A Nameless Dark

Chapter 11

The diner hummed around me with the murmur of quiet conversation and the frequent clink of silverware on breakfast plates. I rubbed at the sleep that clung to my eyes, slurping at a third cup of coffee. Nine hours in a van without so much as a bathroom break had left me groggy and out-of-sorts. I rubbed at the knotted muscles in my neck and shoulders and tried to remember what no-name town we'd landed in this time. No idea.

"Where did you say Thaddeus went?" Samuel spoke through a mouthful of pancakes.

He'd finished his breakfast in record time, then started in on Lara's nearly untouched plate with the vigor of a starving man. I had no idea where he got his appetite; we'd done nothing but sit on our butts for the past day-and-a-half, while endless miles of highway bumped away beneath us, and the lovely Lin gave us exactly zero information about where we were headed beyond a general direction of travel. We'd made several brief stops in various locations, each time learning the location of our next stop. Lin insisted that the only way for us to reach Graver was to follow a specific set of instructions he'd given her. Apparently one clue would lead to the next, and so on, dangling us along on some demented scavenger hunt, all while our Uncle Aaron's life hung in balance. It was infuriating, but none of us had any better options to offer, so we played along, keeping our complaints to a minimum.

For now.

"There's a bartender in this rubbish town who has information we need." Lin eyed the cafe around us with distain. "They won't let me in the bar while I'm under twenty-one, so Thaddeus had to go talk to him for me."

"This man has information about how to find Graver," Lara prompted, "or he has another clue for us to follow to some other crappy town?"

"Yes, something like that." Lin said.

More evasion.

I rolled my eyes, then took a look around the dingy dinner, with its faded linoleum floors and torn plastic seat covers. Our booth sat beside the large front windows, bathing us in late morning sun as it filtered through an undisturbed coating of dust on the glass. It was the kind of restaurant that stayed in business mostly because it was the only game in town. The locals would grumble about the poor quality food or the crappy service, but they'd still be back the next morning for their bacon and eggs, or the next evening for their coffee and apple pie. I watched a waitress in a dirty apron wipe down a table with an equally dirty looking wash rag. I didn't even want to think about what condition of sanitation the kitchen was likely to be in. I shook my head at Samuel's ongoing binge session and turned back to Lin.

"I still don't understand what we're doing." I said. "Why all this running round? I thought you already knew where Graver is."

"Of course I know where he is, smart arse," she responded, fixing me with dagger eyes, her Scottish accent sharpening the derision in her tone. "But we can'na just wander in the door like we're strollin' through the garden. We have to find a way to pick the lock first."

"Whatever that means," Samuel muttered.

We traded a look and he returned to his food.

In the little time I'd known Lin, it had become apparent to me that she was almost as crazy as she was beautiful. Still, there was something about the way she carried herself that I found compelling. Beneath all the fire and intensity she held a keen intelligence, and a sense of justice that dictated her responses to almost everything, as if she felt it was her responsibility to right all the wrongs in the world around her. Lin may have acted like a tough-kid who didn't care about anything, but I could see past that charade. It broke down in the wake of each selfless action she took and through her willingness to help us despite the danger it put her in. In fact, she seemed to enjoy the danger. It made me wonder about the kind of upbringing she'd had, growing up in Graver's home, which had shaped her into a young woman of such layered complexity.