“I can’t believe we found it.”
Sloane was clutching the Polaroid. It was a ragged thing, tattered with smeared blood on the edges. But it was the only lead they had, and here they were. At the Soap ‘N Suds. Fucking hell. They found it.
Vanya leaned in, peering over Sloane’s shoulder. It was all there. The checkered floor that didn’t look like it had seen a mop in years. The dented machines. The fluorescent lighting. Even a handful of disinterested people shuffling clothes from baskets to washers, washers to dryers, and dryers back into baskets.
“What now?” Vanya asked.
Sloane sighed—equal parts relief and tension. “I’m really not sure,” she admitted. “This is the place. It took months, but we found it. Now that we’re here, I don’t know. I kinda hoped the next step would be obvious, but it’s just a laundromat.”
Vanya smiled by way of support. “It would be nice if there were a note pinned somewhere telling us what to do next.”
“Right? Or an oracle who spotted us walking in the door and grabbed us to give us the scoop.”
“Or even some blood on the floor. You know, something.”
Sloane looked closely at the floor. Plenty of dirt, but no blood. Nothing to indicate Taelyn had ever been here, let alone that she was nearby or safe. Forget needles and haystacks. This was molecules and mountains.
They might well never find her.
“Slo, what if the council’s right? What if she did it? What if the reason she ran was because she’s guilty?”
Sloane pulled away from Vanya’s embrace. Her back stiffened as she shoved the Polaroid into her bag.
“You know that’s not true.”
Vanya shrugged. “Do I?”
Sloane scanned the laundromat, her eyes coming to rest on an older woman dutifully folding worn, faded clothes before carefully depositing each garment in an aging plastic laundry basket. She didn’t seem bothered by the filth around her or the drumming sound of so many machines running at the same time or the indisputable fact that she was doing something tedious. She was just there. Just working. Just doing the thing that needed to be done.
Sloane could understand that.
“Then go back,” Sloane said. “Go to the council. Cast your vote. They only need one more. Make it official.”
Vanya winced.
“Or don’t,” Sloane continued. “Make the decision for yourself. But if you stay, if you keep looking with me, lay off the doubt. It doesn’t help. It gets in the way of the location binding, and it pisses me off.”
“Fine, fine,” Vanya said. “Sorry.”
Sloane walked past her, toward the door. “Don’t be. Just stop pulling me down. Help, instead.”
Vanya nodded and followed. But just shy of the doorway, Sloane stopped. There was a bulletin board there. It was stuffed with posters, notes, and flyers. Offers for guitar lessons, local events, random notes, and in the corner, half-covered by a political bumper sticker someone had pinned to the board, a hand-drawn picture of a raven with a circle of thorns around it.
Nothing special, at least not to most folks. But Sloane recognized it immediately. And when she snatched it from the board and held it out to Vanya, she gasped.
The coven’s sigil.
“She was here,” Sloane said. “There can be no doubt.”
Vayna nodded. “But how long ago?”
Sloan turned the paper over. On the other side was a date, just 2 weeks prior.
“Not long ago,” Sloane said.
And below the date, a single word: east.
“Shall we?” Vanya asked.
Together, they left the Soap ‘N Suds, climbing into Sloane’s 4Runner and driving east, away from the setting sun. They couldn’t have known that at that very moment, Taelyn was in the other direction. Neither could they have known she was fighting for her life. And they couldn’t have known they’d soon be fighting for their lives, as well.
For Taelyn was innocent, but a high-ranking member of the council wasn’t. And he wasn’t about to let three junior witches be his downfall. Not when he was so close to his goal.