In a cold forest, hides a creature of myth. Two opposing groups have come to find it. One seeks answers to a mystery. The other... a trophy. Who will reach it first? And what will they find when they do?
The invitation that started it all came by courier.
Cryptic and vague, it asked: Would you and your nephew care to join me for dinner this evening? It provided no further information other than the name of a local restaurant and the time we were to meet. It was signed, an admirer.
I watched my uncle's expression as he read the message out loud. I couldn't tell if he was flattered or creeped out.
"What do you think it's about?" I asked.
"I have no idea."
I gestured for him to hand it over, which he did. The first thing that jumped out at me was the fact that it was handwritten. The second was the quality of the penmanship, which was crisp and feminine.
"I think somebody likes you," I said with a smile.
Annoyed, Stu - we'd both agreed to drop the formal title of Uncle during casual interactions - snatched the letter back.
This wasn't the first time that someone had reached out to him with a proposition. I'd come to live with him six months earlier after my activist mom was arrested during a protest that had gotten out of hand. In that time, I'd seen him field more than a few requests for his attention. He ran a successful blog that garnered a lot of attention from looky-loos and wannabees trying to horn in on his action. From what I could tell, he was used to this sort of thing from people. Sometimes they were students looking for an internship or promoters trying to butter him up for product endorsements. Likely, this was something similar. Even so, why the secrecy?
"So?" I asked.
"So what?"
"Are we going?"
Thinking, Stu answered, "I don't think so, Nick."
"Oh, come on!" I said. "Are you serious?"
"I don't like subterfuge," Stu said. "It could be some nutjob or worse."
"Exactly. That's why we have to check it out. How else are we going to know what this is all about?"
"I don't care what it's all about."
He could be stubborn at times, so I decided to change tactics.
"They invited me too. Which makes me involved. If they're nutjobs or worse, I want to know who they are and what they want. Chances are, if we blow them off, they'll just keep coming back, and I don't want to have to look over my shoulder every day until they do. I'd rather get it out in the open and be done with it."
Stu sighed. He and I had been living together long enough for me to get a bead on his personality. He was smart, sometimes funny, but usually a bit uptight. In the past few months, I'd noticed a sort of guardedness to him that boarded on mild paranoia. He was quiet, observant, and I figured that if I framed it in the context of self-preservation, he'd bite.
I was right.
"Fine," he said. "The invitation says to be there in an hour. You'd better go and change."
An hour later we were at the restaurant, waiting patiently for the unknown person who invited us here. Luanne's was an upscale establishment. As such, it required proper dinner attire; jacket and tie, which I wore grudgingly. I hate ties. The reservations had been under Stu's name. Outside, a light snow began to fall. Now mid-January, the weather was cold, the road conditions icy. Luckily Luanne's was only a few blocks from Stu's apartment.
Reservations under his name at a nice restaurant close to where we lived so we wouldn't have to venture out into the cold for very long. Whomever was behind this seemed to have everything planned out.
We ordered drinks and waited. A scotch for Stu, and - since sixteen is still miles from legal - a Coke for me.
Luanne's was busy. People came and went, and each time someone walked through the door, Stu and I would look up, wondering if the new arrival was going to turn out to be our mystery date. I could tell that all this people watching was starting to give Stu a headache. I knew what he was thinking.
If they don't show up in five minutes, we're out of ...
Then his expression changed. I followed his gaze across the room and watched as a woman entered the dining area. Her eyes found Stu's, and for a moment, they locked onto one another.
I could tell from Stu's expression that he knew this woman, that he knew her quite well.
"Nick," he said. "Get up. We're leaving."
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