“No. I never would’ve sold him anything in the store if I’d known he was practicing dark magic.”
“Excuse me?” Phoebe waved from where she stood at the counter holding a few books, including a familiar green paperback. “I’d like to buy these books.”
“Of course.” Corinda breezed over to the cash register.
“Gimble, bring one of those stones over here. I’ll get you one,” said Phoebe like an indulgent mom.
Gimble put a stone down on the counter and saw Stormbringer. “Save your money. I’ve got fifty copies at home.”
Phoebe ignored him and paid.
“Come again,” Corinda called out as they left.
“Can I see the address?” Mulder asked the second they left the store.
Phoebe took a paper napkin out of her pocket and handed it to him. “You’re welcome.”
“Thanks,” he mumbled.
She took the copy of Stormbringer out of the bag.
“Why did you buy it?” Gimble asked her. “The Major already gave you a copy.”
She flipped it over and read the description. “I don’t have that one on me, and if Earl Roy is obsessed with this series and the Eternal Champion stuff, I want to know more about it.”
Mulder unlocked the car and slid into the passenger seat. His thoughts were all over the place, and he wasn’t really listening. But he caught that last part.
“Phoebe is right,” he said. “We need to know as much as possible about the Eternal Champion.”
Because I think we’re going to meet him.
CHAPTER 18
Route 320A, Craiger, Maryland
8:02 P.M.
Mulder barely said a word as Phoebe pulled out of the parking lot and drove north on Route 320A, toward the address on the napkin. He was in no condition to drive.
Gimble leaned between the front seats to talk to Phoebe. “Earl Roy lives near the Patuxent Wildlife Refuge, about ten miles north of here, which isn’t great news.”
“Why not?” Suddenly, Phoebe looked worried.
“According to the map, it’s in the middle of the woods.”
Mulder snapped to attention. “I don’t care. We’re going to his house. Now.”
“We don’t know if he’s the guy,” Phoebe said patiently.
“He was into dark chaos magick that made the Illuminates uncomfortable, and the arrows in the dead bird looked exactly like the chaos symbol,” Mulder said. “And when the ‘creep’ wasn’t busy polishing his stockpile of nuummite, he worked at a nursery that sold exotic plants, where he could’ve picked up plenty of gardening tips to help him take care of all the monkshood he’s probably growing in his backyard. But you don’t think he’s the guy?”
Phoebe ignored his tone. “I’m saying that we don’t know for sure. Maybe the reason all the pieces seem to fit is because we want them to fit. What if we’re wrong?”
“And what if we’re not?” Mulder fired back.
“Then it’s probably a bad idea to show up at a serial killer’s house and ring the doorbell like we’re selling cookies,” Gimble tossed out offhandedly.
“We need to think this through and come up with a plan, Fox. And I need a burger,” she added.
“There’s no time to stop. A little girl’s life is on the line,” Mulder said, as if he were the only one who cared.
Phoebe stiffened. “You think I don’t know that? Even if he’s not the killer, they said he was a creep. So I’m not driving up to his house and winging it. How will that help Sarah Lowe?”
Mulder shoved the napkin with Earl Roy’s address into his pocket and slumped against the seat. Part of him knew that Phoebe was right, but the other part of him wanted to save that little girl no matter what it cost him. It wasn’t just a pathetic attempt to redeem himself. Unless he found his sister, redemption wasn’t a possibility. And even if he did find her, he would never be able to give her back all the time she’d lost.
But I can try to keep the same thing from happening to this little girl.
“There’s a diner a mile up ahead.” Gimble pointed out a sign. “It’s on the way to Earl Roy’s place.”
“Fine.” Mulder stared out the window at nothing.
*
“Are you sure this is a restaurant?” Mulder asked.
From the outside, Charlotte’s Diner looked more like a house. Whoever owned the place hadn’t put much effort into maintaining it, unless the peeling beige paint, dark window trim, and mismatched wooden chairs out front were supposed to be selling points.
“You agreed to stop.” Phoebe walked past him and stood next to the door with her arms crossed.
Gimble shrugged and followed her. “I’m hungry, too. I haven’t eaten anything all day except a cherry pie and a doughnut.”
The thought of choking down even a saltine made Mulder feel ill. His head was filled with images of terrified children with poison seeping into their skin and the hands of a faceless stranger carving arrows from human bones.
Mulder just wanted to go to the address written on the napkin in his pocket. He needed to know the truth, even if it tore him apart. The feeling of not knowing festered like an open wound.
“Fox? Are you coming?” Phoebe called out.