The Haunting of Silver Creek Lodge Read online

  “The man in the halls,” I recalled. “I’ve seen him walking around. Who is he?”

  Lily shook her head. “I can’t tell you because it’s not my secret. They have to trust you enough to reveal themselves. They’ve started to, but you’re stuck.”

  “I’m…what?”

  She pointed through the window at the hot springs, and I shuddered at the sight of them. “The face you saw in the pool. It was mine, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “But I wasn’t the person who died in the pool,” she explained. “It was someone else, but you saw me because I’m the only spirit you’re familiar with in this house. If you look for the others—really look for them—you’ll start to see what really happened.”

  Absentmindedly, I ran my finger around the lip of the soup mug, but I was too distracted to drink from it. “The night I went out to the roof. The woman hanging from the tree. That wasn’t you, either?”

  “Nope. Someone else. Like I said, if you focus on discovering them, they’ll let you see them.” She ran her hand through her hair, sending a waft of musk and iron toward me. I finally realized what I smelled: blood and dirt. “You’re different than most people who have passed through here. Most don’t notice us at all.”

  “Simon and Keith can see you, too,” I pointed out.

  “Because I’m fresh,” she reminded me. “As the years pass, they’ll forget about me. They’ll think I finally moved on. I have a feeling you’ll always be able to see me, though.”

  “Why me?” I asked. “Why am I different?”

  “There’s an energy on this property,” Lily said. “It’s strongest in the Lodge, but it extends outside, too. It’s what keeps us all here and stops us from crossing over to whatever comes next. Some people are more in tune with that energy than others. They sense it better.”

  “Why is that?”

  “I have a guess,” she answered. “You’re a good piece of evidence for it. I think people who have had a close brush with death are more likely to sense the Lodge’s energy. You almost died in a fire when you were a kid.”

  At last, I tasted the soup, needing the comfort of something familiar as we talked about difficult things. It was much too salty, but it grounded me in reality. “This energy. Is that what also makes you… solid?”

  She nodded. “I can touch and hold things, but people are different. If you notice, I’ve never tried to shake Keith’s hand. I’d probably sink through him.”

  “You don’t touch Simon, either.”

  “Simon doesn’t like me,” she said.

  “It’s not that—”

  “Oh, it is,” she assured me. “He might not know why he doesn’t like me, but he’s definitely sensed that I’m different. Deep down, he knows I’m not like you and him.”

  “You mean alive?”

  To my surprise, she barked out a laugh. “Exactly.”

  I chuckled with her. “You know what? I’m actually relieved.”

  She lifted an eyebrow. “Relieved? That’s shocking. I thought you’d be running for your life by now.”

  I tried the soup again. As I adjusted to the sodium levels, it wasn’t so bad, and it helped to get some food into my empty stomach. “It makes sense, aside from the incredulity of the situation. I knew I wasn’t crazy or hallucinating. I knew something was going on that I couldn’t explain.”

  “So, are you going to fill that new prescription?” she asked.

  “I don’t see why I should,” I answered. “They won’t stop me from seeing the others, will they?”

  “I’m afraid not.”

  I set aside the soup and laced my fingers together. “Will it always be so horrifying? Do they have to keep showing me how they died?”

  Lily rinsed my dish in the sink. For a dead person, she was very helpful. “It’s what they know best, the memory freshest in their heads. Hell, it’s what defines who we are in this space.”

  “I can’t live like that,” I admitted. “I can’t constantly be confronted with those types of images. It’ll drive me crazy. I won’t be able to stay here.”

  “The more you learn about the people who died here, the more you’ll see of them,” Lily explained. “It’s a trade-off. They’ll stop showing you how they died, but they’ll want more of your attention. They’ll feel more comfortable to show themselves to you.”

  “Do they look healthy when they do?”

  “As healthy as they were while they were alive.”

  “Then I think I’d prefer that,” I said.

  She filled the rinsed mug with fresh coffee and handed it back to me. “They will, too. It’s exhausting reliving your death over and over again.”

  My phone rang again, identifying Simon as the caller. I switched it to silent and turned it over. If Simon wanted to talk, he’d have to come home and do it in person.

  “What happens next?” I asked Lily. “You’re all trapped here for a reason, right? Am I supposed to help you move on?”

  Lily smiled sadly. “I’m not sure you can. No one’s ever figured out why the Lodge is like this.”

  “Then what am I supposed to do?”

  “Do what you can,” Lily said. “We need someone to protect us.”

  My eyebrows came together. “Protect you from what?”

  Lily’s gaze drifted off as if she could see something in the distance that I couldn’t. “Everything,” she said softly.

  For an hour or more, Lily and I talked. I asked the same questions over and over again, hoping for clearer answers with each repetition, but Lily could only give me so much. The history of the Lodge and its so-called “energy” was a mystery.

  “I’m going to find out what’s happening here,” I said confidently.

  We were cuddled on the couch, sharing a blanket. I marveled at the warmth that came off of Lily’s skin as if she were no different than me. The fact that she was dead no longer disturbed me.

  “I want to know why the Lodge is like this.”

  “Good luck,” Lily said. “You’ll be the first one to do it.”

  An engine growled, and Keith’s truck pulled into the front yard.

  “They’re back.” I lifted my head from Lily’s shoulder and pulled the curtain away to look outside. “Where’s Simon?”

  My heart rushed as Keith got out of the truck alone and rushed toward the house. I leaped up from the couch and answered the front door before he could knock.

  “Where’s Simon?” I asked again, this time demanding an answer.

  “That’s what I’ve come to tell you,” Keith said, breathless. “He had an accident on the ski slope. The doctors are saying he’ll probably be fine, but—”

  “Doctors?”

  “Yes, ma’am. It was a pretty bad fall. We took him straight to the hospital.” Keith nervously kneaded his hat between his fingers. “I’ve been trying to call you from his phone to let you know what was happening, but you weren’t answering. He’s in surgery—”

  I grabbed my coat from the hook by the door and pushed past Keith. “Take me there. Now.”

  Since Silver Creek didn’t have a hospital, Simon had been airlifted to one in Breckenridge. By the time we arrived, he was out of surgery but not awake. Despite constant harassment of the nurses, no one would tell me what had happened to him, and we weren’t allowed to see him until a doctor cleared him.

  “Tell me what you saw again,” I ordered Keith while I paced the waiting room. “From the beginning.”

  Keith held his stomach. If I had to guess, it had been hours since he’d last eaten. “Boyce convinced Simon to try one of the intermediate slopes so we could all do the trails together. Simon was falling behind. He’s not very good on skis, so Abel doubled back to help him out. I was up ahead with Boyce, so I didn’t see him crash. By the time I looked back, Simon was half-embedded in a tree. I knew it was bad, so I called 9-1-1 right away.”

  I sniffled, holding back tears. I should have answered my damn phone, but I’d been too busy with my own crap to wor
ry about Simon. I’d taken him for granted.

  I spotted a vending machine across the hall, walked over, and bought a candy bar and a bottle of water. I gave both to Keith, who ripped open the candy bar and tore into it with frightening speed.

  “We’ve been fighting,” I admitted in a thick voice. “Simon and me.”

  “I, uh, sensed something like that,” Keith answered through a mouthful of chocolate and nougat. “I figured it wasn’t my business.”

  I stubbornly wiped a tear before it could run down my cheek. “I wanted to spite him. That’s why I didn’t answer my phone. I wanted him to know what it was like to feel ignored.”

  Keith tentatively patted my hand. “If it makes you feel better, I don’t think Simon was ignoring you on purpose. He talks about you non-stop while we’re working. He’s always trying to do what’s best for you.”

  “You guys talk about me?”

  “Simon talks,” Keith corrected. “I listen and try to give him advice, but I’m not much of a relationship expert. I live with my mom, you know?”

  That got a small chuckle out of me. “You’re a good kid, Keith.”

  “You seem cool, too,” he replied. “And Simon really cares about you. He’s worried you’re pulling away from him for a reason he doesn’t know about. You should talk to him. If I’ve learned anything from TV and movies, it’s that communication is the secret to a long, healthy relationship.”

  “I’ll remember that. Thanks.”

  A doctor with a neatly-trimmed beard emerged from the double doors. “Mrs. York?” he asked me.

  I stood up quickly. “It’s Finch. Maxine Finch. I haven’t changed my surname. Is Simon okay?”

  “I’m Dr. Fitzgerald,” he said, shaking my hand. “Simon was in rough shape, but he’s stable. We got him into surgery as soon as he arrived at the hospital to repair torn ligaments in his leg and stabilize his knee. He has a concussion, but it should resolve itself with time. We’re going to keep an eye on it while he’s here, but he should be able to go home in a couple of days.”

  “He’s going to be okay?” I clarified. “He’ll be able to work?”

  “With physical therapy, he should regain full use of his knee,” Dr. Fitzgerald assured me.

  “Can I see him?” I asked.

  “Of course. He’s asking for you. Follow me.”

  Keith respectfully remained in the waiting room as Fitzgerald led me past the nurses’ desk and into the hospital hallways. I kept my eyes on the spot between Fitzgerald’s shoulder blades. I hated hospitals more than I hated doctors’ offices. The things that happened between these walls were just as horrifying as the things I’d seen at the Lodge lately. I didn’t need more images of death stamped in my head. When Fitzgerald beckoned me into a room, I wasn’t sure I wanted to see what was inside.

  Simon lay in bed, his injured leg supported by a foam pillow. His head was bandaged, and the side of his face played host to several scratches and bruises. Worry clamped around my heart and squeezed tight, but when Simon saw me, he managed a weak smile.

  “There she is,” he muttered, reaching toward me. “Come here, baby.”

  “I’ll give you a moment,” Fitzgerald said and backed out of the room.

  Slowly, I stepped toward Simon. Our fingers touched. Everything hit me at once. I could have lost him today. When I found it harder to get closer to him, he took me around the waist and pulled me onto the bed. I buried my face in his shoulder and cried.

  “I’m okay,” he whispered lovingly. “It’s just a knee injury. They said I’ll make a full recovery.”

  “What happened?” I said, lifting my eyes to look into his. I cupped his cheek. “Keith said you ran into a tree.”

  “It was a disaster from the start,” he answered. “I shouldn’t have agreed to go skiing with them, not when I’m so horrible at it. But Boyce bought me brand-new gear and insisted—”

  “He bought gear for you? I thought you were going to rent it.”

  “His friend works at the shop there,” Simon said, groaning as he readjusted his position on the pillows. “Boyce insisted.”

  “So, we’re in more debt to him.”

  Simon shot me a look. “Please don’t start.”

  “Fine. Please tell me what happened.”

  “We started on the easy hill,” Simon began. “I mostly kept up with them, but Boyce and his friends were bored. They wanted to try a more advanced route. Keith and I were going to stay behind, but Boyce convinced us we could do it, so we took the chair lift farther up the mountain.” He winced, either from the memory or his injuries. “I didn’t feel comfortable with the new route. The sign said it was for ‘advanced-intermediate skiers,’ whatever that’s supposed to mean. But I was afraid Boyce might go back on his word to invest in the Lodge if I didn’t ski down with them.”

  “Oh, honey.” I smoothed his hair away from his bandaged forehead. “You didn’t have to do that. We can make it without Boyce.”

  “I’m scared we can’t,” he admitted. “That’s why I followed them down the hill. Keith was doing okay. He managed to keep pace with Boyce. I didn’t rush anything. I went slowly.”

  “And then?”

  “I guess I wasn’t going fast enough to impress the rest of the Club,” he said tersely. “Abel, one of the other guys in the Club, waited for me to catch up. He started giving me pointers on how to go faster without falling over. It worked. We started catching up with the rest of the club. Then I guess we got our signals crossed because Abel cut in front of me. I veered off to avoid colliding with him, lost control of the skis, and slammed into a tree.”

  “Abel cut you off?”

  “Yeah, we were cutting curves. That’s what you do on steep hills like that.”

  “But Abel should have left enough space not to put you in danger,” I said. “Every good skier knows to give others around them enough room to maneuver.”

  “What, you think he did it on purpose?”

  I shrugged. “It sounds like this whole thing was a set-up. You told Boyce you weren’t a good skier, but he made you go on the advanced slope anyway. Then this Abel guy convinces you to move faster when you weren’t ready for it? I’m starting to think they were in on it together, probably because Boyce wants the Lodge, and if you aren’t around—”

  Simon groaned, but it wasn’t out of pain. “Give it a rest, Max! Do you really think they were plotting to kill me today so Boyce could buy the Lodge? First of all, that’s ridiculous. Secondly, they’d have to murder you, too, because we own it together. And third, if Boyce wanted the Lodge so badly, he would have bought it off the bank to begin with.”

  “You heard the bank guy,” I insisted. “He said other people had offers on the Lodge, but he liked us best. What if Boyce did try to buy it, but we got it instead?”

  “Stop,” Simon said. “I don’t want to hear this anymore.”

  “I don’t like them,” I told him. “Boyce or any of his friends. I don’t trust them.”

  “Yeah, well, I don’t trust Lily.”

  I stared at him. “What are you talking about?”

  His hard eyes bore into mine. “Keith called you right after he called 9-1-1. I heard him dial. Why didn’t you answer? Why did it take you so long to get here?”

  “This hospital is sixty miles away from Silver Creek.

  “It’s ten o’clock at night,” he shot back. “I crashed around four in the afternoon. You’re telling me it took you six hours to drive sixty miles?”

  Furious that he had backed me into a corner, I replied, “Fine, I was with Lily. Does that make you happy?”

  “No,” he spat. “Because it means you prioritized some girl you hardly know over your husband.”

  “That wasn’t it—”

  “She’s the reason you’re sick,” he went on, hardly listening to me. “The weakness you’re feeling, the hallucinations. They’re because of her!”

  With as much condescension as possible, I said, “Hallucinations aren’t contagious
, Simon.”

  He slammed his fist on the blanket, and I leaped up from the bed. “Damn it, Max! You know what I mean.”

  I trembled from head to toe, but I couldn’t figure out if I was mad or scared. “Actually, I don’t.”

  “It’s her fault,” he said weakly. With so much emotion running between us, he was running out of steam. “It all started that night you accidentally ended up in her bed. I don’t know what she’s doing to you, but it’s not good, Max. You shouldn’t trust her. You can’t…”

  His eyelids floated shut, and he pressed a button near the edge of the bed. From the fluid bag above his head, a clear liquid made its way through the tubing and into the needle taped to the inside of Simon’s arm. Within a minute, he was asleep.

  12

  As Keith drove me back to the Lodge, I was filled with weird relief. Simon would be spending the night and the next day at the hospital to make sure his concussion didn’t worsen, so I’d be all alone at home. I fiddled with a piece of thread unraveling from the truck’s passenger seat. Keith noticed my nervousness.

  “Simon will pull through,” he said, misinterpreting my anxious movements. “He’ll be back on his feet in no time.”

  “I know. He’s strong. He’s come back from worse things than this.”

  Keith shot me a sidelong glance. “Like what?”

  “If he hasn’t told you himself, it’s best if I don’t fill you in,” I explained. “What happened to Simon was incredibly personal.”

  “No wonder you two make such a good couple,” Keith said casually. “From what I’ve heard, you’ve both been through hell. Now you have each other to rely on.”

  I wasn’t sure that was the case anymore, but I didn’t want to give that impression to Keith. “Simon’s always had my back,” I said, staring wistfully through the window. “And I’ve always had his.”

  “You never disagree?”

  I let out a short laugh. “We disagree plenty. Usually, we try to see the fight from the other person’s perspective to work things out.”