Page 3 of Maneater

“Tough call.” I nod slowly, putting on my best serious expression. “Let’s race. I doubt I’ll run into anything otherworldly that way.”

Kade picks up the controller. “One never knows what might happen.”

Chapter Two

Rex

“I don’t have any rooms available this week, sorry. But I can put you on my cancellation list if you like.”

My would-be guest declines my offer, and I thank him for the call. I do a big, arms-over-the-head stretch, the flutter in my belly from excitement that has nothing to do with tourists. Many of the members of my tribe, the Monster Network, have begun preparations for our yearly summer solstice bash in Yellowstone. Seeing as I'm the secretary of our countrywide organization, I’ll have plenty to do.

Not that I’m looking for a distraction from the fact that I literally have no social life. Not at all. I have a very full life. And now that spring has sprung, and my little backwoods resort is finally getting attention again, I’ll be so busy that I won’t have time to think about anything else.

My twelve-cabin compound is tucked away in the Ozarks, and typically serves those who can’t find larger, more modern accommodations. The Whispering Pines Inn doesn’t offer luxury Egyptian cotton sheets, a gym, spa, or private hot tubs. However, my lodgings are clean and rustic, and attached to my little office is a cozy café serving comfort food and homemade pies.

The locals consider me old-school. I try not to be insulted by their designation of me—I’m sure it’s a dig. With a few exceptions, many long-time business owners are scrambling to catch up to what modern tourists expect on their vacations. And those who’ve relocated to the area are even worse. They’ve dragged their big city mentality with them, and I’m having none of it.

My kin, though? Just the opposite. Almost all the Howlers have left the area. The only one I’m really in contact with is Edgel. He’s an old healer who rarely leaves his cave anymore. I could be wrong, but I believe he’s been in this range before Arkansas was added as a state.

I let out a heavy sigh. I’m turning into an old grump. I mean, I’m not that old by Howler standards—just a little over a hundred and ten. I can’t remember the exact date because it wasn’t a Howler tradition to celebrate birthdays and all that nonsense until well after the turn of the twentieth century.

But I have other, more pressing concerns. In addition to the uptick in business for the inn, I have my solstice responsibilities. I have to fill out my vendor form, help the solstice committee organize the events and contact performers, get a preliminary count of attendees so the enchanted tokens for entry can be produced… My head spins with all that needs to be done.

I straighten the visitor activity brochures on the counter, pondering which task to prioritize this week. I rub my chin. It would be a good idea to start on some of the special orders for the solstice. There are at least five pet carriers on the list already, and one is for a bobcat.

With a determined nod, it’s decided. Turning in my vendor form will be my first task. With all the stuff I’m bringing to sell, I’ll need a bigger space this year. My reputation for crafting high-quality pet accessories for monsters has really grown over the years.

“Hey, boss. The couple in cabin eight said they saw a spider. What should I do?”

I smack my forehead. Gavin means well, but seriously?

Sucking in a deep breath, I pause before answering, “Okay, so tell them you’ll take care of it—”

Gavin gasps. “No freakin’ way! You can fire me if you want, but I’m not going near that thing.” He grits his teeth. “They said it was really big. It’s probably one of those jumbo mutant spiders you guys have here.”

I crack my knuckles.

“Gavin? I know you’re new to the area, but this is a forest. There are many, many insects and critters you will encounter. Not one of them is considered a mutant.” Although if he knew what I really was, he might beg to differ. “Don’t they have spiders in Chicago?”

Gavin tilts his head and taps his chin. “Maybe? Mom hates bugs, so she has one of those electric thingies that chases them away. We have cans and cans of that spray stuff too.”

I wince. Chemicals are an absolute nope for me. “Perhaps you could try some peppermint oil. That works well.”

Gavin barks out a laugh. “Come on, Mr. Clawson. Quit joking around.”

Right as I open my mouth to assure him I'm serious, I realize I'm fighting a losing battle. Once again, I’m reminded of how isolated I’ve become, how there’s barely anyone close to home I can relate to anymore.

“Don’t worry about it, Gavin. Can you watch the desk while I take care of it? I pause mid-stride. “Oh, and don’t answer the phone. Let it go to voicemail.”

The last thing I need is him telling a potential guest we’ve got plenty of rooms because we’re not all that popular. And that’s only what I’ve overheard. Who knows what else he’s been saying when I’m not around?

By the time I take care of the dreaded spider that was no more than the size of a quarter, legs included, it’s time to close up the reception desk. Gavin is only able to help out a few hours after school each day. Levi, my night clerk, is showing up soon, and the sixty-something local can take over.

He’s known me since I was a fake teen masquerading as myself, his recently deceased father. I’ve been keeping up that charade for decades. Those who are old enough to remember still marvel at how we’re the spitting image of each other.

I grumble to myself, still irritated by how many Howlers have abandoned the forest because they were sick of the pretense. The modern world had called, the promise of a shiny new life too difficult to resist.

One even married a human. How that works, I can’t imagine. What human wants to marry a cryptid? Were they really up for building a life with a different species? Makes zero sense to me.