Page 3 of Oh No! There’s an Incubus in my Hot Spring (Getting Cozy with Demons #1)

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Haunted Hot Spring

I drink my hot latte as I stare at the abomination.

Overgrown.

Crowded.

Dilapidated.

Not up to code.

“Fuuuuck meeee,” I groan, wishing Irene had put some Baileys in my latte.

The main building is jutting right out of the mountain with an entrance at the bottom, but much of it looks completely unsupported. To the left and right are smaller buildings attached by arboreal corridors. I’m guessing one is my home, but the other is maybe storage? The photo walkthrough of the space was bad , as my mother pointed out many times. But still, it’s mine.

So, I pull up my big-girl panties and head toward the main entrance.

The key is in a lockbox on the side that opens to the passcode: 1111.

I turn the key and illuminate the space with my phone light. The interior has real wood walls and ceilings, giving it a cabin-like feel. Dust coats the carpet, and there’s not a single footprint. Motherfuckers. Those photos really were from twenty years ago.

The antechamber has a sitting room populated with musky couches that I’m sure have been fucked on more times than a haunted couch should, and a customer service station carved into the mountain. Little empty alcoves punctuate the walls near the couches where I might put magazines or drink stations. Dust wafts off the carpet as I walk, revealing its color.

“Red. Really?”

I wish I had Charlie with me. He’s in the back of the car.

I keep going, panning my light from side to side as I take sips from my latte. The all-wood walls stop past the service desk, and a thick layer of something dark melds the planks to the rocky surface of the mountain itself. I shine my light directly on the substance, hoping to ascertain its composition but get no further details with more illumination. It looks like some kind of sap, or tar. One more mystery for the contractors, but it’s been doing a fine job of holding the place together so far.

Past the main entrance, there’s a hallway leading to what I assume is the owner’s place since there’s a “Do Not Enter” sign on the wall, and another hallway leading to locker rooms for men and women. I’ll need to update them to include a private option.

I step into the women’s locker room. The walls are white tiles with blue accents. Not terrible looking, but definitely outdated. The raw material of the mountain is actually quite lovely…I wonder if I can just have it shaped and polished.

My mental list is starting to get a bit long, so I start typing down notes in my phone.

The standing lockers are wood, and not cedar, so they’re completely rotted out after twenty years of darkness and humidity. Hells, this place is kinda creepy even when you don’t believe in ghosts.

I find the sinks, toilets, and showers farther in. Everything is bare and exposed, but there are no deep cracks and no furrows that show the structure is damaged irreparably, which is a great sign.

I leave the locker room and head deeper into the mountain. The first hallway leads left and right or up. A wooden sign on the wall states there are private saunas to the left and public pools to the right. I could check out the rest of the first floor, but something draws me up the stairs.

It’s a narrow, winding staircase with no handrail. A safety hazard just waiting to blossom into a lawsuit like my mom said. But it’s carved into the stone of the mountain, so theoretically, I can have a handrail carved in too, or anchored with metal rods. I’m not even sure how much stonemasonry costs. It’s a good thing I still have a nice lump of money in my business account.

The second floor is all mountain. No red carpet, no wood, no tile. The place definitely has an appeal for the au naturel. Lines of silver run along the ceiling and part of me wonders just how much that might be worth. Maybe I should scrap the whole place and mine it.

Don’t you dare. My monologue takes on a new, masculine voice, and I suck in a breath.

“What the fuuuuck?” I say to the dark walls, but no one answers.

I’m probably just high on nutmeg. It’s a real thing. I looked it up last year when my local barista told me I was drinking too many PSLs.

White spray paint carves across the back wall beside the stairs, claiming this space as “Leonard’s,” whoever that is. My fingers graze along the rough wall and the paint, feeling what’s mine.

Mine.

I stop to inhale the sulfuric air.

“It’s all fucking mine,” I say to no one but Leonard. His claim will be removed soon enough.

My phone bleats at me, warning that it’s at twenty percent battery.

“Of course,” I say with a sigh.

Tour cut short, but that’s fine. I have a power bank in the car, along with my blow-up mattress and everything else. I can come back later.

I run out to grab a few things from the RAV and pant in the oxygenless mountain air. I’ll get used to it eventually. The city peeks out from the tops of pine trees that line the gravel road, and I admire it for just a moment.

“All mine.”

The hall with the “Do Not Enter” sign does indeed lead to the owner’s shack. It’s a small, studio apartment-style space, but that’s great. I don’t want a lot of space. I don’t want a lot of distractions. There’s a kitchenette with a wood-burning stove, a toilet, and a shower all out in the open in the corner, and space for a bed next to a much bigger fireplace.

“Cozy,” I say, taking in my new home.

I whip out Charlie and set him on the dusty counter. “All right, what do I do first?”

Obviously, you get out the wine to celebrate your victory of an exceptional purchase.

“Very good, Charlie. Excellent thought.”

I set my mostly empty latte aside and pull out my groceries. I open the premade charcuterie board and pop the cork on the wine—but not without fucking cutting myself on the corkscrew, damn it.

I suck on my bleeding palm and another problem presents: no wineglass. I could empty my coffee and drink from there but…“No. No, thanks,” I murmur, looking around at the dark wood cabinets.

I open the first and it’s empty. Second over the faucet: empty. But when I open the third, I’m pleasantly surprised to see some kind of demonic ritual goblet, complete with a skull and crossbones on the side and a fake purple gem. It’s one of those favors you’d see at a fancy Halloween party.

I laugh. “Fucking Leonard. I bet this is his doing.”

Probably, remarks Charlie in a deeper, less quackier voice than normal.

I pour my cheap wine into the cosplay ritual goblet and take a sip.

“Yep. That’s ten-dollar wine,” I say with a wince.

My camping lamp gives off decent enough illumination, so I pick it up, deciding to continue my tour while my phone charges. Past Leonard’s tag on the second floor is a beautiful sitting room, complete with colorful crystals jutting out of the walls and a set of frosted-glass double doors leading to a patio.

There are private bath chambers on the left and right, as well as toilets, but I’m not interested in either of them right now as the balcony beyond the glass calls to me. I open the double doors with a click and a squeak to the most enchanting patio I’ve ever seen—even though it’s covered in decaying leaves and enough dirt to start a garden.

I take a deep gulp of my wine as I devour the sight around me. At least four hundred square feet of rock built directly into the cliff wall, trees growing on either side, all of them actually alive and green, and a trickle of hot spring water coming out of the wall into a sizable pool that swirls and steams. I move toward the opening where the heated water emerges from.

“Shouldn’t someone have turned this off?” I ask before realizing that Charlie is back in the bedroom.

Who can turn off nature? The same deep, dark voice appears in my mind and I swear to fuck if Irene put mushrooms in my coffee…

A shadow moves over the doorway back inside. But it’s my shadow, right? It’s dark out, dusk, and the lantern. Yeah. It’s just my shadow.

I go back inside, looking over my shoulder as I close the door.

The hallway beside the stairs back down leads to another hallway that has a single door for a private bath, and more stairs leading up. I take another drink of my cosplay sacrificial wine and head up, because why not?

There’s nothing to fear here.

Right. Ghosts aren’t real. There’s nothing supernatural about this hot spring. It’s just an abandoned resort because of Silver Mountain buttfucker Mark. Doesn’t he know a little competition is healthy? It gets the market going, gets people talking. We could even play discount tennis, volleying back and forth between each other.

Keep going .

“Okay,” I say, raising my lantern and climbing the steps to the next floor. There’s another set of double doors but no sitting room, and nothing else. I open the left one with some difficulty and suck down a deep gasp as I take in the scene.

Grizzlywood Springs, all glowing and bright, is laid out before me. A hot, sulfuric waterfall rushes out of the side of the mountain and flows into a natural recess on the balcony. There’s moss on either side of the canal, all of it bright green and thriving. I love the natural look of the place, and despite what Mark might think, I feel it’s a boon that twenty years has allowed this place to merge back into the wild.

The smell of the spring curls up under my nose, followed by a breeze off the mountain. It’s pine and sulfur and moisture, so different from what I’m used to. I love it. I want to sink into the pool and enjoy it.

Do it.

But I’m still wearing my clothes.

Strip.

I chew my lip. Someone might see.

No one will see.

I look over the edge, left then right. Sure enough, I’m alone up here. It should scare me, but instead I feel calm. Maybe it’s the wine.

I pull off my shirt and push down my yoga pants with my underwear, then flick my socks at the pile next to the lantern. For a moment, I just revel in the feeling of steam on my skin with the mountain breeze. I’ve never done anything like this, and it feels so fucking good.

I turn to the pool and sit at the edge. There’s no handrail leading in, another safety feature that must be rectified. But enough of the assessment for now. The water sears my toes as I dip into the first layer of the pool.

“Hot!” I exclaim, jerking back reflexively.

The wind seems to carry a deep chuckle that ruffles my hair. I push my dark, attempting-to-become-unruly locks up into a messy ponytail and tie it off. A few breaths later, I feel ready to step back in.

The water tingles up my calves, knees, thighs, and hips as I push off the edge and drop down into the pool. It’s so hot it feels like my skin is melting, but in a good way.

“Fuck,” I whisper to the navy sky.

Stars speckle the growing darkness above and I sigh down into the water. What a gorgeous place. I should probably check the pH balance and see if the sulfur levels are high enough to actually burn my skin off…

“I would never hurt you,” the rumbling voice flows on the wind.

I sit up, water sloshing off me, and look around. There’s no one here. I’m completely alone, but that voice was not mine, or Charlie’s…and Charlie is just me.

“What the fuuuuuck.”

I’m just spooked from Irene’s story and the tag on the wall. Leonard isn’t here. No one is here but me.

That’s it. Just spooked.

Relaxing is out the window now, so I move toward the edge of the pool.

Pressure wraps around my wrist and a deep voice whispers in my ear, “Don’t go, lovely. I need you.”