For a few minutes, we watched the lights dance. The night was so silent I could hear the distant crackle of breaking ice and the occasional hoot of an owl. The air was pleasantly cool, like a brisk fall day.

“So where are we?” I murmured, reluctant to disturb the quiet.

“Remember that witch barmaid in La Ceiba? Said the pirate town was like—”

“Alaska without the snow.” I choked back a laugh. “You sent Luther Ross to Alaska?”

Kristof tilted his head to the side. “You don’t think he’ll like it?”

“Naughty boy. We’ll be lucky if he’ll talk to us after this.” I looked back up at the sky. “So how come you never brought me here?”

“I was saving it. For a special occasion, I guess.” Another glance my way. “You like it?”

I closed my eyes. I could still see the Northern Lights dancing. “Mmm. You’ll have to bring me back.”

His fingers found mine, enclosing them in a sudden surge of warmth. “I will.”

A shout, and we bolted upright. I concentrated and the darkness lifted enough for me to make out two orange jackets moving from a stand of trees.

“Never shoot anything around here,” a man said, voice carrying in the stillness. “The drop-off point’s there, remember? That’s fine welcome for a new visitor—getting shot the moment he touches down.”

“But I saw something over there,” a younger voice said. “In the woods, not near the drop-off.”

“Doesn’t matter. You don’t shoot anywhere near here.”

Kristof leaned toward my ear. “Time to make some new friends. See if they’ve encountered your pedagogically inclined nymphomaniac.” He pushed to his feet. “Hullo!”

The older voice hailed him and two hands rose in greeting. As I brushed the snow from my jeans, the men approached. Their voices had suggested an older man and a younger one, but I couldn’t have guessed which was which. Both were bundled in parkas, with fur-lined hoods drawn tight over their bearded faces, as if it really was subzero out here. Matching hunting vests topped their parkas. Each man carried a modified rifle.

“Well, hello there,” the man with the older voice boomed. “Welcome to Deerhurst, Alaska. Population: a few thousand.” He winked. “But only a handful of ’em human.”

“Beautiful place,” I said, looking around. I snuck a glance at Kristof. “You, uh, must get a lot of visitors.”

“Nope,” the man said. “The transportation code is damned obscure, which is how we like it. Just enough visitors to keep things interesting.”

“So I bet you haven’t seen another visitor in…weeks.”