Page 25 of Bewitched By the Sea Monster
That was somewhat depressing to hear.
I liked a little fog now and again. Liked the surrealness of it. The way it made me feel as though I’d stepped out of my world and into an alternate dimension where Dracula waited just behind the swirling mist—aniceDracula, though. One whowas kind and thoughtful and maybe a bit sad, as he struggled with his curse.
I’d always had a thing for a sweet, brooding hero.
But the thought of being consumed in this sticky fog and not seeing the sun, or the moon, or the stars for the entire week’s stay…that was a tough pill to swallow.
It wasn’t the reason I felt off, though.Somethingelse had my emotions in an uproar. I just didn’t knowwhat.
“This is the lobby and Information Center.” The cat’s voice meandered through the smog, reaching us before the blurred shadow of the building emerged. “As well as Brew & Bites—one of our premier restaurants. Breakfast runs from 6:00 a.m. to 11:00 a.m. each morning, and dinner begins at 3:00 p.m. As a reminder, a breakfast buffet is included with your stay. Dinner is not.”
“Oh, wow,” Jackson gruffed as the building came into focus. “That’sugly.”
I pursed my lips, almost, but not quite, agreeing with his assessment. “I wouldn’t say that. It’s unique.”
“Yeah. Unique andfugly.”
“I wonder if it’s that color to help people see it through the fog?”
The building was a sprawling Georgian-style structure, all rigid with harsh lines. But instead of the traditional brick, this place was made of pumpkin orange stone and framed with pastel yellow window casings and doors.
That orange wassomething.Something I wasn’t sure I liked, but I commended it. Bright colors were fun, and that orange was like a splash of sunlight against the slate grey island.
Theinside,however, was a bit generic.
A sweeping set of French doors led us into the lobby. Three candle-lit chandeliers hung suspended from the ceiling, casting a warm glow over the shimmering black marble floor. Glitteringclusters of mahogany furniture were placed strategically around the room, offering lots of plush chairs for people to rest in, and plenty of tables to hold their food, drinks, or other knickknacks. Each table had a tired-looking vase of flowers, and a few bland historical-type paintings hung from the walls.
The cat bounded on top of an expansive lobby desk and turned his back to us. Like, “I’m done with you, stupid peasants. Bother someone else now.”
A large chalkboard took up most of the wall behind the desk, and a piece of chalk was scribbling names in big uniform letters.
Jackson and I both spent several seconds ogling that piece of chalk. Because it movedby itself.
“Magic!” Jackson squeezed my shoulder excitedly.
“Welcome!” A tall woman, with sleepy green eyes, stood behind the desk, waving at us. “We understand many of you have traveled a long way to be here and want to get to your rooms and rest. We’ll have you there as soon as we can. To expedite this process, please check your name as it appears on the board—if you have trouble seeing or reading the board, kindly let a staff member know. If all looks well with your party, you’ll see a cabin number appear next to your name. We ask that you please line up according to your cabin number. Cabins W1-W50 on my left, and E1-E50 on my right.”
“That’s really freaking cool.” A tall man with short-cropped brown hair clapped his hands, amazement pouring off him. “How does it know all our names, though?”
The woman dragged her drowsy eyes to him. “We know the names of everyone who sets foot on the isle, Mr. Blakehurst.”
Mr. Blakehurst blinked at her and then burst out laughing. “So freaking cool.”
“There’s us, babe!” Jackson jabbed his finger to a line at the bottom of the board.
Pippi Long. Jackson Taylor. E20.
Slight scuffling ensued for several minutes as people shifted to the right and left of the desk and sorted themselves into numerical order. Lots of “what number are you?”questions fluttered around. Some people emoted tendrils of frustration—at being delegated near the back of the line or having to keep asking about cabin numbers—while most teemed with excitement and awe.
My stomach kept doing its odd wriggling, though. Even as Jackson wrapped his arms around me and pressed buoyant kisses to my brows and cheeks.
Something was off. Butwhat?
“Very good!” the woman called when the shuffling lines stilled. “We’re going to bring you up in order and get you checked in. Once you receive your key, kindly proceed through this door.” She turned and pointed to a four-panel door to the left of the desk. “There will be transportation outside. Your bags are already in your rooms.”
I did my best to ignore the jiggling in my belly as we checked in and received a pair of old-fashioned brass keys, before we were ushered out the door to await our ride.
“Please stay behind the railing,” a tall and slightly gangly female attendant droned to the clusters of people coming out the door and fanning out along a ramp.
