“Have you ever seen it?”

“Me? No.” Chloe shook her head. “But my sister’s ex was out hunting and swears it passed right through the campsite. Tore into his cooler and stole all his coyote traps.”

“Wow. That’s...” The way it always was. No, I’ve never seen anything. But my dentist’s kid’s teacher’s nephew woke up in the woods with less beer than he’d remembered packing and a missing ham sandwich. Alert the media—They walk among us. “That’s something.”

“Are you in Maudit for—”

“The skiing,” Julien cut her off quickly, and launched into his own canned dialogue, taking the opposite approach to Chloe, his voice a little too bright, smile too mobile, overselling his story. “I would never have thought of North Carolina for it, but a friend recommended the slopes here. He said it’s ‘Snow without having to freeze your, ah, nose off.’”

“We get our fair share. And plenty more than that up the mountain,” she said, watching him closely, the beginnings of the same frustration in her eyes he’d seen in dozens of people trying to place the face behind the glasses, the fading stubble, the lines that grief and age had carved in unequal measure around his eyes like permanent tear tracks. “I’d pack an extra pair of thermals if you’re skiing Blue Tail this weekend, though. For your, ah, nose? There’s a cold front coming.” She tapped the box of single-use heat packs by the register pointedly and Julien dutifully placed a handful on the counter. He attempted a casual nod at the looming cutout. “Why ‘Sweet Pea’? Not exactly the most intimidating name.”

“Well, he doesn’t need it, does he? Anyone around here knows you don’t want to be caught out at night with a monster like that, whatever you want to call it.” She plucked a deck of novelty playing cards off the display and placed them on the counter next to the heat packs. “Everything you need to know about Maudit Falls and its most infamous residents is in here. Only $21.99. You know, something to do when you’re not skiing.” That’s when her eyes had widened in genuine excitement. “Hey, aren’t you...”

Of course, he’d bought them. How could he not? Sweet Pea wasn’t the monster he was hunting. But it was why Rocky had first come to Maudit Falls and Julien was here because of him. Why else would he book a vacation in a town whose idea of a fun roadside souvenir was fifty-two fun facts about spooky local legends? Why else had he done anything at all this last waking-nightmare of a year?

Now, as he took a particularly sharp curve up the narrow mountain road, Julien wished he’d left the cards behind and bought a map instead. One a little easier to follow than what Rocky had left for him. This simply could not be the way into town. It wasn’t even plowed for goodness’ sake. Just sort of tamped down, which gave the road a colorless, unfinished look. Like nature itself had been peeled back to expose a slippery layer of quilt batting. On the other hand, it wasn’t like he’d passed any paths more traveled. There’d been one unmarked turnoff that couldn’t have been anything but a service road. That or the perfect set for the first ten minutes of a horror film, which might still be the case considering the seriously questionable choices that had led him to—