1
RAINE
Hiking wasn’t on my plan for the day. But here I am, going straight up, the sun blistering on my bare shoulders. The thin air’s as thick with humidity as it is in August back home. The Alps aren’t supposed to be 90 degrees. I’m drenched. My mom always says ladies don’t sweat. But she never thought of me as a lady. I’m pushing one hand-me-down suitcase and yanking the other one through the gravel.
My rideshare and the bottom of the driveway have vanished. Though, the driver barely slowed down to let me out. I even offered him my last forty dollars to drive me all the way up.
Another hundred feet to the front door. Or at least I think it’s the front door. Whatever does the front door of a castle even freaking look like? With the angle of the driveway, from the main road while Mr. Two Star was tossing my luggage out of the trunk, I could make out a turret with a metal roof—all right, a golden turret. I’m sure it’s not realgold. But maybe it is. After all, who hires an art historian for six months to catalog their collection, if not the owners of a castle with a golden turret?
My arm jerks back. It’s practically ripped out of the socket. I turn back to find my large tan suitcase stuck on a rock. A shadow whips over the driveway; it sends a shudder through me. “What was that?” I glance up, letting go of my suitcase, which has come loose from the rock. I catch it before it slides all the way back to the main road. That was no cloud.
Yanking on my bags, I regain the lost ground while searching the sky. Nothing but Tiffany Blue sky and white puffy clouds. I must have imagined it. The birds are different here, I’m sure. I clench my stomach and wrestle my bags, fighting the gravel.
There’s a large cluster of trees and flowering bushes blocking my view. Actually, it’s impressive how hidden the building is. Glancing back down the gargantuan hill, I’m hoping they have a huge snow plow. Though, thinking about snow today feels almost impossible.
My phone’s vibrating in my jean shorts. It’s been doing that the whole way up the world’s longest driveway. “I’m fine, Wren.” My sister can’t hear me. And I’m hoping no one else can either. I should never have texted her that the driver dropped me off at the bottom of the hill. She’s working, and she’s going to get in trouble for having her phone out.
“Screw it.” I leave the larger of the two bags on the side of the driveway near a culvert and take the smaller one up the rest of the way around the trees and bushes. The palms of my hands are red from the lousy handles on the ancient bags. But the castle appears from behind the trees, and I let the handle slip from my hand and fish my phone out of my pocket. I drop to a crouch and tilt back to get the whole darncastle into the frame. It’s... huge. There isn’t just one turret but four of different heights, and they all sparkle with gold. I point at different windows, counting the number of floors. Nine, I think, maybe more. Not including any levels belowground. Like a dungeon.
Dungeon. I gulp. But this is Switzerland. They probably don’t have dungeons here.
I take a few pictures and send one to Wren. There are at least ten texts, all of which are something like “Are you okay?”, and a whole heck of a lot from the apartment chat, with questions like “Where’s the toilet paper?” I’m not going to answer because it’s in the closet next to the toilet. They’re going to have to learn to live without me.
My phone dings with my sister replying to the picture I sent.
Wren: Holy shit.
Me: Right?
Wren: You’re going to have some amazing calves, with all those stairs.
My sister always puts a positive spin on things.
Me: We live in a fourth-floor walk-up.
Wren: That’s like a tenth-floor walk-up. What floor are you staying on?
Me: I haven’t gone in yet.
Wren: Girl get in there.
Me to Wren: The apartment chat is going off about toilet paper.
Me to apartment chat: In the closet.
Apartment chat: Which closet?
Wren: OMG, they can be so helpless. That’s why I’ve turned off notifications. I don’t know how most of them make it to the airport every day.
Me to apartment chat: The one in the bathroom!
Apartment chat: You’ve only been gone a day and we’re already falling apart, Raine!!!
Me: Okay, I’m going in. It’s now or never.
Wren: Yeah, I’ve got to go collect trash. We’re prepping for landing. You’ve got this, Raine. You’re a badass bitch. Love you, girl, set the world on fire.
Me: Love you too. Have a good day off in Tokyo.
