just wish the track led up to the actual cabins. It’s going to be a pain to lug this stuff out there.”
A glance over my shoulder didn’t show anyone pulling into the lot behind us. Whoever had followed us down the track must have turned off onto some other path. Or didn’t want us to know we’d been followed.
Shrugging off my lingering paranoia, I took Chaz’s duffel while he hefted my suitcase off the ground. A few people were hanging around outside, some of them smoking and chatting, others rummaging in their cars. I looked around when a couple of them started clapping, trying to figure out what they were applauding. There weren’t many doing it; some had wandered off looking disgusted. It took me a moment to figure out that they were clapping for me.
“What the hell are they doing?” I hissed the question under my breath, leaning in close to Chaz so that any Others in the crowd, with their supersensitive hearing, wouldn’t overhear me.
Chaz gave them a grin and a wave, speaking to me out of the corner of his mouth. “They’re glad you’re here. A bunch of them didn’t think you’d come. Just smile back at them or something, be polite.”
Feeling inordinately cheesy, I did, and the people gave a few last hoots and hollers before running ahead into the lodge, presumably to spread the news that we’d arrived. One of them, a guy with an alarming array of piercings and tattoos, stayed behind to hold the door for us.
We hurried inside, taking in the expansive interior. Aside from the stone fireplace, blazing cheerful warmth from a roaring fire, everything was done in wood accents. The furniture all looked to be hand-carved. There were rugs and cushions in earthy tones, browns and greens. The windows on either side of the fireplace across the room overlooked the valley spotted with lights from smaller cabins outside.
There were a few people sitting around the fire, chatting over beers and glancing up with friendly waves as we walked in. I forced a smile when two of them saluted me with their drinks, and focused my attention on the ancient looking geezer who levered himself to his feet, shuffling over with a wide grin creasing his tanned, leathery face. Despite his age, solid muscle pulled his shirt taut over his shoulders and arms, and thick tufts of hair were visible above the collar and cuffs of his shirt.
The coiled energy of Were radiated off him in a way that had the hairs on the back of my neck standing at attention. Chaz didn’t seem to be affected. He returned the guy’s smile, setting the bags down to accept the offered handshake.
“Welcome, welcome! Are you part of the Sunstriker party?”
“Yes, sir. I’m Chaz Hallbrook, and this is Shia. You’re Mr. Cassidy, right?”
“Just call me Bruce.” He shook Chaz’s hand in a hearty shake then turned to me, inclining his head. “Young lady, you look like you and your boy here could use a hot meal and a stiff drink. Let me get George to show you out to your cabin so you can freshen up. Dinner was already served, but we’ve still got plenty of food, so just come right on back up here when you’re ready.”
I smiled, shaking his hand when he offered it. His palm was as rough and calloused as sandpaper. “That sounds wonderful. Thank you.”
“Oh, anytime,” he said, turning away to shout toward a hallway to our left. “George!”
We waited a minute, the silence broken by the snaps and crackles coming from the fireplace, and the low murmur of conversation.
“GEORGE!”
I jumped at the thunderous shout.
“WHAT?! I’m busy!” came back.
“Guests, George!”
I heard what sounded suspiciously like a muffled curse in reply. A large, barrel-chested man soon came into view. He was wearing a pair of loose jeans and little else. His skin was stained with what looked like soot and grease; a large wrench was slung over one shoulder. Though I didn’t mean to stare, I wasn’t quite able to stop myself. George’s voice was deep and ponderous, tinged with minor irritation.
“Pops, I told you I was working on the backup generator. Can’t Daisy do it?”
“She’s serving at the bar. Just show them down to number twelve, would you?”
George shook his head, sweat-stringy locks swaying around his thick jaw, a cryptic smile curving his lips as he looked us over. He dwarfed Chaz by a few inches and maybe a hundred pounds, most of which looked to be muscle.