Chapter Two
After dropping her guests at the front door, Amy plugged the van’s battery into the electrical outpost in the parking lot. If she forgot, the battery would die overnight, and no amount of jumping would bring it back to life. In high school, she’d learned her lesson the hard way.
It was just after six-thirty in the evening, but the sun had already set. During this time of the year, it grew dark around three in the afternoon.
She gathered her things and hurried inside. The Sutherland Inn had once been a farmhouse, and it had been in Amy’s family for generations. The enormous white house had a long, wraparound porch, with a dozen bedrooms and three floors.
When her father had inherited the Sutherland Farm, he’d turned it into a cozy inn, since he’d hated working in the fields as a child. He’d sold off the livestock, let the fields go fallow, and did a series of renovations to modernize the building. Eventually, it had a charming, shabby-chic kind of vibe, which was popular with mainlanders.
She walked in the foyer and stomped her feet to shake off the snow, before removing her boots, and putting her coat on the rack. Amy put on a pair of sneakers and they felt warm and snug on her cold feet.
The Great Room was right off the foyer, and featured a large, brick fireplace. The logs crackled and popped as they burned. Several rocking chairs stood in front of it. Amy longed to sit in one of them, but she had work to do. Squaring her shoulders, she headed for the main staircase.
Molly was on duty at the front desk. “It’s been a quiet night. No calls.”
Oh yeah, just what every business owner wants to hear.
Molly was a college student who worked at the inn part-time. She had poker-straight, light-brown hair, blue eyes and wore wire-framed glasses. Molly had a thing for cardigans, and tucked notecards into the pockets for quick study sessions when she found a moment.
“Well, that sucks. At least we’ve got new guests coming, seven of them.”
Molly’s eyes widened. “Fantastic. You rented all the rooms?”
“Yep, the whole damn thing. Shut the front desk, and let’s give the rooms a spruce. Bring all the third-floor keys with you.”
After retrieving the cleaning supplies from the hall closet, Amy dashed upstairs with Molly. As soon as they reached the third floor, she turned on the heat registers. To save money, she’d closed it off, because the space was unoccupied.
They divided the rooms—Amy took one side of the hall and Molly took the other. Amy would like to give the rooms a more thorough cleaning, but they didn’t have time. They Febreezed everything in sight, vacuumed the rugs, and dusted to freshen them. They flitted from one area to the next, making short work of the job.
Mere seconds after she’d finished the final bedroom, the doorbell rang. Amy dashed down the stairs and opened the door.
“Welcome to the Sutherland Inn.” She stepped aside so her guests could enter. It had started snowing again, and a rush of snowflakes came in with them.
And then, standing on her welcome mat, were eight more giants like Faro. They all wore buckskins and tunics of various shades.
It was nearly impossible to take them all in, as if they saturated the area around them, filled it to the brim. Amy had the oddest thought—their bodies were dense, filled with more matter than there should be.
Oh, wait. Make that seven giants.
One of them stood around 6 feet, and in any other room, he’d be considered tall.
Molly came downstairs behind Amy, and then lost the will to speak. Her mouth was ajar, and she openly stared. Amy resisted the urge to put a fingertip underneath her chin and close her mouth.
And then, Ivy walked in the door. She tossed her ballet bag on the floor, and took in the scene with a wicked grin.
“Holy shit! There’s more of them.” With that pronouncement, Ivy headed into the kitchen, presumably to grab some dinner. Because she worked out all the time, Ivy’s stomach was a bottomless pit.
Amy winced. “Follow me, and I’ll get you checked in. How was your trip?” She often made small talk with guests to ease them through the tedious check-in process.
The short one spoke up. “Our journey was long, but fruitful.” He had blue-green eyes, sandy-blond hair, and his handsome features were perfectly symmetrical. Most people had slight differences between the two halves of their face, but he didn’t. And while Amy had pale skin, his was alabaster, the color of snow. This man wasn’t like the rest, and it wasn’t merely his height, although Amy couldn’t quite explain why she thought so. He just stood out from the group.
“Glad to hear it.”
“You are Amy Sutherland, correct?”
“Yes, and what’s your name?”
“I am Link.” Link touched his chest. Evidently, he was the spokesman for the group, since the rest of them remained silent.
Works for me. It would be easier to deal with one person. Faro didn’t speak, either, but he watched her with a quiet intensity.
“What brings you to Alaska?” Amy asked as she gathered the necessary forms.
“We are here on business.”
A vague answer, but whatever.
“Okay. I need to see your IDs.” It was a standard part of the process.
“You are referring to documentation, correct?”
“Uh, yes.”
“I thought so.” Link smiled, all gleaming teeth, as though posing for a photo shoot. “I have the cards you seek.” He opened his leather jacket, and produced a silver pouch which resembled a metallic Ziploc bag. Link retrieved a stack of driver’s licenses, and set them on the counter in front of her.
Why did Link have everyone’s IDs?
Most people kept their driver’s licenses on their person. They didn’t hand them to somebody else.
Nope, don’t go down that road. They’re paying customers, so don’t ask questions. Amy had an awful feeling she’d be repeating those words over the next few weeks.
Link’s card was on top, and the plastic didn’t have any telltale scratches, as though it was brand new.
“Link Smith?” In the photo, he sported another synthetic smile.
“Yes, that is my name.”
“So you’re the Smith brothers?” Amy tried to keep the skepticism out of her tone, as she flipped through the cards.
They all nodded.
“Heh, Smith. Anybody named John?”
They stared at her blankly.
“Like Doctor Who? His alias is John Smith.”
No response.
“Never mind.” So much for my pop-culture references. Amy had a thing for sci-fi, and since her father had died, she had no one to share her passion with.
Link turned to Faro. “Smith is the most common surname in Alaska.”
“Huzzah.” Faro clapped him on the shoulder, as though to say “Good job.”
Um, okay.
She matched their faces with the photos. While the surname was common, their first names were all unusual—Link, Faro, Mydon, Jude, Crispin, Blaze, Rowan, and Destrian.
Maybe this wasn’t some Renaissance-fair thing. It was possible their parents had raised them to be, er, different.
“So you’d like eight rooms?” Earlier, Faro had told her seven, but he must’ve been mistaken.
Once again, Link answered. “Actually we would like seven rooms.”
“One of you is going to share?”
“No, I do not require accommodations.”
“And where will you be staying?” According to their driver’s licenses, they were from a tiny village near the Arctic Sea, which could explain their behavior. Some of those towns had less than a few hundred people, and they weren’t used to outsiders.
“I have made other arrangements. How much remuneration will you require?”
Remuneration? Who used a word like that?
“Let’s see. How long will you be staying?”
“I cannot give you an exact date. We will be here for the foreseeable future.”
“Fine, we’ll do it on a monthly basis.” Amy grabbed a calculator and did some quick addition. “It’s $80 a day, per room, and there are 15 days left in this month, so your total comes to $8,400.”
We’re saved! She was giddy with relief. Amy tried not to let the glee show on her face. The money would go a long way toward paying the bills.
Link reached into his jacket once more, and pulled out another silver pouch. This one was full of cash, which he laid down in stacks. He counted the hundred-dollar bills at a dizzying speed. His fingers moved so fast, she thought for a moment they blurred.
“There you are.” Link pushed them toward her. “I assume we will do this again, on February first?”
You bet your ass we will.
“Absolutely.” She waved at Molly to get her attention. She still stood, gawking at the men in slack-jawed wonder.
“Molly will take you upstairs to your rooms, and she’ll hand you the keys.” The rest of the brothers headed up the staircase, while Link and Faro lingered at the desk.
“Pleasure doing business with you, innkeeper.” Link took her hand, and Amy had been expecting a handshake, but instead, he brushed a kiss across her knuckles. And then headed for the front door, leaving a blast of chilly air in his wake.
Amy was left alone with Faro and she smoothed her hair back.
“You live at the inn, do you not?”
“I do.”
“It appears we shall be in close quarters.” He raised an eyebrow. “Where’s your room located?”
Of all the cocky, crass pickup lines.
“In an undisclosed location.”
His eyes widened, before he threw back his head and laughed.
“I see. You don’t like me, do you?”
“I never said I didn’t.”
“Ah, but you didn’t have to.”
She opened her mouth to protest, but he waved a hand, shushing her.
“Tell me, Amy, is there a man in your life?”
“No, I’m single.” She probably should’ve lied, but he could ask anyone, and easily discover the truth.
“Meaning you belong to no one? No other man has a claim on you?”
His question, like everything else about Faro, irked her.
“Even if I had a boyfriend, and I don’t, I wouldn’t belong to him.”
“I can already tell you’ll lead me a merry dance. I look forward to the chase, sweeting.”
With a bow, he took off upstairs.
“There isn’t going to be a chase, because we’re not getting involved.” It didn’t help matters, because he was already out of earshot.
Amy grabbed her coat from the rack, and bundled up again. It was time to feed the reindeer.
***
“You miss him too, don’t you, Comet?”
Of course, the reindeer didn’t answer her, but Amy knew he agreed.
After the frustrating encounter with Faro, Comet and Cupid were welcome company. Her father had purchased the deer a few months before his death, intending them to be a tourist attraction during the holiday months.
Her throat ached whenever she thought of her dad.
Mark had died, following a terrible car accident on a slick street. Amy still missed him. The ache had dulled over the last few months, but it had never gone away, and she suspected it never would. Her father’s birthday was approaching, and Amy dreaded it. This would be the first one since he died.
The barn had become her refuge, a way to connect with him once more. Because it was so bitterly cold, the space was heated and had a cozy feel. Amy found herself spending every free minute with the deer.
Comet rested his head against her stomach, and she petted him. Every time her hand stilled, he nudged her to continue. Comet had a starburst on his muzzle, and she traced the familiar lines. He had a thick coat, and fuzzy antlers, which felt like velvet. Whenever she walked inside, Comet came running for her, demanding her attention.
“Wanna cuddle?” she asked Cupid, who snorted in response. Instead, he mowed his way through a bunch of hay and gave her the stink eye, for asking such a silly question.
Amy sighed. “Fine, be a brat.” Cupid enjoyed a pet now and then, but he was more cautious.
Mark had dearly loved Comet and Cupid. He used to feed them from a bottle when they were babies. He’d spoiled the animals, making them into little pets. They wore bridles, and he’d leash-trained them, too. In the summer months, he took them for walks in the yard.
Amy fed and watered the deer, brushed their coats, and held a one-sided conversation, settling them down for the evening. It was a nightly ritual she looked forward to. She probably should’ve sold them, since Amy already had a lot of responsibilities, but couldn’t bring herself to part with the deer.
Once Comet and Cupid were snuggled in their fresh piles of straw, with troughs stuffed full of hay and fresh water, she walked outside, ready to take a long shower and head to bed.
And then, Amy noticed a figure standing outside the fence. Amy knew everyone who stayed at the inn, but this person didn’t look familiar. From this distance, the man was a faint shadow, tall and thin, almost skeletal looking. Amy guessed he was male, though she couldn’t be certain.
“Hello? Can I help you?”
Most folks in Bleak Bay were friendly. They’d built a community, and relied on another when necessary. Even tourists were approachable, eager to speak with a real Alaskan native and ask them ridiculous questions.
He’s not human.
Amy didn’t know where the thought had come from, but she couldn’t shake it. A shiver slithered down her spine, which had nothing to do with the bitter cold. Whomever the person was, she couldn’t make out any identifying features.
The figure turned to her, slanting his head to one side. Instead of responding, he disappeared into the night.
She shuddered.
Well, that wasn’t creepy at all.