my search, and the pack should be long gone, deep into the wilds.
Neither Chaz nor I had bothered to check the kitchen when we came in. There was a note on the counter just like the one that had been pinned to the door of our cabin yesterday morning. The thick scrawl was becoming annoyingly familiar, despite the odd spelling and weird words or acronyms they were using.
ATTN: THE THICK-SKULLED ASSHOLE IN CABIN 27
WE TOLD U TO GTFO! GO BACK TO THE CITY!
Well, this was a peachy development. I swept the paper aside and made my java, considering the implications of this latest note. I couldn’t recall seeing it when we came back from the woods, so someone had put it in the cabin between the time we left to pick up the pizza and when Chaz got shot with the arrow. Whoever this was either had access to the cabins or was among the group that had joined us after Chaz fought Seth, possibly leaving it on the counter on his or her way out. Could it be we had two separate threats to deal with—in addition to Seth and his lackeys? It was possible that one person or group was writing the childish, hostile notes, and another was resorting to violence using the silver-tipped arrow.
By the time I finished my coffee, put on a jacket, and crept outside, only one other cabin nearby still had lights on. I waited a few feet from the door, listening carefully for any large predator, or fifty, rustling through the underbrush, but there was nothing out of the ordinary I could detect other than the tentative chirp of a few late season crickets.
The lodge was a dark blur against the reflected lights from the parking lot on the other side, and I kept to the trail as I worked my way toward it. The tiny solar-powered lights that rimmed the trail didn’t do a lot to steady my nerves. The lights and moonlight flashing through the clouds above kept me from tripping on roots or walking into trees in the dark, but they made for deep, ominous shadows in which any beast of legend might crouch unseen in the underbrush.
I knew I really shouldn’t be doing this. I could get hurt by Ethan. I could get hurt by that Hawk guy. Hell, I could get hurt by falling and breaking my ass in the mud. However, I was worried about Chaz, and would do anything in my power to prevent anything else bad from happening to him. To accomplish that, we needed to find Hawk, track him down, and confront whatever his issue was so he’d leave us the hell alone.
So I crept out into the night, feeling like I was playing “secret agent man” all over again. I prayed this time I wouldn’t stumble into one of the pack, that I’d go unnoticed. So far, so good. There was nothing but the low burble of the creek and the smell of herbs and wood smoke on the chill night air. The boards of the bridge groaned a little under my weight, but otherwise I was pretty proud of my stealth.
When I tugged the lodge door, it opened easily. All of the lights in the lodge had been dimmed. Everyone but the shifters in the family must have gone to bed. There was enough light to make my way by, and I crept along as quietly as I could, straining to detect signs of anyone awake and moving around. Nothing.
When I reached the end of the hall, the dining area to my left was empty and dark. I peered very, very slowly and quietly around the edge of the doorway to my right, checking for anyone at the front desk. That room was also empty, only one light glowing by the front door. Somebody could’ve been hiding in the shadows, I suppose, but unless they were practicing their Navy SEAL moves, I’m pretty sure I was the only one creeping around like a dork in the dark.
There was a sign set up on the desk that directed RING BELL FOR ASSISTANCE, THANKS!—THE MANAGEMENT. No, thank you, I’ll just help myself.
I straightened and moved over to the desk, pleased to see that there was no computer, only a registry book under some papers. Thank God for technophobes. I opened it up and skimmed through the most recent entries. Mr. Cassidy must have put Chaz’s name down at some point after we’d first showed