4.25 - Arrival

They had crossed a sea of black only to arrive in a field of white. Ethan stood still, his boots planted solidly on a patch of snow groomed and styled by some sort of tractor. The tires had left tribal patterns imprinted behind them that were crisp and neat. His every breath ghosted out in a little plume of steam. The horizon was a stark line between white and black. He was sure there were trees; he could see their jagged edges interrupting the snow, but it was so dark he couldn’t separate them from the sky.

It was too quiet. The lack of sound around him made the persistent humming of time seem even louder and more distracting. Ah, this is hell. His head hurt and his nerves were fried. Gene shifted beside him, looking in even worse shape. His eyes were half-lidded, his shoulders hunched. He was swaying just enough to stay awake, but it made Ethan worry he might tip over.

Amazing. It was about seven o’clock in the morning, and it was still pitch black. Sunrise was in two hours, then sunset would be four hours later.

“It’s too quiet,” Ethan muttered.

“Mmm…” Gene hummed. “I guess it’s cold,” His voice was thick with sleep. He yawned so hard it became a sigh.

“You guess?”

“I can’t really tell… truth be told.” Gene squinted at the structure ahead. “Is that the hotel?”

“Yeah,” Ethan said. “I think so. I hope so.”

“Seems small.”

He was right. It was small. Two floors in something like a wide U-shape. The vampires had called it a resort, but if it had more than fifty rooms Ethan would be surprised. Was this really where representatives from all the vampire families in the world were gathering? It looked like if the wind shifted direction, it might end up covered in snow.

“That’s the main building,” Cesar said, suddenly standing right behind them. “Most of the accommodations are scattered around in groups of cabins.”

He pointed off into the distance and Ethan followed his gesture, but all he saw were humps of snow that could’ve been dunes or napping polar bears or lawn furniture. It was too dark to say.

Ethan was tired, cold, and the tips of his ears were starting to sting. He shifted his stance. His boots crunched against the snow. When they got to the front door, warm air hit his face like a slap. Heat and light. He barely had time to process it before it pulled him closer and the glass doors hissed shut behind them.

Inside, it was wood beams, floor-to-ceiling glass that refused to fog, midcentury modern style leather furniture. Rustic but modern. Cozy but with clean lines. It looked like a very rich person’s mountain cabin, but there were too many seating areas around the central fireplace. A fireplace that looked like it was more for ambience than heat.

Dee peeled off her gloves one finger at a time. Each move was sharp, almost surgically precise. When the plane landed and the black shuttles arrived to take them here, she had gone ahead of them with their baggage and her vampire father to get things settled. She seemed to be in a bad mood.

The doors opened again and blasted cold air up Ethan’s backside. Cesar stepped through with a dramatic sweep of his long limbs. His fur coat seemed to shiver theatrically as he shrugged his shoulders. His height, his paleness, the thickness of the pelts he’d wrapped around himself made him seem like a beast.

“Makes me nostalgic for Mongolia,” he said, obnoxiously wide awake. “1820. Same lighting. Less central heating.”