Chapter 1
Maya
Myknucklesturnedwhiteagainst the steering wheel as my aging car crawled along the mountain highway. The snow had started as a few picturesque flakes an hour ago. At first, they were the kind that made me think of holiday movies and cozy sweaters. Now it was a churning wall of white that my wipers could barely keep ahead of.
“It’s fine,” I muttered, driving granny-style, leaning forward until my nose nearly touched the windshield. “Totally fine. People drive in snow all the time.”
People who grew up with snow, maybe. People who didn’t spend the last twenty-eight years in Southern California, where ‘winter’ meant wearing a light jacket, did not drive in the white nonsense all the time.
My phone chirped from the cup holder, and I risked a glance down. A text from my mother:Are you there yet? It’s not too late to turn around and come home.
My jaw tightened. I loved my mother, but her text was a classic example of why I needed to leave. She meant well, and I knew she’d always worry about me, but she made assumptions about me. She assumed I couldn’t handle anything outside my comfort zone. I’d overheard her talking to my aunt before I left. She thought I’d fail and come crawling back.
Another text popped up, but this one I welcomed. My heart did that stupid little flip it always did when I saw the username.
YetiBeGood:Storm’s getting bad up here. Drive safe, yeah? The convention isn’t going anywhere.
I smiled despite my death grip on the wheel. Three years. Three years of late-night gaming sessions, of inside jokes and shared strategies, of conversations that started about raid tactics and ended so late in the evening they could be early morning conversations discussing everything from childhood dreams to favorite pizza toppings. Years of wondering what he looked like, what his real name was, whether the connection I felt through my headset could possibly translate to real life.
This weekend, I’d finally find out.
If I survived this drive.
I’d rehearsed our first meeting a thousand times. I’d walk up to him at the convention center, dressed in my best cosplay outfit, probably recognize him by the vintage gaming t-shirt he’d mentioned owning. We’d have that awkward should-we-hug moment, then fall into our easy banter. Maybe grab coffee. If I were brave enough, I’d tell him he’d been the highlight of my days for longer than I wanted to admit.
The car slid slightly on a patch of ice, and my stomach lurched. I eased off the gas, heart hammering.
“Okay, maybe Mom has a point,” I whispered.
But turning around wasn’t an option. Behind me, the storm was just as bad, and I was closer to Calamity Creek than to anywhere else. Besides, the back seat and trunk held my entire life. My apartment lease had ended, my limited furniture was in a shipping container somewhere en route, and my new landlord was expecting me.
More importantly, I’d made a promise to myself. No more playing it safe. No more letting fear keep me small.
That’s what had drawn me to Calamity Creek. Well, that and the surprisingly affordable rent. The town was one of the few places in the country where monsters and humans lived openly together, integrated into the same community. After monsters made themselves known to the general public about fifteen years ago and supernatural beings had stepped out of hiding, most places had remained segregated. Humans in their areas, monsters in theirs, everyone polite but separate.
Calamity Creek was different. It was weird and welcoming, according to the forums I’d obsessively read. A place where being different was the norm. A place where I might finally fit in, even as a completely ordinary human.
“You’re not ordinary,” YetiBeGood had told me once during a conversation about why I was moving. “You’re kind, funny, and you’ve got a tactical mind that’s saved my ass more times than I can count. Your new town is lucky to have you.”
I’d saved that message. Read it whenever doubt crept in.
The road curved sharply, and I realized too late that I was going too fast. I tapped the brakes gently, like the internet articles I’d scoured before moving here had mentioned, but the car had other ideas. The back end swung out, and suddenly I was sliding sideways, the world tilting into slow motion.
“No, no, no!”
I turned into the skid. Or was it away from the skid? My mind went blank with panic as the car spun, the guardrail rushingtoward my passenger side. At the last second, the tires caught something. Based on the crunch, I think I hit gravel and the car lurched in the opposite direction.
Straight toward the snowbank on the other side of the road.
The impact wasn’t dramatic. No explosive crash, no shattering glass. Just a soft, almost gentle crunch as the front of my car buried itself in snow that was apparently hiding a very solid embankment. The airbag deployed, punching me in the chest and face, and then everything was still except for the frantic beating of my heart and the hiss of the deflating airbag.
For a moment, I just sat there, breathing hard, hands still locked on the wheel. The engine had died. Snow was already piling up on the windshield, and the headlights illuminated nothing but a wall of white.
“Okay,” I said to the empty car. My voice shook. “Okay, that happened.”
I fumbled for my phone, but the screen was black. Of course. I’d been meaning to charge it, but the gas station twenty miles back had seemed too soon to stop, and now, well, I was screwed.
Now I was stuck on a mountain road in a blizzard with a dead phone and a car that was very much not going anywhere.
