The bottom half of Gunnar’s face paled. “Again?”

Kate nodded.

“You’ve been once. You can’t go again.”

“I’ve got no choice.”

Gunnar rubbed his face. “He’s got your scent now. You know what happens to people who go to see him twice.”

“I know. I still have to go.”

He shook his head and stepped aside. “It’s been nice knowing you.”

Kate touched the reins and our small procession rolled on.

“What exactly happens to the people who go to see him twice?” I asked.

“He eats them,” Kate said.

The old road narrowed, slicing its way into the forest. Tall trees crowded the road, as if protesting its intrusion in their midst. The air smelled of forest: pine sap, the earthy odor of moist soil, the faint harshness of bobcat mark somewhere to the left, and the slightly oily squirrel musk. A bluish fog hung between the trees, obscuring the ground. Spooky.

We came to a stone arch made by tall pillars of gray stone, bound together by vines.

Kate hopped off her horse. “We hoof it now. Raphael, will you take the deer?”

“Sure.”

I took the tripod framework out of the cart and pulled it apart into a mount, sighting the path past the pillars. I planted the tripod into the ground and took my huge crossbow off the cart. Dark letters ran along the stock of the bow: THUNDERHAWK.

“This is new,” Kate said.

I snapped the crossbow into the top of the mount, took a canvas bundle from the cart, and unrolled it. Crossbow bolts, tipped with the Galahad warheads.

“This is my baby.” I petted the stock.

“You have a strange relationship with your weapons,” Roman said.

“You have no idea,” Raphael told him.

“This from a man with a living staff and a man who once drove four hours both ways for a sword he then put on his wall,” I murmured.

“It was an Angus Trim,” Raphael said.

“It’s a sharpened strip of metal.”

“You have an Angus Trim sword?” Kate’s eyes lit up.

“Bought it at an estate auction,” Raphael said. “If we get out of this alive, you are invited to come to my house and play with it.”

It was good that Curran wasn’t here and I was secure in our relationship, because that totally could be taken the wrong way.

I grabbed my backpack. Raphael slung the deer over his shoulder. Kate pulled a leather bundle from the cart. It had a bead pattern along the side that looked very familiar. I’d seen similar designs before on an Oklahoma Cherokee reservation—it was Indian scrollwork.

“Is that a Cherokee design?”

Kate nodded. “I bought this from the Cherokee medicine woman.”

I motioned Ascanio over. “Aim like this.” I swiveled the tripod, moving the bow. “Sight through here. To fire, flip this lever and squeeze the trigger. Slowly. Don’t jerk it.”