CHAPTER 3 #3
“Here’s home. Everythin’ ya need is inside,” she declared. The keys jingled in her hand when she gave them to me. “Remember, call down on the landline if ya need me. I’m May. I’m here till midnight.”
“Thank you, May,” I said, but she was already turning back down the path. “I’ll remember.”
“Oh, and stick to your cottage at night, dear, unless it’s round the lake. Don’t go wanderin’ into the woods. This isn’t the city. Plenty of things in there that would eat ya right up. Though those city boys probably would too.”
Her laugh lightened the words, but my gaze flicked to the edge of the forest on the opposite side of the lake in trepidation.
“Stay inside at night—got it,” I murmured under my breath. Then I nibbled on my lip, thinking of wolves or bears or shapeshifting monsters or wraiths that could be in the woods. “Do you want me to walk you back?”
“Bah!” she said, batting off the suggestion like it was a fly buzzing around her. “I’m blind, not old. Get inside now, ya hear? Sleep well.”
She was already halfway up the path, but I watched her the rest of the way, just in case.
When I saw her dark figure head back into the reception cabin, I blew out a sharp breath and scurried up the stairs of my own, lugging my suitcase up with me.
The key slid into the lock smoothly, though it caught a bit when I turned it.
When I finally stumbled inside, I flipped on the light.
And…I was pleasantly surprised. It was nice.
The cottage was small but a perfect size for just me.
And renovated, as May had said. The front room held an upholstered couch with a coffee table facing the fireplace.
A stack of wood was lined up against the wall, black iron pokers hanging close by.
To my right was a small kitchen and a table, on which was a bottle of wine next to a wicker basket.
Down the hallway, I found the bathroom—complete with the aforementioned gilded clawfoot tub—and the bedroom, which had an orc-sized bed and the softest sheets imaginable, the smell of fresh laundry welcome.
I left my suitcase in there and wandered back to the front room, my tennis shoes padding over the hardwood floors.
In a wicker basket on the table, I found it was stocked with snacks and sweets—hard cheeses, assorted crackers, chocolates, and candied nuts.
A typed-out, generic note card was in front of the basket. It read:
Welcome to Juniper Hollow Bed & Breakfast. We hope you enjoy your stay.
Breakfast is complimentary and will be served in the reception cabin from 6:00 a.m. to 10:00 a.m. For your safety, please stay on all pathways around the grounds and be mindful of cabins undergoing renovations.
If you have any questions, please call May by dialing ext.
1. For after-hour emergencies, after midnight and until dawn, dial ext. 2.
Sincerely,
Jonathan Wolfe (Owner)
I dropped the notecard back onto the table. Pulling out my phone, I discovered I had no bars and sighed, tossing it next to the notecard, knowing it would be useless. I couldn’t even text Meg if I wanted to.
Bath, I decided, eager for that tub.
It sounded like a perfect way to start my vacation.
In the middle of the night, my eyes shot open when I heard strange scratching sounds. For a moment, I had no idea where I was. The bed felt like a cloud, and it was pitch black in the room. With bleary eyes, I made out the outline of a wardrobe across from me.
The cottage. Right. Juniper Woods.
I slowly rose up on my elbow, listening hard as I held my breath.
The scratching sounds were coming from the front room. My heart jolted, but I rose from bed, creeping out and down the hall. I was wrong—the noise was coming from outside.
An animal, I realized, freezing. And it sounded large…I could hear the heavy thump of its paws on the porch, the chuffing huff of its snout. I heard it scratching again at the door, sharp claws that had woken me from a deep sleep, and I hurried forward to check the locks again.
That was when I heard the howl. Right there, right outside on the porch, with only a wooden door between us.
A wolf.
May hadn’t been kidding.
But what kind of wolf? I wondered next, nibbling on my lip in worry, thinking about that after-hours emergency extension number for the owner. A shifter? A Lycan? Or just an animal?
Its cry was so loud I nearly plugged my ears with a wince. It slid straight through me, a piercing howl that sent all kinds of warning sizzling through my veins. Its scratching intensified at the door before it paced on the porch again, back and forth, back and forth.
Then I heard another faint howl, echoing distantly—deep in the mountains, perhaps. Brief silence came, then I heard the wolf sprint off the porch. Away. Heading back into the woods, hopefully.
When I could breathe again, I peeked out the window and found the porch was clear. The lake glimmered, reflecting the lowering moon.
Beyond that, I saw only the darkness of Juniper Woods…and I wondered how I’d ever get back to sleep knowing there’d been a wolf at my door.