The Ghost Tree

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by Christina Henry




  Praise for

  LOOKING GLASS

  “Mesmerizing. . . . These somber, occasionally disturbing novellas offer a mature take on the children’s story but balance the horrors of the City with hope.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  “Fans will delight in discovering the unknown family backgrounds and future fate of Alice and her wild and bloody Hatcher.”

  —Booklist (starred review)

  Praise for

  THE GIRL IN RED

  “An engrossing page-turner that will delight anyone who loves running through thought experiments about the apocalypse.”

  —Paste

  “Satisfyingly upends the familiar tale of a clever girl, a dangerous wolf, and a brave savior, and folklore fans will enjoy this bloody near-future variation on a familiar theme.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  “The versatile Henry has reimagined another classic fairy tale, this time with a fascinating narrative about surviving the apocalypse.”

  —Booklist

  “With The Girl in Red, Christina Henry once again proves that retellings don’t necessarily lack originality.”

  —Kirkus Reviews

  Praise for

  THE MERMAID

  “Beautifully written and daringly conceived, The Mermaid is a fabulous story. . . . Henry’s spare, muscular prose is a delight.”

  —Louisa Morgan, author of A Secret History of Witches

  “There is a current of longing that runs through The Mermaid: longing for the sea, for truth, for love. It is irresistible and will sweep you away.”

  —Ellen Herrick, author of The Sparrow Sisters

  “A captivating tale of an intriguing young woman who finds herself in the world of the greatest showman, P. T. Barnum. Original and magical, this is a novel to dive into and savor.”

  —Hazel Gaynor, New York Times bestselling author of The Cottingley Secret

  Praise for

  LOST BOY

  “Christina Henry shakes the fairy dust off a legend; this Peter Pan will give you chills.”

  —Genevieve Valentine, author of Persona

  “Turns Neverland into a claustrophobic world where time is disturbingly nebulous and identity is chillingly manipulated. . . . A deeply impactful, imaginative, and haunting story of loyalty, disillusionment, and self-discovery.”

  —RT Book Reviews (top pick)

  “Henry keeps the story fresh and energetic with diabolical twists and turns to keep us guessing. Dynamic characterization and narration bring the story to life. . . . Once again, Henry takes readers on an adventure of epic and horrific proportions as she reinvents a childhood classic using our own fears and desires. Her smooth prose and firm writing hooked me up instantly and held me hostage to the very end.”

  —Smexy Books

  “An absolutely addicting read. . . . Psychological, gripping, and entertaining, painting a picture of Peter Pan before we came to know him in the film: the darker side of his history. The writing is fabulous, the plot incredibly compelling, and the characters entirely enthralling.”

  —Utopia State of Mind

  Praise for

  ALICE

  “I loved falling down the rabbit hole with this dark, gritty tale. A unique spin on a classic and one wild ride!”

  —Gena Showalter, New York Times bestselling author of The Darkest Promise

  “Alice takes the darker elements of Lewis Carroll’s original, amplifies Tim Burton’s cinematic reimagining of the story, and adds a layer of grotesquery from [Henry’s] own alarmingly fecund imagination to produce a novel that reads like a Jacobean revenge drama crossed with a slasher movie.”

  —The Guardian (UK)

  “A psychotic journey through the bowels of magic and madness. I, for one, thoroughly enjoyed the ride.”

  —Brom, author of The Child Thief

  “A horrifying fantasy that will have you reexamining your love for this childhood favorite.”

  —RT Book Reviews (top pick)

  Praise for

  RED QUEEN

  “Henry takes the best elements from Carroll’s iconic world and mixes them with dark fantasy elements. . . . [Her] writing is so seamless you won’t be able to stop reading.”

  —Pop Culture Uncovered

  “Alice’s ongoing struggle is to distinguish reality from illusion, and Henry excels in mingling the two for the reader as well as her characters. The darkness in this book is that of fairy tales, owing more to Grimm’s matter-of-fact violence than to the underworld of the first book.”

  —Publishers Weekly (starred review)

  TITLES BY CHRISTINA HENRY

  Lost Boy

  The Mermaid

  The Girl in Red

  The Ghost Tree

  The Chronicles of Alice

  Alice

  Red Queen

  Looking Glass

  (novellas)

  The Black Wings Novels

  Black Wings

  Black Night

  Black Howl

  Black Lament

  Black City

  Black Heart

  Black Spring

  BERKLEY

  An imprint of Penguin Random House LLC

  penguinrandomhouse.com

  Copyright © 2020 by Tina Raffaele

  Penguin Random House supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin Random House to continue to publish books for every reader.

  BERKLEY and the BERKLEY & B colophon are registered trademarks of Penguin Random House LLC.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Names: Henry, Christina, 1974– author.

  Title: The ghost tree / Christina Henry.

  Description: First edition. | New York: Berkley, 2020.

  Identifiers: LCCN 2020003228 (print) | LCCN 2020003229 (ebook) | ISBN 9780451492302 (trade paperback) | ISBN 9780451492319 (ebook)

  Subjects: GSAFD: Horror fiction.

  Classification: LCC PS3608.E568 G55 2020 (print) | LCC PS3608.E568 (ebook) | DDC 813/.6—dc23

  LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2020003228

  LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2020003229

  First Edition: September 2020

  Cover design by Erin Fitzsimmons

  Interior art: dead tree background © apiguide/Shutterstock.com

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  pid_prh_5.6.0_c0_r0

  Contents

  Cover

  Praise for Christina Henry

  Titles by Christina Henry

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Part I: The GirlsChapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13


  Chapter 14

  Part II: Among the Witches

  Part III: StrandsChapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Part IV: The FairChapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  About the Author

  For Alexis Nixon in October country

  1

  June 1985

  Wednesday

  Lauren glanced down at her feet as she pedaled her bike toward the woods. She wore brand-new turquoise high-tops; they looked sort of like the Chuck Taylors she’d wanted, but they were off-brand from Kmart. They didn’t have the Chuck label in the back but they were still pretty cool. She thought so, anyway.

  They would have to be cool because her mom had told her repeatedly they couldn’t afford the name-brand ones. At least no one else at school had turquoise. They were so bright they practically glowed in the summer sun, but by the time she went back to school in the fall they would be properly beaten up and she wouldn’t look like a dork.

  By the time she went back to school she would be almost fifteen (the end of November—five months away still), which meant she would be one of the older kids in the freshman class but still younger than Miranda, whose birthday had been the week before. Miranda never failed to remind her that this meant she would get her driver’s license before Lauren did, but Lauren didn’t care as long as she was riding to school in a car (even if it was not her own) instead of on her bike.

  Lauren knew Mom didn’t want her and Miranda meeting in the woods. Especially after last year. Especially after Lauren’s dad was found near that old cabin. Mom thought Lauren was macabre for going anywhere near the place where her father was murdered.

  But Lauren was about as interested in her mother’s opinion as her mother was in Lauren’s—that is to say, not at all. Mom never loved Dad as much as Lauren did. Her mom didn’t understand that when Lauren was in the woods it meant she was in the place he was last alive.

  She and Miranda always met under the ghost tree. They’d done so since they were very small, for so long that Lauren couldn’t remember who’d thought of the idea first. One of them would call the other on the telephone and say, “Meet me by the old ghost tree,” and they would both go.

  In the secret shadows of the woods, they could have adventures. They built forts and ran through streams and climbed trees and made rope swings. They made a secret base near the cabin that was tucked away in the woods. This was long before Lauren’s dad was found there, and it had been some time since they used it as a base.

  In the last year or so things had changed. Miranda didn’t like to get dirty anymore, so she didn’t want to swing over the trickling little creek that ran through the forest or roll in the dead leaves. Mostly she wanted to do things Lauren was not interested in, like paint their nails or braid each other’s hair or talk about boys that Miranda thought were cute—older boys, always, boys that would not be the least bit interested in little freshman girls.

  Despite this they still preferred to meet by the ghost tree. It was their special place.

  Lauren raced past the Imperial drive-in on the outskirts of town. They were showing a double feature—The Goonies and Cocoon. The wide lot was littered with rubbish from the night before—empty popcorn cups, candy wrappers, cigarette butts. Sometimes Lauren helped Mr. Harper, the owner, clean up the lot in exchange for $10 and a free ticket for her and Miranda to that night’s show, but she’d already seen The Goonies twice and Miranda said Cocoon was about old people so they never stayed for the second feature.

  The back of the movie screen pressed against the woods that brushed against the town. Smiths Hollow was the name of her town, and Lauren had always liked the name because it reminded her of Sleepy Hollow.

  She and her dad used to watch that cartoon every year on Halloween, Ichabod and Mr. Toad. Even though Ichabod’s name came first in the title, the Sleepy Hollow story was actually second in the film and Lauren liked that better. She liked anticipating the moment when the Headless Horseman would appear on screen, laughing his insane laugh and swinging a giant sword.

  When she was little she used to snuggle close into her dad’s arm when that part came on and her heart would beat so fast, but there was nothing to worry about really because she was with her daddy. Of course it had been years since it scared her, but every year she snuggled up next to him. He always smelled a little bit of grease and oil, even after a shower, and also of the Old Spice Soap-on-a-Rope that she gave him every year for Father’s Day.

  Lauren wondered if, when Halloween came, she would be able to turn on the cartoon again and watch it with her little brother, David. He’d been too small to watch it the year before.

  Miranda had wanted Lauren to sleep over last Halloween, so they could watch “real” scary movies on her VCR. Lauren’s family didn’t have a VCR, and Miranda definitely viewed this as a drawback to sleeping over at Lauren’s house.

  They always trick-or-treated together every year, but after their candy bags were full they went their separate ways. Last year Miranda didn’t want to trick-or-treat at all, but Lauren persuaded her to go out so Miranda had thrown together a costume of old clothes at the last second and went as a hobo. She’d complained about how lame and babyish collecting candy was the whole time and then got annoyed when Lauren told her that she had to go home after.

  “I thought you were going to watch Halloween with me,” Miranda said. “It’s the perfect night for it!”

  Lauren shook her head. “We can do it another night. I have something I have to do with my dad.”

  “It won’t be the same on another night,” Miranda said. “I can’t believe you dragged me all over town to get a bunch of stupid little candy bars and we’re not even going to watch a scary movie now.”

  “I’ll take your candy if you don’t want it,” Lauren said, holding her bag open.

  Miranda’s mouth twisted up. “No way. I walked for it, so I’m eating it.”

  She’d gone home in a huff, but the next time Lauren slept over they did watch Halloween. Or rather, Miranda watched it, laughing hysterically every time someone was slaughtered by the killer, and Lauren peered through her fingers and hoped she would be able to sleep without nightmares. She didn’t like scary movies. Miranda seemed inured to them.

  Anyway, Lauren was glad she’d gone home that night, because it was the last time she’d watch Ichabod and Mr. Toad with her dad. Less than a month later he was dead.

  He was dead and nobody would talk about it. Nobody would talk about why it happened or how. The police chief told Lauren’s mom it must have been some drifter, some sicko who went from town to town. But that didn’t make a bit of sense to Lauren. Why would some sicko come to Smiths Hollow just to kill her dad?
r />   And nobody ever told her what her dad was doing out that late at night in the woods, either. Every time Lauren mentioned it her mother’s lips would go flat and pull tight at the edges and she would say, “We are not discussing this, Lauren.”

  Lauren reached the scrubby edge of the woods and pulled the brakes on her bike. It was a ten-speed, a grown-up gift for her last birthday even though she wasn’t very tall yet and probably never would be. Miranda told her that girls stopped growing like a year after they got their periods, and Lauren hadn’t gotten hers yet so she hoped she wouldn’t top out at five foot three.

  Miranda had gotten her period almost a year before, but both her parents were tall so Miranda towered over Lauren by about half a foot. She also had long, long legs that always looked good in whatever she wore, and Lauren had to squelch the flare of jealousy that bubbled up whenever she saw Miranda looking so cool and beautiful and grown-up.

  Lauren hopped off her bike and wheeled it into the forest, following a path worn by her own feet and Miranda’s. The bike bumped over the tree roots and kicked up tiny rocks that bit into Lauren’s shins.

  Some people didn’t like the woods near Smiths Hollow. Well, if Lauren was honest, almost everyone didn’t like the woods. She’d heard more than one person say they were “spooky” and “uncanny” and “scary,” but Lauren didn’t think so.

  She liked the trees and their secretive natures, and all the little creatures that scurried into the brush when they heard her approach. And there were lots of places to sit and think and be alone and listen to the wind in the leaves. There were many days when Miranda went home and Lauren stayed in the forest by herself, curled into the notch of a tree while she read a book.

  Even Lauren’s dad had said that the woods made him uncomfortable.

  “I always feel like I’m being spied on whenever I walk near there,” he confessed to her one day. They were both at the kitchen sink scrubbing their hands—Lauren’s were covered in mud, and her father’s had the usual contingent of grease from his work at the garage.

 

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