3
Rachel woke up shivering. She was cold. So cold. The last thing she remembered was closing her eyes. Where was her snowsuit? Where was any of her gear?
She was—
Okay, Rachel. Settle down. Take stock.
What did she remember? She was hiking up the mountain when—
The push. The fall.
She was lucky to be alive.
She still had her sweater and jeans on, but her snowsuit and gloves were gone. There was no sign of her boots or snowshoes, either. Her hands and feet felt like ice, even though her wool glove liners and socks were still in place; even wet, they kept the heat in. She hurt all over, but the worst pain was around her ribs, which felt—well, she’d never had bruised ribs but it felt like what bruised ribs were supposed to feel like.
She was a geologist. She’d just been doing work.
Why would someone try to kill her?
Because that was—that was certainly what had happened.
The room she was in was warm. That was good. She was pretty sure she’d never seen the room before, which was…a lot less good. Still, whoever had brought her here must want her alive, right? Or they would’ve left her in the snow to die.
Her socks were damp. The wool kept the heat in, but even so they felt gross. She was warm enough now that she felt safe peeling off the socks and her glove liners.
She was in a bed. Just an…ordinary-looking bed with a reasonably firm mattress and blue cotton sheets and a warm blanket on top. She sat up and looked around the room she was in.
It was…ordinary. It didn’t have windows, but otherwise it was an ordinary square room with white walls. It didn’t look like a hospital room. Or a cell.
She wasn’t frostbitten. That was good. I probably should have checked that before I started pulling things off, she realized. Oh well. No harm done, I guess.
She pulled her hands and feet back under the blanket, which was the most unusual thing in the room. It was thick and warm, almost like a thick polarfleece or wool blanket, but much softer and lighter. It felt as soft as the pelt of a beautiful animal, but it didn’t look like that either.
At any rate, the warmth was amazing. She flexed her fingers and toes to try to bring more warmth and flexibility to her joints. She still didn’t know where she was or really how she’d gotten there, but at least she was alive and warming up. That was a start. Hell, anything was better than freezing to death.
She stayed under the blanket for a while longer to warm up. If she was still in danger, a few minutes one way or another wasn’t going to make much of a difference. And every minute she spent getting her body close to normal was probably going to be well worth it.
She wished she could at least see her gear. Her boots, at least. She didn’t want to walk around barefoot for too long when she didn’t even know where she was.
She couldn’t see any heat source, but it felt like the warmth was all around her, like a radiant heated floor. Maybe the floor was heated?
She put her hand down; it was smooth and looked like marble, and felt warm to the touch. Well, that made walking around barefoot sound a little better. She let her feet escape the bed and touch the floor. She was grateful that whoever had rescued her had decided to crank up the heat.
She was pretty steady when she stood up. How long have I been out?
Her phone had been in her snowsuit but she had a Fitbit on her wrist. She’d headed out around ten in the morning, and now it was four in the afternoon. Well. That…sucked.
She took her hat off. Her ears felt nice and warm anyway, and her sweater had kept her body warm for a while, snowsuit or no snowsuit. She was grateful she’d chosen to wear her flannel-lined jeans.
Where was—
Did this room have a door?
She looked around again. No windows. No door.
What the hell?
She had to have gotten in somehow, right? So there had to be a way out. She tried the floor next, and the space under the bed. She looked up at the ceiling, and realized it was the same carved stone as the floor. The walls were stone, too.
She was starting to get a little nervous. Not scared, not yet—someone had saved her, and it wouldn’t make any sense that they’d save her just to trap her back in—but it definitely felt weird to not know how to get out.
Okay. There has to be a way in and out of here. Otherwise I wouldn’t be in here. This isn’t…an Edgar Allen Poe story or whatever. It’s just—
It’s just really, really weird.
She started feeling the walls with her hands. They were as smooth as the marble floor and felt like they’d been carved from a single piece of stone. She started working systematically, making sure she felt every trace of the stone, in a circle around the room.
There. There was a crack in the stone, on the opposite wall from the bed. She couldn’t see it, but she could feel it. Encouraged by the discovery, she started tracing the full width and height of the crack. It felt like a doorway; she couldn’t even reach up to the top of it, and it was much wider than a regular doorway, but it still felt right. If she could only figure out how to open it. She tried stroking her fingers along the inside of the doorway, looking for a knob or a latch. She found a small indentation a few inches in, where the doorknob would be, on the right-hand side of the door. She pressed it.
Nothing happened.
She tried hooking her finger into the indentation. It felt a little scary, since she couldn’t see it, but she’d come far enough she didn’t want to stop. There was something…a lever? It felt like metal. She tried, gingerly, pressing back on it, then down when she felt resistance from the latch.
Down seemed to get her a result; the lever pushed down at her touch, and then dropped down. She heard a faint click.
Did that mean the door was open? She pushed against it, to see if the door opened out, then pulled, and the door shifted just a little inward.
It opened in. All right.
There was a door, and that meant she could get out, and maybe figure out where she was.
It was a heavy door, though, and one finger alone wasn’t going to cut it. She tried putting all her fingertips in the hole and leaning hard back, putting more and more of her weight into the effort until the door finally pushed open just enough to let in a crack of light.
She felt immensely better. Still trapped, still confused, but she’d managed to find and open the door, even if it was only a little.
She went back to the bed to see if there was anything she could use for leverage. It appeared to be one piece of stone, like the walls, but now she knew there was something—a trick of the light? Some kind of hologram?—that made things look different than they actually were. She felt the pillow and blankets and mattress with her hands, then started reaching underneath the mattress. It felt like the bed really was made of warm stone, but she wanted to be sure.
That was when the knock came at the door.
She froze.
“Hello?” came a man’s voice, echoing against the marble walls. “Um…you’re awake?”
“I’m awake,” she said. She hoped her voice felt steadier than she felt. “Are you—who are you?”
“My name’s Brad. Brad Banik,” he said. “I found you—in the snow. Do you remember what happened?”
“Someone pushed me,” she said. “And I fell. Do you—do you know what happened?”
“I have some guesses,” he said. “But the first thing I had to do was get you safe. Is it all right if I come in?”
She hadn’t expected him to ask. It made her feel much better. “Sure,” she said, turning around and sitting on the bed. “I’d better meet you, if you saved my life.”
The man who came in was tall, close to seven feet by Rachel’s estimation, though it was hard to get a sense of scale in a room that didn’t even have a door.
He was also the most handsome man she’d ever seen. Like an old movie star come to life, with dark, wavy hair and sharp cheekbones. His eyes were dark, too, with long lashes. He was wearing a green wool sweater, and she could see how broad his chest and shoulders were underneath the soft fabric.
She didn’t quite dare take a good look at his jeans.
“I’m Rachel,” she said. “I work at the university.” So they’ll be looking for me, if you’re some kind of crazy person. But the man in front of her didn’t seem like a crazy person at all. He seemed warm. Trustworthy. “Where am I?”
When he met her eyes, he hesitated for a second, almost like he was shocked to see her face. He recovered quickly, though, returning to the casual, concerned attitude he’d taken with her at the beginning. “You’re at my family home,” he said. “It’s…kind of a long story. You weren’t bad enough for the hospital, so I thought it would be safer to warm you up here—the hospital’s a long trip, and I’m not sure where the men who hurt you are. I’m sorry—I know it most have been a shock to wake up here.”
“I thought I was going to freeze to death,” she said. “So this is definitely better. Though it scared me a little when I couldn’t see a way out.” Her heart was still pounding, though Brad’s presence was soothing.
“You did find a way out, though,” he said, looking back at the door.
“I felt it before I saw it.” She lifted up her hands and wiggled her fingers. “The door’s really heavy, though.”
“It’s, um, heavier on the inside. It’s…kind of a long story.” He was still looking at her a little strangely. Almost like you’d look at someone you recognized but couldn’t place. “Are you hungry? You must be thirsty—I can get you some warm tea. First thing is to get you warmed up. Then we can think about getting you back home, letting your co-workers know you’re all right.”
She nodded. “They’ll be wondering where I am. Is my phone still in my snowsuit?”
“I don’t know,” he confessed. “I didn’t want to go through your things. Do you want me to bring it in? I think it’s dried out, at least enough for you to deal with.”
“That’d be great, thank you. And—my boots, everything else?”
“I found one boot, but not your snowshoes. I can have a look now I know you’re all right.”
Great. Just great. She’d probably have to borrow some gear just to get home. And that was leaving aside the whole someone had tried to kill her bit.
“I’m happy to have you stay here as long as you need to,” he said. “Did you say you wanted a drink?”
“Sure,” she said. “But just water.” She was afraid anything hot would slosh around in her stomach. Though looking at Brad Banik was going to warm her up quickly enough. “Not…not ice water.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said sincerely. “I’ll be right back. And I’ll leave the door open.”
“Thank you,” she said. She didn’t really want him to leave, but she was incredibly thirsty, and she wanted her snowsuit back. Her colleagues would be worried. She should have at least checked in by now. She watched him go, watched the muscles shifting under that green sweater.
He had a nice butt too.
There were worse guys to get rescued by, that was for sure. Now if she could only figure out exactly what kind of guy he was—and exactly what had happened to her.
She looked around the walls again after he’d left. Was this some kind of storage room? If it was, why did it have a bed? He still hadn’t told her where she was—she couldn’t think of any kind of estate or hotel around the mountain that would have a room literally carved from stone. It wasn’t exactly what you saw every day, that was for sure. Maybe it had been some crazed millionaire’s secret room.
Maybe Brad was the crazed millionaire.
He didn’t look or act crazed, of course. In fact, she still couldn’t shake the feeling of trust she’d had from the second their eyes had met. But Rachel was a scientist. A rational woman. She couldn’t just act based on feeling. She needed evidence, too. She’d had some good evidence: he’d saved her life, after all. But she still didn’t have enough to be 100% sure.
Her hands were starting to feel warm again; moving them around and flexing them had brought some life back. It was a relief.
It was funny, just meeting Brad and hearing his voice…it made her feel like things were going to be all right. That she was safe, even though she still didn’t know where she was or really what had happened to her.
He came back with a full glass of water. “Not too cold,” he said. “Didn’t bother with ice.”
“Thanks,” she said. “I really appreciate it. I mean…not just the water, you saved my life.” His fingers brushed hers as she took the glass, and she did her best to ignore the spark of pleasure the touch ignited. You almost died. Get a grip and drink your water.
The water was close to room temperature, the kind of crystal-clear water that was common in the Adirondacks. The glass was solid. It felt expensive.
“I couldn’t leave you out there,” he said. His voice was steady. “I wouldn’t leave anyone out there. It’s supposed to storm pretty soon. Even if you’d come to, I’m not sure you would have made it back into your suit and off the mountain. Are you going to be all right by yourself? I’d like to check and see if I can find your things before it starts getting dark.”
She didn’t want him to leave—she wanted him to pull her close and never let go—but she knew she would need her boot back. “I’ll be okay.”
“I’ll show you where the bathroom is, and the kitchen if you want more to drink. You can go through your snowsuit out there, too.”
“Thank you,” she said, getting up. She hadn’t even thought about a bathroom or kitchen. The room she was in was so sterile she couldn’t imagine anything beyond it. “Um. It’s okay for me to walk around? This feels—”
“It’s kind of like a vault, I know,” he said, wryly. “I probably should’ve put you somewhere nicer, but I knew this would warm up quickly, and that was my first priority. The radiant heat works really well in this space.”
“I love how warm it is,” she confessed. “That was exactly what I needed.”
He smiled at her, warm and bright and sweet, and that sent more heat through her, too. “I’m glad. Come on out, it’s warmed up out here, too.” He swung the door all the way back as she toward him.
She stepped out into a hallway. It was as light and bright and featureless as the room she’d been in, and she realized that she wasn’t sure where the source of light in the building came from. It was a warm, soft light, like from a coated lightbulb, and it seemed to be coming from above her, but she couldn’t really see any kind of lighting fixture. Maybe the lights were recessed?
“The bathroom’s just down the hall here,” he said, leading the way again. That was considerate of him, considering how much she wanted to look at his strong back and nice butt again. “There’s some more doors, but they’re locked. You don’t have to worry about going in the wrong room by mistake or anything. Basically, you’re in a long corridor, with the kitchen at the end. There’s a lot of storage, so it could get confusing, but as long as you keep track of where you come into the kitchen, you should be fine.”
“You keep saying we,” she said. “Are you—”
“Oh, no,” he said, quickly. “I’m single, this is a family…I guess you’d call it a family getaway. With family storage, too. Anyway, bathroom’s right here.” He gestured to the bathroom, which unlike the room Rachel had been in, seemed to be an ordinary bathroom, albeit one with fancy brass trimmings. “And here’s the kitchen at the end of the hall. I’m not sure exactly what’s in the cupboards, but I know there’s plenty of food, so help yourself to anything that looks good. I’ll be back as soon as I can be, but I want to get a good look, see if I can find your stuff before it’s buried. It won’t be easy getting you out of here without that. I’ll bring your snowsuit in when I come back, that’ll give it a little more chance to dry and warm up. It’s pretty torn, and I’m not sure there’s it can be fixed, but it’s worth a look. And you can get your phone.”
“Okay,” she said. Her stomach was rumbling a little more now, so food would probably be a good idea. There still weren’t any windows, even in the big, spacious kitchen. Were they underground or something? What kind of family getaway was this?
Brad slipped out yet another almost invisible door. She listened for the sound of him putting on his gear, but the walls must have been too thick for that. The whole place was weirdly quiet. There weren’t even the kind of echoes she would have expected from the thick stone walls and floor. She wished she had her phone, just for a little music. Anything to break up the silence.
If Brad was back here it’d be less quiet. It’d feel warmer again. She couldn’t escape the picture in her mind of Brad pulling her close. Keeping her warm all over. Instead, she was alone, left to wonder about the person who had hurt her, and what they might have wanted.
He’s coming back, she reminded herself. Eat up and you’ll feel better.
Maybe there was a radio—?
Food first. She didn’t want to open the refrigerator—she was through with cold—so she checked the cupboards. There was a lot of canned food, mostly meat and fish: chicken, tuna, sardines, herring. Well, the protein wouldn’t hurt her. She pulled open drawers until she found a fork and opened up a can of lemon pepper sardines. The kitchen had a counter with pull-up stools, so she sat at one and started eating.
She’d never liked sardines much, but she was hungry enough that it tasted pretty good. Maybe it was the lemon pepper, or just the whole almost-dying thing. As she ate, the world came into sharper focus. She’d been in pretty rough shape when Brad had brought her in, and everything she did—warming up, getting hydrated, and now getting some food in her stomach—was bringing her back to life. She finished the first tin and got out a second, this one in tomato sauce.
This time as she opened up the tin, she noticed a small device underneath the microwave—a control panel with buttons, that looked like a radio. She pushed the power button on the left-hand side, and it lit up.
The panel appeared to control the whole—house? Building? Cave? She still didn’t know—but there was an option that said ‘music,’ so she pressed that.
Soft classical music started playing, from speakers that—like the lights—she couldn’t see. She didn’t want to mess with anyone’s settings, so she settled for that and sat back down at the counter with her sardines.
She’d recovered enough to look, really look, around the kitchen now. It was a big space, with gleaming dark counters and light wooden cabinets. Everything looked spotlessly clean; the metal faucet shone, and even the stainless steel refrigerator didn’t have any visible fingerprints. There was a small island with a stand mixer on top and drawers for storage below. Everything seemed particularly spacious, though the mixer and appliances were mostly standard-sized. Rachel thought for a second that someone in the family must use a wheelchair—maybe two people—then realized the counters were too high for that.
It was the kind of kitchen that her sister would have loved to cook in, and even Rachel found herself wanting to put something warm and delicious in the double oven. Muffins, maybe. Or some hearty bread.
Whoever Brad’s family was, they had money. Lots of money. Nothing about this kitchen came cheap, and that was leaving aside the fact that it looked like the entire space was carved from solid marble.
What is going on? Rachel wondered. She’d almost been murdered, and now she was in a warm, safe place with the most handsome man she’d ever met. It felt like something out of a fairy tale. A fairy tale with canned fish, but still.
The music was pretty. She didn’t know much about classical music, just what she’d learned playing band in high school, but it was nice. It wasn’t any piece she’d heard before, but that was fine. Something different.
She wished she didn’t feel so alone, still. I guess that’s natural. Someone tried to kill me.
Brad hadn’t said she couldn’t follow him, had he?
Maybe she could just open the door and see where he’d gone. She walked over to where he’d gone out, feeling again for the door with her fingers. Now she’d gotten the idea, it was easy to find the latch and push it down. She swung the door in, which wasn’t easy—the doors were incredibly heavy, and big enough to usher a small pony through. It opened to a deep, cold alcove. Kind of a landing, almost, as she couldn’t see any path up or down. There were several stone benches, and she could see gear that might have been hers stacked carefully on one of them, but the view was what caught her attention. She could see the mountains opening up around her—
Then she saw the dragon, flying in a slow, careful circle.
She froze in place, blinking her eyes a few times. She’d almost frozen to death. She’d been through a huge shock, and her ribs were still throbbing. Maybe—
No. There was no doubt in her mind.
She was looking at a golden dragon.
It wasn’t big—not much larger than an adult man—but it was still…a dragon.
It was scanning the landscape like it was looking very carefully for something. It dove lower, and to Rachel’s surprise, she realized it was coming closer—
Closer to her.
She stepped back a half-step, but it was too late to react more than that. The dragon landed on its hind legs, as easily as a bird fluttering to a halt.
It fixed its golden eyes directly on Rachel.