Winter Lost

“I’ve heard stories about you, Ms. Gray,” Adam said. “You killed the Mistress who made you—and she was an old and powerful vampire. Then instead of taking over the seethe, you chose to move to Chicago and live as a lone vampire. When the Master of Chicago objected, you killed him, too. The new Master treats you with care and leaves you alone.”

She let out a burst of ugly laughter, and for a second there was nothing human about her face. She recovered quickly. “That makes me sound like a total badass, doesn’t it?”

“Yes,” I said honestly.

Her mouth twisted bitterly. “I killed my Mistress and left the seethe because I lacked the power to hold it. They would have killed me in a day. I fled to Chicago. It had been my home, and it is a big city. The Master who ruled there kept a small seethe, and I thought I could stay hidden from him. I was wrong. I didn’t kill him, at least I didn’t kill him by myself. But he died because of me. The new Master is grateful for the old one’s death. And it is a gratitude that has no fear of me—he knows just how powerful I am not in the world of the nosferatu. I live by his grace as long as I cause no trouble.”

Adam looked at me. His face told me that he thought it would be handy to have the vampire as backup. He thought we could trust her. Maybe he knew more about her than what he’d said. But Gary was my brother; this was my call.

I considered her. “Have you stolen or rightfully recovered an object from anyone in the past week?”

She blinked at me. “I begin to think that your quest is more interesting than I expected. No, Ms. Hauptman, I have not taken anything from anyone in the past week. Not as a gift. Not as an unwilling gift. I have stolen nothing this week, nor have I recovered property belonging to me—or anyone else. Is that good enough?” She gave me a sudden grin. “If you have a mystery, I want in. Our wedding preparations, never intended to be elaborate because there were fewer than thirty guests invited, have been halted because of the storm. The power is out, so I can only use my laptop sparingly, and when I do, there is no Internet. This evening’s events aside, I have found myself as bored as I’ve ever been in my somewhat-longer-than-usual life.”

Adam asked, “Is there somewhere we could talk where we won’t be overheard?”

“By someone who might have very good hearing,” I said. Because if we were dealing with a stolen fae artifact, there was a good chance that the thief might have better than average hearing. Supernatural hearing.

Elyna’s grin turned triumphant. “Yes. I know of just the place.”

—

Elyna brought us through the heart of the lodge and out the far door. We forged through less-deep snow on a covered walkway, woefully inadequate for the current weather, that led to a cluster of small, picturesque buildings at the edge of the steaming lake. There were more of the strings of Christmas lights that decorated the entrance of the resort, as well as faux-Victorian streetlamps, none of which were lit.

Elegant signs, gold on black, noted the use of each smallish building—changing rooms, showers, storage. Snow covered the sides and tops of the buildings, and I glanced back at the lodge’s roof. Hard to judge from my angle, but it looked to me like the snowpack there was nearing a foot despite the steep slope of the roof.

Snow had weight. I wondered if someone was planning on getting up there to clear it or if the building would collapse before the storm was over.

Adam saw me looking—and raised an eyebrow when he examined the roof, too. “Lot of snow up there,” he said. “Someone should clear it before it collapses.”

“The lodge is nearly as old as I am,” said Elyna unconcernedly. “We’ve both survived a lot of winters.”

At the end of the path was a taller-than-me stone wall with a heavy rustic door that looked so forbidding that I was a little surprised when it opened easily.

Beyond the door, cobblestone pavement stretched from the wall to the side of the lake, half of it covered by a roof, the other open to the sky. Along the edge of the lake were five soaking tubs, and to either side of them were soaking pools built into the side of the lake with what looked like native stone. Steam rose from the lake, the tubs, and the cobblestones as the heat of the lake met the frost giant’s storm.

Against the back wall under the roof were a series of hooks that held fluffy white robes. Elyna walked past those and flipped a switch—and soft moody music accompanied the trickling sound of water. If we talked quietly, even sharp ears wouldn’t be able to hear us.

“I thought the power was out,” I said.

“Everything out here is part of the system that pumps the water into the pools and the resort to heat both,” Elyna said. “That pump is integral to keeping the place habitable, so it’s part of the infrastructure supported by the generators.”

She laughed at my expression. “Jack is…was an architect. He is fascinated by this place. He can’t ask questions, so I have to.”