Page 1 of Terrible Desires (Loving Monsters #8)
This Halloween is going to be different , I decide. No trick-or-treating, or screaming children high on sugar, no yards littered with tacky store-bought decorations, or teenagers in slutty costumes walking the streets with their parents’ stolen liquor. This All Hallows’ Eve is going to be just me, myself, and a cute chalet with river views. I’m going to have peace and quiet.
Don’t get me wrong … I love the seasonal celebrations—but not the commercial, cookie-cutter holiday they’ve become. Fall is genuinely my favorite time of year … the cool, crisp weather, the changing colors, falling leaves, the rain, and then the resulting petrichor! This season is in my blood, and I truly appreciate what Halloween traditionally represents—a time of change, closure, of embracing the darkness that’s to come, and a chance to say a final farewell to our loved ones who’ve had to cross over.
With my mind made up, I book in my stay, pay online, and pack an overnight bag. Anchorage is a beautiful city, but I’m a solitary soul and like to keep to myself. I love nothing more than an opportunity to snuggle up with a good book or chill out with snacks and a horror movie. I’m basically the furthest thing from a social creature one could be. And college life has drained my social meter into the red. I need to recharge, indulge, and just enjoy the fresh air and nature. That’ll do it.
Boarding the coach the following morning with a pumpkin spice latte, dressed in my favorite jeans, a black sweater, and a bright, rust-colored scarf, I pull on my matching beanie over my long, red hair and rest my bag on my lap. The journey is scenic and peaceful and takes just under three hours. I spend most of the time staring at the window, daydreaming, with my earbuds in, listening to heartachingly beautiful piano covers of Slipknot songs.
When we finally reach our destination, a bed-and-breakfast situated on the pristine Kasilof River, I grab my bag and step out into the cool mountain air, sucking in a deep lungful. It’s invigorating and pure, and I feel immediately at ease. There’s not a single screaming child or vagrant teen in sight. With a little skip in my step, I note I’m the only one who gets off the coach at this stop and wave politely to the driver, before heading to Reception. The doorbell rings as I step into the cozy lodge and an elderly female clerk smiles brightly at me.
“Hello, do you have a reservation?” she asks as she opens the day’s bookings on her computer.
Lumping my bag over my shoulder, I smile in return. “Hi, yeah. It’s under Brianna Rookwood. I booked online—Cabin Thirteen I think it was.”
The receptionist looks up at me, her expression fleetingly troubled. “I see your reservation,” she confirms. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like to choose one of the cabins closer to the main lodge? I can move you, no charge.”
I grin and shake my head. “I know some people can be superstitious this time of year, but thirteen is a lucky number for me, so I’m happy to keep the cabin I booked, thank you.”
“It’s not so much superstition, dear, as it is a matter of safety. Cabin Thirteen is our most remote cabin. It’s not up here on the ridge, overlooking the river, it’s quite a way down the ridge, just up from the shore. As a young woman on her own, I just have your best interests at heart. I’d hate for anything to happen to you.”
Offering the elderly receptionist a smile, I lean on the high counter. “This place has fantastic reviews, so I’m not too worried. Besides, I chose that cabin for that very reason. I’m a bit of hermit—I like my solitude. I’m really excited about the alone time, actually.”
The receptionist’s lips purse momentarily, her eyes darting back and forth with indecision as she taps her mouse repeatedly. “Are you sure I can’t convince you? I’ll throw in a buffet breakfast and a half-price discount on your next stay.”
A frown mars my brow. I find myself feeling a little put out that the receptionist seems so keen to stop me from staying in the cabin I paid for. “Is there something you’re not telling me?” I ask. “Is the cabin out of order?”
“Oh, no, dear,” she says quickly. “All our cabins are operational and maintained to the highest standard. We pride ourselves on our service and our visitors’ enjoyment, here at Red Pine Ridge Bed and Breakfast.”
“Then as much as I appreciate the generous offer and the extra bonuses, I’d really just like the keys to Cabin Thirteen so I can get settled in, please. The sooner, the better.”
The receptionist bites her lower lip and leans closer, her pale blue eyes searching. “There have been reports, albeit infrequent, of something that calls that part of the forest home, dear. Some say it’s a wildcat, others say a giant, territorial moose, and others have just heard strange sounds or seen hulking shadows…”
I reach down over the counter and snitch the keys from her trembling hand, before giving her a wide grin. “That’s the beauty of this sort of place,” I say. “It has its own little spooky stories and local legends. It’s just perfect this time of year. Thank you for having me. I’ll see you when I check out,” I assure her as I move to head back out the door when she calls out to me again.
“Brianna, dear, if you need anything at all, just call. The line to reception is on the back of the key tag. I’m available at any time, no matter the hour.”
Puzzled by the old woman’s behavior regarding my booking, I just nod and take my leave with a forced smile. That is one crazy boomer… or maybe she’s just easily spooked? I wonder. Either way, no threat of Big Foot, the Mothman, or backwater cryptid tales are going to prevent me from enjoying this getaway! I’ve looked forward to it for months. “Thank you. I appreciate that,” I say as I exit.
Stepping back out into the crisp air, I sigh. It’s an absolutely beautiful, overcast day, and according to my weather app, it’s supposed to rain later. I couldn’t ask for more pleasant circumstances. There’s nothing like snuggling up alone with a fire, cup of hot chocolate in hand, reading as it rains softly outside.