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  “Phenomenal. It’s one of the greatest experiences the world has to offer. I highly recommend it.”

  His unwavering gaze made her uneasy. Nat concentrated on her soup, focusing on spooning the warm beet-and-beef concoction into her mouth. Spiked with a hint of fresh dill, it managed to be hearty and refreshing at the same time. “Oh, I’m not at that level. I probably wouldn’t make it to Base Camp.”

  Never mind not being able to afford it. Her podcast did well, but not well enough she could throw away thirty-five grand on a single experience, and a gamble at that.

  “Don’t sell yourself short. I bet you can do anything you set your mind to.”

  Nat looked up, startled at the compliment. “Thank you. That’s a nice thing to say, especially considering you hardly know me.”

  “How’s it going?” Andrew whispered on her other side, probably jealous Steven had chosen to sit beside her. Her producer had already taken to calling the mountaineer “McDreamy” behind his back. She bumped his leg under the table, their universal signal for Not now.

  “Oh, I know you better than you think. I’ve listened to every episode of Nat’s Mysterious World.”

  “You have?” She knew she had loyal listeners, but every episode? A weekly cast for five years added up to…well, a lot of episodes.

  “Yes, I have.” Was that a glimmer of amusement in his eyes? “Didn’t your producer tell you I’m a fan? I think that’s what convinced him to let me come.”

  “He must have forgotten to mention it.” She gave Andrew a kick under the table, more for pure enjoyment than retribution.

  Huge platters of food arrived and Igor stood to address the group. He was beaming, clearly in his element. Nat was warming to him. Every team needed a life of the party.

  “You are in for a treat, my good friends. These are blini, otherwise known as Russian pancakes. They are better than what you are used to in the West, yah? Made of buckwheat.” He spoke to their hosts in his native language before continuing. “Elena says there is smoked salmon, homemade sour cream, and caviar. If you don’t like the fish, try the mushrooms. Yours to enjoy. Priyatnogo appetita!”

  Another platter, this time of chicken, lamb, and beef skewers, needed no explanation, nor did the Russian potato salad. Nat’s stomach rumbled as she piled her plate high, forgetting to worry about her dinner companion for a moment.

  “How did you get interested in this stuff?”

  “Umph?” Nat mumbled around a mouthful of smoked salmon and buckwheat. Mmm, bliss. She normally wasn’t a fan of sour cream, but this homemade version bore no resemblance to the tasteless stuff found in grocery stores.

  Steven gave her a patient smile. His plate showed a lot more moderation than hers. “I asked how you got interested in this.”

  “What, food?” Because food was all she cared about right now. Perhaps the others could brave Kholat Syakhl while she stayed here with the borscht and blini.

  “No, the weird stuff. Monsters, UFOs, ghosts. The paranormal, I guess you’d call it.”

  “Actually, it’s more unsolved mysteries that intrigue me. I like to keep an open mind. The rest of it comes with the territory, I guess.” Nat wondered why she had to explain this if Steven was such a fan of her show. If he’d listened to every episode, wouldn’t he know this already? “When someone has had something incredible happen to them, something not a lot of people would believe or even understand, they naturally gravitate to a receptive audience. I try my best to be that audience.”

  “But why? What made you interested to begin with? Did something happen to you?”

  Nat stifled a sigh. This was what it was about, this dinner—getting to know each other, becoming a team. But she wished Steven would give it a rest and eat his meal for a few minutes. His constant focus on her was making her self-conscious. Still, it would be rude to ignore him.

  “Not really. That is, nothing major. I’ve definitely been in places that have a feel about them, something that gives you goosebumps and sets your teeth on edge, but beyond that and the odd unexplained sound, I haven’t had a paranormal experience myself.”

  “Unexplained sound?”

  “Yeah. You know, doors closing by themselves. Rustling, bumps in the night with no explanation. Pretty standard ghost tour stuff.”

  “But you’d like to experience more.”

  It was a statement, not a question, but from the way Steven stared at her, Nat knew he expected an answer. She thought for a moment, taking the opportunity for another bite of blini, this time with mushrooms. Mmm. Who knew Russian food was so tasty? She’d expected a lot of cabbage and potatoes, and not much else.

  “Enjoy it while you can,” Andrew muttered, as if reading her mind. “Starting tomorrow, it’s dehydrated spaghetti and astronaut ice cream.”

  Ick. She wasn’t looking forward to the food at camp. Never mind the terrain—the cuisine, or lack thereof, would be the thing to survive.

  “You’d be surprised. A lot of the food in those foil packets is actually really good,” Lana said. “Especially after a long day on the trail. You’ll think it’s the best meal you’ve ever had in your life.”

  “And Joe and I will supplement our meals with fresh meat,” Anubha said. “I’ve brought my crossbow. We’re ready to do some serious hunting.”

  “Fresh meat roasted over a campfire. There is nothing better,” Igor said, and everyone murmured in agreement. Everyone except Steven. What was wrong with this guy? Was he one of those strange “eat to live” people?

  “Sounds like we’ll be living like royalty up there,” Nat chimed in, eager to bring the one-on-one with her dining companion to an end. Normally she was more than happy to answer questions about the cast, but there was something about Steven’s scrutiny that made her long for a shower.

  “We’ll be suffering enough on the trail. No need to suffer in camp. If we get lucky, Anubha makes a roasted rabbit that will blow your mind,” Joe said.

  Andrew reached for another kebab. “Sounds good to me.”

  “I’ve never eaten rabbit before.” Lana wrinkled her nose. “I don’t know if I can eat something that’s cute and fuzzy.”

  “What about lamb?” Igor gestured at the half-eaten skewer on her plate. “It’s cute and fuzzy.”

  “That’s lamb? I thought it was beef!”

  Everyone laughed at Lana’s exaggerated expression of horror. Again, everyone but Steven. Lana had clearly taken on the role of comedic relief in their group, whether intentionally or not. From what Andrew had told her, the blonde was actually super sharp. Nat couldn’t help wondering if the dimwitted Marilyn Monroe persona was an act.

  “So you think only cute animals should be allowed to live? You do not think cows are cute?”

  Uh oh. Nat suspected Igor was just goading Lana, but this conversation could quickly take a dark turn. Joe stepped in before she could.

  “Let’s move on. We’re all friends here, right? No one’s going to be forced to eat anything. There’s no pressure. Anubha and I will catch what we can, and we’ll be happy to share it with whoever wants it. But we won’t think badly of you if you don’t.”

  Andrew nudged her arm. She knew what he was thinking. The diplomat. There was one in almost every group. Nat was glad theirs was Joe. Before she could pat herself on the back too much, though, Steven spoke to the group for the first time that evening.

  “That’s a bit presumptuous, don’t you think?”

  Lana’s rosebud mouth fell open. Even Igor was speechless. Only Joe appeared unfazed by the mountaineer’s rudeness. “I’m sorry…what’s a bit presumptuous?”

  “Saying we’re all friends. The truth is, we don’t know each other. And up on that mountain, things are going to get very real very fast. It’ll be every man and woman for themselves. I’ve seen it before.”

  “That’s not a positive attitude,” Lana said. “Maybe we don’t know each other well yet, but we will by the end of the week. And I hope we’ll be friends.” She smiled around the tab
le. Anubha smiled back.

  “I’m not here to be positive. I’m here to survive. I suggest that be your focus as well, if you want to last until the end of the week.”

  Nat inched farther away from Steven, until her thigh was pressed against Andrew’s. Ugh. Her first impression had been right. This guy was a jerk.

  “I know you’re very experienced, but with all due respect, this isn’t Everest,” she said. “Our survival isn’t in question.”

  “Are you deluded? You’re all acting like this is some kind of celebration, stuffing your faces and swilling the moonshine. Have you forgotten what we’re here to do? Have you forgotten what happened to those people?”

  “Of course we haven’t forgotten. That’s why we’re here,” Anubha said.

  “I’m sorry, but maybe some of us are grateful to be given this chance, and to be here in Russia.” Lana frowned. “I, for one, think it’s a wonderful opportunity, and I’m glad to be a part of it. If you can’t appreciate it, why are you here?”

  Good question, Nat thought. Why are you here? A Category III trail obviously poses no challenge for you, so why do it?

  “Appreciate it? Appreciate it? Am I the only one here who’s not suicidal? Why would I appreciate risking my own life?”

  “No offense, Steven, but we’re hardly risking our lives. It will be challenging, yah, but you’ve survived worse and are here to tell about it. What are you afraid of?” Igor asked.

  “What am I afraid of? I’m afraid of the same thing that killed Dyatlov and his people. And if you’re not…” Steven glared at each member of their group in turn. When his ice-blue eyes settled on her, Nat found it impossible to look away. “And if you’re not, you’ve got a death wish.”

  ~ Chapter Four ~

  The chill in the air was nothing compared to the coldness within their group. Shit. Nat had hoped a good night’s sleep would restore some of the cheerful optimism that had existed before Steven’s outburst, but it was soon clear it hadn’t.

  She hadn’t seen so many unhappy faces since the last election. Only Igor looked to be in decent spirits, but even he gave the mountaineer a wide berth, as though whatever troubled Steven were contagious. And Steven was troubled—of that, she had no doubt. Nat didn’t think he was intentionally trying to be a temperamental douchebag.

  The man was scared.

  “Andrew.” Bumping him with her elbow, she nodded to where Steven stood apart from the group. At least her producer would keep McDreamy company, even if the job wouldn’t be nearly as pleasant as he’d originally hoped.

  “I know,” he whispered. “But neither of us will be able to keep up with him.”

  He was right. As soon as Vasily was ready, Steven pushed his way to the head of the group beside the Mansi, where they walked together in silence. If it wasn’t exactly companionable, at least it wasn’t hostile.

  “What do you think?”

  Nat knew what Andrew meant. What was Steven’s problem? He’d fought to get on this excursion, so why say all that stuff about not appreciating it? What had motivated him to campaign for a spot on their team? It couldn’t just be the podcast. There had to be more.

  “I’m not sure,” she said. “But I intend to find out. Something’s up with that guy.”

  Part of her thought Steven had a point, however poorly he’d expressed it. They were investigating the fate of nine young people who had been cut down in their prime, after all. The occasion demanded some solemnity. She refused to dance on any graves.

  The sky was gray and overcast, matching Nat’s mood. She longed for a little sunshine, but knew colder temperatures would come with it. That was yet another advantage they had over the Dyatlov group. It was warmer than it had been when the young Russian skiers had set off on their journey, with no storm in sight.

  The trail began at a sharp incline and continued steadily upward. Nat’s calf muscles soon began to ache, and she wished she’d taken the time to get a good massage before leaving the States. She consoled herself by noticing that the chatter among her group had died off as everyone concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. Only Vasily and Steven, far ahead of the others, didn’t seem affected. Anubha and Joe had opted for snowshoes over skis, and even their energetic pace had slowed. Nat hoped no one could hear her wheeze.

  She focused on Anubha’s cobalt blue parka until her eyes watered. Left, right. Keep pushing forward. Right, left. Breathe (gasp). Left, right. Nat blinked, surprised to see that hot pink had replaced the cobalt blue.

  “How are you doing?” Lana’s tone was casual, but Nat could see the sympathy in the Olympian’s eyes. She felt a temporary rush of resentment.

  “Fine.” With a Herculean effort, Nat managed not to puff. “And you?”

  “Oh, I’m great. I owe you both a lot for getting me back in the wilderness. This is so good for me. I’d really let myself go after the games. Depression, you know.”

  Nat couldn’t imagine the perky woman depressed. She wondered again if this chipper routine was a persona Lana slipped into along with her snowsuit. “Our pleasure.”

  “You have to understand, this comes as naturally to me as breathing. I’ve spent most of my life on skis. It would be a completely different story for a recreational skier, even one who’s fit. Are you sure you’re both okay?”

  The way Lana directed her question to Nat and someone over Nat’s shoulder indicated that Andrew was still with them. Good. For the last mile or so, she’d been too exhausted to check.

  “A…break…would be…nice,” Andrew said, sounding more drained than he did after an all-night recording session. What if he (or someone else) had a heart attack out here? Did anyone on the team have more than the most basic first aid skills? It was something she hadn’t considered.

  “I think it’s close to lunch. I’m sure the others are feeling the same way. I’ll speak to Vasily.” And with that, she was gone, easily gliding past Anubha, Joe, and Igor.

  “She…makes it…look…so easy.”

  “Save your breath. You’re probably…going to need it.” After slowing down enough to speak to Lana, it took all her strength to resume her former speed. Nat could no longer keep from gasping. Sweat trickled over her nose, coating her lips with salt.

  “Attention, everyone.”

  Exhausted, Nat forced herself to look at the head of the trail, where Steven waved his arms. His voice was clear and confident, easily heard. “We’ll stop for lunch at the crest. Shouldn’t be longer than another twenty minutes.”

  Andrew groaned.

  “Hang in there, my friend. Just focus on putting one foot in front of the other.”

  “I…quit.”

  Nat laughed, even though she couldn’t afford to spare the energy. “You can’t quit now. How would you get home?”

  “Would…find…way.”

  She risked a peek and was surprised at how miserable her producer looked. His cap and scarf were encrusted with ice, and his eyes watered, leaving red trails on his exposed skin. “If you can’t last for twenty minutes, how will you make it back to Vizhai?”

  “Fuck…you.”

  “Stop making me laugh. I can barely breathe as it is.”

  “Whose…f-fault…is that?”

  “Yours.” She slipped away before he could catch her, expecting a snowball to connect with her head at any moment. Smiling, she approached the trail with renewed vigor. Andrew always made her feel that way. She often joked he was the love of her life, but it wasn’t really a joke. She’d yet to meet a straight man she connected with so well.

  The brief exchange had put them farther behind the rest of the group. Nat couldn’t see Vasily or Steven anymore, and even Anubha and Joe were a blur. Igor had slowed to wait for them, and when he caught her eye, he waved them on.

  “Andy? We have to hurry. We’re holding everyone up.”

  In hindsight, it had been stupid to put the slowest skiers in the back. If the others hadn’t noticed they’d fallen behind, what had begun as a lark co
uld have quickly become a life-and-death situation. She’d speak to the group while they ate lunch about changing their formation. Perhaps Igor could bring up the rear.

  Rather than seem annoyed when she at last came abreast of him, the Russian grinned, clapping her on the shoulder with such enthusiasm she stumbled. He steadied her by the elbow before she fell. “Don’t worry,” he said. “It is a tough climb, yah? But we’re almost there. You rest soon.”

  “That’ll be good.”

  “He is okay?” Igor’s brow creased in a frown as he regarded Andrew. Nat was dismayed to see how far he had fallen behind.

  “He’ll be fine. We trained for this, but you know. A gym in California is hardly the Ural Mountains.”

  “Yah, this mountain, she is something else. But no worry. We wait for your friend, and then we go have lunch. Yes?”

  Winded, Nat managed a nod, hoping Igor attributed her flushed cheeks to the cold. Fuck, this was embarrassing. They should have taken a full year, put in a lot more training. What had they been thinking, attempting to keep up with mountaineers and Olympians?

  In another minute, Andrew caught up, his face an alarming shade of purple. “Sorry,” he gasped.

  “No worry, my friend. You okay to go?”

  What if Andrew couldn’t make it? Nat didn’t know what would be worse—figuring out how to get her producer safely back to the village, or being stuck in the middle of nowhere with this contentious group of strangers. Igor, Lana, and the Inuit couple were nice enough, but Steven and Vasily—ugh. She’d never survive a week with them without her best friend.

  Thankfully, Andrew managed to regain his wind after a brief rest and they pushed on, Igor setting a slower pace. By the time they reached the crest, the rest of the group was sitting around a roaring fire. Lana, Joe, and Anubha clapped when they arrived.

  “Hail, hail, the gang’s all here. Now we can eat,” Joe said. “The good news is, at this part of the trip, we’re spoiled for choice. We have beef stew, chili, goulash, spaghetti and meatballs—”