Either way, he wasn’t going to find anything sitting around alone in the dark. He’d done plenty of that these last fourteen months already. Julien began the long trek back down the road, phone in hand.

Ten minutes later, the cold air killed his battery.

“Damnit,” Julien whispered. Then, wondering why he was bothering to whisper, yelled it again as loud as he could, followed by a string of every curse he knew. Considering his upbringing on the back lots of Hollywood, that occupied a significant amount of walking time.

It took another fifteen minutes of swearing before Julien finally came across the lone turnoff he’d passed before. Maudit Falls Retreat, claimed a very discreet wooden sign tucked back into the woods. It wasn’t abandoned or a service road at all—it was some sort of place of lodging. Julien felt a wave of relief. Here there’d be people, power, maybe even a bed for the night, if he couldn’t get a ride on to Blue Tail Lodge. Julien took the turn.

Even less effort had been made to clear the snow, and soon the legs of his jeans were soaked with frigid water. He began to shiver and his fingers felt thick and clumsy with cold. Despite the urge to break into a jog and get the hell out of the dark already, Julien stuck his hands under his armpits and kept his steady, careful pace. He’d hardly be able to tell people he was here for the skiing with a broken ankle. When researching the area, there hadn’t been anything online about a Maudit Falls Retreat. No mention of it in Rocky’s notebook, either. Hopefully that meant it was a small, word-of-mouth bed-and-breakfast as opposed to shut down entirely. Five minutes later, he realized neither was true as the road spilled into a clearing in front of a large, gorgeous building.

“What are you doing hiding all the way out here,” Julien murmured, impressed despite himself. Two stories, expansive and surrounded by a wraparound porch, the retreat was a mass of polished wood, stone and glass. Most of the front seemed to be windows, and past the reflected moonlight, Julien could make out a low light inside. He tried the heavy wooden double doors and to his relief they opened.

The lobby was even prettier than the outside—soothing in juxtaposition to the intimidating exterior. The back of the room was mostly taken up by a large wooden reception desk while to the side a couple of comfortable-looking chairs and a couch were centered around an enormous stone fireplace. Wide pine plank floors were polished to a soft gleam that reflected the light of the fire burning low. That and an old-fashioned green glass desk lamp were the only sources of light. The room was completely empty.

“Hello?” Julien called out. His voice echoed and seemed to get lost up in the high rafters. “Is anyone here?” Julien walked up to the desk. A large painting of a waterfall hung behind it. The titular Maudit Falls perhaps? The canvas was a violent mess of blues and purples and a lone figure stood on a cliff’s edge with their arms extended, as if begging with the water, as if this very scene was where the falls had got its cursed name.