2. Maisie

Chapter two

Maisie

After I’ve chucked two weeks’ worth of clothes into a suitcase, I pack up my laptop, charger, and cell phone and shove it all in my car. I picked a rental apartment somewhere close enough that I could drive in a few hours because I hate flying more than anything. Waking up early to get to the airport? Standing like cattle in security lines? Wedged into too-small seats next to total strangers? No thanks.

I recently upgraded my ride, and I’m glad I did. It’s a fancy new electric car with tons of gadgets inside. It has cameras everywhere, and the built-in AI system can even take over the wheel on the highway. I’ll have to keep an eye on it, of course, to make sure it does what it’s supposed to do—but the rest of the time I’ll be able to sit back, relax, and enjoy the drive to the tune of an audiobook. I chose a pulp thriller this time, something mindless to occupy me during the four-hour drive into the mountains and toward the coast. Before I hop in the car, I shoot a text to my parents and my brother about where I’m headed—though I carefully leave out the reason why.

Once I’m on the highway, I set my car to autopilot and turn on the audiobook. It’s just as engaging as I’d hoped, even though the quality of the writing leaves something to be desired. But it makes the hours fly by, and thanks to my new fancy car, I get to watch the scenery along the way, which slightly dulls the ache of this forced vacation.

As I get closer and closer to my destination, though, the signal on my phone cuts in and out. Baffled, I turn it off and restart it, hoping it’s just a blip. But the signal is only getting worse. By the time I reach the city limits and take over driving again, there’s no service at all.

I was expecting some kind of hiccup with my cellular provider since I live in the city, so I pull over at a scenic stop and pop out my SIM card, then replace it with another one that might get better service here.

Still nothing.

I try another SIM card, my last one, and no dice. Not a single provider gets reception way out here. Is there not even a cell tower in town?

I grow worried as I start the car again and drive past the huge sign reading WELCOME TO HALLOW’S COVE! Population: 4,592.

Yeah, it’s a tiny place, but it should still get cell service, right?

Shit. I didn’t write down the address of the apartment where I’m staying, thinking I’d just be able to pull it up on the phone app once I got here. It had instructions for check-in and everything. I’m going to have to find internet and do it on my computer instead.

I drive slowly down Main Street, looking for a coffee shop that might have Wi-Fi. It’s the quaintest, cutest little town I’ve ever seen. Pretty awnings decorate the fronts of shops, and it all looks like something out of a different time. The 1950s, maybe.

Not great for getting cell coverage.

Eventually I find a window with a huge coffee cup on it and pull into a parking spot on the main drag. Inside, I check around for a sheet of paper with a Wi-Fi password on it.

“Can I help you?” someone asks from behind the counter. When I glance up, I find a huge, two-legged wolf staring down at me. He’s got pointy brown ears, a long snout, and a wet nose that shines under the lights. I stare at him for far too long, and he blinks back at me.

“Um...” I finally manage to recover my senses. I’ve never seen a wolven in person before. “Do you have internet here?”

He nods. “Yep! I’ll write the password on your cup.”

Ah, yeah. I need to be a customer first. “All right. I’ll take a coffee, black, the strongest you’ve got. Thank you.”

I pay, and then wait as the big wolf busies about making my pour-over coffee. I’m amazed his claws don’t get in the way. When he hands me the cup, I find “PASSWORD” written across it.

“That’s not very secure,” I say, frowning .

The wolven sighs. “I know, but if we set it to anything else, people can’t remember it.”

Right, it is a tourist town. They probably get a lot of space cadets in here.

I quickly take the cup, pull out my laptop, and connect. The internet’s mind-numbingly slow, but eventually I get access to my email and the website that has my reservation.

“Hallow’s Cove is a town inhabited mostly by monsters,” the description says, a little farther down.

Ah. I missed that part completely. There are monsters everywhere in the world, of course, but they’re typically few and far between. A whole town of them will make for an interesting vacation.

I jot down the address and check-in instructions, which involve going into the bookstore and asking for the owner. Simple enough.

Buoyed by this small success, I slug down half of my coffee, dump the other half, and get back into my car. I drive another block or two until I spot a store with books arranged in the window.

Perfect.

Again I park out front, pleased at how much easier it is to find parking here than in the city. I hop out and head into the store, and the bells jingle as I step inside the darkness.

Wow. Yeah. It’s really dark in here.

“Hello?” Because it was so bright outside, I can barely see.

“What do you need?” asks a gruff voice.

Finally, with one eye closed, I can make out the shelves lining the store, and the tall human man sitting behind the counter with a book open in his lap. He has dark hair that’s slicked back, with shocks of gray around his temples that tell me he’s likely in his late forties. His face is long and slender with a pronounced chin and nose. There’s a regal quality to him, like he’s from another time completely. He’s even dressed in a vest that hugs his slim but muscular frame, with a collared shirt underneath and a red tie.

“Oh. Hi. Sorry. I booked the apartment? Upstairs?” I offer my widest, most radiant smile. “I just need help getting access to it, and then I’ll leave you alone.”

The man’s dark eyes widen, and then his lips twist in disgust. “Right.”

I don’t think he’s very pleased about having his reading time interrupted. He gets out of his chair slowly, then sighs and grabs some keys. Without another word, he leads me out of the store to a door not four feet from the shop entrance. Slipping the key into the ancient lock, he turns it and a mechanism on the other side creaks. Then he pushes the door open for me.

“Here you are.” The words are polite, but the tone of voice is impatient. “Enjoy your stay.”

With that, he walks away.

“Wait!” I call out. He pauses and turns to me with an irritable look. I hope I don’t need to ask him for too many more things during my stay here, because I think it’ll be just as unpleasant. “The key? I need that, probably. ”

“Oh, right.” He grumbles as he unhooks the key from his keychain, then presses it into my hand. His skin is shockingly cold, as if he’s been in a refrigerator.

“I haven’t been able to get a signal here,” I say. “So I’m not sure how to contact you.”

The man frowns. “Why would you need to contact me?”

“Uh...” I flounder. “I don’t know, in case something goes wrong?”

That intense look of his grows even more suspicious. “What would go wrong?”

“I don’t know!” We’ve only just met and he’s already driving me crazy. “Anything could happen. I need to be able to get a hold of you, though.”

“Then pick up the phone.” He gestures up at the apartment. “My number is written next to it.”

I stare as I try to make sense of this. Finally, it dawns on me.

“Oh, a landline?”

He hmphs . “Yes. A landline. Cell phones don’t work in Hallow’s Cove.”

“What?” I look down at the phone in my hand. “What do you mean? That’s impossible. Everyone has cell service nowadays—”

“We don’t. There’s Wi-Fi here, and at the coffee shop, and a few other places in town. There are landlines if you need to call out, but you’ll have to pay extra for long distance.” With a finality, he turns around and departs back to the bookstore, slamming the door closed behind him .

I stand there, dumbstruck, for far too long. Shit. Have I made a mistake with the place I chose to stay? This guy is probably the most unfriendly person I’ve ever met.

He didn’t appear to be a monster, though. I wonder if perhaps he’s a shifter, like our old systems administrator. She could turn into a bear at will, which was comical when she got surprised by her pet cat on a company-wide call and transformed there on screen.

Hopefully I won’t need to ask him for help anytime soon.

Grabbing a bag from my car, I head up the narrow, rickety stairs to the apartment. It’s got a surprising amount of light coming in through the front windows, and it’s clean, but also completely empty. There’s a cute kitchen, big enough for one person to move about comfortably, though there isn’t a table or chairs to speak of. The living room has nothing in it except a small television mounted on the wall.

I check the first closed door down the hall to discover a bedroom, which contains a bed on an old metal frame. The other door holds a tiny bathroom with a shower stall, sink, and toilet. There’s a single towel and a washcloth sitting on the tank.

I walk back into the empty living room, puzzled. He must be kidding. There’s nowhere to sit and eat, or watch the television, or really to do anything.

This is ridiculous. I can’t stay here.

On the counter that divides the living room and the kitchen is the phone that the landlord mentioned. I didn’t even get his name .

“Bookstore,” I read aloud. It’s written on a piece of paper taped to the counter next to the phone, with a seven-digit phone number. Not even an area code.

I pick up the phone and dial. It rings twice before someone answers with a deep sigh.

“Hello. Bookstore.” It’s the same man as before, and he sounds very irritated.

“Um, hi, yeah. I’m the tenant that just arrived.”

“Yes, and?”

“ And there’s no furniture up here.”

The other end of the line is silent, and I have to check to make sure it’s still connected.

“Is anyone there?” I ask when no reply comes.

“Yes, yes.” Another bone-weary sigh. “What sort of furniture do you need?”

The way he says it, like what I’m asking is a major inconvenience, grates on my nerves.

“Somewhere to sit while I eat, for starters,” I say. “A bar stool for the counter? A table? A chair? A sofa? You know, things normal people need.”

“Fine. I have some things. Come downstairs.”

Then the call ends with a beep . I glare down at it. This was supposed to be a vacation, but already I want to turn around and go home. Maybe I should. I could always pretend I went somewhere, then just sit and play video games for the next four weeks.

No. I set the phone back into its cradle firmly. I’m not going to let some weird asshole scare me off. I paid to come here and stay in this apartment. The least he can do is give me a chair to sit on .

I stalk back down the stairs, clutching the key in my pocket. If this guy’s going to be a dick to me, I have two choices: I can kill him with kindness, or I can be a dick right back.

Given that his shop is right next door, I’ll probably have to see him often. The last thing I want is animosity with the first person—no, the second person—I’ve met in town.

It’s decided. I’ll be as sweet as I can and try to make my next four weeks enjoyable. As if that’s even possible without cell phone service.