Matthew Cornachione - Dansk Bay Hotel

A fishing boat motored into the marina, but I kept my distance. I was done dealing with the weird Dansk Bay folk for the day. What I needed was a good night’s rest and a stiff drink. No bars here, but one place might help me out.

Thea’s trading post looked especially welcoming when I reached the main intersection. I stepped under the eaves and pushed the door open.

The little bell chimed again, and, once again, Thea bustled out. This time, she stopped and stared when she saw me. Her eyes narrowed, but she stayed silent.

“You didn’t listen to me,” she said at last.

How did she know? It didn’t matter. “I have a job to do.”

“Not for long.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means you are in more danger than you realize.”

“Look, let’s cut out all this talk of spirits. It’s a creepy building, sure, but it’s just a building. I’ve done this a hundred times. You’re making something out of nothing.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Is that so? But, of course, what could I know? I’ve only lived here all my life.”

“I didn’t mean--“

“No matter. After all, you came here for food, not wisdom. That’s what I’m good for.”

“Thea…”

She hustled off to the back aisle, ignoring me. I thought that was the end of it, but after a moment she emerged with a small food basket.

“Turkey and artichoke soup with rosemary sourdough. Mind that you eat it before it goes cold. And, although I don’t approve of alcohol, one beer on the side.” She led me over to the register.

“Thank you, Thea. I’m sorry I didn’t listen. Please understand, this is how my job works.”

“I understand more than you’d believe.” She looked up at me, hard gaze softening. “I think you understand more than you give yourself credit for. This isn’t your first spirit encounter.”

Was she talking about the time with Lena? No, she couldn’t possibly know about that. Thea was fishing, and I wasn’t going to bite.

“You’re right. It isn’t. Because, I haven’t had any. Look, I really do appreciate the concern, but I can handle myself.”

“I hope so. I sense strength in you, though it is buried within layers of weakness. Perhaps you will find it in time.” Thea pushed the basket across the counter. “Dinner is on me. I hope I’ll see you for breakfast.”

Instinctively, I started to insist on paying, but her tone stopped me. I could tell it was more important to accept her kindness. “Thank you, Thea. Of course, I’ll be here first thing in the morning.”

“You take special care.”

I nodded, picked up the food basket, and slipped back into the rain.

I strode down Main Street. The Dansk Bay Hotel loomed to my right. It looked especially ominous in the rain. My stomach knotted and my hands clenched, but I continued past.

The road swept upward, and I climbed a steep hill. By the time I reached the top, I was breathing hard. A dense growth of evergreens swallowed the sky as I passed into a forest. Off the road, I spotted a smattering of secluded drives. Following Nigel’s direction, I started down to the second one on the left. I couldn’t see the cabin from the road, but soon the trees parted to reveal my accommodations.

Before me was a picture from a storybook. Forget the hotel—I had half a mind to buy this cabin from Nekker. We could rent it out for a premium to high-end guests. This was a gorgeous two-story log cabin, complete with moss on the ceiling. Fresh pine scent was amplified by the rain. And lights were already on inside. If I was in a better mood, I’d have called this a lovely getaway.

As it was, I noticed that the trees blocked everything else from view. The cabin was truly isolated. I wasn’t sure yet if that was going to be good or bad.

Inside, I found a cozy layout that matched the cute exterior. A radiator drove away the wet chill, and a bank of lights kept the single large room bright and cheery. A plush bed sat in one corner. Up on the second level was a small office with a huge skylight.

I dumped my bag by the bed, then climbed up to the office and pulled up a chair at the hardwood desk. I’d just eaten lunch, but I was still ravenous. The stress was getting to me. I downed Thea’s dinner. Delicious.

My mind was racing. I needed to distract myself with work. I pulled out my tablet, but found there was no wireless here. What a shocker. No matter, I had hard copies on a few more of Regina’s prospects. I spread them out on the desk and dove in.

I made notes as I went. The lodge in the Rockies sounded nice, but transportation could be a challenge. I definitely wanted to visit the villa on the Florida coast. The strange igloo building in Oregon might be a bust though.

My eyelids grew heavy, but I kept at it anyway. Still a few more to review…

Sometime later, I startled awake, face pressed to the wood desk. I blinked away the sleep and peered outside. Gray skies had darkened to a deep twilight. Despite the craziness, I’d actually fallen asleep.

As I stood, my bladder protested. I climbed down to the main room and soon found a major drawback with the cabin: no toilet. I checked out the window, and, sure enough, there was a narrow wooden shed. A genuine outhouse.

I put on my poncho and stepped out onto the covered front porch. The rain had slowed. I slogged along the footpath to the outhouse. No crescent moon on the door. Disappointing. Inside actually didn’t smell too bad, probably because no one used it on a regular basis. I finished my business quickly all the same.

It was on my way back to the house that I saw it.

Bobbing around the corner was a transparent head. The details were vague, but I could see the wrinkled complexion, the thin wisps of hair. And the eyes. Eyes that stared straight into mine.

I screamed. It just came out. I mean, not a full scream, just a shout really. The sort a brave man might make if he was a little surprised.

It opened its mouth and screamed back. The sound was muted, barely a low moan, but the intent was evident. Then, it floated toward me, deliberate.

I staggered backward, trying to get away. I turned, grasped at the outhouse door. Missed the handle. Then I got it, pulled the door open, slipped in. With nowhere else to retreat, I pressed against the back wall. My hands shook as I cowered. My breath came sharp and ragged.

Outside, the moan grew louder. It evolved into something coherent. Words. Over the sounds of my quivering, I made out the ghost’s voice.

You have entered my domain. Now you shall join me in fulfilling my great purpose.

“Leave me alone!”

Let yourself go .

The voice cut off, and the ghostly visage pushed through the outhouse door. Knees to my chest, I scrunched into the back corner, hands covering my chest. I could actually feel it now, a tangible tingling in the back of my neck. The spirit shouted again and came at me.

As it got closer, a sense of wrongness settled over me. Almost as if my very soul was under attack. I waved my hands at it. No effect. Nothing I could do. Terror welled up.

This must have been how Lena felt, at the end.

I closed my eyes and held on to her memory as unconsciousness closed in. My heart swelled with sorrow, and I whispered a silent apology for all I’d done wrong.

Suddenly the tingling on my neck vanished. The air lightened again. My soul relaxed, safe for the moment. Still, I sat with my eyes closed, too afraid to open them, ever again. I didn’t want to see any more.

Eventually, I chanced a look. Nothing. I was alone in the dark outhouse, light rain pattering on the roof. My hands were clenched and my cheeks wet. When had I started crying? How long had I sat there, a pathetic quivering wretch?