Page 62 of Silver Linings

Wanting to break the quiet — well, as quiet as it could be in a place filled with people eating and chatting and with country music blaring from the speakers — I said, “Did you find anything new after I left?”

I’d phrased the question as obliquely as I could, since I didn’t really want to broadcast to everyone the real reason why Ben and I had met here for dinner tonight. However, he understood at once and shook his head as he reached for his glass of iced tea.

“Not really. Mostly, I found corroborating evidence that proved my translation of those engravings was right. But in terms of anything else?” His shoulders lifted. “Not really. I think we’re kind of wandering in the wilderness, so to speak.”

And in a little while, we’d be doing it literally, not just metaphorically. Maybe it was good that he hadn’t discovered anything that would make us change our plans.

Or maybe I would have preferred a way to back out. Sure, the stone circle had seemed quiescent enough the night before, but what if it became more unstable the farther it got away from the dark of the moon?

There was just so much here we didn’t know.

Ben looked confident enough, though, so I only acknowledged his comment with a nod and then drank some of my iced tea.

“It would be good to know who put those words there,” he continued. “The only thing that seems clear is that they were carved by two different people. The markings in the oak grove appear almost sloppy by comparison, and that doesn’t even take into account the way the ones we saw last night actually represented a real word rather than a bunch of gibberish.”

Yes, I still hadn’t been able to figure out that part of the puzzle. Was it that the oak grove vandal had maybe seen Ogham letters once and thought it would be fun to play with them to mess with people, or was there something else altogether going on here, some pattern that might become clear in time?

Hard to say. And even if the stone circle appeared tonight, I had a feeling it wasn’t going to provide all the answers we needed.

Katy came back then with our platters — brisket for Ben and smoked chicken for me — so we thanked her and settled down to eat. Since he seemed to relax almost at once, I got the impression he was glad we had to table our discussion for now. Just too many what-ifs, too many topics we couldn’t discuss openly when we were surrounded by so many people.

Or maybe he was just really hungry. We had breakfast so late that I hadn’t bothered with lunch, and for all I knew, he’d done the same thing.

“It’s a nice, clear night,” he said as he resurfaced. “I’m glad we don’t have to worry about any fog.”

Which could definitely be a hazard in Silver Hollow. Maybe not as much as it might have been if we were closer to the coast, but we still had days when you couldn’t see your hand in front of your face.

“That’ll make things easier for sure,” I replied. “And at least this time we know where we’re going.”

Thanks to the GPS app on his phone, Ben had been able to save the course we’d taken when we left the woods. Hard to believe that it had been less than twelve hours ago.

Anyway, we would be able to come and go much more quickly than we had the first time, which could only help.

If something really strange emerged from that stone circle — say, a manticore or a hydra — then I’d be beating feet out of there like an Olympic sprinter.

The more dangerous creatures, though, seemed to rarely make an appearance. I didn’t know if that was because there were so many fewer of them, or because there was some sort of guardian on the other side who was doing their best to make sure those of us here on Earth remained relatively safe.

I thought it better not to mention any mythical beasts, though, not when the people at the booths next to ours could overhear what we were saying.

“Yep, not much chance of getting lost, thank God,” he said.

As he spoke, he smiled, but there was something almost guarded about his expression, as though he knew he couldn’t say what he’d really been thinking. No, instead he made a comment about the brisket, and I told him how George Adams, the owner of Hog Wild, had moved to Silver Hollow about five years ago from Memphis and started providing some real Southern barbecue. Ever since then, the place had been pretty much packed every night it was open, which was six days a week, with Wednesdays off.

Good thing we’d come here on a Tuesday.

All completely innocuous, the sort of thing I would tell someone who was new in town. If anyone had been listening, they probably would have checked out of our conversation pretty quickly.

When Katy came by with the check, I grabbed it before Ben could even start to reach for the little slip of paper.

“My treat,” I told him. “You’ve paid for our meals plenty of other times.”

And also, even though I would never say something like that out loud, I knew my net worth had to be many times his.

A rueful smile tugged at his lips. “Okay. But I’ll cover it next time.”

Well, if there was a next time. However, that was yet another sentiment I thought I’d better keep to myself, so I only smiled at him in return and then scooped some twenties out of my wallet and left them on the table.

Ben clearly noticed that I’d way overtipped because one eyebrow went up ever so slightly, but he only said, “Thanks for dinner,” and then began to slide out of the booth.

---