Page 14 of Obscurity
Before she could eavesdrop anymore, a footstep sounded behind her. Then, “Oh! I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there.”
Olive spun around to find a woman in her thirties wearing a lodge polo shirt and carrying a clipboard. The name embroidered on her shirt read “Rita—Guest Services.”
“I was just looking for the restroom.” Olive hoped her voice sounded casual despite her racing heart.
“Just around the corner there.” Rita pointed helpfully. “Are you enjoying your stay so far? I know today’s been a bit . . . eventful.”
“It’s been interesting, for sure.” Olive glanced toward the service door, but the voices had stopped. Disappointment pressed on her. “I’m looking forward to the music festival tomorrow.”
“Oh, I just know you’re going to have a great time. Keep in mind that the hike to the venue can be quite challenging, especially if you’re not used to mountain terrain.” Rita’s smile was friendly, but something in her eyes felt calculating. “Mr. Mercer always recommends staying with the guided groups for safety.”
Before Olive could respond, the lodge’s front door opened, and she caught sight of a familiar figure entering the main area.
Tevin. Relief filled her.
He’d finally arrived, his worn messenger bag and vintage band T-shirt perfectly selling his cover as an indie music podcaster. A few festival wristbands from previous events decorated his wrist, and he carried the slightly rumpled appearance of someone who spent more time in dive venues than corporate offices.
Every instinct told Olive to go to him, to share what she’d just overheard, to coordinate their next moves. But Olive felt Rita watching her, and she sensed others in the main room taking notice of the new arrival also.
“Well, I should run to the bathroom.” Olive offered a quick smile. “Thank you for the directions—and the advice.”
Rita smiled back, though the action didn’t reach her eyes. “Of course. And remember—stick to the marked trails. We wouldn’t want anything to happen to you.”
On the surface, the words sounded like friendly advice.
But the way Rita said them felt unmistakably like a threat.
There appeared to be a lot of that going on around here.
CHAPTER 8
Back in the dining room, Olive found Jason saving her a seat at one of the long communal tables.
The lodge’s dining area continued the rustic theme with exposed beam ceilings and vintage mining tools displayed on the walls. Oil lanterns provided ambient lighting that created dancing shadows in every corner.
Elias stood at the front of the room, a stein of beer in hand, commanding attention with the ease of a natural performer. “For those who are new to our little corner of West Virginia, you’re staying in what was once the heart of coal country. These mountains have been home to miners and their families for over a century, and the history runs as deep as the mineshafts themselves.”
Tevin had found a spot at a table across the room, his attention apparently focused on Elias’s presentation while he ate. He gave no sign of recognizing Olive, but she noticed how his gaze kept moving.
“Now, tomorrow you all will be utilizing our trail system to get to the music festival,” Elias continued. “I can’t stress enough the importance of staying on marked paths. These mountains can be unforgiving to those who venture off the beaten track.”
“What about the missing people?” Maya spoke up, her earlier composure restored but her voice still carrying that breathless quality of someone used to dramatic storytelling. “I mean, I’ve been researching this area for my content, and there have been some seriously sketchy disappearances around here. Will we be safe out there?”
Elias’s smile never wavered. “Those unfortunate incidents involved people who ignored safety protocols. Some ventured into areas where mountain locals don’t take kindly to strangers on their property. The people around here value their privacy—and they protect it.”
The way he said “mountain locals” carried a dismissive undertone that made Olive’s jaw clench. It also made it clear he wasn’t from this area. But she already knew that.
She’d researched the man before coming and knew he was from Maryland, where he’d managed a successful hotel before buying this lodge.
“Are you talking about the families who’ve lived in these mountains for generations?” Connor lowered his camera from where he’d been videoing the room. “Because in my experience covering festivals in rural areas, most locals are incredibly welcoming. They’re usually excited about the economic boost.”
“Most are, yes,” Elias agreed. “But isolation can breed . . . suspicion. And some areas around Grayfall in particular have residents who prefer to remain . . . shall we say—undisturbed.”
“You make them sound feral,” Maya noted, an eyebrow quirked. “You know, like you hear creepy stories about online. I’ve heard them called Dark Watchers.”
Elias neither confirmed nor denied her statement.
The tension in the room was palpable.
