Page 69 of Oh No! There's an Incubus in my Hot Spring
I nod and head out to the RAV.
The drive to Silver Mountain is quiet. I don’t play music, or roll down the windows, or sing. There’s a bit of rush hour traffic on my way over since the main street is just two lanes with tons of stoplights, but I make it to the resort a few minutes after opening at eight. I wanted to make sure I had plenty of space to myself to assess the resort.
The parking lot is a flat plot of land, and not nearly big enough for how many occupants I know his place can handle. The front of the building is nice, though. It’s rustic and cabin-like, just like mine was before it got ten times better.
I pull out my notepad and remark on the size of his logo on the giant rock out front. I definitely want something to say “YOU ARE HERE” when people arrive. I don’t want it to be a mystery. Maybe some signage on the road in? There is just one way in and out. I bet I could contact the city for something like that.
I head into the lobby and find a very bleary-eyed attendant behind the counter.
“Just one?” she asks with a yawn.
I look behind me. “And my invisible friend.”
She snorts and rings me up. “Day pass is thirty-five, two hours for twenty-five.”
“Just two hours, thanks,” I say, confident I can cover the whole place in that time.
She taps on her computer and I produce my business credit card. Once I’ve signed, she snaps a wristband on me and tells me where the women’s locker room is.
I take another good look at their pricing structure and write a few things down on my notepad. The walls are white plasterwith wallpaper. Clean and easy to sanitize. The floor is all tile, everywhere. There are signs that caution about slipping and the like. Signs on the bathroom state you need to be dry before you leave.
I walk the hall to the men’s changing room and take note of the water fountain in between. There’s no bottle filler, and that’s something that’s so easy to accommodate.Scribble, scribble.
I get changed into my suit and take my notepad with me out to the pools. The stairs up are light and modern, mostly cement and rock. Still, it’s pretty and fits with the aesthetic. It is up to date to say the least, and has a handrail.
Up top is a stunning view of the mountains surrounding the valley, with seven different pools scattered between walkways and shrubbery. There are already a few people here, local regulars I assume, who have taken their favorite pools. I note the pools’ size, temperature, and mineral composition because it’s something presented on the placard.
I’m not sure if my spring delineates mineral composition between pools…they’re all connected. Maybe that’s something Apollo can help me with.
Scribble, scribble.
If the water coming into this place comes from the same aquifer, which I assume it probably does, there’s no way there’s a different mineral composition in these pools.
Unless he adds it afterwards, which is absolutely fucking useless.
I set my notepad and pen down as I approach a 103-degree pool with zinc and selenium. There’s an older man in it, but all the other pools have at least two people, so I resign myself to having company of one.
“Nice morning,” he says.
I nod.
We’re quiet for a while and I brush my hands over my arms and legs, feeling the water. It’s not as smooth as I’d expect from a spring. Even my dirty-ass pool left my skin softer than this. I take a deep inhale and scent chemicals under the sulfur.
He’s treating it…
“You here for the week?” the older man asks again.
“I’m a new resident,” I say, hoping that’ll placate him.
“Oh, soyou’rethe new girl in town,” he chuckles.
“I am.”
“Coming here to get all the secrets?” he asks with a wink.
“Something like that,” I say with a smirk.
He grunts and looks off toward the mountains. We sit in quiet for a few minutes and just as I’m deciding to get out, he pipes up again.
