Winter Lost

The room might be ugly, but it was big. The three sizable round tables looked a little lost. Efforts had been made to brighten them up with white lace tablecloths and small bouquets of fresh flowers—Elyna had mentioned a greenhouse. The flowers and lace were completely outmatched by the general seedy air of the room.

Last night, Elyna had divided the people here into groups: the bride’s party, the groom’s party, random refugees from the storm, and the lodge staff. Around the tables, the lodge guests had organized themselves in much the same way, probably for different reasons.

“There are thirteen people here now, not including you, me, or Jack,” Elyna had told us.

Seventeen people. Four of us were definitely not hiding the frost giant’s artifact, which left thirteen. Thirteen didn’t feel like an unreasonable number of suspects. I’d suggested that maybe my brother, acting alone, had hidden the harp somewhere, and that was still a possibility. But it wasn’t likely.

Artifacts are difficult to hide. The warm water in the horse barn told me that my brother had tricks I didn’t know, but hiding an artifact was another level. Artifacts hummed with magic. Werewolves might not be able to hunt them down, but anyone with an ounce of fae blood could.

“We could just ask if they’ve stolen a lyre,” I’d suggested to Elyna and Adam last night, sticking my feet out of the tub to cool off, because the water was a little too warm to keep every part of me in it all of the time. “And make them give it back.”

“You’ll run into trouble with that,” Elyna said.

“She isn’t serious,” Adam told her. “We need the lyre back, not broken or thrown into the lake as a sacrifice or tribute.”

He’d accepted that we were looking for a lyre rather than a harp. I wondered why an ancient, presumably knowledgeable being hadn’t known what to call his own artifact. I wondered if it would turn out to be significant. Still, a silver stringed musical instrument with a face carved on it should be easy to identify whether it was a harp or a lyre.

“We’re getting off track,” said Elyna. “Let me tell you about the people trapped here with us.” She eyed me. “Maybe it would be best to keep your questions for the end.”

Adam waved a hand in invitation.

“The largest group,” she said, “even if you don’t count Jack and me, is the bride’s party. We arrived before the storm got so bad. The bride, Tammy Vanderstaat, is in her midtwenties. She has a master’s in social work and is employed by a nonprofit.”

Standing in the dining hall now, it was easy to pick out the bride’s party. They occupied the table farthest from where Adam and I stood. The bride definitely drew my eye first—and I wasn’t sure why. She wasn’t beautiful, but her face was full of character, lit from within. She had more muscle than I was used to seeing on someone who wasn’t a shapeshifter. Maybe she was into martial arts or gymnastics or something.

“The other members of the bride’s party are her father, Peter, and four of his crew—all Chicago police officers who moonlight in remodeling.” Elyna had stopped there, then said, “I’ve known all of them for nearly a decade. They’ve never been to Montana before. We arrived here the day before the artifact was stolen, but I judge it highly unlikely that any of them are involved.”