Under the streetlights, the road was a glare of slick reflections. Elsa navigated slowly, though she was only half focused on the task. Most of her attention was on the question "where to look for Tristan?"

Twenty minutes later, she parked outside of the Roockwood Inn where Tristan had been staying. The vacancy light flickered eerily, and the raindrops echoed off the car; ping, ping, ping. The darkness seemed to watch her like a tangible, malevolent creature. She shivered at ...