“You sure you’re good to go?” Wickham asked, helping me with my overnight bag.
“Yes, let’s do this.” At first, as we took off down the interstate in Wickham’s black Jeep, listening to his recent album, my adrenaline spiked. It was romantic, running off into the night with him. I felt like I was fleeing all of my problems and probably making a delightful mistake.But as I watched the stars in the inky black sky follow us on our journey, my eyelids grew heavy, and I dozed off.
By four in the morning, we’d pulled into a charming tiny village of snow-covered log bungalows. Sky Powder Lodge and Resort. I was a cozy collection of log cabins in a shallow valley, surrounded by mountain peaks. The place had to be at least fifty years old. Fortunately, considering the early hour, someone still sat at the front desk when we checked in.
“Hi. Is Brig around tonight? I called earlier. He’s expecting us,” Wickham asked. His aura was tired, dimmer than it had been earlier in the evening. Understandable.
In the dimly lit lodge, an older woman with a nametag that readGinnystraightened her reading glasses and clicked away on her keyboard. “I’ll tell him you’re here, but I suspect he’s asleep. Maybe chat with him in the morning. You’re Wickham, right? We’ve got a nice cottage suite—two queen-sized beds, hot tub, fireplace—set up for you.”
An older man with a long white beard and a sunny-yellow aura walked around one of the log walls. He gave Wickham a warm embrace. “George! Look at that. You made it. I was worried you’d becaught in the storm.”
Brig’s accent was similar to Wickham’s, which almost made them seem related. “Brig, good to see you. Thanks for taking us. This is Lydia Bennet.”
He didn’t say anything like my friend or my girlfriend, so, like myself, Brig probably wondered what Wickham was thinking.
All the same, Brig greeted me warmly. “Welcome, Lydia. We’ve got a nice little cottage set up for the two of you.”
When we finally made it to our cottage, bunk, cabin...whatever it was, I was so exhausted that I dropped my bags, brushed my teeth, and climbed right into bed. I don’t usually snore unless I’m super sleep deprived, but I suspect I did that night. Oddly, things like that never embarrassed me. Instead, they made me laugh. No use taking oneself too seriously.
When I woke up, I found Wickham still asleep in his bed. I chuckled at the sight because he looked like a fifteen-year-old kid. He lay atop crumpled blankets, still in his jeans and T-shirt, arms and legs flopped about, one sock off and one sock on. The rock star vampire George Wickham had a little bit of a human side after all.
I took a moment to inspect the cozy rooms. Homemade patchwork quilts covered the beds. Log-cabin-style walls,a wooden floor, and a stone fireplace made up the main living area. Wickham must have lit the fireplace before falling asleep, because crackling flames warmed the room. A colorful braided rug covered about half the floor. The front of the cabin was outfitted with a leather sofa and armchair, rustic-style table and chairs, and large windows with pale blue-and-white checked curtains. The private deck also had a hot tub, which I intended to try out later, even though significantly more snow covered the ground outside than the night before. A thick, shimmering blanket of white buried the world.
It was nearly ten a.m., and I hadn’t texted my mom. My heart rate skyrocketed. She was going to strangle me. I pulled out my phone, and as expected, I had about thirty messages from her.
Lydia, where have you gone off to? My poor, poor nerves... Tell me you’re alright.
Yes, I’m fine.
Why on earth have you disappearedon us?
We decided to get out of town for everyone’s safety—give the police a little time to figure things out. Wickham’s band is obviously being targeted, so we’re avoiding the threat. I let Kitty know, but I didn’t want to wake you up.
But you know what everyone is going to say.
“Everyone” can just calm down. We’re not getting into any trouble. I’ll be home soon.
Honestly, she was acting like it was the 1800s and I’d run off and left my family in ruins. Ridiculous.
A message from Lizzy popped up. My family was not going to let this be.
Lydia, I don’t think you realize the position you’ve put us in.
What are you talking about? We had to get out of town because it looks like the killer is targeting the members of the Grey Doors. I accidentally brought our family into it by using the bakery. We’re hoping to give the police a littletime to figure things out. The open mic was too public and a mistake.
I get it, but people are talking. Since you left right after the fire, they’re blaming you and Wickham for it.
Oh, they’ll get over it. That’s crazy. Why would I set fire to my own house? Of all the weird things to assume.
It doesn’t matter whether it makes sense or not. You know how gossip works around here. We need you to come home.
We can’t come back to Austen Heights right now. It snowed a lot since last night, and the roads are worse than before. We’ll be lucky to make it to the little town that’s five minutes away.
Well, I don’t want you to be in danger. My boss is giving me a hard time, though. Of course the paper is covering the fire. He doesn’t want any employees connected to anything shady. I really can’t affordto lose this job.
Sorry. Try not to worry too much. We’ll figure something out, I guess.
Reality sank in a little. This was a bigger deal than I’d realized, and I hated that. I generally did my best to avoid high-pressure, high-stakes situations. Even in school, I only took the classes that were absolutely necessary. When it came to the fight-or-flight response, my first instinct was usually flight.
