Mr. July was going to be my guide? No. That wasn’t going to work. “Are you sure? I mean, I’m okay with Andrés if that’s easier.”

“Eight a.m.,” Lucas said, still growling a little. He came around carrying my backpack like it weighed nothing, but his voice softened. “Don’t be late.” He handed me the pack, and I nearly dropped it. I had for sure over-packed.

“He’s not to interfere, but to help. Protect. The mountains are full of dangers,” Muraco said. “This task is yours alone.”

“Right,” I muttered. No one knew more than I did what was at stake. If Lucas was going to be my guide, I’d make it work. And I’d focus every second on the image of my brother in that awful bed. “I’ll be ready in the lobby before eight. Thank you very much for your help.”

“Try the broth soup. It’s good here. Especially if you’re adjusting to the altitude.” Lucas got back into the passenger’s seat as I slid the van door closed. “And try the coca tea.” Andrés honked twice and then took off.

I was left staring at the entrance to the hotel. Oh crap. I didn’t have a credit card. All the travel blogs said you needed a credit card for hotels. I’d thought Muraco would be staying here, too, but that was dumb. Of course he’d go with the pack. And I couldn’t stay with an unknown pack any more than they’d want to host an unknown witch.

It’s fine. I’ll figure this out. No big deal. Mr. Dawson had sent me on my way with good amount of crisp Sol bills. Maybe they’ll let me pre-pay for the night.

I stood there, running through various scenarios, before I mustered up the courage to go inside. No time like the present, Claudia.

As soon as I stepped into the foyer, my breath caught. The entrance was ornately decorated, and huge wooden sculptures of howling wolves stood at either side of the door. A round marble-topped table decked with an elaborate flower arrangement took up the center of the lobby, and one wall had a fireplace surrounded by tables and chairs. The little sofas looked so plush that I could sink into one and fall asleep right then and there.

A woman looked up at me as I stepped to the check-in desk. “Checking in?” she asked in rapid Spanish.

I nodded. Being out of my element was making it hard for me to find my voice. I wasn’t even on the same continent as my comfort zone.

“Name and passport, please.”

“Oh. Right.” I fumbled to get my passport out of my purse for her as the hotel’s front door opened. A cold burst of wind hit my back, but I was too busy searching my seemingly bottomless bag to turn around.

“There you are,” a voice said behind me. “You nearly lost me for a second when you left the airport. Thank God I already had my rental.”