The location Lizzy provided waited only a ten-minute flight from their camp. Damien flew the platform around the area, but nothing resembling a farm was visible. Beside him Marie-Bell rode a conjured white horse through the sky. He’d offered to let her ride with him and Jen, but she insisted she preferred her own mount.

Damien hovered over what looked like a small pasture that no one had grazed in years. Small evergreens poked up here and there, blowing in the breeze. No matter which way he looked there was simply nothing here.

“Are you sure this is where he said his farm was?” Damien asked.

He said it was. I didn’t peer that closely into his mind as I had no reason to believe he’d lie.

Clearly the good farmer hadn’t been honest with Dad. That alone made Damien suspect he’d had a willing part in leading him into a trap. How were they ever going to find Smyth, assuming that was even his real name?

“Is that a basement?” Marie-Bell pointed to a stand of scrubby pines.

Damien flew lower. Sure enough the remains of an old farmhouse peeked out from amongst the trees. “Shall we have a look?”

“Might as well, long as we’re here.” Jen leapt over the rail and landed lightly beside the rubble.

Damien set the platform down a few feet away, but didn’t bother dismissing the transport. They wouldn’t be here long enough to make it worthwhile. The three of them split up and looked around for anything that might indicate anyone had been here in the recent past. He kicked over chunks of rotten timbers and poked through the collapsed house. He found nothing but debris that had sat there for a long time.

“Hey guys,” Marie-Bell called.

Damien followed the sound of her voice and soon located the paladin standing in front of a pair of headstones. Jen joined them a moment later and crouched down for a closer look.

“John Smyth and Clara Smyth, died over a hundred years ago.” Jen stood up, a deep crease in her forehead as she scowled. “When we catch up to whoever led Dad to that cave I’m going to enjoy beating a confession out of him.”

“I don’t think we’ll find him here,” Damien said. “We flew over a little village on the way. Maybe someone there saw him.”

“We might as well ask around,” Jen said. “It’s not like we have any better leads.”

The little group flew back to the one-tavern village and landed in the town square. This time both Damien and Marie-Bell let their transports vanish. Villagers who had been outside doing chores or running errands paused to watch the three of them. Their arrival was probably the most interesting thing to happen in this village all year.

“Did your patrol route ever bring you here, sis?”

“Sure, we rode through once a week, but there were never any problems so we didn’t stay long. I’m not even sure who’s in charge.”

“Who cares?” Damien headed toward the tavern. “I doubt our man checked in with the mayor after all. If anyone’s going to know something it’ll be the tavern keeper or the serving girls.”

“How can you be so sure?” Marie-Bell asked.

Damien paused and glanced around the tiny village. “Where else would a stranger go in this place? When we go in, stay a step or two behind us. While everyone is looking at Jen and me use your soul sight to scan the room. Lizzy, can you provide me with an image of Smyth to show around?”

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A tingle ran up his back as Lizzy drew on her power. In the air beside him a life-size image of a man in filthy clothes appeared. He couldn’t have been any less imposing.

Jen’s knuckles cracked as she clenched her fists. “That’s him, huh? I really hope we find him alive.”

Marie-Bell cocked her head. “I would have thought the opposite.”

“No. If he’s already dead I can’t kill him myself.”

The blood drained from the paladin’s face. “I see.”

They continued on, Marie-Bell hanging back a little like Damien asked. Jen reached the door first and yanked it open with a little more force than strictly necessary. At least she didn’t rip it off its hinges.

Inside they found a typical tavern layout, scattered tables, most empty, with a bar along the back wall beside steps leading to the second floor where he figured there were rooms available for the occasional visitor.

Damien couldn’t help smiling. “A paladin, warlord and sorcerer walk into a tavern. Sounds like a bad joke.”

“I’m glad you’ve held on to your sense of humor.” Jen glared at him without a hint of a laugh.

“One of us has to. I think you’ve got angry covered.” Damien tried to make light of the situation, but the truth was he didn’t know how to feel. He envied Jen her anger, such a clean, simple emotion that overwhelmed everything else. He missed his father, sort of. What he really missed was the chance that they might have had a real relationship one day. At least they’d made a little progress before Dad was killed. It was something to hold on to when he felt depressed.

They walked over to the bar, every gaze in the place following them. The tavern keeper had a bald head surrounded by a ring of short hair. His gut hung about a foot over his belt, stretching the seams of a once-white shirt to the limit.

“Can I help you folks?” The keeper smiled a lazy smile. “Rooms are half a crown an hour.”

Damien caught Jen’s wrist. It wouldn’t be good to rough the man up before they had a chance to talk. “My sister and I are here on business.” The image of Smyth appeared in the air beside Damien. While the keeper gaped at the illusion Damien slipped a mental block in his brain to keep him honest. “Seen this guy before?”

“Nn…Agh.” The barman gagged on his lie.

“Better try the truth this time. Lie to me again and I’ll let my sister ask the questions.”

He looked at Jen’s furious expression and swallowed.

A loud crash sounded behind them. Damien spun to find Marie-Bell holding one of the patrons pinned to his table, one arm cranked behind his back. She met Damien’s gaze. “This guy’s aura is as black as your tunic.”

“How’s everyone else?” Damien asked.

“The fat guy’s a little iffy, but everyone else is okay.”

“Everyone out!” Damien addressed the room. The seven remaining patrons were only too happy to comply.

When the place had emptied and Marie-Bell dragged her prisoner up beside them Damien returned his attention to the keeper. “So, you were saying.”

“Okay, he was here a week or so ago. He had on different clothes, but it was definitely your man. He stayed for three nights, met some others the second night, and left. I don’t kno…Agh!”

Jen’s hand shot out, grabbed the keeper by the back of the neck, and bounced his face off the bar.

Marie-Bell gasped.

When the keeper straightened blood was pouring down his face and his nose bent to the left. He groaned and probed his broken nose with his finger, wincing when he touched it.

“I warned you not to try and lie to me again. Who did he meet with?”

“Keep your mouth shut, Callum,” Marie-Bell’s prisoner said.

Damien glanced his way and a golden gag appeared over the prisoner’s mouth. “We’ll get to you shortly.” Damien returned his attention to Callum. “Please continue.”

Callum’s throat worked as he tried to swallow. “I can’t say. If I do they’ll kill me.”

Damien shook his head. “The man in question led our father into a trap that got him killed. If you know something, you’re going to tell us, otherwise, when we’re finished, you’ll be begging for death.”

The keeper’s flab jiggled as he trembled. “I didn’t have a choice. All I did was provide a place for them to meet. I’m not involved in the cult, they just use my basement from time to time. Please, I had no idea what they were up to, I just wanted to live.”

“Finally, a little truth, outstanding. Let’s have a look at this meeting place.”

Marie-Bell’s prisoner thrashed in her grip, but to no avail. Divine soul force enhanced her strength making her every bit as powerful as Jen, which meant he had no chance of breaking her grip.

“Where’s your hammer?” Damien asked.

“I left it outside. Don’t worry, I took precautions to keep it from being stolen.”

Damien bound the prisoner with golden chains from neck to foot. “Maybe you better go get it. I have no idea what we might be walking into.”