Hymn of the Elder Gods

Untimely Encounter

Eve had told the gas station attendant that she'd be back before dawn. The line was usually effective - mostly because people rarely cared enough to protest - but this time it had fallen on nervous ears. She'd wasted valuable time reassuring the thin and sharp-faced older man that there was no need to accompany her, despite the approaching storm. His sour unease, half-hidden beneath an impressively bushy mustache, clung to Eve unpleasantly and trailed after her for several unbearably long minutes.

Her 2005 Toyota Yaris hurtled along the highway at the speed of nearly 50 miles an hour. It was a peaceful drive, only interrupted ever so often by a suspicious noise coming from the engine and by the whistling wind through the crack of her broken car window. Several dozen talismans had unglued from the humidity hanging in the air, and peeled from the sides of the car, fluttering like tiny paper wings beneath the wind. She could only hope that the illusion spells hadn't also come unstuck: if the state of her car became visible to other people, she'd surely get pulled over sooner rather than later.

Blessedly, the cement that curved ahead remained empty of patrol cars (who likely also had little desire to be out in the forecasted rain). With her foot pressed all the way down onto the accelerator, Eve turned off the highway, and onto a road so narrow it could have been a one-way street. The scent of gasoline faded beneath a cloying, earthy dampness as she took a long, slow inhale. There were no streetlights in this direction and her single functioning headlight bounced in time with the cracked pavement. She was looking to the window; at the darkness whooshing by, and at the plum-black of the mountains indecipherable beneath the cloud blanketed skies. There wasn't too much further to go now, perhaps another thirty minutes until she reached Freetown. And hopefully a cheap motel.

The state of her hair in the rearview mirror left something to be desired.

It could be worse, Eve considered as she spun the wheel into a wide left turn. Her teeth clacked together as the vehicle passed atop a pothole, jerking upwards jaggedly. At least her clothes were clean. A human body truly required so much upkeep.

As did a car.

The pothole seemed to have done a number on it, because the thing began to clatter and groan with increasing intensity, making its dissatisfaction known.

"Damn it," Eve muttered, fingers growing tight atop the steering wheel. The engine gave a concerning wheeze below her. Outside, a handful of her paper charms went rushing away with the wind, and the car slowed to a snail's pace.

Eve guided the thing to one side of the road at a speed hardly faster than a crawl, then came to a sharp and complete stop. There was the lightest sense of movement from a breeze amidst the leaves, just a whispering of sound against the peace of midnight. She sighed, pushing the door open.

It slammed into something metallic. A gray, state-mandated barricade closing off an unpaved dirt road. It led downwards, into the thickly lined woods. Neither seemed frequently used.

"Just my luck," Eve muttered as she twisted the key and shut the car off. She'd always been rather tall, and contorting her limbs into the appropriate angles to crawl out of the car seat and through the passenger's side door was a clumsy operation. It creaked as she swung it shut behind her. A faint, charred scent was emanating from the lump of metal, and a thin stream of smoke had begun to come from beneath the hood.

The world was close to pitch black like this, with her car lights off and the empty forest looming above. She should be used to similar situations. She'd driven this pile of junk for nearly seventeen years now, and - well.

This wasn't exactly the first time. So, only slightly disheartened, she swung around to the back of the vehicle, and popped open the trunk. There were dozens of bags, all crammed in next to one another and filled with a decidedly dodgy assortment of items. Eve grabbed her tool belt, slapped haphazardly across the top of them all, buckling it about her waist. She wasn't dressed for the weather but at least she'd thought to bring a cardigan, which hung limply off her shoulders, ratty with a dozen washes too many. When she turned back, stewing in her displeasure, a pinprick of light had appeared from along the trail and behind the trees.