The young man wandered our way. "He said I could help you with your bag?" He looked at the pilot's expression and said, "Oh," in a resigned tone.
    I nodded at the door. "They're right in there."
    "Okay. Can I talk to you for a second, miss?"
    "Certainly." I followed him up the stairs.
    He glanced back at the open door and spoke softly. "Old Edgar here, he was in the Great War. He's... daddy always said he was a good man, just everyone once in a while he drinks a little bit, flips out sometimes. He's always sober when he flies," he added hastily. "I think."
    "I see." I made a mental note for the return trip.
    "You can't always... he sees things. And flips out. Which one's your bag?"
    "The green one there."
    He heaved the trunk up onto his shoulder, turning various colors under the strain, and staggered gamely toward his car. The men had taken their own. I should perhaps note that Adam can lift nearly a ton.
    "Must have slipped," Edgar muttered, brushing himself off as he straightened up. "Well, pleasure." He shook everyone's hand, dwarfed in Adam's huge paw and somewhat chilled by Kane's. "Well, you know what they say, cold hands, warm heart."
    Not exactly.
    Fear not the creatures of the night, Edgar, Adam told him, having observed his spell. This too, shall pass.
    "Uh... okay. I feel better." He pulled out a hip flask and winked at us.
    The kid groaningly got the trunks into the car, tied things down. "If I'd known you had this much I'd have arranged to get the truck." Already riding low, the addition of Adam brought the vehicle almost to the ground.
    "Are the roads okay?" I asked somewhat nervously. There seemed to be a great deal of snow on the ground, and the road had seen very little traffic by my standards.
    "Oh, yeah. Figure with the fog, snow'll be coming sooner than we thought, but we haven't had a good storm in a couple of weeks, everything's been cleared off. I'm Jules," he introduced himself belatedly when Adam gestured interrogatively.
    We drove for a couple of miles along a heavily wooded road and entered Millinocket. A small town growing smaller was my immediate impression, though it remains attractive in a quaint sort of way, like a painting on a postcard.
    "So what're you doing up in town? This is not a big vacation period for Millinocket," Jules told us.
    "We're prospecting for timber," Kane said with a straight face.
    "Oh. Lot of money in that?"
    "Keeps us paid."
    "Can't complain. Here you are, Millinocket Arms. I assume this is where you'll be staying, 'cause it's the only hotel in town."
    "That would probably be it, then."
    He parked the car and started getting our bags out. The hotel is old and beautiful, clearly built in better times. Some windows on the upper level are boarded up, and the general air is one of greatly faded elegance.
    "Oh, looks like it's clearing up," Jules noted. Now that Kane had gotten inside, he had no reason to maintain the fog. "Makes it easier to carry your oh my God I thought the first one was big...."
    Let me carry that for you, Adam offered, picking it up with one hand.
    I walked out of the chill, grey afternoon and into hotel's entryway, where I wandered about for a few moments, touching things—threadbare velvet chairs, paintings, faded wallpaper—as I often do, to see what sort of place we were in. This one is haunted as expected, but only by memories of happier days; grand parties, laughter and tears and faces long dead flashed across my inner vision. I was soon distracted by a soft sound and clear sense of disturbance from my vampiric comrade; it seems there is another of his kind somewhere in this town, his or her presence made evident by subtle signs.
    Just then a middle-aged, broadly built man emerged from a back room to greet us. "Ah, heard you were coming. We've cleared out some rooms for you, I'm Mark Vanderberg, how are you?"
    "Pleasure."
    My name is Adam.
    "Hello... Adam," he replied with a somewhat puzzled expression. "Jules, why don't you carry these... people's bags up to the Anson Suite with the connecting rooms."
    "Can I... use the elevator?"
    "I suppose. So, how long you in Millinocket for?" he walked over to the desk to check us in.
    "Not sure yet," Kane told him. "Depends on how business turns out."
    "I'll put you down for an indeterminate stay. Mr. Adam...?"
    Prime.
    "Kane Roberts."
    "And your wife is...?"
    "Eve," he replied without blinking. I'm afraid I blinked, although it was of course a logical assumption on the part of Mr. Vanderberg. And we are supposed to be undercover.
    "If you'll come with me up the stairs, I'll show you where the Anson Suite is." He escorted us up the wide, curved staircase and showed us around. It's a lovely little suite, two bedrooms connected to a central sitting room, all comfortably appointed in the same faded luxury. Poor Jules dragged our trunks over from the elevator and let them fall with a series of echoing thumps. "If there's anything I can do for you in town, introduce you to people, anyone you need to know, provide directions, I'll be downstairs. Breakfast is provided in the mornings of course, and we have our own restaurant here as well."
    We thanked him and settled in. The storm Edgar had predicted was coming in, dark clouds pouring over the sky at an almost unnatural rate, and the windows rattled in the strengthening wind. If not for all the trees, I might have been at home. Looking out the window at the falling flakes as they gathered momentum, I noted several lightning flashes off in the distance. Their sudden light in the gloom picked out a large house at the other end of town, a Victorian mansion festooned with peaks, turrets and gables, silhouetted against the storm.
    We remain some distance from our intended destination in the state park, so our first task is to find transport for the final leg of the journey. Millinocket has something of a ghost town air, although the storm no doubt had is contribution to make today. The town clings to existence thanks to the timber mill, although even there business has been cut back, and many of its citizens have moved on in hopes of finding work elsewhere. Those who remain are those who still have work or hopes it in town, and those with nowhere to go. The atmosphere is unhappy but not despairing. I am glad we can bring something here for them by way of business.
    

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