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I shrug. “What you’ve done here. What you hope to achieve. That sort of thing.”
She takes a bite of salad and chews thoughtfully. “Well, the lodge was originally built in the 1980s, but it wasn’t very successful. Haven’s Hollow was smaller back then, of course, and we didn’t have as much tourism. Six cabins on one side of an unknown lake wasn’t much of a draw. The lodge closed a few years later, and it’s been empty ever since. Just collecting dust and mold. When Griffin decided to revive it, he tasked me with the job.”
Naturally, I don’t mention I had a hand in its failure. “And why did he choose to revive it? Since it didn’t do well the first time?”
“It all goes back to tourism,” she says. “Griffin is concerned with keeping this town alive and thriving, which is one of his jobs as mayor. He sees tourism as the way to do that. We had a local developer who wanted to create some truly heinous businesses on my friend’s property, which Griff thought might be a draw. Something happened—I don’t even know what—and the developer left town. Griffin decided to get creative, although this particular reno was on the docket before Chad left town. Griff has his own tourism projects in the works, but he figured a nice lakeside resort—well, lodge—could be a great draw during the summer months. My friend Annie just opened a B&B that’s very successful, so it seems like Griff was right. People do want to come here. We just have to offer them places to stay and things to do.“
Haven sips her wine. “What brought you here this summer? I take it you’re not from around here, so the tourism plan must be working a little bit. It’s kind of amazing, considering we haven’t even started advertising. How did you find out about the lodge?”
I pick up my pizza and take a large bite, debating what I can tell her. For human food, it is quite palatable. Thus far, spending time in my non-native form has not been as unpleasant as I anticipated it would be when the Lady sent me on this mission.
“I’m not originally from here, no. But I have spent time in this area before. I have…friends who live nearby.” Referring to the Lady as a friend feels wrong on every level, but the detail makes the story more plausible. “I was in town at a place called Queen of Tarts. Someone mentioned this lodge, so I came here the following day to see if there was an available cabin. Luckily for me, there was. With the bonus of a most fetching neighbor.” I send a slow grin her way, pleased when she returns it.
Haven’s face lights up. “Queen of Tarts is the best! My friend Libra owns it, and she is an incredible baker. You have to try her almond butter brownies while you’re here.”
“I would enjoy that. Chocolate is one of my favorite foods.” I do have to give humans credit for one thing: They are experts at preparing foods with sugar.
She laughs. “Isn’t it everyone’s?”
“Speaking of almonds and chocolate, are you ready for dessert?”
She nods. “If I eat another bite of pizza, I might explode. But I can’t leave without at least trying that torte.”
I return to the kitchen and cut two slices: A smaller one for her, and a large slab for me. I can’t help myself. I thrive on sweets. All of the folk do.
“That looks amazing,” she gushes when I set it down.
I grin at her and we each grab a fork and take a bite in unison, jointly reveling in the rich, creamy chocolate. The almonds on top add depth to the flavor and just the right amount of crunch.
Haven is still reveling in the dessert when something in her bag beeps. She sighs.
“That’s my alarm, letting me know I need to start getting ready to go to town. You sure you won’t join me?” There’s a hopeful note in her voice, and I hate to let her down. I’m enjoying getting to know her—much more than I thought I would. But I have a job to do here.
“Thank you, but no. I need to clean all this up and take care of a few things. But have a good time.”
She nods and stands, collecting her bag. “I hope I see you tomorrow.” She leans over and brushes her lips against my cheek, then sweeps away.
Thirty minutes later, my skin is still hot where she kissed it.
* * *
WICKHAM
With the sun set and almost everyone in town at the fireworks show, things at Haven’s little resort are dark and quiet. I’m sitting in the shadows of my porch, watching the lake. One wouldn’t be able to see me, even if one were looking, which is why the males from what Haven refers to as Cabin 3 don’t notice me when they step outside.
All three are wearing black, fitted clothing, and are carrying masks and flippers. I recognize the items: diving gear. They drag a canoe from behind some bushes, and moving quietly, begin to paddle out toward the middle of the lake. Curious, I slip into the water behind them and follow. There’s something about them I don’t like, and the fact that they’re out here when no one else is around is suspicious.
The other strange thing is that they returned to the lodge not long ago. Just like everyone else, they disappeared earlier, and I presumed they went into Haven’s Hollow to enjoy the festivities. But they came back not half an hour ago, evidently changed clothes, and are now out on the water.
I may not know a lot about humans, but I know troubling behavior when I see it. It’s my duty, after all.
While my current form might not be as sleek and fast as my natural one, I can still swim better than any human. It takes only minutes to catch up to the boat, and I remain just under the surface, trailing along silently.
They travel far into the lake, well beyond the area that the lodge encompasses. When they finally stop, they are in the middle of open water.
“Let’s start here,” one says.
“Why?”
