Page 1 of Ink & Snow
Part One
Chapter One
I’dknownClairdela Lune was a small town nestled in the mountains before I’d gotten on the road today. The realtor had warned me about the long drive, given the weather and the serpentine road that led to Clair de la Lune, though I had chalked that up to his inability to interpret a simple map search. The map search had assured me the drive wasn’t really as long as the realtor had said, and I had trusted technology.
Turns out the Internet was wrong and the realtor was right, and the joke was on me, and the solid snow cover on the road that had been mere slush back in Newstaten wasn’t helping.
“Come on, it’s just this little hill,” I told my electric car, fondly patting the dash. “And then that needle curve up ahead.”
The little shit of a car chose that exact moment to give up the ghost. It wasn’t even a dramatic dying of the engine, it just shut down, leaving me with enough time to pull the hand brake and hit the hazard lights at least.
“It’s not a bad fucking omen, Soyer,” I said, looking at myself in the rearview mirror. “This is a good decision. Moving during winter maybe not so much, but this isgood. Starting fresh and all that. Just a rocky start. A snowy start.”
And it was still coming down, though the landscape around me was already blanketed in the stuff, tree skeletons and bush bones hiding under white, all the strength they’d need to explode in a shower of greens and petals undoubtedly hidden in their roots.
I grabbed my phone to find the nearest car mechanic and call them to tow me in, but given that bad things loved coming in little groups, I had no reception. Like, none.
“Okay, a rocky, snowy start in the middle of nowhere on a lonely country road on which you might freeze to death. Otherwise, good decision, Soyer, real fucking good.”
I considered my options. One, get out of the car and walk to Clair de la Lune. It probably wasn’t that far on foot, but I’d have to walk on the road, which miraculously had been plowed maybe a day ago, given the mounds on either side, and with my luck, that would get me run over. Especially since night was falling and visibility would only go down from here.
Option two, wait in the car. If no one came by, freezing to death was still on the table. But there was booze in one of the moving boxes in the back, and on the passenger seat sat a large bag of bagels I’d splurged on before leaving the city in fear that a small town might not have a bagel shop, a horror that had really only dawned on me after I’d finalized the purchase of the house on Main with the little storefront and the apartment above I’d soon call home. If I survived getting to the damn town, of course.
Or, option three, I could get out and walk around, hoping my phone would connect to the world at large at some point so I could call for help. I might still get run over that way, and I wasn’t sure whether getting run over or turning into an icicle was preferable.
I went with what was easiest for now and stayed in the car. I pulled off my gloves—really, needing gloves to drive because it was so freaking cold simply seemed vile. What had I been thinking coming out here?
I snorted as I opened the bag next to me and pulled out a bagel. I knew exactly what I’d been thinking. Cecil, my asshole ex wouldn’t want to follow me here. That had been it, my prime motivator for uprooting my life. Well, one of the prime motivators at any rate.
Had I maybe fantasized about seducing and corrupting a plain young villager to warm my bed? Maybe, but that was just because fucking someone else was the best way to get over a broken relationship, and I badly wanted to get over Cecil.
Scratch that. I am over him. This is just phantom anger now that the cause of it is gone. It’ll pass. I just have to remember to find that plain-faced villager to help me fuck the anger right out of my system.
I was halfway through a plain salt and pepper bagel, licking some salt off my bottom lip, when I heard the noise of a large mechanical beast approaching. Hopefully, the townies weren’t some kind of post-apocalyptic cult geared toward survival out here with nubile men strapped to the hoods of their cars. That would be bad. I was sort of nubile.
As it turned out, I’d not been stranded on Fury Road, and the noise was just a snowplow. Even before I could make up my mind to get out and try to get the plow to stop, the driver did so, keeping the engine running while he got out and walked toward me.
The guy was your typical rough-around-the-edges blue-collar type. Big boots, plaid jacket, beige woolen cap and a beard that hid whether he was angry, gleeful, or something else entirely.
I heard him stomp, the snow crunching as he went. Those big boots looked as if they had spikes on the soles. With his gloves on, he rapped against my window.
“Hey. You need help?” he shouted before I even opened it.
Of course the window wouldn’t lower when I hit the button, so I opened the door instead. “Hi. I do, actually. My car broke down. The battery, I think. And there’s no reception.”
He grunted, nodded. “Headed to Clair? You the chap who bought Fran’s Flowers?”
Okay then. Welcome, small town life. “Do you also know my social security number?” I asked.
He gave me a confused look. “No. It’s just the moving van was there yesterday, and they carried in your things. Also, Fran told everyone before she left how she sold to someone from the city. You drive a vehicle not suitable for this road but fine for the city, and there are moving boxes in your back seat. You fit the bill.”
Well, color me surprised. And uncomfortably scrutinized. “I didn’t realize the town PI was driving a snowplow.”
He narrowed his eyes. “I’m the sheriff, Dwayne McArthur. The snowplow is a side gig since Ed retired. You are?”
My fucking string of bad luck was still going. I’d attracted the attention of the law before even moving into the fucking town. Also, who the fuck was Ed?
“Soyer Bennet, Sheriff McArthur.” I held out my ungloved hand, and he shook after pulling off his own glove.
