Chapter 5: A Place to Stay

Chapter 5: A Place to Stay

Clarissa Herrington

"I just need one more night. I don't understand what the issue is," I complain to the front desk lady at the motel, who has, for some reason, decided that I can't stay another night. Despite the fact that there were now a total of two guests, and that was counting me!

"Sorry, Miss. Boss said we need the place vacant." I rub my aching head; the burrito only eased slightly. I know, I shouldn't have eaten something left on my front step, but my stomach and aching body needed it desperately. With one pill down this morning for the pain in my stitches, and another to stop the nightmares that continued after my early morning wake-up call, my head continues to pound with a nauseating power. 

"Fine. Just point me in the direction of the closest inn or hotel, whatever." 

"There's one a few miles from here, in Clearwater." I slide my printed receipt towards her with a pen from the counter.

"Please write the directions down." She complies readily, and I take the directions from her with a groan. Without asking, I manoeuvre towards the phone placed on its landline dock and pick it up from the counter. Punching in the numbers I still have written on the inside of my forearm does me no good when the phone continues to ring into oblivion. 

Of course, the only cabbie in town is nowhere to be found. 

"I'm headed that way in a few minutes. I can give you a ride." 

"No, thanks," I tell her instantly, preferring to walk rather than take a ride with a stranger. I can do questionable things sometimes, like date men who attempt to murder me, but I am not completely stupid. 

"If you're worried, I can have someone from the police department come out to take you there." I glance over at her, but she scans her eyes over me without breaking her concerned expression. 

"They don't have anything better to do around here," she tells me with a smile. 

"Yeah...that would be great. Thanks." It takes about fifteen minutes for the police car to roll into the drive.  When it does, a tall, black-haired, pale-skinned man steps out from the driver's seat. 

"William," he introduces himself to me with a smile. 

"Thanks for doing this. Not sure what happened to the cabbie," I say, sliding into his front seat as he holds the door open for me. 

"Roddy? Oh, yeah. Ran into him this morning sporting a pretty solid shiner. Definitely wouldn't count on him for transportation." Even though he chuckled at the end of his statement, something about his warning worries me more than I'd like to admit. 

He slides into the driver's seat, fastens his seatbelt, then waits for me to do the same before pulling out of the drive. 

"So, Clearwater..." I say, dragging it out slowly in an awkward way of starting small talk. I can't stand small talk. 

"Oh, yeah. It's a great place." I let his words hang in the air for a few minutes, hoping he'd expand on his vague answer. He doesn't. 

"The Inn?" 

"More like, a lodge."

"Okay. I'm sorry, this all seems very serial killer-ish." William laughs, and I try to match it, but it comes out more like a nervous chuckle. He didn't deny it. 

"Sorry about that. Truth is, there's some places...people, you've got to be careful to avoid out here." I adjust my bag on my shoulder, remembering the odd reaction from the lady in the motel lobby. 

"Like?"

"Um-" he pauses, turning onto a different highway. 

"It's kind of complicated. There's a local...group-"

"Like a gang?" I cut him off, turning my attenton fully towards him. His shoulders stiffen under my inquary. 

"Kind of. Another out of Canada that really doesn't like us much." I drag my fingertips over my stitches. It does seem a tad ironic that in my fear of one man, I come across a group of them that are most likely much worse. 

"There's killing's out here? Do I need to be concerned for my safety?" William snorts, a half grin painted on his face. 

"Not you." 

"What does that mean?" He pulls the car into the gravel parking lot of a log cabin the size of a mansion. The second floor cieling to floor windows broadcasting a group of men and women dressed in elaborate suits and gowns. 

"Wait a minute. I can't afford this," I tell him, pulling my bag further up on my shoulder.

"Don't worry. It's covered." Williams reaches over the front of me, pushing open the door impatiently. 

"Covered? By who? Why?" I ask my rapid fire question, not wanting to leave the vehicle before getting my answers. 

"My boss," is all he says before motioning to the door. When he unclicks my seatbelt for me, I take the hint and get out of his car. 

As soon as I am out, he closes the door and speeds off. What is up with people in this state leaving me in random places? Maybe I made a bit of a miscalculation when choosing this area.

Taking a deep breath, I stride towards the double front doors made of glass. The handle is made of antlers for Gods sake. 

"Can I help you?" An older gentleman asks at the front desk, taking his place behind the computer instantly. There is a sound of rich-people laughter floating through the lobby from the bar, and I wait for it to quiet down slightly before speaking. 

"Yes, just a room, please." 

"Name?"

"Clarissa Herrington." When I say it, the words come out like a question instead of a statement. The man immediately pauses his typing to look up at me. 

"Oh, yes. Right this way," he tells me, opening one arm towards the grand staircase. I follow him upstairs to the third and final floor, and admire the dark wood and stone features throughout the building. 

"Your room," he tells me, handing me an electric key card with the room number on it. The moment I swipe the card, the heavy wooden door unlatches, revealing the largest hotel room I have ever seen. The ceiling stretches almost double the size of any normal room, with a great chandelier hanging from the center. A bed with deep red satin sheets match the curtains on the floor to ceiling windows. 

I turn around to ask the doorman who had chosen this, but when I do, he's gone. 

Instead, I stand in the window to study the lightly falling rain covering the miles of trees the window overlooks.

Suddenly, my breath catches, and my limbs freeze in place. Staring back at me from the treeline is a large, pure black wolf.