will be lots of time to take care of me, yeah?”
I straightened out my clothes. “Yeah. Plenty of time for us both.”
“You’re staying then?”
I glanced around the guest room, my gaze pausing at the window and the view of the mountains, before coming to his face, nearly as impressive. “Where else would I go?”
He leaned toward me as though to kiss me, but his pocket buzzed. He retrieved his phone, glanced at the screen, and swore under his breath. His entire demeanor changed.
“I have to go, but I’ll be back later. We have a lot to talk about.”
When he didn’t come back, I began to wonder what kind of fool I was, thinking I wouldn’t be given a taste of my own medicine.
Chapter 10
The snowstorm hit, forcing me to spend a few days inside. I spent a lot of time admiring the beauty of the freshly fallen snow on the mountains and the trees, and the rest learning about the business side of the inn. I seemed to know the inn itself quite well, as though I’d grown up in it, which, I began to recall, I basically had. Checking guests in and out also came as second nature, and apparently nothing had changed since I’d worked the front desk all through high school. I only had a few guests come and go, and once I learned how to use the ancient reservation system, I understood why the inn was in such disrepair and being threatened with foreclosure. The low revenues couldn’t possibly pay the utility bills for this huge manor, let alone any other expenses.
“There’s just no way,” I said on a sad sigh as I sat behind the desk in the back office. I’d cleaned it off, set the photos to the side, and organized all of the papers that had been covering it. Then I studied everything I could find in the files. None of it good news.
“No way what?” a female asked from the doorway.
I looked up to find Addie standing there in jeans and a black hoodie with a big silver eye on it, her coat folded over her arm.
“No way this place can stay in business.” I gestured toward the bills and bank statements spread out in front of me. “From my calculations, we need at least a fifty-percent occupancy rate to break even, and we haven’t had that in over a year.”
“Probably not since your mother died.” Addie came in and took a seat in one of the chairs on the opposite side of the desk. “Mammie didn’t really know much about managing this inn. Business was never her forte. She was spectacular at making people feel at home, but she didn’t know how to get them here in the first place.”
I frowned at the papers in front of me. “It got worse with her, but honestly, it started years ago. Five years ago this fall, to be exact.” I looked up at her. “My father was the businessman, right? Is that when he . . . passed?”
She tilted her head as she briefly thought about it. “Erm, he wouldn’t have even started aging yet. You wouldn’t have passed the age of maturity, so he would have been fine.” She gnawed on her lip for a moment. “I think I know why, though. A couple things, actually. First, your mom was pretty depressed after you left. She’d been part of the decision, as far as I know, but that didn’t mean she liked it. Everyone noticed a change in her. So your dad was dealing with a lot. And then, well . . .”
“Well, what?” I asked when she didn’t continue.
“You might get mad.”
“Why?”
“Well, that’s about the time Tase Roca bought the ski resort and started expanding it.”
I folded my hands on the desk. “I don’t get it. Why would I be mad?”
“His first phase of expansion was adding a few cabins right at the bottom of the mountain. Ski-in/ski-out kind of places.”
At the mention of skiing, all sorts of memories flooded my mind. Visions of us on the slopes, skiing when we were younger and then snowboarding. Racing each other because most of the guys our age couldn’t keep up or didn’t dare do the moguls like we did.
“Do you still ski?” I asked excitedly.
She blinked at the unexpected change in conversation. “Uh, yeah. Love to. So did you—wait. Do you remember something?”
“I do! You and me killing it on the slopes. I can’t wait to go again!” I nearly squealed.
She laughed. “We had a lot of fun out there.”
Her expression fell, though.
“What?” I asked. “Please don’t tell me it’s not the same.”
“Well, it’s not that. I mean, it’s not quite the same because we have more tourists coming in than we used to.”
I glanced at the papers on the desk. “More tourists, but fewer guests?”
“That’s the thing. Like I said, Tase bought the resort and started expanding it.”
“With a few cabins.”
“At first, yeah. Then over the next few years, he added a second ski lift, a couple of new trails, more cabins . . . The growth was slow at first, but then it kind of exploded two years ago. The Court wasn’t happy about it, but they do like the extra money flowing in.”
“Obviously not to here. Isn’t the Whisper Falls Inn the largest hotel in town?”
She nodded.
“But the least busy.” That wasn’t a question.
“Besides the cabins at the resort, there have been other places popping up. A couple of B&Bs. The Green Coven even bought up a bunch of the townhomes and condos and rent them out by the week. We’ve been working overtime, the Luna Coven that is, to ensure the wards stay intact and everything remains under control. They had to pull the reins in on Tase. He’s been flipping out lately because of it.”
“Tase? You said Roca?”
She picked at her sleeve. “Yeah. Xandru’s older brother.”
Something was off in her tone. My eyes widened as I remembered.
“You still have a crush on him! Oh my god. Are you with him now?”
“Uh, no. Not really, anyway. I don’t think anyone will ever nail that man down.” Her rings glinted in the light as she waved her hand in the air as though dismissing him. “I don’t want to talk about that. He’s an ass most of the time. Especially lately.”
I dropped my chin in my hand. “So Tase’s business ventures are responsible for the Whisper Falls’ demise.”
“Bottom line? I think so.”
I gnawed on my lip. “Does Xandru have anything to do with it?”
She became completely engrossed with her sleeve again.
“Ah. This is where I get mad,” I said as realization set in. After everything he’d said about protecting the inn and me, come to find out he’d played some kind of role in the inn’s sad state. “He did, didn’t he?”
“They keep everything close to the vest, but I think it’s a family affair. I don’t really know how deep for Xan, though. He’s always done his own thing, but when you left . . . he pretty much lost it, Kales. Adrian, Andrei, and Tase were all he had.”
My mind conjured forth vague recollections of faces obviously related to Xandru as she ticked off the names. His brothers. The entire family had somewhat of a bad reputation in town, but I’d always thought if given the chance, they’d do the right thing. I supposed I’d expected them to live up to Xandru’s standards. Apparently, they’d brought him down to theirs.
Then something else occurred to me.
“Holy shit. Maybe Xandru’s so damn interested in keeping an eye on the inn because they plan to buy it! Have the Rocas ever mentioned that?”
She pulled a face and squirmed in her chair. “Well . . . they have held a grudge against your family for a very long time. I don’t know all the reasoning behind it, but I do know everyone in town practically worshipped your father and your family, while the Rocas were always treated differently.”
“Maybe because
they have a bad reputation?”
“Or maybe they earned the reputation because they got tired of being treated like shit for a hundred or so years.”
“And now they found a way to screw my family over. I can’t believe I let him—” I cut myself off.
Addie’s eyes sparked with curiosity as she leaned forward. “Let him what, Kales? What did you let Xandru do to you?”
She said it as though she knew exactly what he’d done to me, causing blood to rush to my cheeks. Which made me even madder.
“I can’t believe I let him play me! He totally fucking played me.”
Realizing I wouldn’t dish out any more details than that, she sat back in her seat. “Don’t jump to conclusions yet. The Rocas . . . they’re complicated. If you remembered everything, you’d know that. And Xandru most of all.”
I nodded. “I do remember that. But at least you had a pretty good idea of what you were getting into with Tase. You wanted the bad boy. I’d always thought Xan was different, though. But I guess he changed. Or maybe I was wrong from the beginning. Maybe he and I were wrong, together.”
“Kales, you don’t really believe that, do you?”
I shrugged. I didn’t know what to believe anymore. Not when it came to Xandru.
“At least give him a chance to explain. Talk to him.”
“That’d be a lot easier if he didn’t disappear right after . . . playing me.”
She giggled at the innuendo, and my anger diffused.
“Like a fiddle?” she teased.
“More like an electric guitar,” I quipped. “And I sang like a damn rock star.”
Her eyes popped open wide, and we both fell into a fit of laughter.
“Well,” I said once I regained control. I lifted my chin and squared my shoulders. “I’m not giving in yet. I don’t know how, but I’ll find a way to save this inn. The Rocas—or anyone else who’s trying to get their hands on it—can fuck off.”
She grinned. “That’s the spirit! But can you start tomorrow?”
I pointed at the letter from the bank. “I have 32 days to come up with a payment plan.”
“Good. So you can start tomorrow. Come on. I have some time off.” She stood up. “You’ve been avoiding a few things—some important people—and I think it’s time you got reacquainted.”
“I don’t know,” I said slowly.
She was right. I’d been avoiding everything and everyone as much as possible. I hadn’t exactly been welcomed back with open arms, but there had been a lot of staring. I guess I couldn’t blame anyone, considering I wasn’t supposed to ever come back and especially not with a blood thirst, there was a death in my family the third night after I returned, and shortly after, I was accused of murdering someone else.
“The longer you stay holed up in here, the more they’re going to stare when you do finally come out. Just rip the Band-Aid off already.”
“Ugh!” She was right. I glared at her with her smug grin. “I hate you, Bratty Addie.”
She laughed and then rushed at me with her arms open, slamming into me with a hug. “There’s my girl! I’ve missed you.”
Feeling her arms around me, smelling her so very familiar scent, I sighed with content. Everything I felt about Xandru was all mixed up now, but Addie truly did feel like home.
The bright sun and blue sky were deceiving, because the air remained cold. The snow had been cleared from the roads and sidewalks, but still blanketed the grass and rooftops. Bundled in coats, knit hats, and gloves, we walked to the town square, getting as far as Coffee Haven before we stopped for hot coffee and a late breakfast. The scent of freshly baked pastries and java beans immediately cued my memories, and I noticed the shop had changed somewhat from what I vaguely remembered about it, with more plants and paintings and drawings hanging on the walls. Addie credited Aster McCabe, who caught us up on the local rumors about the recent murders.
Aster was a couple of years younger than us, always quiet and a bit of a loner, while her sister Reeve, who’d been in our class, had been the perfect little doll that Addie and I not-so-secretly made fun of. Mostly because Reeve and I were always pitted against each other in every possible way—GPAs and test scores, homecoming and prom royalty, cheerleading . . . she especially hated me on the slopes because I was as good as her although I was human then and she never was. I’d love to race her now. But she’d left town, and here was Aster, managing the coffee shop like a boss. And dude, could she make an amazing blueberry scone.
“See? That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Addie asked as we crossed the street to the park area of town square.
A blue pickup on the far side caught my attention. “Hey, isn’t that Xandru’s truck?”
Addie followed my gaze. “Yeah, it is.”
Xandru and another guy who looked remarkably similar to him—Tase, I thought—walked up to it and opened the doors. He looked over at us, obviously hearing his name. I waved for him to wait. He shook his head before they both slid in the truck and took off.
“Well, what the hell was that?” I asked.
Addie waved her gloved hand in the air. “That was typical Roca. They’re always like that.”
My coat pocket buzzed with a text message notification. Hoping it was Sindi, I retrieved my phone, only to find a curt message from Xandru: “Talk later. Promise.”
Maybe I don’t want to talk to you, I thought with a scowl as I shoved my phone back in my pocket and continued strolling with Addie.
I stopped us at the fountain, remembering my last day here and saying goodbye to Addie and Xandru. Although I’d known what was about to happen—whatever the town’s memory ward didn’t wipe out when I left, the coven’s spell would make sure I forgot forever—but I hadn’t believed it’d be as thorough as they’d promised. I’d held onto the hope that some part of me would remember, that I couldn’t possibly forget the lifelong friendship Addie and I had or the epic, deep love Xandru and I shared. They’d called it puppy love, young love, a high school crush. He and I had always known it was so much more than that. And my parents had, too. He was one of the reasons they’d wanted me to leave.
Maybe they’d been right all along.
“You’re getting sad on me,” Addie said. “Come on.”
She slipped her arm around mine and tugged me past benches and old-fashioned lamp posts toward the south side of the square as the clock on City Hall’s tower began to dong in the next hour. Children ran around us, laughing and screaming as they threw snowballs at each other.
“Let’s stop for a visit with Madame Tahini so you can access the residents part of the website,” Addie said as we approached a storefront with Euro-Asian style writing on it. As soon as I saw her, I remembered the strange little woman known around town as Teeny Weeny Tahini. Besides giving readings and whatever else she did in her weird little shop that smelled like a complex concoction of herbs, she was the keeper of the website’s password.
“Make sure you have her number and know her hours,” Addie said once we left. “She changes the password like every 26 ¾ hours. I think just to mess with us.”
“Why is she the one in charge of it? She’s not even affiliated with the website. Does she even know how to use the internet?”
Addie laughed. “Who knows? This is Havenwood Falls. Not a lot makes sense.”
We left town square and the main business district, passed City Hall, and entered the residential area as we headed north up Eighth Street. As the street began to slope steeply upward, we came to a gate that crossed the road, with a fancy metal sign that said Havenwood Heights.
“The sign looks different than I remember,” I commented.
“The Rocas redid it,” Addie said. Right. Mr. Roca had a metalworking shop. My memories were slowly returning in the weirdest ways.
Addie flicked her fingers and murmured something, and the gate began to roll open. I could hear the waterfalls nearby, a whisper of a sound in town on a quiet night, but a muffled roar out here. Something dark poked
my mind as we passed through the gate.
I grabbed Addie’s arm. “I don’t know about this.”
“It’s time, Kales. Band-Aid, remember?”
I exhaled sharply and followed her up the steep incline. We passed an enormous house on the right, then a road on the left. Addie’s family owned two of the mansions at the end of that cul-de-sac, but we weren’t going to Addie’s house. We kept on up the mountain road, passing by woods of aspen and evergreens that separated the large estates, tendrils of mist from the falls rising above them. The late winter sun beat down on us, and for the first time since I’d arrived, I could actually feel its warmth. If I were human, my legs would have been rubber by now from the climb. As it was, I struggled to breathe properly, still adapting to the thin atmosphere. But the closer we came, the more I was drawn to the estate like a magnet. I smelled home. I tasted it. I felt it.
When it finally came into view, though, my heart dropped.
What had once been a magnificent manor on the right side of the upper cul-de-sac was now not much better off than the inn. While the inn was a Victorian style built during the first days of the town in the 1850s, our house was quite newer but with an older, gothic style to it. Mom had said it made her feel more at home—as in Romania home. I swallowed against the lump that formed in my throat when I realized I’d just thought of her as Mom.
We walked up the long sidewalk to the front door, where loud rap music blared behind it. Addie gave me a surprised look as she threw open the door with a twist of her hand. The music cut off immediately. We walked inside, into a grand foyer with marble floors and a double curving staircase of wood and intricately detailed wrought iron. More Roca handiwork. A layer of dust covered the bannister and the table that sat in the middle (I remembered fresh-cut flowers in vases were usually there in the spring and summer), and wallpaper that had once been elegant and luxurious curled and lifted at the edges.
“Aurelia!” Addie yelled, her voice echoing off the marble floors. The girl ran from one of the upstairs hallways to the balcony above us. “You’re supposed to be at home at my place. Or at Lena’s. What the hell are you doing here?”
