I glanced at the clock on the nightstand. Nine-thirty. I hadn’t eaten in . . . forever, it seemed. Beside the clock lay my stack of four by six photos of my friends that Sofie had developed for me—the only thing I had to hold onto, now that my memories were infiltrated with demon-red eyes. I gingerly collected the pictures and slid out of bed, shuddering again as the cool air enveloped my body. I quickly wrapped myself in the plush white velour robe that hung on the bedpost at the bottom of the bed, and slid my feet into the matching slippers.
Max led me out into the hallway and past six closed bedroom doors on the way to the stairs. Not a cough or a whisper came from any of them. It was eerily silent for a cabin containing this many people. We stepped from the dimly lit staircase into the great room, now warmed by sunshine streaming in from various vast windows and a skylight tucked between the thick wood beams supporting a cathedral ceiling.
This way, Max called, heading past the rustic dining table toward the back of the room, where I could hear pots and pans clanking together. I rounded the corner and stepped into the delicious, earthy aroma of a rich soup stock.
“Good morning!” Leo sat at a small table with a cup of coffee in one hand and a wildlife magazine in the other. Relaxing in the wooden chair with his legs crossed, wearing a red and black plaid shirt, he looked completely at ease. A night’s sleep had faded the dark circles under his eyes. “Coffee?” he offered, sliding a full mug my way before I could answer.
I smiled and nodded, letting my eyes rove the kitchen. All the luxuries of Viggo and Mortimer’s urban kitchen were there—the cappuccino maker, the industrial gas stove and grill, a large refrigerator—but the string of garlic cloves hanging from a nail in the wall and the butcher block counter cluttered with bottles and jars of various spices and oils gave it a rustic air.
Magda and two other staffers hovered over various pots on the stove, the source of that delicious smell, no doubt. I found it remarkable that these women, magically wrenched from their accustomed environment yesterday and exiled into these mountains, continued with their daily duties as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. I wondered if they had any clue what was going on. Either way, they didn’t seem bothered. “We have twelve hungry mouths to feed up here,” Leo exclaimed as if reading my mind. “Go on, take a seat.” He pushed a chair out with one foot. “Did you sleep well?”
“For the most part. Thanks for . . . whatever you did.”
He winked at me, then returned his attention to his magazine. I glanced at the giant brown grizzly on the cover. The image stirred memories of Big Brown and a wave of sadness washed over me. Big Brown had been Bishop’s ferocious pet, created to serve as my protector. The evil Council leader, Mage, had killed him when she entrapped Caden. “I guess we don’t get regular mail deliveries here?” I said, noting the issue’s publication date—1992. Not exactly current.
Leo chuckled. “No. I suppose we don’t.” He sipped his coffee, eyeing me over the rim of his mug.
I studied the cover some more, noting the subhead Locate the world’s remaining grizzly population. “So,” I asked, “are there any grizzlies in these mountains?”
Leo’s eyebrows arched. “Hoping for a clue as to where we are?”
“No . . . ” Yes.
“Hmm. You know there’s a map in here, indicating where the world’s grizzlies exist. They’re in only a few locations around the world. So if I told you there were grizzlies here, you could quickly deduce where we are, right?”
Don’t try to outsmart him. He’s a wily old man, Max warned from his spot behind me.
“Yes, I’ve noticed,” I grumbled, pouring a heaping teaspoon of sugar into my coffee.
Leo exploded in laughter, his eyes shifting between Max and me. He must have caught the gist of our secret conversation. After a moment I couldn’t help giggling as well, caught in Leo’s infectious spirit. He put the magazine down. “How do eggs and bacon sound?”
I nodded eagerly. “Yummy.”
As if waiting for the signal, Magda abandoned the wooden ladle in her pot and grabbed a frying pan from the hanging rack. In seconds, she had two eggs sizzling.
Hands hugging my coffee mug, I rose from my chair and wandered over to a giant window that displayed a mountain view both breathtaking and daunting. The valleys and sea of trees below us told me we were at a high altitude, yet distant mountains towered over us. Spying a frosted thermometer to one side of the window I leaned in, and found the mercury buried at the minus sixty degree Fahrenheit mark. I shivered reflexively.