Chapter 008 — Two Traveling Merchants

She gave herself two days.

She put a sign on the shop door: Closed for buying trip. She called her book rep and told him she would be out of contact for a week. She called Marnie and asked her to water the hanging ferns. After Elias went to bed, she packed the truck — the silver blade, the bundled herbs, the sheaf of wolf-script pages, the cash from the tin under the register. She left the inventory. She left the furniture. She left the life she had built in three years.

She did not tell Elias until four in the morning.

"Okay," he said. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, putting on his shoes, Buttons under one arm. "Where are we going?"

"East. To the library."

"Is this because of the bone?"

"This is because of the prints. Because of Old Tom. Because it is time, Elias. Trust me."

"I do."

She looked at him. He had not asked a single question about the map. He had not asked why they were leaving at four in the morning, or why the truck was packed, or why she had a silver blade strapped to her ankle. He had just said okay.

"Go say goodbye to the birds."

He went. She watched him through the window. He stood on the step in his jacket and talked, very softly, to the nest under the eaves. The morning was gray. The birds chirped back at him. He came back. He got in the truck.

"Ready."

They drove to the edge of town. The gas station on the corner was the only thing open at four-thirty. It was a single pump, a small brick store, and a payphone that had not worked since 2019. Evelyn pulled up to the pump. She got out.

The two men were leaning against the brick wall.

One was tall. Narrow face, clean jaw, a scar from his left eyebrow to his temple. Worn canvas jacket and jeans, travel bag slung over one shoulder. He was smiling.

The other was shorter. Darker. Thicker through the shoulders. Hands like shovels. Holding a paper cup of coffee. Not smiling.

They looked like they had been there a long time.

"Morning," the tall one said. Warm. Friendly. "We're two guys up from Portland. Timber business. Looking for the old logging roads up north."

Evelyn looked at him.

She had seen that smile before. Three years ago, on a road in Idaho, when a man with the same practiced warmth had tried to get into her car. It was the smile wolves wore when they wanted to look harmless.

"Timber business," she said.

"That's right." The tall one nodded. He looked past her, into the truck. His eyes found Elias. They lingered. Then they came back. "Friend of yours?"

"My boyfriend."

"Nice." The tall one smiled. "You two heading out?"

"Buying trip."

"Buying trip." He took a step closer to the pump. "You know where the general store is in town? Mr. Hall's?"

"Two blocks east. On the corner."

"Thanks." He tipped an imaginary hat. "Have a safe drive."

She pumped the gas. She did not look at them again. She got back in the truck. She turned the key.

Elias was watching them through the windshield.

"Evelyn."

"Drive."

"Those guys —"

"I know."

She pulled out of the station. She did not take the highway ramp. At the edge of town, where the pavement ended and the dirt road began, she turned hard right, onto a track she had not driven in two years.

"Evelyn." Elias held the dashboard. "Where are we going?"

"Back road. Around the mountain. We will get back on the highway on the other side."

"Why?"

"Because the highway is watched."

He was quiet for a minute. The truck bounced. The trees closed in on them.

"Those men were looking for me," he said. It was not a question.

Evelyn's hands tightened on the wheel.

"Elias —"

"I saw them look at me. The tall one. He looked at me like he knew me. Like he was checking something off a list. Did you see that?"

She glanced at him. His face was tight. He was looking out the side window, but he was not seeing the trees.

"I saw."

"Who are they?"

"I don't know."

"Liar."

She looked at him. He was not angry. He was just watching her, quietly, with those clear gray eyes that saw too much for a man who had lost his memory.

"Elias."

"Evelyn. I am not stupid. I know something is happening. I know it has something to do with me. And I am asking you, right now, on this dirt road — are those men dangerous?"

She thought about lying. She thought about saying no. She thought about saying they were salesmen, they were tourists, they were lost.

"Yes," she said.

He nodded.

"Okay. Thank you for telling me."

She did not know what to say to that. She kept driving. The track wound through the trees. Forty minutes later, they came out on the other side of the mountain, where the highway ran east. She turned onto it. She accelerated.

In the rearview mirror, the road behind them was empty.

For ten minutes.

Then, far back, where the dirt track met the highway, a dark shape stepped out of the trees. It did not get in a car. It stood in the middle of the road. It watched the truck go.

The shorter man — Corbin — looked at the tall one — Gareth — who had come up beside him.

"She took the back road," Corbin said.

"She knows." Gareth was not smiling now. His face was flat. "She knows exactly what we are."

"Do we follow?"

"Not yet." Gareth pulled a phone out of his pocket. He looked at the screen. He smiled. It was not a friendly smile. "We have what we need. We can let them run for a little while. Let them think they got away."

He put the phone away. He looked east, at the truck disappearing down the highway.

"She's taking him to the witch archive," he said. "Smart girl. She knows she can't break the seal alone."

"What do we do?"

Gareth turned and walked back into the trees.

"We call the others. We give them the route. And we wait for the right place to catch them. Somewhere quiet. Somewhere they can't run."

Corbin followed him.

Behind them, on the highway, the old pickup truck drove east into the dawn, and neither of the people in it knew that they had already been marked.