Silvie was right: Johnis’s entire ploy had been born out of rage toward the man, not some crafty ploy to persuade him. He’d risked their necks because of his need to satisfy his anger?

“How dare you!” she snapped.

“What? How dare I what?”

“You’re more interested in making a point with this fool than protecting me or finding the books.”

She could see by his sudden stillness that she’d connected with him. For a moment they just stared at each other.

“Sorry,” he said. Then to the tattooed man, “Sorry, she’s right. If you’ll just show us how to ride the Chevy, we could save you the pain of learning what a mistake it is to cross Johnis and Silvie—or any member of the Forest Guard, for that matter.”

The man’s face remained fixed for a moment; then a hint of smile nudged the corner of his mouth. “You guys are a real trip.” The smile flattened. He flipped the coin back toward Johnis. “Out. Now.”

The doorbell clanged, and a visitor walked in, eyed them once over, dropped what appeared to be two square leaves on the counter, and walked out, not bothering to give them a second glance.

“That’s the feed for these steeds?” Johnis asked.

“Look, enough’s enough, dude. You’ve done your crazy show, now hit the road before I lose my good nature. Don’t push it.”

But they’d already pushed it. It would be a mistake to retreat without playing this hand to the end. Regardless of why Johnis had pushed things this far, he’d been quite brave. Silvie plucked the coin from his hand and walked gracefully up to the counter, aware of the man’s eyes on her as she approached him.

She smiled and held the coin up between thumb and forefinger to keep his eyes from wandering. “Answer a few questions and you can keep it. Just a few questions and we leave. It’s worth your while.”

She winked.

The man’s blush was nearly imperceptible. Silvie set the coin before him and leaned on the counter.

“My lover is right, you know,” she said, wanting to make it clear that she was taken. She withdrew her right knife and twirled it in her fingers. “We can do a few things.”

And then, so that he would remain off balance, she whipped the blade toward Johnis with a hard flick of her wrist.

The knife flashed through the air, severed a single lock of hair next to his right ear, and thudded into a carton with the phrase Diet Coke printed boldly on its side.

A brown liquid spewed at the tip of the blade and pooled on the floor.

“What’s your name?” Silvie asked the man.

“Ray.”

“Well, Ray, I think Johnis wants to know how to make one of these car things go. Isn’t that right, Johnis?”