Erza styles's Arc

Chapter 1 of 4

Erza Styles walked into the tavern with his brother's last postcard folded in his coat pocket. James had sent it a week before the camping trip. On the front, a crooked drawing of a pine tree. On the back, three words: Don't worry, brother. Erza had not worried. Now James was gone, and Erza had come to this town to find whatever took him and put a knife through it. First he needed to know where James had slept his last night. The tavern went quiet when the door shut behind him. Four men at the bar. Two women at a corner table. Every face turned, then turned away. Erza sat on a stool and asked the barkeep about a red-bearded man who looked like him, older by six years, passing through two weeks back for a weekend in the woods. The barkeep wiped a glass that was already dry. He said he didn't remember. The man beside him said the same before Erza finished the question. Erza laid a folded bill on the bar. The barkeep looked at it like it was a spider. One of the women stood up and left through the back door. Erza asked which trailhead campers used. The barkeep said there were a lot of trails. Erza asked which one strangers were told to avoid. The barkeep set the glass down and walked to the far end of the bar. Erza stepped outside. The woman from the corner table was waiting by the porch rail, arms crossed against the cold. She was thin, gray at the temples, and would not look at his face. She spoke to the boards under her feet. "Your brother rented from me," she said. "Two weeks Sunday. Paid cash for three nights. Never came back for his deposit." "Rented what?" "A cabin. My husband's, before he passed. I let it to hikers." She pulled a brass key from her apron and held it out without looking up. "North side of the ridge. Follow the creek from the old logging road until you see the chimney. His pack should still be inside. I haven't been up since." Erza took the key. It was warm from her hand. "Why tell me?" "Because nobody else will." She finally met his eyes. "And because whatever's up there is done with him. It'll be hungry again by now." She went back inside. The lock clicked behind her. Erza walked to his truck and spread a paper map across the hood. He found the logging road. He found the creek. He drew a line with his thumbnail to the spot where a chimney might stand. Two hours of daylight left. He put the key in his pocket beside the postcard and started the engine. The trail was no longer cold. It ended at a cabin door, and something waited past it.