“Belen. He told me to never use it or you’d pound me. You won’t, will you?”

Kerrick laughed. “Back before the plague, I would have. Now I think it’s very foolish to fight over something as silly as a nickname.”

“The stakes are a lot higher now,” Flea agreed.

“Yes, and we should get back to the task at hand.” Kerrick sniffed the air. “I think there are a few citizens still in town.”

“How can you tell?”

“From the smell. After two weeks, the dumps wouldn’t be pungent and there’s a faint tang of lime which means someone is making sure the smell isn’t worse. Come on.” Kerrick retreated deeper into the forest.

“Where are we going?”

“The Lamp Post Inn is on the western side of town.”

“Do you think Mom’s still there?” Flea hurried after him.

“If she’s not, I’m sure she left a message for Melina.”

Hux waited for them. They mounted and Kerrick urged Huxley into a gallop. The sun hung low in the sky and he didn’t want to lose the light.

Taking Huxley almost to the edge of the forest, Kerrick stopped the horse when he spotted the red wood of Mom’s inn through the bare trees. He and Flea inched closer and studied the inn. The shutters were closed and no smoke curled above the roof. No lights gleamed under the door or through the slats. All seemed quiet.

He signaled Flea. Since the forest almost grew to the inn, it didn’t tug as hard on Kerrick as they crept toward the back door. It was locked. Flea grasped his sword’s hilt and kept an eye out while Kerrick popped the lock. They entered the common area. Dust coated the bar, tabletops, and Mom’s teapot collection. No tablecloths or silverware in sight and only a pile of ashes remained in the hearth.

Kerrick checked the kitchen while Flea searched the guest rooms upstairs. The oven was cold. No dirty dishes had been stacked in the sink. Food hadn’t been abandoned. Which meant they hadn’t left in a hurry.

Returning to the common area, he joined Flea.

“The rooms are empty,” Flea reported. “Beds are stripped and the lanterns are cold and without oil.”

“Thoughts?”

“They’re gone. But they had enough time to pack.”

“I’d agree with you except for one thing.”

“And that is?” Flea asked.

“Mom’s teapot collection on the mantel. No way she’d leave without it.”

“Maybe that’s the message for Melina.”

“Excellent point. Check inside them.”

Flea stood on the hearth and lifted the lid on each pot.

“Be careful up there, dearie. Them’s my favorite pots,” Mom said.

Kerrick spun. She stood behind him. Her white hair had been pulled up into a tidy bun and she wore a clean white apron over her full-length skirt.

“Where did you come from?” he asked.