The driver is moving less cautiously than before. Before, he took pains to avoid ruts in the road and rocky terrain that the snow did nothing for. Every time we hit something, I nearly hit the roof of the cab. With our new traveling speed, the luxurious seats do nothing to make the ride enjoyable. Charlene won't look at me, either. Since we put the town behind us, she's watched the door religiously. "Is something wrong?"

Finally, she regards me. "Everything is fine," she lies. She told me not two hours ago, everything I do is a story. That's just as true of her. "We lost several hours while you were pissing, so I've informed the driver that we need to make up for lost time."

"What you're saying is that we need to be out of that village before nightfall," I can read between the lines too, you know. "Or did you think I wasn't paying attention."

"As expected of Tobias Stalt," I can't say I'm happy with being praised by her. It almost feels like she's mocking me, and perhaps she is. "You read the missive, yes? Or would you like it back?" She holds it neatly between two fingers, still mangled from the outburst I'd had upon reading Anton's signature. "I'm sure things will become more clear if-"

"I read it." Everything about her tests me. Is this another one of the Church's insidious games? "Strange forces to the North. Are you saying that they're much closer than Archen?" It makes no sense. Why travel all the way to Archen when the threat is so close to home? "Then why are we wasting our time?"

"The threat spreads over a vast area of Salvar," she explains, not opening her eyes. "You've only seen things you can't explain. Things that beggar belief, or that are so small that if you blink, you'd miss them. We're not interested in whispers of the Occult, Stalt. Witch Hunters deal with that sort of thing."

"No Witch Hunters have been dispatched to that village."

She looks at me warily when I say that. This woman is extremely careful with everything she says, and for some reason I get the sense that she thinks she's already said too much. Finally, she sighs. "No," she shakes her head. "They were dispatched. They never made it."

"What?"

"Do you think that we'd neglect to send Brothers of the All-Seeing Eye when people are dying in droves?" Her eyes bore into me again, judging me. It feels like I've forgotten something important. "We don't know what happened. There were no traces of them, and any attempts the soothsayers made at divination ended fruitlessly. Their essence was completely erased. The magic feels exactly like-"

"Like mine," he said without missing a beat. He knew those powers intimately, the ability to erase magic and all life tied to it. He rejected them. Tobias refused to ever tap into that vile font of power again. "So there's probable cause to believe that I was involved, and the Church brought me on to investigate that avenue?"

"They know you haven't been in Salvar," she shakes her head again. "And that you're not involved. But, if these powers are indeed like your own, then you're the only one qualified to deal with them. There are no other Witch Hunters who are anathema to magic itself." The howl of a wolf from outside tears her attention away from me, and I see the same fear in her eyes she had when I'd strangled her.

So, there were times where even this woman drew a line.

"We're going to get off the road for the night," she snapped. With that, she slid open the divider that separated the driver from the cab and gave him orders. The horses were more than capable of taking care of themselves against most beasts, and a fire would be enough to keep wolves at bay; but something did not sit right with me. When Charlene turns back to me, I fold my arms.

"Are you going to sleep, Stalt?" She steps toward me and closes the distance between us. When she leans in close to my face, I manage not to flinch. From this close, she feels so familiar. Her warmth, her voice, the way she smells remind me of her sister. For a moment, I don't even see Charlene there. For a moment, I'm a Brother of the All-Seeing Eye, and she's the woman I love with everything that I am. My heart wrenches in my chest as she lingers close, too close to me.

Her eyelashes flutter once, slowly.

"If you touch me, I'll gut you like a fish," she says in a sweet voice, like honeyed venom. "What did you think I was going to say?

"I wish you were a man," my voice is cold, but my rage smolders. "I'd punch your nose into your brain."

"You still could," she volunteered.

"Eat shit."