by E. E. Holmes
“The Screaming Woods, lass. The woods what masks the Elementals from the world.”
Annabelle looked at me accusingly, and I jumped in quickly, “I’m confused. I thought we were coming here to enter a place called the Dering Woods?”
“Aye, the Dering Woods is its proper name, o’ course,” Abigail said. “But them as finds themselves unlucky enough to wander the place at night have christened it anew, and for good reason. The name is famous now, and many a fool who fancies himself a hero marches off into the trees of at night, hoping to emerge with a good campfire story.”
I looked at Ileana, whose face was twisted with distaste. “Tourist trash and amateur ghost hunters. You know the riffraff she’s talking about. Loud, obnoxious, trying to capture evidence of spirits while having the daylights scared out of them by owls and squirrels. Leaving nothing but tall tales, trash and destruction in their wake.”
Yes, I did know what she was talking about only too well. And I knew what kind of appeal such a notorious place would hold, once word got out that it might be haunted. Annabelle and I exchanged a look. If Iggy, Oscar and the boys knew there was a place in the south of England that had been dubbed the Screaming Woods, they’d be camped out in a tent in the middle of the place collecting evidence before you could blink. And they were professionals who were respectful of the sites they chose to visit. I could only imagine what random thrill-seekers and drunken university kids probably did for a scare in there.
“It makes me job a bloomin’ nightmare, and no mistake,” Abigail went on, clicking her tongue disapprovingly. “I’ve done more Castings in the last five years than I’ve done in the previous sixty-five. The village Council is fed up too, but they won’t turn their nose up at that kind of tourist money. Why else would anyone in his right mind come to Pluckley? Unless he’s lost, o’ course.”
“Are you expecting we’ll meet other people in the woods tonight?” I asked, wondering how the hell we were supposed to keep our adventure a secret if we were going to wind up on the B-reel of some amateur ghosthunting YouTuber.
Abigail shrugged. “The Council has introduced an ordinance banning folks from spending the night in the woods. There’s always a chance some gormless pillock will sneak his way in, but you’re more likely to meet them down the pub after dark these days. That’s why you’ll wait until dark to venture in.”
Lucida, who’d been silent since we’d entered the room, asked the question the rest of us wanted the answer to. “I wouldn’t mind a little insight into why they’ve called it the Screaming Woods,” she said quite casually, though I thought I detected a hint of a tremor in her tone.
Abigail grinned broadly, showing terribly blackened gums. “That’ll be the Elementals, working their dark magic. Plenty to scream about, when you’re made of pure terror, hatred, and sadness.”
Beside me, Annabelle seemed to be holding her breath. Even Catriona looked sobered.
“Right, well, I’ve got plenty of work to be getting on with if you’re entering the woods tonight,” Abigail said, rubbing her hands together excitedly. “Fancy a cuppa before I get started? This is meant to be a teahouse, after all. I’ve just taken some scones out of the oven.”
I nodded automatically, knowing I should probably eat something, and was halfway into a chair when the phone in my back pocket buzzed, startling me. I knew who it must be; only one person had the number.
“Finn?”
“It’s me. I’m outside.”
“My Caomhnóir is here,” I told the room at large. “He’s going to accompany us. I’ll, uh… I’ll be right back.”
I could feel Ileana’s eyes burning into the back of my head as I eased open the ancient door and slipped back outside. Finn was just pulling around the corner into the tiny lane. Luckily for him, he’d chosen a much smaller vehicle than the monstrosity we’d driven in, which he swung deftly into a narrow parking space between two of the cottages before jumping out. Before I could even open my mouth to say hello to him, he had pulled me into a fierce hug and kissed me like he hadn’t seen me in months.
“Thank God you’re all right,” he mumbled against my lips.
“I told you I was fine,” I reminded him.
“Yes, love, and I know that you would say almost anything to keep me from worrying about you. You’d tell me you were fine while dangling one-handed from a cliff,” Finn chuckled. He took me by the shoulders and stepped back so that he could look me in the eyes. “How are you really?”
I sighed. “Tired. Nervous. Freaking out a little.”
“Come on. Let’s go for a walk,” Finn said, reaching out a hand. “Hannah filled me in, of course, but I’d like to hear the full proper story from you now.”
Slipping my hand into his was like recharging my soul, and as we set off down the cobblestones, I launched into a full description of everything that had happened from the moment I left Fairhaven. Finn didn’t interrupt me with tedious questions or exclamations. He simply listened until I had run out of story to tell, of thoughts to air. By this time, we were sitting at a table outside the local coffee shop, each of us drinking a strong cup of coffee, a small pile of pastries half-eaten between us.
“And this Abigail woman, you trust her?” Finn asked.
“Not even a little, but what choice do we have?” I asked, popping another piece of danish into my mouth. “We can’t just charge off blindly into those woods and hope the Elementals will leave us alone. Ileana says Abigail can get us in safely, that she’s been stationed here for decades doing just that for generations of Durupinen.”
“I hardly think this is a busy Durupinen thoroughfare,” Finn said, looking skeptical. “I’ve never heard of anyone visiting the Keeper of the Elementals. Christ, I didn’t know there was a Keeper of the Elementals until you woke out of the Rift insisting you needed to visit them.”
“We’re finding out all sorts of things we never knew about the Durupinen,” I said. “Just add it to the list, I guess.”
“What do you plan to do when you get in there?” Finn asked.
I shrugged. “I have no plan, other than to deliver my message as quickly as I can. But I’ve got a theory. I’m thinking the Keeper of the Elementals might have something—some kind of relic that has to do with the Sentinels.”
“What makes you think that?” Finn asked, frowning.
“Well, Ileana had that key I mentioned. She doesn’t know what it’s for, or what it opens, if anything, but she was told that, if a messenger ever came to her with Agnes’ words about the Sentinels, that she must take the key with her to the Keeper of the Elementals.”
“Perhaps the Keeper of the Elementals is in possession of whatever that key opens?” Finn suggested.
I shrugged. “It’s possible. I just hope we can get in and out of the woods with what we need without encountering an actual Elemental.”
“And what do you think the odds are of that happening?” Finn asked darkly.
“With my track record? Let’s just say I won’t be placing any bets on it,” I replied.
“And you’re really okay with bringing Lucida along on this already dangerous excursion?” Finn asked. “Isn’t there enough to worry about, wandering into a forest full of Elementals?”
“Like I’ve explained before, she’s in this, Finn, like it or not. I never would have found Agnes’ clues or the Tansy Hag if it weren’t for her. We’re not friends and we never will be, but she’s here for the duration of this.”
Finn gave me a long hard look, and finally nodded. “I trust you,” he said. “But I’m going to be keeping a careful eye on her.”
“Good,” I said. “It will save me the trouble of having to do it myself.”
“And of course, if we get caught traveling in her company…”
“I know. I know she’s probably more trouble than she’s worth, as usual,” I admitted. “But Catriona saved us, and I feel better having her here, at least. A Senior Tracker, with all her knowledge and resources? I’ll take Lucida as a
n inconvenient accessory to have Catriona along for the ride.”
We finished our food and returned to the Milkweed Tavern. I knocked on the door and waited for Abigail’s dried apple of a face to appear in the little window at the top. She had to be standing on a stool or something; I knew now that she was about two feet too short to actually reach that window. She stared at me for a moment with those disturbing eyes, and then slammed the window shut and opened the door without a word. Finn and I stepped inside.
“Just one Guardian, eh?” Abigail said, looking Finn over and chuckling. “You’re a brave lot, aren’t yeh?”
I ignored the comment and surveyed the room. Catriona and Lucida sat huddled at the table closest to the door, the remains of their tea and scones between them. Annabelle had chosen a table near the fire. She’d barely nibbled at her food, and the tea still filling her cup must have been stone cold by now. Ileana was standing in the corner, examining the many books on the shelves near the back of the room. She looked up when she heard us come in.
“Well, well, if it isn’t the star-crossed lovers,” she said acidly before returning to her books.
Finn said nothing, forcing himself instead into the stiff half-bow that ceremony required of him when in the presence of a superior, though his expression remained stony.
“Finn will be coming with us into the woods,” I told everyone, though Abigail was the only one who didn’t already know this. “He’s had experience with an Elemental on several occasions.”
Abigail looked surprised at this. “Is that so, laddie? You’ve tangled with the foulest of the foul, then. At Fairhaven, I expect? They did insist on keeping one there, though many advised against it. And you look no worse the wear for it. Yes, I won’t object to having you along, not a mite.”
“I…that is to say… thank you…?” Finn replied, completely wrong-footed as he was caught in Abigail’s bizarre gaze for the first time.
“Sorry, I should have warned you about the eyes,” I whispered into his ear.
“Yes, you really should have,” he muttered back.
“Well, I’ll not keep yeh all awake while I gather my provisions. It will take hours to get everything together, so you may as well head upstairs and have a good lie down. There ain’t no sense in sitting around down here when you could be replenishing your strength for what’s ahead. Go on, now, off with yeh.”
Everyone looked rather surprised at this sudden dismissal, but then again, we were all beyond exhausted, having slept so poorly the night before in the Traveler camp. No one objected, and instead we all lined up to trudge up the ancient staircase.
I paused at the top of the stairs as Annabelle ducked into the first tiny bedroom on the left. I didn’t like the idea of her being alone. “Do you want me to—?”
She rolled her eyes at me. “Of course not. I’ll be fine. See you whenever that mad old bat downstairs decides to wake us.”
I smiled as she winked at me. “Okay, then. See you soon.”
Lucida and Catriona were already disappearing behind the first door on the right. I could see Lucida sitting on the edge of the canopied bed, pulling off her boots wearily. Just past their room was a single shared bathroom for the floor, containing a sink, a laughably tiny bathtub, and what was likely the world’s oldest surviving indoor toilet. And in the back corner of the house was one last bedroom, into which was crammed a double bed, a washstand, and a single, straight-back, horsehair chair that surely no person had ever sat in except as punishment. The wide-planked wooden floor dipped badly to the left, and the entire room seemed to creak with every step we took. A painting on the wall of a severe-looking woman in Tudor-era attire glared disapprovingly down at us. I perched myself tentatively on the end of the bed, testing its sturdiness. It groaned but seemed safe enough to lie down on. I slid my tired feet out of my sneakers and laid down with a long sigh, breathing in the musty smell of the blankets and sheets. The bed gave another enthusiastic groan as Finn lay down beside me. I rolled gratefully into the crook of his arm, rested my head on his chest, and was asleep within seconds.
§
It seemed moments later that Finn was shaking me awake. The room was pitch dark, and someone was rapping smartly on the door to the bedroom.
“Yeah?” I called out, sitting up and blinking around blearily.
“Get yerself downstairs, and look sharpish, now,” came Abigail’s croaky voice. “The time is upon us.”
I stifled a yawn and felt around on the little table beside me until I found a tiny lamp, which I turned on. The room became a dim chamber of exaggerated shadows. Finn reached out and squeezed my shoulder.
“How did you sleep, love?”
“Like the dead,” I replied. “How long have I been out?”
“About seven hours. It’s near enough dark outside now.”
“Seven hours!” I cried. “Shit, why didn’t you wake me? Hannah and Milo must be out of their minds that they haven’t heard from me!”
“No worries, love, I’ve called them and filled them in. They asked me to let you sleep. If we’re going to be spending the night wandering the Screaming Woods, we’d do better to be well-rested, don’t you agree?”
I sighed. “Yeah. Thanks for doing that. I really was exhausted, not just from the poor sleep last night at the Traveler camp, but the Walking really wore me out too, I think. Were you awake this whole time listening to me snore, or did you get some rest, too?”
“Rest? With that racket going on? Not a chance!” he replied. I threw my shoe at him, but he dodged it easily. Damn those Caomhnóir and their lightning-quick reflexes.
I retrieved my shoe and put it on, and then went to examine the washbasin. Finding a jug full of cold water, I filled the bowl and splashed some on my face in a further attempt to wake myself up. The towel hanging on a hook nearby looked a bit dusty, so I just dried my face off with the sleeve of my sweatshirt. After a quick trip to the bathroom (an experience so unpleasant that I would have preferred to pee in the woods than repeat it) we made our way downstairs.
Annabelle, Lucida, Catriona, and Ileana were standing in an awkward group around the fireplace, watching Abigail add handfuls of dried herbs to a cauldron.
Yes, an actual cauldron. Like, a “bubble, bubble, toil and trouble” style cauldron.
I glanced at Annabelle, who shrugged. She looked much better than when I’d said goodbye to her at the top of the stairs seven hours before, like she, too, had gotten some much needed sleep. She had brushed her hair as well, and pulled it back into a long, loose braid that hung down her back.
“You look better,” I told her.
“I feel better,” she replied, managing a small, genuine smile.
“That’s sorted, then!” Abigail announced, straightening up and wiping her hands on her apron. “So, if I could just have a bit of blood from one of you, we can get started.”
I blinked. “I’m sorry?”
“I need blood,” Abigail repeated cheerfully. “Well, not yours, Guardian. I’m afraid, in this instance, you’re absolutely bloody useless, aren’t yeh?” She threw her ancient head back and cackled before continuing. “It’s got to be Durupinen blood or the whole brew is naught but rubbish.”
“And what exactly are you going to do with the blood when you’ve got it?” I demanded.
“Into the pot it goes, my lass, into the pot it goes,” Abigail replied in a sing-song voice. “It binds the Casting, see? Seals it right up, like wax. Then you drink it, luvvie, and it seals you right up, too!”
“I’m still not following,” Catriona snapped, nostrils flared, leaning forward to get a better look at the contents of the cauldron.
“Them Elementals can’t get in!” Abigail announced with a near-toothless grin. “Seals up your portals. Closes ‘em right off.”
“What the blazes does that—” Catriona began, but I thought I finally understood.
“When you meet an Elemental, it doesn’t communicate with you out loud. It speaks inside your head. And onc
e it’s there, it starts rooting around for all of your negative emotions and memories to feed off of. So this… potion, or whatever it is… will stop them from being able to get into our heads, is that what you’re saying?” I asked, turning to Abigail.
“Aye, that’s it. Closes the portals,” she repeated, as though it ought to have been obvious.
“I don’t want this woman anywhere near my portals,” Annabelle whispered to me. I snickered.
“So, whose is it to be, then? Just a few drops is all it takes,” Abigail said, looking around expectantly, as though we were all going to thrust our hands up in the air and start jumping up and down in our excitement to be chosen.
No one moved, we all just looked at each other, hoping someone else was going to volunteer. Ileana was standing apart, as though this part of the conversation did not pertain to her—as though being a High Priestess meant she could pull rank on things like blood sacrifices. After several seconds of prolonged silence, I sighed and opened my mouth to take one for the team, but—
“Ah, go on then, let’s get it over with,” Lucida said, stepping forward and rolling her sleeve back.
Catriona looked taken aback. “Lucida, are you sure—”
Lucida shrugged. “What does it matter, really? If it gets us in and out of there safely.”
Annabelle was bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet, as though she were longing to protest, and I could understand why; she didn’t even want to be in the same room as Lucida, let alone be expected to drink a concoction mixed with her blood. But Abigail was already pulling a knife from the pocket of her apron and holding the blade in the fire to sterilize it.
Lucida did not even flinch when the hot blade was pressed to the crook of her elbow, and watched impassively as her blood dripped lazily down her elbow and into the tiny bowl Abigail was now holding expectantly beneath her arm. Satisfied that she had what she needed, Abigail tossed a length of white bandaging to Lucida, who caught it and began winding it around her arm, applying pressure with her hand where the cut had been made. Then Abigail hobbled back to the fire and tipped the contents of the bowl into the cauldron’s belly.