KIRA

To my surprise, the letter is dated from over four years ago.

It reads:

"My dearest, Kira.

Greetings from the land where you once called home! I hope this letter finds you wrapped in the warm embrace of joy and surrounded by the twinkle of possibilities.

Oh, my enchanting little firefly, I wanted to share a secret with you—one that's whispered only to those who believe in things beyond our realm, beyond even the great stars above us that color the midnight sky. Have you ever noticed how the world sparkles just a bit more when you are here? How the soft breeze of serenity blankets you with its loving touch as if it remembers you?

I've whispered to the forest and it's spoken of your kindness, of your tenacity and your bravery. It's missed you as dearly as I have. My treasure, you carry something special inside of you—a dash of stardust within your heart. As you dance through the days and twinkle through the nights, remember that magic is not just a fantasy in storybooks. It is all around you, just waiting for you to reach out and claim it.

Remember, my most precious gem, you are the keeper. If you wish to thrive, leave the spiders alive."

I read it over and over again, each time growing more puzzled than the last.

My great-aunt's always had a certain way with words. Her whimsical style is one that I've admired, even now that I'm no longer a little girl. She'd always talk in fairytales and paint pictures with her words, leaving me to dream in whimsy after she'd tuck me in at night.

It's part of what inspired me to write in the first place.

But what did Elsie mean by keeping the spiders alive? Like actual spiders? Or...is there more to my dreams than I'm prepared to face?

I sink down until I'm sitting on the floor. When I first decided to come back to Alpine Springs, I didn't expect things to be so unpredictable.

If Elsie had expressed missing me this much in her letter, why didn't it ever reach me?

Flipping the letter over again, I stare at my name, lovingly rendered in my great-aunt's beautiful handwriting.

Actually, this is the first I've seen of Elsie's writing since I got in, which is weird, considering that I spent the night in her old room.

Where is all of her stuff? When I used to visit in the summer, Elsie was anything but a neat-freak. Her decorating sensibilities could be best described as what a house would look like if an antique shop threw up in it.

I find it hard to believe that her old writing desk wasn't completely cluttered with all kinds of notes and sketches, but everything was neat and tidy when I got here.

Who was it that found her body, anyway? No one ever said...

My mind drifts to the handsome stranger—it's awfully convenient that he was the first to show up after I got here, and he was skulking around by the back door...on the other hand, he seemed so genuinely surprised by the state of Elsie's garden.

I don't think it could be him.

Who was that other guy who showed up here? The sleazy realtor? I fish around in my pocket—he gave me his card.

Samuel Fritz.

He seemed awfully interested in the property, if he was willing to make the journey all the way out into the woods to pester a complete stranger about it.

I should probably change the locks, just in case.

I pat Peanut's head as I get up from my spot on the floor, the letter still clutched in my hand. Maybe I'd have better luck asking my mom if she knew anything.

I doubt she'd tell me even if she did, but it's worth a shot.

She'd always been rather tight-lipped when it came to anything relating to Elsie—for whatever reason, since it's not like she ever told me why we were no longer able to visit her after the divorce. There were always reasons that later, as I got older, I figured out to be halfhearted excuses.

Confronting her about my aunt will be an entirely different ballgame than anything I've ever done before. Usually whenever Elsie was brought up, the subject would quickly be changed—now that I'm living in her home, I'm not putting up with that.

After five whole rings, she finally picks up. "This is Nicole Clark."

I roll my eyes at her greeting—figures she didn't even bother to look at the contact before answering. The sound of fingers typing madly onto a keyboard on the other end of the line also doesn't escape my ear. "Mom. It's me."

The typing pauses immediately. "Kira? What happened? What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I just wanted to call and check in to see how you were doing," I lie. Better to get her buttered up before dropping the Elsie bomb.

"Really..." Comes her suspicion-filled response.

Ignoring her obvious bait, I instead shift the conversation. "Hey, listen. Did she ever call you or try to contact you at all before she died?"

"Why?" She asks, her voice almost suspicious, like she's waiting for an accusation.

If I did accuse her of anything though, I'd probably be right, with as much as she likes to meddle in my life.

"I just...I was going through Aunt Elsie's stuff, and I realized that a lot is missing," I admit, trying not to sound too nervous. The last thing I need right now is for my mom to go on a panicked tirade about how I need to come home right now...like the city is any safer. "Did she ever tell you about anyone who might have collected her things?"

"Like a beneficiary?" She's more fluent with the legalese than I am. "Are you afraid that you're missing valuable assets of her estate?"

Of course she'd make it about the money.

"No, mom," I huff. "Her journals, her sketches...all of that is gone."

"So...nothing important?"

I almost hang up the phone then and there. As it is, I have to set it down and walk away for a second, so I don't call my mom every name under the sun, and cause her to hang up on me before I get into the meat of my questioning.

Just like half of our conversations.

"Mom. It doesn't matter if it's valuable or not—what matters is that someone was in her home, and felt the need to take her stuff," I explain, slowly, so she can't misconstrue my words. "Do you have any idea who found her?"

"Kira, I'm afraid I don't know anything about how the woman lived her life after we moved away," she sighs. "She was your dad's aunt anyway, so you should be asking him."

"You know damn well he doesn't pick up the phone," I groan, my fingers fidgeting with the paper. "All I found of her writing was an old letter that was addressed to me but never sent."

For a minute, I think that I should say something to her about Samuel Fritz, or the stranger who came to visit me that first night, but the last thing I need is for my mom to end up calling the fucking cops to come check up on me.

I can't accuse anyone, not yet. That's not how I want to start out my stay in Alpine Springs.

She pauses for a moment, as though thinking over her response. "What did the letter say?"

"Nothing much." It's not like it'd be important to her anyway. "So, did she try to contact you?"

My questions about my great-aunt obviously have her rattled for some reason, or else she would've just come right out and said "no," effectively ending the conversation right then and there.

Which means she's hiding something.

Mom has never been the kind of woman to waste words.

She sighs into the receiver. "Yes. But only once."

My heart starts to pound in my chest. "How long ago? What did you tell her?"

Instead of my mother's voice, I hear the familiar beep beep beep of a dropped call. I stare down at my phone and realize that the cell service has cut out.

Fucking of course.

I should have known that cell service would be spotty at best out here in the woods...at least the shitty reception should help me focus on my book.

God, I hope I have enough service to at least be able to research...maybe I should look into getting Wi-Fi set up out here next time I'm in town.

Still, that doesn't put me any closer to figuring out what happened to Elsie's things...maybe I should ask my stranger...if he ever comes back like he said he would. He, at least, seemed to care about her.

Spinning on my heel, I move toward the bed. Laying down will probably help me feel better—if only to wallow in my sorrows for a little longer before I'm forced to officially start my day. I'm sure Peanut will come join me in a bit after his breakfast.

Just as I'm about to let my entire body flop onto the mattress, I see something moving on it. Bending to get a closer look, I realize that it's a spider the size of a fucking silver dollar.

"Jesus!" I jump back immediately.

The spider's legs twitch at the sudden burst of sounds but don't otherwise move from where it's casually hanging out on top of my duvet. I watch it for a moment, letting my shock slowly start to fade.

It's a pretty color—a dark shade of brown with jagged stripes that are a touch darker jutting out along his upper body. Its thin, spindly legs have small hooks at the tips, most likely making it easier to climb up things.

Since it's not moving, I snag my phone off the bed again and raise it to hover over the spider. Just as I'm about to squish it with the back of my phone case, I hesitate.

If you wish to thrive, leave the spiders alive.

...I guess I can let it go outside.

Sighing to myself, I gently nudge the edge of my phone underneath one of the spider's legs. While I don't have any kind of phobia of spiders in particular, I'm not the biggest fan of creepy crawlies invading my space—does it bite? I don't know enough about arachnids to be sure.

It looks like it bites.

Thankfully, it seems like the spider has some amount of intelligence because after a few more nudges, it crawls right up onto the back of my phone.

"Ugh, you better stay there or else," I threaten the little guy. "I'll have to squish you if you try to crawl up my arm."

Holding my phone as far away from my body as possible, I try not to panic as I slowly walk down to the main floor.

To my surprise, though, the spider only spins around on my phone in order to face its front toward the door.

Two spindly legs come up to wiggle in the air, almost like it's begging me to take it outside.

Did Elsie make a habit of helping spiders out of her home? That'd make sense, given her warning in the letter.

I walk slowly to the door, taking my time as I unlatch the deadbolt and swing it open. I don't want to drop my new little buddy—and I really don't want him crawling off to god knows where in my cottage.

The spider sticks out its legs again, waving them slightly in the air before finally crawling off my phone and onto the pillar.

I breathe out a sigh of relief.

"Well, good luck out here, little guy. I hope you find some good food, or whatever it is that spiders do."

Just as I'm turning to head back inside, something out of the corner of my eye catches my attention.

Over by the woods, in the exact spot as the day before, stands a tall figure shrouded in shadows. Facing me.