I am a personal chef who only works with private clients. My most important clients are the ones who hire me to cook for private feasts. But there are also clients for whom I do meal prep for a week or more depending on what they want. When I moved to France from the United States, I immersed myself in the world of French cuisine. To learn the fundamentals, I enrolled in classes at a reputable culinary school. I then worked in several restaurants and hotels in Bordeaux and Nice, gradually working my way up the ranks. After nearly a year as a junior chef in a well-known Lyon restaurant and nearly reaching the position of sous-chef, I quit. Don't get me wrong. My passion for food and cooking is undeniable. It's just the constant stress that makes things overwhelming for me. I was tired of the toxic environment and the restaurant's head chef's constant criticism. So, despite being one of the most talented graduates in my promotion, with a promising future as a female star chef, I chose self-employment over the highly competitive world of gastronomy. And that's how I ended up in Paris as a private chef.

What I like best about my current job as a personal chef is that I work mostly from home, except for feasts, and it pays very well. I have regular clients most of the time, but I also get new ones on occasion. I should mention that, aside from my cooking skill sets, my clients' top request is discretion. Of course, as a safety rule, before accepting any deal, I always inquire about the nature of the party as well as the location of the event. During my 5 years as a personal chef in France, I had to cook meals for a wide variety of events, such as masked balls, bar mitzvahs, and birthday parties, but also orgies, BDSM "private soirées," and even LSD special parties. Because of that, a lot of my clients ask me to sign an NDA with very specific terms. Usually, I don’t mind. Who am I to judge people and what they do with their lives?

Of course, because I aspire to be one of Paris' most sought-after personal chefs, I am constantly on the lookout for distinguished clients who can help me to reach my goal. That's when I met with my last client, Monsieur Dugibier.

Mr. Dugibier is a descendant of a French aristocratic family. He commissioned me to prepare a feast for a three-day hunting party. The feast would be held in a château in the south of France, which is unusual for me. To be honest, I was thrilled with this opportunity. It gonna be a fantastic boost for my career as a female personal chef, and it could introduce me to France's very close circle of nobility. The opportunities for a lucrative career were endless. I couldn't have asked for a better chance, so I was determined to bring my A-game. My client and I agreed on the menu and made certain that all of the ingredients were ready for delivery to the château in time for the feast. He assured me that his kitchen staff would assist me throughout the preparation. Which I was grateful for.

I rarely spend the night at the homes of my clients. But I made an exception on this particular occasion. My client suggested that I stay at the château because it would be more convenient than traveling back and forth to a hotel for three days. So far, everything seemed to be in order, and I was ready to leave Paris for the south of France in the last week of September.

Mr. Dugibier called me the day I was to leave, saying he was in Paris for work and offered to drive me to the château. I was reluctant because it would disrupt my plans, and I hate it when unexpected events occur. At the same time, the trip from Paris to the town where the château was would take me at least 7 exhausting hours. He told me that it would be difficult anyway to find the road to the château in that remote area and assured me there would be enough space in his SUV for any supplies and tools I wanted to bring with me. I was too embarrassed to decline the offer. I ended up saying yes. I told myself that, at the very least, I wouldn't be exhausted when I arrived. So Mr. Dugibier and his chauffeur picked me up from my apartment around midday and we headed to the Dugibier domain, where the hunt and feast would be held.

I had only spoken with Monsieur Dugibier over the phone until the trip that day. So I got a good look at him during the ride. He was most likely in his late forties. He had salt and pepper hair and a clean shaved face. I could tell by his body posture and calloused hand when we shook hands that he was practicing sport. Most likely martial arts or maybe boxing. And, with his sun-kissed skin and green eyes, I couldn't deny that he was a very attractive man. His most striking feature, however, was his piercing, almost predator-like gaze, which would make even the most confident person uneasy. Being so close to him in the backseat of the car made me uncomfortable. I was genuinely intrigued by this man. It was obvious to me that there were likely interesting facts about him. Mr. Dugibier handed me my contract and the NDA to sign as soon as the chauffeur got on the road. He then informed me that his accountant would make an advance payment today. He made a quick phone call before turning toward me and giving me a pretty odd smile.

"So, Allie is not your real name, " said Mr. Dugibier while I handed him the NDA’s signed copy."I've never heard of the name Aquetzalli before. Is it a Spanish name?" He enquired with his piercing green eyes and almost perfect English.

"It's a Nahuatl name. It is an ancient Amazonian ethnic group living in Mexico and other countries in the area. It’s a difficult name to pronounce so I’ve always been called Allie."

"What exactly does it mean?" Mr. Dugibier insisted.

"Feather or maybe precious thing… I'm not sure." I said absentmindedly.

"You don't look Mexican at all. I mean, your features are... unique." He had a point. In contrast to my mother and half-sisters, who have dark hair and eyes, I have hazel eyes and light brown, almost honey-colored hair.

"True."

" Were you born in Mexico or USA?"

" I was born and raised in the US," I said without further details. I don’t like discussing my childhood and my family. So I didn’t say more. I think Mr. Dugibier got the hint so he just nodded.

"Did you always want to work in gastronomy?"

"No no… it was rather a change of path I did in my late twenties." Mr. Dugibier gave me a curious look. "I was working in another sector when I was living in the US, but then, when I visited France, I decided to become a Chef."

"Oh, okay…". This seemed to surprise him, but he didn't ask any further questions. "Do you work out… Aquetzalli?" he asked after a moment, an unsettling grin on his face. This rather personal question took me off guard.

"Umm... just call me Allie… and yes. I mean I work out whenever I have time."

"Please forgive me for this personal question, Allie," apologized Mr. Dugibier with a smile. "I simply appreciate those who work in gastronomy and make a point to take care of their health. And I can see that you are in very good shape! "

I returned the smile. If only he knew how many trophies I won in running contests in my college years. My trainer once told me that I have a wolf's heart and a hunter's endurance, the marathon-winning combo. The memory felt like this happened ages ago.

"Thanks." I didn't want to linger more on that, so I changed the topic. "Do you go on the hunt every year, Mr. Dugibier?"
Mr. Dugibier did not immediately answer my question. He paused for a moment then said absently: "No, not every year. But I'm hoping for a successful hunt as we’ll have international guests this year."

Then, to my relief, he took a folder from his suitcase and said he had some work to do. And that was the end of the conversation. I took out my iPad to do the same. I checked my emails before adding some details to the menu for the upcoming feast. I checked my Apple Watch: six hours to go. I figured I could use this time to work on my cooking book project. So I went through my notes and did some editing. The rest of the trip was pleasant. I reviewed the map I had downloaded the day before. So far, we were following the same path that I had planned. We stopped twice for a quick rest and Mr. Dugibier offered me a coffee at the second stop. When we returned to the road, I tried to read a little bit but felt exhausted and sleepy. I eventually gave up and dozed off for the rest of the trip.

It was almost 7 p.m. when I awoke suddenly, a bit disoriented. We were driving inside a very dense forest.

"We are inside my family's domain." Explained Mr. Dugibier when he noticed me looking around in almost a stupor. "This is one of the oldest forests in France and my family worked hard to protect it throughout the centuries, especially during World War I, when the armies needed wood."

"It's easy to get lost in here," I remarked while looking out the window.

"You've got no idea!" Mr. Dugibier exclaimed, a strange smile on his face.

We drove for another half hour through the forest before arriving at the Château's gates. There were multiple cameras and an access control system. The gate was wrought iron, adorned with ivy and wild animals, and bore the Dugibier family coat of arms: a man holding a bow and an arrow, pointing at what appeared to be an animal running on... two legs. What ?! I squinted to double-check, but the gates had opened and the SUV had already entered the driveway, so I couldn't be sure. How odd…

We crossed a two-mile-long alley lined with chestnut trees on both sides. It was sunset and a beautiful sunlight was shining through the trees. In the distance, a looming French Château with stunning blue tiles, reminiscent of the castles we see in movies, emerges on an immaculate meadow. I was in awe. The château Dugibier was almost making a statement as if to demonstrate the strength of this family over time. As we approached the château, I noticed the two towers in the middle of the front, decorated with blue tiles and some sort of gargoyles.

"Do you have any kids?" I jumped when Mr. Dugibier spoke. He must have noticed my frown and flashed one of his unsettling grins at me."I simply thought it would be lovely if you had brought your little family to enjoy this place while you were working."

"No, I don't have any children. I am not married."

"Ah...how unfortunate" nodded Mr. Dugibier, a curious smile on his face that didn’t touch his piercing green eyes. As the car stopped he added: "Thank you, Allie, for coming to Château Dugibier. I believe you'll find your time here... fascinating."

"I will, without a doubt, Mr. Dugibier." For some reason, I didn’t like this false innocent question that Mr. Dugibier asked. Why am I having this weird feeling?

I heard dogs barking when we arrived at the front of the château. It must be the hounds they use for hunting. A tall man was waiting at the foot of the doors. He opened the car door and exchanged a few words in French with Mr. Dugibier before turning his attention to me and nodding. "Simon will take you to your room and show you the kitchens later." Said Mr. Dugibier. He added while entering the château’s front door. "If you need anything, please ask Simon. I'll see you tomorrow." I waited for Simon, a grim old man, to take my luggage from the car. Then I followed him through the main château entrance where Mr. Dugibier entered.

The entrance was a huge room with a big chandelier hanging in the center. The top floor's oakwood stairs at the back end were decorated with exquisite woodcarvings. The entry's tall ceilings, plastered in the traditional French château style, were embellished with paintings of dancing figures and various flora and flowers. Simon and I headed toward a corridor on the left side of the château. This place was filled with stunning works of art and furniture, some of which may have been centuries old. But despite the high level of artistic work and the great condition of the artifacts, everything here had this unsettling feeling about them, as if a terrible dark past had been written all over them. I don’t like this place. Not at all!

We took a very narrow winding staircase up the second floor. It was most likely personnel quarters. My room was literally at the end of the corridor. It was a built-in-bed room, quite simple and practical. A flowery wallpaper in yellow and green motifs gave the room a cheerful vibe. A high window was set in the middle of the chamber, while a vanity was on the right side. I couldn’t see any cabinet around when Simon opened a small wardrobe hidden on the opposite wall.

I checked my phone for messages and emails while Simon was loading my luggage and opening the windows. There was no signal in this room. "Um... Simon, I need to check my emails but I don't have any signal. Is there anywhere I can get a signal?" "We only have a landline phone, Miss Allie." "Do you have an Internet-connected device?" "We don't have Internet access in the château, Miss. If you want to make a call, I can show you the phone in the office." "No. It’s fine."Ugh... who nowadays lives without the Internet?

"There is only one bathroom on this floor, "added Simon. Fortunately, since you're the only guest on this floor, you do not have to share it. I nodded. "Would you like to rest for a moment before seeing the kitchen and having dinner?" It was almost 8 p.m. and I was quite hungry. "It's best to meet with the staff right away. I'll rest later."

We went back down the stairs and entered the kitchen on the main floor. It was a brand-new kitchen that was functional and outfitted with cutting-edge technology. I was greeted by the cook, an old, grim and quite sinister man, who led me to a table adjacent to the kitchen's aisle, where I was served dinner. After dinner, I had a quick meeting with the staff–the cook and two middle-aged clerks– to go over the agenda for the days to come. I gave Simon a selection of wines that I thought would complement the menu. He said he'd give it to Mr. Dugibier for approval later. Everything was fine so far, so I went to my room.

The Château was very quiet. Perhaps because the guests had not yet arrived. I took a quick shower and put on my PJs. As I lay in bed, I started to reflect on the events of the day. I don't like this place, was the first thing I can recall thinking when I walked inside the château. There was something disturbing about the château and... the staff. Everyone seemed to be on edge, waiting for something to happen. Mr. Dugibier, his chauffeur, Simon, and the others, everyone were grim and didn’t talk too much. Yes, there will be a hunt, guests, and a feast, but... whatever. As usual, I'm overthinking and stressing myself out for nothing. I have a job to do and that’s it. I was really tired so after just a few minutes I promptly fell asleep.

I was sprinting through the dark woods as the barks behind me grew louder and louder. I know something or someone terrible is chasing me, but I'm too scared to turn around. “¡No estas solo ! ¡Estamos contigo !”My mother’s faint voice whispered in my ears. “Go away madre! Leave me alone!” The trees are too close together, and I keep tripping over branches and bushes. I'm completely exhausted and can hardly breathe, but I keep running as fast as I can. I trip over something on the ground and fall flat on my face. When I look over the thing, I realize it's a corps. My corps. I froze in terror. “¡Aquetzalli! Wake up! WAKE UP!”

My mother's scream jolted me awake. When I opened my eyes, my heart was racing like crazy. Everything was dark. It took me a moment to calm down and to remember that I was at the Dugibier’s château. It had all been a dream. I looked at my iWatch. It was 3:30 a.m. My mother’s scream was still ringing in my ears. The dream was so vivid and made me feel very weary. "You are not alone," she said… My mother only called me Aquetzalli when she was about to tell me something very important. What does it mean? I got out of bed to drink some water and shake off that bad dream. I was annoyed just thinking about her. I hadn't been on good terms with my mother since I was in my twenties. After I moved to France, I never saw her again. My stepfather called me two years ago to tell me she had died. I no longer think about her but the dream troubled me. A moving flash of light appeared suddenly on the ceiling of my room, followed by the sound of wheels coming to a halt on the gravel. The hounds were barking somewhere outside, indicating that the guests had arrived. Mr. Dugibier informed me that the feast would be attended by 12 people. I heard voices talking outside for a moment then there was silence. I tried to sleep again but couldn't. All I could think about was the dream and... the uneasiness that began to overwhelm me. I can't wait for this feast to be over.

I must have fallen asleep around dawn. My alarm went off at 7 a.m. I changed into my workout outfit and went outside. I asked Simon the night before if I could do my jogging in the area, and he said it was fine as long as I didn't go too deep into the forest. I went through the kitchen door where the cook was already preparing breakfast for the staff. As I stepped outside, I found myself on a lovely terrace overlooking the backside of the château. Rosebushes hung from the château's walls, adding a romantic and pleasant touch. This garden must require a lot of care to be this beautiful. While the main entrance to the château was dominant and formal, this side was intimate and almost welcoming.

I walked around the château, past a separate building that had to be the garage, and then began running along the edge of the forest that surrounded the domain. After 45 minutes I stopped not far from the separate building to stretch. As I was contemplating whether to do another round in the forest, I heard muffled footsteps behind me. When I turned around, two enormous black dogs were sneaking up on me.

"Don't move! Don't look them in the eyes! "Mr. Dugibier shouted somewhere near the garage.

I stiffened as the dogs began to sniff and growl at me. From the corner of my eye, I could see Mr. Dugibier approaching me, almost casually. What the hell? He was intentionally taking his time, fully aware of how stressful the situation was. A quick whistle followed, and the dogs were gone in an instant. I couldn't help but throw a reproachful glare at him.

"I'm afraid you just met my trusted guard dogs." M. Digibier said, with a sly grin, as if we were simply having a casual conversation.

I didn't realize I was holding my breath until that moment. I took a deep breath and gave him the coldest stare I could muster. "Am I safe to walk now?" He grinned at me as he patted the head of one of his dogs. "Yes, you are. So long as you stay within the château's perimeter. My dogs dislike having strangers around."

I was fuming inside. Is this a warning?

"That's good to know, Mr. Dugibier. I think I should return to the château. Please excuse me."

I walked back to the chateau without giving him another glance. What an asshole!

I went straight to my room, took a shower, and calmed down. I forced myself to push the incident out of my mind. It was time to start the work. I put on my apron and placed my iWatch on my ankle as I always do to protect it from the heat before heading to the kitchen. I was informed that the guest would take their breakfast very late. Good. I'll have enough time to plan ahead of time for lunch and dinner.

At 11 a.m. Simon came to the kitchen and told me that Mr. Dugibier wanted to see me in his study. What was it again? I hate being interrupted while cooking, especially when there is a lot of work to be done. I kept my apron and reluctantly followed Simon. We followed the same path we had taken the first time, but this time we turned to the left side of the château. We headed toward a long corridor with large windows facing the backyard. Simon came to a halt in front of the very last door and gently knocked. I could hear Mr. Dugibier talking on the phone. Simon flung open the door for me. When I walked in, he shut the door and left. The study resembled a small museum, with hundreds of pieces of art adorning the walls. It smelled of cigarettes and a strong smell of chemicals. Mr. Dugibier was sitting on his desk cleaning some sort of crossbow as he was talking in French on the phone. He motioned for me to sit. I walked over to the closest armchair but my gaze was drawn immediately to the tapestries hung on the walls. One of the tapestries depicted a mixed group of nobility relaxing in an outdoor garden, while being attended to by servants, with noticeable tanned skin. On the opposite wall, another tapestry showed a meeting of nobles, men and women, also served by colored-skin servants. The scene was set in a sort of wooden room decorated with hunting trophies. Interesting.

When I reached the armchair, I came to a halt. Behind it was a showcase made of tainted glass containing various old medical tools and surgery items. Some of them were probably centuries old. I recognized surgical scissors, various shapes of forceps, numerous scalpels, abdominal forceps, bone forceps, bone levers, sharp hooks, and cupping vessels. Some of the tools were made of copper, while others were made of gold or bronze. As I approached the showcase, I noticed that they were in excellent condition, as if they were being used frequently…

"Ah! You noticed my favorite collection!" I nearly jumped when I found Mr. Dugibier standing two feet behind me. He was grinning. He opened the showcase so I could get a better look.

"Those are very rare items," I remarked. "Are they a heritage from doctors in your family?"

"Not that I know."He grinned. "You don’t need to be a doctor to like to possess such valuable tools."

"It must be worth millions, especially those two bronze-made 11th-century forceps. They were considered revolutionary at the time and had a significant impact on modern surgery."

"You seem to be very knowledgeable about medical stuff," inquired Mr. Dugibier.

" I used to be a surgeon before... umm… before moving to France."

"Oh, really?" When I looked at him, Mr. Dugibier was clearly stunned. "We might have a lot in common, Allie." He quickly returned his attention to the showcase and cautiously closed it. He then moved to the opposite side of the study, to a small table.

"Coffee?" he inquired, turning on a Nespresso machine.

"Yes, please."

The aroma of coffee pervaded the room. He handed me a cup and took one himself.

"Thank you."

As I took a sip, I looked up at another tapestry depicting a forest scene with some very curious animals.

"I see you're a fan of arts as well."

Is he making small talk with me right now?

"I'm sure everyone does."

He raised his eyes to the tapestry.

"Back in the day, artists never ventured outside of their villages. They had only heard of such exotic animals and plants from people who had traveled abroad. They never saw a jaguar, a lion, or an ostrich. They could only imagine them and create beautiful craft such these."

Mr. Dugibier remained silent for a moment, but I could see him looking at me out of the corner of my eye.

"I apologize for the fright this morning," he finally said.

"It's all right." I lied.

"Cane Corsos are fiercely protective dogs. They simply do not like strangers."

I took a sip of my coffee.

"I understand. I'll be off in a few days anyway."

"In fact, I wanted to show you the château’s cellars." He put down his coffee cup and walked around his desk. "I believe you gave Simon a list of wine recommendations, don't you?"

"I did. But you don't have to show me the cellar, Mr. Dugibier. Any wine available will do."

Mr. Dugibier smiled and slightly tilted his head.

"I insist, Miss Allie, or... should I say, Doctor Allie?" He gave me an unreadable look. It was an odd mix of admiration, sarcasm, and... something else. He then opened a drawer, took a set of old skeleton keys, and went to the door. He flipped it open and turned to me. "Après vous, Miss Allie."

I couldn't say no, again. So I went along with it.

The cellars were situated under the right tower of the château whereas under the other tower was the kitchen. We went in silence and took down the staircase. Mr. Dugibier opened a pair of old and heavy wooden doors and then turned the lights on. A dozen of big wooden tanks were displayed on both sides of the cellar. I had chills as we entered the cellar. It was very cold down here. The silence that filled the place was unnerving. We could hear our steps echoing inside. We headed to the end of the cellars where a huge wine display was covering the entire wall.

"Actually, we are in the ancient kitchen. It was built in the 13th century. It is the lowest and strongest part of the château. It was in the last century that we transformed it into the cellar." Why did he bring me here? Behind the tanks were low but strong vaults over stony walls. I spotted an old chimney that must be at least 5 meters high. There was also an old well. It was covered but I could see its old wooden notched pulley system. I was having goosebumps. This entire place was rough and raw, with a strong sense of ... secrecy.

Rather than going to the wine display, Mr. Dugibier walked around the table in the center of the room and then to the opposite wall. A tablecloth was draped over a large object. "I want to show you my favorite item in the entire château," said Mr. Dugibier with a delighted air while uncovering a big wooden chopping block. What the hell?

"When we measured this block, it couldn’t fit either through the windows or the doors of the ancient kitchen. So it must have been here before they finished this part of the chateau. We believe it is the oldest piece in this entire château."He then looked at me and grinned. "It seems petrified, but it’s not. It’s just the blood and the grease and grime from centuries of good service," added Mr. Dugibier as he ran his fingers lightly across the chopping block, and without taking his eyes off mine for a second.

A terrifying chill run up my spine. In an instant, his entire demeanor shifted. He was starting to scare me. He moved slowly towards me, his gaze fixed on mine. He slowly caressed my right cheek with the same fingers in a swift and confident gesture. My heart was thumping against my ribcage. He got so close to me, I could see the dark patches on his green eyes. A cold and deep fear began to crip on my skin. The smell of coffee and cigarette filled my nostrils and I could feel his breath on my lips. He then took a step back, a sad smile on his lips. "How unfortunate," he sighed. What?? It took a lot of effort for me to gather my wits and speak in a low voice. "I should go back to the kitchen." I stepped aside and made my way to the cellar doors. It took all of my strength not to run on the staircase and then into the corridor. Back in the kitchen, I tried to remain calm so that the others wouldn't notice my trembling hands. All of the excitement and enthusiasm that had filled me up before this feast had vanished, leaving me with a sense of dread.

Being preoccupied with the cooking helped me to push back the terrifying thoughts that had been creeping into my mind since that strange interaction in the cellars with Mr. Dugibier. But as soon as the lunch was served and we paused before starting the dinner preparation, the anxious thoughts returned. What if Mr. Dugibier was some sort of pervert and was planning to do me harm? I am strong enough to defend myself for sure, but just the thought of it gave me cramps. If I had come in my car, I would have made whatever excuse I could and driven away. I felt trapped. Now that I am thinking about it, no one knew that I was here in château Dugibier. I got the contract on the way here and the advance is supposed to be sent to my bank account yesterday. Except that there is no way to verify my account without the internet. Come to think of it, I don't even have a network to call my bank or anyone. I was trapped. A sickening feeling of dread washed over me. How did I end up in this situation?

Around 9 p.m. we could hear a helicopter landing in the château's backyard. It could be a late guest. After a few moments, Simon came over to the kitchen to tell me that the guests were very pleased with the menu served to them during lunch. Although the compliment should have made me feel proud, for some inexplicable reason, it had the opposite effect. All I wanted to do at this moment was finish this feast and go home.

"They want to meet you and congratulate you personally. Mr. Dugibier sent me to invite you to the grand salon." "I'm afraid I can't, Simon. We're in the middle of preparation, and I've got some things in the oven." "Mr. Dugibier insists. It wouldn’t take long." I know how much clients and guests enjoy talking to the chef during feasts like this one. It's almost like a ritual. I just can't seem to get away from it. So, after the beet brownies planned for dessert were done, I went with Simon.

The grand salon was on the first floor. I could hear women giggling from the room as we passed through the entryway. Simon opened the door for me, and I found myself in one of the most sumptuous French salons I'd ever seen. The walls were wallpapered in a luxurious red burgundy, adorned with golden motifs from the ceiling to the floor. While a soft light created a welcoming atmosphere, a strong smell of cigars filled the room. When I walked into the room, all the conversations came to a halt and everyone turned toward me.

"Ah! Here she is!" Mr. Dugibier was beaming and cheering. His eyes were filled with a strange delight. "Isn't that Miss Allie? Finally, we are overjoyed to meet with you."A tall bearded man with a British accent spoke up. "Thank you, sir. It was my pleasure."I wasn't expecting such a warm welcome. "Oh, my goodness, the lunch was delicious! That duck gizzard bruschetta with fig jam and goat cheese... mmm... delicious! And the unbelievable pistachio pesto and walnut purée. Absolutely divine!" Said an elderly woman, sitting on an armchair and holding a golden cigarette holder in her veined hands. "I hope you enjoyed the meal, Madame." The guests were still looking at me… smiling. I'm not sure why, but it made me feel very uneasy.

"Let us make a toast," Mr. Dugibier said to his guests. " Simon, please bring a glass for Miss Allie." Simon went to the cabinet against the opposite wall and got a glass for Mr. Dugibier who poured Champagne into it and handed it to me. He then raised his glass in a toast while everyone stood up and raised theirs. "Au gibier!"exclamed Mr Dugibier. "Au gibier!" exclaimed everyone at once. I took a sip of Champagne. Why did they say gibier and not Dugibier? I'm not fluent in French, but it struck me as odd that they toasted the game rather than the host.

"I noticed you were very interested in art this morning," Mr. Dugibier said as he approached the fireplace. "I'd like to show you an interesting tapestry."

He pulled a sliding red rope to open a pair of curtains above the fireplace. A magnificent tapestry was revealed. This one depicted a hunting scene in the woods with a man standing on a reddish hill and aiming a crossbow. I had to take a step back to see the entire tapestry. The hunter, dressed in an old-style attire, resembled the one I saw on the château gates yesterday. My gaze searched for the prey he was after. It was running through the woods on its hind legs. What? I had to pinch my eyes shut to make sure it was on two legs of prey. To my horror, it was not an animal. I gasped. It was a naked man with tanned skin like the ones in the other tapestries. My gaze then returned to the hunter. When I realized he wasn't standing on a hill, but on human corpses, I shuddered. Is this a hallucination? I returned my enquiring gaze to Mr. Dugibier, who was staring at me with an unsettled grin.

"The Dugibier family sigle," Mr. Dugibier said, holding the champagne in his hand and pointing to the tapestry. "See Miss Allie, the Dugibier did not become wealthy by selling wood and coal. They are a very old lineage of hunters who emerged from the old continent. They organized hunting parties all over the world for Europe's nobles and aristocrats for centuries. However, it was during the conquest of the Americas that they did thrive. Why do you think wealthy Europeans wanted to relocate to an unknown land in the first place? For spices and beautiful landscapes?"He chuckled.

"Wh... What does it all mean?" I was horrified, shocked, and perplexed all at once. When I returned my gaze to the guests, I was surprised to see that they were all still standing and staring at me with the same unsettling grin.

I've got to get out of here!

"It was for new prey."Mr. Dugibier's voice startled me. "Our favorite prey were your ancestors, Aquetzalli."

"What… " I began, but the terrifying realization slammed into me like a bucket of ice water. They were toasting to the gibier, to the prey, to… me. I started feeling numbness in my feet and hands. I stood there watching as the champagne glass slipped from my grasp and shattered on the floor. The last thing I saw was Mr. Dugibier sipping from his glass and grinning as he watched me fall.

I woke up in a state of dizziness. Slowly, I opened my eyes halfway. Even though it was dark, I could see that I was lying on the ground. It was cold and smelled like pines. I could hear the sound of nocturnal insects. Where am I? A sudden owl hoot caused me to fully open my eyes and fall to my knees. I looked frantically around and realized I was in the middle of the woods. It was as if my mind was plunged into a fog. The last thing I could remember was someone grinning as I fell to the ground. It was a vicious triumphant grin. Mr. Dugibier! The tapestry… the hunter and the corpses piled on his feet! My stomach churned at the sudden memory. They drugged me and abandoned me in the middle of the woods. But why? A part of me was in denial and wanted all this to be just a bad dream. But in the back of my mind, I knew the answer. They didn't say anything in the grand salon, but it was obvious that this was a manhunt.

I stood up in a hurry and examined my clothes. I was dressed in the same outfit I wore this morning, except for my cooking apron. I rummaged through my pockets looking for my phone. Shit! I had left my it in the kitchen before going to the grand salon. Wait… My Apple Watch! I bent down and patted my right ankle. It was still there. They didn't notice it. I quickly removed the watch and placed it on my wrist. It was 3 a.m.

There was no signal here. Shit shit shit! What am I to do?

I took another look around. I was in a clearing that was lit by a half-moon. I held my breath for a few seconds so I could hear what was going on around me. All I could hear were owls hooting and muffled animal sounds. What if there are wolves or bears around? What if I was being watched?

Suddenly it was so hard to breathe. My heart was pounding and my muscles tensed. I was beginning to panic. Terrifying scenarios were racing through my head. I need to focus.

Think Allie! Think quickly!

My Workoutdoors app! It must have been synchronized with my iPhone when I downloaded the map to the château. It should work even offline. I run through the apps and found it. All I could see on the map were miles of forest and a mountain in the distance. But there are no roads or towns nearby. Shit Shit Shit!

What should I do now?

Should I wait until day breaks or run for my life right now? The forest was dark and unsettling. I couldn’t see through the trees and it was dangerous to run in the dark. I could break my ankle or fall and get injured.

Come on Allie, make a decision. Now!

I looked down at my watch for a moment before beginning to write. I'm not sure if I'll make it, but everyone must know what happened to me at Château Dugibier.