n is adept in her work, doing everything to a level of perfection I fail to reach. And Jessa is the perfect face of the Inn, her charisma charming every client to stay an extra

s that the hunter passes by. Fran holds my forearm, gripping so tight it burns. It subsides as his footsteps do, the door closing behind him as per Ms. Grier's instructions. I finally loosen a breath. I saw nothing of him, but his presence still lingers in the air. Or maybe that's his scent, like he blew fresh snow and pine with him in through the door. Suddenly the door flings open. The assault of light is accompanied by Ms. Grier's accusatory gaze. "Which one of you are going to tend to his room?" My heart nearly falters at the sight of her, as if she didn't know she was in there the whole time. Ms. Grier claims to not be a Summoner, but Jessa suspects she keeps it hidden for the sake of her customers. Summoners are common enough in this Province, but are still shunned for their abilities. It would hinder business if anyone suspects the stable figure that is Ms. Grier to be a Summoner. "Tend?" Jessa asks meekly. As fair as Ms. Grier has been so far, she not only has an intimidating air about her, but also a look too. Her features are soft with a loose jawline and rounded cheeks, but her eyes are sharper than a shard of ice, and the colour of it too. "I understand it's early in the morning, but shake that brain fog away. Bring him his linen and inquire if he wants any food," Ms Grier demands, looking at everyone one of us in turn. It's basic protocol, but everything feels different with him here. None of us are willing to walk in there and face the monster that rumour conjured up. Except he's real, and we have to serve him. Fran suddenly speak up. "Jessa will do it." "Fran...why me?" she gapes. "You're the one who is didn't believe in him in the first place," she replies. "I was just saying that." Ms. Grier clears her throat, drawing our attention back to her. In her shoulders, I can see the tension, the burden of having this client on her property, his motive unknown clearly getting to her and her sturdy personality. I've noticed recently that she has an obsession with control, that Jessa walks the fine of everyday. But Jessa doesn't have much of a remaining family, so Ms. Grier was her full time carer growing up. "Jessa, go sort through the towels and attend to his room. He's not going to kill you," Ms. Grier demands flatly. "You two go back to your rooms and get some sleep. One of you will be taking Jessa's shift in the morning." Turning on the heel of her shoe, she walks down the hallway, disappearing into the shadows with only her fading footsteps lingering. The girls and I exchange wary glances. "I regret everything I said. Please, one of you take this for me?" Jessa begs, looking between us with widened eyes which seem to mirror our own fear. But as much as I feel bad for her, one of us has to do it, and there is no way Fran and I are going to volunteer. Perhaps we are just being dramatic, and this man is nothing more than a client looking for a room to stay. "No way. Ms. Grier gave you the instructions. If he tries to kill you, just scream," Fran tells her, crossing her arms over her stomach as shivers. It is cold in here, but not from the snow outside. It's like he brought a draft in with him, full of ice, wind and fear. People's fear, from far-reaching places. Jessa glares her way. "Thanks Fran, so comforting." I grab Fran's forearm, looking at Jessa with concern. "Fran and I better go to bed. We have to get up early to do your job in the morning." Jessa tucks her arms around herself, nodding