The Liar of Red Valley

by Walter Goodwater

  When enough had assembled, the hunter spread its wings and revealed itself. The attack came almost instantly, one of the things shedding its glamor as it came. It was nearly of a size with the hunter, powered by six massive legs that churned the ground as it charged. It had a mouth full of poison and a dozen eyes full of malice. Something this strong would have been useful in the work to come, but it would be useful in this, too—as a warning.

  It died just as it reached the hunter. Shock replaced the hate in its eyes, and then oblivion. The hunter withdrew its claws from the thing’s skull and it collapsed.

  “Some of you know me,” the hunter said in a tongue that was ancient when the world was new. It pointed to the dead thing in a heap at its feet. “Now, all of you know me.”

  The strange and monstrous gathering said nothing, but there were no more attacks. They knew now. They feared. Good.

  “You are all here because you want to kill the King,” the hunter said. “Or you want to feast on the people who have grown fat at his table. The whispers tell you the King is dying, so you turn your eyes over the River and dream.

  “Yet here you all are, waiting. Cowering.”

  Something stepped forward. It looked mostly human, though its skin was gray like a corpse and its eyes black and open like a grave. “The King’s power is strong yet,” he said in the old tongue. “Others have tried to defy the King’s Peace, and now they are as dead as the thing at your feet.”

  “Because they were fools,” the hunter said. “And fools deserve death. What of you? Are you a fool?”

  The human-looking thing shook its head. “I am patient. I will wait.”

  “And the rest of you? Are you all fools?” The gathering said nothing. “Patience is wise. Waiting is prudent. But the time for waiting is over. I am here.”

  “You can kill the King?” the human-thing asked.

  “We can kill the King,” the hunter in the darkness replied. “I will show you how. You will feast on his flesh. You will gorge on his flock. You will cast aside these petty illusions that let you dwell among these bleating sheep and regain your true, glorious forms.”

  And the hunter told them of its plan. When it had finished, the gathering roared its approval. They looked far less human now.

  The hunter had its army. Now it needed a war. Luckily, wars were always easy to find.

  It dispatched the others and they fled its presence, eager for victory but still rank with fear. It hoped they would serve their purpose, but had its doubts. It had been disappointed in the past, yet sometimes even a solitary hunter needed a pack. The hunger flexed its wings, ready to take to the air, when it sensed it was not alone.

  “Show yourself,” it said to the night.

  Shadows crept along the lifeless ground and gathered before the hunter. They took shape and form, arms that were not arms, bodies that were not bodies. These had no substance at all, yet carried a weight few of the others in the gathering had. The hunter was glad that it had not been these who tried to test its strength. It was not certain who would have prevailed.

  “You are known to us from of old,” the shadows said.

  “And you to me,” the hunter said to the Long Shadows.

  “The whispers spoke to us as well,” said the Long Shadows. “We wondered who their curious tale would bring to this place.”

  “Do you doubt them?”

  “Truth or lie, it is of no concern to us.”

  “So you will not join in the battle to bring down the King?”

  “This mouth has too many teeth already,” said the Long Shadows. “We are not needed in your ranks. Though we do wonder: this offer of alliance, of common cause against the King. Will you take it also to those who wait behind the flames?”

  The hunter narrowed its predator eyes. “They have come as well?”

  “That fire in the hills burns too bright, too fast,” said the Long Shadows. “It does not burn alone.”

  The hunter was not surprised. The whispers would have told others, many others—the King’s enemies, and his offenses, were legion—but it had hoped to arrive before some of them. It could dominate or destroy the petty beasts that glowered on the River’s shore, but some of the King’s enemies would complicate the hunt.

  “What else has come to finish off the King?”

  “It is not our place to say.”

  “It is when I ask.”

  They did not speak.

  The hunter’s anger flared. Its wings filled the clearing and the trees groaned under the weight of its fury. “You have come to mock me?” the hunter demanded. “To see if I am afraid?”

  The Long Shadows laughed softly. “This is not our fight,” they said. “We will do as we have always done. We will accrue debts, and we will collect them.” The shadows shifted, coming closer to the hunter, making its skin crawl at their nearness, their lack of fear. “We know more than we have said. There are players in this hunt that you have not guessed. We could speak of these things, but not without recompense.”

  The hunter clawed the earth. It had no fear of the Long Shadows, but neither would it be in their debt. “Be gone,” it said. “I will strike the foul old King down with my own strength. I have no need of you or your secrets.”

  “Very well,” said the Long Shadows. “But we believe this battle will not end as you expect.”

  The hunter had heard enough. With a churn of its great wings, it was in the air, away from meddlesome, dangerous things. The high darkness welcomed it. From this vantage, it stole a single glance toward the fire burning above the town. If those who waited behind the flames had come… no. It had not lived this long—hunted this long—to be outdone on this last great effort. This was just another challenge. And the hunter would face them all.

  When Sadie woke, it was dark outside. At first, her body flatly refused orders to move. Finally comfortable, it seemed content to remain stationary until all of Red Valley’s problems had vanished.

  If only it were that simple. A slight whiff of smoke came through the open window, a reminder that Red Valley’s problems weren’t going anywhere.

  Sliding out of the bed, she put some weight on her ankle and was pleased at the result. It took some struggle and some loosened laces, but eventually she got her shoe on over the wrapping and felt like she could walk again.

  In the hall, she followed the only light on in the house to a formal dining room. A long mahogany table filled the center of the room and a dozen chairs flanked it on either side. A candelabra flickered brightly, its glow dancing in the gleam of polished silver and crystal. Charles and Thomas sat together at the far end of the table, a greasy cardboard box between them, large slices of pepperoni pizza hanging off the sides of white china plates.

  “She lives!” Charles cried in mock victory. He looked much improved.

  “Come,” Thomas said. “Join us.”

  They pulled out a chair and filled her plate. She briefly considered turning down the offer, but then the smell reached her brain and she devoured her first slice in four quick, generous bites.

  “Pizza, huh?” she asked when her mouth was empty enough to make reasonable words. “I would have thought you guys just ate stuffed pheasant or blood pudding or something.”

  “We had stuffed pheasant for lunch,” Charles said.

  “This is a rare indulgence,” Thomas said as he dabbed his mouth with a cloth napkin.

  “We discovered it when we came back during the 1960’s,” Charles said. “I thought I’d died and gone to heaven. The 60’s were frankly not a great time for Red Valley, but pizza almost made up for the rest. It’s sort of a tradition for us now, our last meal before…”

  Sadie swallowed the lump of dough in her mouth as Charles went silent. “Before you leave again,” she finished.

  Charles looked at his lap. Thomas returned her stare, saying nothing.

  “After everything I told you,” Sadie said. “The world is literally on fire out there. Red Valley needs you. Look at me, I’m a damn
mess. I need you.”

  “The world is on fire,” Thomas said. “And there’s nothing we can do about it.”

  “The fire is just one thing,” she said. “There’s a war coming. Hopefully the King can handle it, but if not, Red Valley is going to need all the help it can get to survive.”

  “Red Valley’s survival is not our concern,” Thomas replied. “We learned that long ago.”

  “So what?” Sadie said. “You and your magic house disappear out of time for a few years. What if there’s nothing to come back to?” She thrust a finger toward the window. “What if you pop back and it’s just a burned wasteland out there? What if they kill the King and everybody else?”

  “We have faith in you,” Thomas said. “You will stop the calamity.”

  Sadie slumped back in her chair. Great. Leave it all to me.

  I don’t know how to stop this, she thought. I don’t even know what this is.

  “Or you could come with us,” Charles said. Thomas shot him a sharp look, but he waved it off. “I know you have a few friends here, but you’ve lost your mother and your home. Give yourself time to mourn, time to heal. Let Red Valley—and the King—resolve their own mess.”

  “He’s right,” Thomas said softly. “You don’t owe them anything.”

  Sadie had never loved Red Valley. People in town barely acknowledged her, and most of those who did looked down on her. They were small-minded—bigoted even, as Graciela and Ashleigh had seen first-hand. They could be petty and ignorant, and as she knew from the steady influx of cars coming up to see her mother, they might praise the truth on Sunday morning, but had no problem with a useful Lie or two afterwards. Maybe Graciela had the right idea, getting out of here while she still could. Let Red Valley solve its own problems, deal with its own secrets. She hadn’t volunteered to be the Liar, hadn’t even been asked. Until this moment, no one had been particularly interested in what she wanted at all.

  And yet, as much as she might hate Red Valley, it was also all she’d ever known. Nearly every memory she had was here. Her mom had lived her whole life here; and her mother before that. Her family was woven into the history of this town, good and bad. Sadie may not like much about Red Valley, but the place was in her blood. How could she run away now?

  “No,” she said. “I don’t owe them. If anything, this town owes me. But this isn’t about them. It’s about me, and if there’s a chance I can help stop some of what’s coming, I’d never forgive myself if I didn’t.”

  “That’s admirable,” Charles said with a smile.

  “Foolish,” Thomas said. “But admirable.”

  Sadie grabbed another piece of pizza.

  When the food was gone, Thomas escorted Sadie to the front door. They stepped out onto the front porch. The summer night was still blistering hot. Her stomach was full and her ankle felt stronger, but still she dreaded what came next. She had to go out alone and get the ledgers back; she just wished she knew how.

  “Thank you for everything,” she said. “You didn’t have to help me.”

  Thomas shared a hint of his own smile. “I’d never have forgiven myself if I hadn’t.”

  “See?” Sadie said. “You’re not a total asshole.”

  “You flatter me.”

  “When will you guys come back?”

  “We are never quite sure,” he said. “When we are gone, it can be hard to measure the passage of time. But I hope you will visit us when we do. You remind me a great deal of Mary.”

  “I believe you called her a ‘dreadful woman.’”

  “I did,” he said. “And I’m pleased to see it runs in the family.” Partially because she knew he’d hate it, and partially because she felt overwhelmed at the thought that someone was on her side, she wrapped both arms around Thomas’s neck. “Thank you.”

  After a pause, Thomas returned the embrace. “Good luck,” he said quietly. “Red Valley doesn’t deserve you.”

  Sadie took a step back and quickly wiped the back of her hand across her eyes. “No, they don’t. Nice to hear somebody acknowledge that.”

  “Farewell,” Thomas said. “If ever you need our help, just come back here and screech like a wounded animal like you did last time. I’m sure we’ll hear you, whether we want to or not.”

  “Goodbye,” Sadie said. “I hope when you come back, the world’s a better place.”

  “Go make it one,” he said, then went inside and closed the door.

  Sadie walked through the fragrant rose garden and out the gate. The Gray House was nearly dark, but appeared larger than ever against the black sky. Sadie closed the gate and stepped back. She waited, maybe out of curiosity, maybe because she wasn’t ready to leave. Her problems weren’t going anywhere, after all.

  She didn’t have to wait long. At first she thought maybe it was a trick of her eyes in the dim street light, but then it was clear: the Gray House was fading away. The gate, the garden, the spires, all became spectral, like moonlight was shining through them.

  One moment, Sadie smelled sweet summer roses, and then the next, nothing but dust.

  “Until next time,” Sadie said, wiping away a tear.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The old Sierra Nevada Lumber Mill sat in a rusted heap just along the River on the south side of town. There had been a few attempts over the years to improve the land near the mill, but now all that was left was an abandoned parking lot, a shuttered hardware store, and a very sketchy 7-11. A chain-link fence topped in barbed wire ran around the mill and alongside the parking lot. Though a few street lights in the lot still worked, there was no light beyond the fence, just the black hulking mass of the mill.

  Sadie stood in the parking lot, far away from any of the functioning lights, and stared into the night. It had been a long walk from the Gray House, but her ankle was now much improved. What little pain remained just goaded her on, reminding her what was at stake.

  Before she could convince herself what a terrible idea this was, she made her way across the parking lot, staying outside of the puddles of light dotting the wide empty asphalt. Broken glass crunched underfoot. An empty soda cup rattled along, pushed by a weak breeze. Back in high school, kids would come out here to drag race or do donuts until their tires smoked or until the sheriff’s deputies showed up. Luckily tonight the lot was empty.

  Sadie found a spot along the fence where the links had been snipped and she slipped inside. She stayed low as she cut through the weeds. Now that she was beyond the fence, she saw that the mill wasn’t entirely dark; a fire burned in an old metal can in the empty lumber yard, and a few other lights flickered behind broken windows in the main building. The other buildings, which were smaller and surrounded the yard in a u-shaped arc, were dark.

  As she neared, she heard voices.

  “…didn’t cost that much last time.”

  She crept forward, quiet and slow. Two cars were parked ahead. One was a polished SUV that was probably worth more than Sadie’s house. The other was a scarred pickup truck with oversized tires and a spider-web of cracks on the windshield.

  “Capitalism, my dude,” said a lanky Laughing Boy with glowing blue eyes, leaning on the truck’s hood. “Supply and demand. I’ve got the supply, so I make the demands.”

  Sadie got close enough to see the driver of the SUV. He looked maybe old enough to be a senior in high school, wearing fashionably ripped jeans and a polo shirt with a popped collar. His heavily-gelled hair shone in the headlights.

  “That’s not what that means,” the kid said.

  Then came that stupid fucking laughter. “This one has spirit. Our brothers are going to have fun with him.”

  “Gross,” the kid said. “I’d never let that thing stay inside my head.”

  The Laughing Boy let out a chuckle of his own. “Of course you wouldn’t, my dude. Now, are we here to do some commerce, or are we just having a pleasant chat?”

  The kid didn’t look happy—he probably thought his scowl looked tough, but he mostly looked s
ulky—but eventually he pulled a wad of bills out of his pocket and shoved them at the Laughing Boy.

  “Excellent,” the Laughing Boy said. “I do love commerce.”

  Another Laughing Boy appeared from around the backside of the truck and handed the first one a glass jar full of what appeared to be white powder. He held it up to the light, then tossed it over to the kid, who scrambled to catch it before it broke on the dirt ground.

  “Just use it to draw the summoning circle like we showed you. That should be enough for you and your buddies to have a good time. Just don’t fuck up the circle, understand me, my dude? Bad things happen. Real bad things.”

  “Yeah, I got it, man.” The kid cradled the jar and tried to look cool. “What is this stuff anyway?”

  “The ground-up bones of our enemies, my dude. Now you have a nice drive back to town. Don’t forget what I said about the summoning circle. And tell mommy and daddy we said hi.”

  The kid mumbled something, then got into his Escalade and revved the engine. As he drove off, the Laughing Boys watched him go.

  “Stupid little prick,” one of them said.

  “Stupid little rich prick,” the other amended.

  “Our brothers are going to take him soon,” said one of their demons between fits of laughter. “They are going to crawl up inside him and eat his soul.”

  Sadie waited until the Laughing Boys got in their truck and drove up closer to the mill before moving. She darted through the overgrowth and crouched at the edge of the outermost building. It was low, with a single bolted door and no windows, and made of bricks that left red-brown crumbs on her fingers when she brushed them. She inched up to the corner and looked into the yard between buildings. That’s when she heard the dog, very close: low, angry barking, punctuated by a throaty threatening growl.

  “Will somebody shut that thing up?” shouted a Laughing Boy who’d stepped out of the main metal building to smoke.