by Nick Scorza
We fled to the mountains, and sought shelter in this cave, but still they came.
We heard them outside, calling for us.
“Send us our tribute, or we will take you all.”
Father bade us all be silent.
“We gave you our food, our homes, and all that we possess.”
“Send us our tribute, or we will take you all.”
The Two Shadows would not kill us quickly. They would break our bodies and our spirits, and then drown us in their foul lake. We huddled in fear.
“Send us our tribute, or we will take you all.”
Then little sister spoke out among us.
“I will be your tribute, if you spare my family.”
We tried to stop her, but she would not listen.
She was wild and free as a fox in moonlight.
She was as kind as rain to growing things, as gentle as the dawn.
She was our sister, who gave her life for us.
Her will was strong, her heart was pure.
We prayed they would not break her spirit.
We prayed her soul would find true rest.
She was our sister, who gave her life for us.
—Approximate translation of an inscription found in a cave near Deer Hollow, NY. Believed to be created circa 1400 A.D. From the library of Tom Morris
XVII.
My father was asleep when I came in. I felt briefly guilty for the pain he must have been feeling—I knew how hard it was for him to finally come clean—but that didn’t last long. When I thought of all the years he and my mother had lied by omission, letting me think they were mourning my sister with me, hoping my memories would just fade away . . . I was furious, and I probably would be for a long time. The worst part was, I couldn’t prove I wasn’t imagining everything like they thought. All I had was a feeling, deep in my bones, that what I saw and felt was somehow real.
I texted Hector so he knew I made it home all right, then headed to bed.
After everything I had lived through in the past two days, I was overwhelmed with exhaustion, but my heart was still racing and my mind too troubled by thoughts of Zoe and whatever was watching me in the woods for sleep to come easily. When it finally came, I tossed and turned, dreaming of fleeing through the forest, branches snapping in my path, until I was almost at the lake. I didn’t want to see it again, that darkness that was more than just night, and so much worse. I dug my heels in, tried to run the other direction, but I couldn’t move. Something invisible grabbed hold of me, pulling me foot by trembling foot toward that vast emptiness, until everything around me was lost in its darkness.
The next day, I woke to the alarm I forgot was still set. I was due at the café in an hour. I almost laughed, worrying about something so small and normal as being on time for my summer job. I showered and dressed, still half-awake, and was out the door before my father was up. The less I saw of him, the better.
The walk back to town was tense in the half-light of dawn. I kept checking the shadowy edge of the forest for the things I had seen last night. The more I was aware of what went on in this town, the more I was shocked people still lived here.
Cleaning up, feeding Clyde, and making the coffee brought the calm feeling of routine. I could see much more of the appeal of boring summer jobs now than when I started here. I was glad Lady Daphne had been so understanding about the day before.
Then, when the store was almost ready to open, I saw the familiar shape outside, blurred against the glass. She was my height, my build—it could have been me standing there on the other side of the café window. I dropped what I was doing right away, a chill running down my spine. I ran outside, Zoe’s name on my lips. A wild hope was rising inside me, along with a terrible fear that this was somehow wrong, or not what I thought. I didn’t care. I raced out the door, heart hammering in my chest, but when I looked outside, once again, the street was empty.
“Zoe, if you’re here, know that I love you,” I said. “I miss you, and I’m trying to help you. Just . . . just tell me what I need to do.”
There was no response from the silent street.
When I got back inside, I slumped down at the cash register. She’d been so close, I knew it. More than ever, I had to see her, to know she was real in whatever strange way she was. If only I could talk to her and understand what kind of trouble she was in.
Then I noticed a folded piece of notebook paper wedged under the cash register. It was just like the others.
Trembling slightly, I unfolded the paper and looked down to see three short words in the language Zoe and I shared:
Naa ong issah.
Don’t go to the island.
That chilly edge of panic laced with faint hope stayed with me all day. I still didn’t know how these notes were coming to me—if somehow Zoe could write but she couldn’t speak, or if she was somehow making the words come through me—but I treasured them all the same, even as they filled me with dread.
The only people I served in the morning were the two ladies on their power walk. All these days I’d seen them and I didn’t even know their names. Then again, that was hardly surprising in this unfriendly town.
Then at noon the old man from the bus stop wandered in, cigarette still smoldering in his hand. He wore a beat-up old baseball cap and a T-shirt, both with words that had long since faded to illegibility. He ordered his usual coffee, then proceeded to load it up with cream and sugar. Just as he was about to head out, he stopped, as if remembering something that had almost slipped his mind, and walked back to me.
“They say things might change around here. That sort of thing don’t come easy. The wrong folks have been in power for a long time, and they don’t wanna give up. Best watch out. Full moon tonight.”
My jaw hung open. He was looking at me like he knew me, or knew all about me from somewhere. All I could think to do was say, “I’ll be careful,” but he was gone before I could even finish talking.
Hector came in a little while later, and I rushed over to tell him about the note.
“Oh my god,” he said. “Well, I hope you weren’t planning on going to the island.”
“Yeah, no way.”
Hector asked how I’d slept, and I told him about the dreams. Disturbingly, his dreams had been almost exactly the same—being dragged against his will toward the darkness of the lake. I made us both lattes, and we sipped them together until we felt calmer.
“You really don’t put sugar in this?”
“The milk should be enough, it’s a beautiful combination.”
“If you say so. It’s not bad.”
Before long, Ash reported for her shift. It had only been a day, but even so, I had missed her. She looked like she hadn’t been sleeping well since what happened that night, and I couldn’t blame her. She gave me another awkward hug as soon as she saw me.
“I’ve learned a lot,” I said to her when she asked me how I was doing. “. . . a lot I guess I’m not supposed to talk about out loud. That’s how it works, right?”
“Before everything that happened I thought it was so stupid,” said Ash. “Now I’m ready to obey every rule, at least until I can get the hell out of here.”
No one else wandered into the café that afternoon, and even when my shift was over, I stayed to sip coffee and share a cookie with Hector and Ash. For a little while, at least, I could pretend to be normal and just spending an afternoon with my good friends, even if we were all trying not to think about the horrors we’d seen in the woods. If only Keith were here, our little group would be complete.
Thinking of Keith shattered the illusion of normalcy. I thought of him, up in his big weird house with his father, and worried about what he might be going through right now. I knew it couldn’t be anything good.
A middle-aged couple came in to the café, and Ash went back to the counter to help them. As soon as she left, Hector turned to me, a nervous look on his face.
“Hey, I wanted to talk to you about last night—”
“I know,” I said, “I’ve been trying to forget it, but—”
“No,” he looked even more nervous, “I don’t mean the-the things in the forest, or the dreams. I mean, I wanted to tell you that I-I mean—”
This was new; I’d never seen him so hesitant about anything. I felt a sudden hope fluttering in me, catching me by surprise. Even the things in the forest and the terrible dreams hadn’t been enough to make me forget almost kissing Hector.
Then the café’s telephone started ringing.
In all my time here, no one had ever called the café’s land line, not even Lady Daphne. We let it ring three times, struck still by the sound and the sudden unease it created in all of us. Then Ash picked up the receiver. Hector turned back to me.
“What I wanted to say was—”
“Clara?” Ash’s voice was panicked. She held the phone like at any moment it could turn into a giant spider. “It’s for you.”
I took the receiver from Ash’s trembling hand, terrified of what I’d hear on the other end.
“Hello?”
“Yes, is this Clara Morris?”
The voice was deep and sonorous. I recognized it immediately, though I wished I didn’t.
“Yes.”
“Hello, Clara, this is Jonathan Redmarch. I hope you’re doing well?”
There was a strange sound on the other end of the line, suddenly muffled. I thought I could hear someone speaking in the background.
“I’m . . . fine? How can I help you?”
“Wonderful to hear. You know, your father dropped by this afternoon, and I was thinking, since he’s here, and so is Keith, and you’re nearby, why not just have the two of you over for dinner?”
I felt like he had dropped a lead weight into my stomach. I didn’t know what to say or do. My father was there at the Redmarch mansion—and I doubt he had just decided to drop by—and here was Mr. Redmarch making small talk.
“Um, can I talk to my father please?” I said.
There was silence on the other end of the line for a moment, then what sounded like shouting, muffled by what might have been a hand held to the receiver.
“I’m afraid he can’t come to the phone right now, but he would love to see you for dinner here tonight. Are you coming?”
There was another muffled sound on the other side of the line.
“I think you should come very soon.”
“O-okay.”
I hung up the phone, shaken. Hector and Ash were both beside me in a second, and I told them what had happened.
“We have to call the cops,” said Hector.
“They won’t look into anything at the Redmarch house,” said Ash. “They never have before.”
“I have to go,” I said. “I know it’s a bad idea, but I have to.”
They both nodded. I was glad I didn’t have to argue or explain myself.
“I’m coming with you,” said Hector. “Whatever it is, you shouldn’t have to face it alone.”
I nodded. Even now I felt a little thrill that he was willing to follow me into danger, but I was afraid at the same time. If anything happened to him, I’d never forgive myself.
“I should go too,” said Ash, but her heart wasn’t in it. I could see the fear of what almost happened to her the other night in her eyes.
“We need someone to stay here,” I said. “If you don’t hear back from us, call the cops.” Remembering Elaine Cross River’s card, I pulled it out of my pocket and handed it to her. “Call Elaine directly. She’s not like the others.”
Ash tried to hide how relieved she looked, but I couldn’t blame her for not coming along. In fact, I felt better that one of us was doing the smart thing.
“Come on,” Hector said, “we can take my parents’ car.”
We ran to his house. Luckily, he already had a copy of the car keys, so we didn’t have to make up some sort of excuse. We climbed into the Flores family minivan and drove off.
“I’m sorry for dragging you into this,” I said.
“I’m not letting you face this alone,” he said, flashing me his best imitation of a confident smile. I could see right through it to the same fear I felt beneath, but I appreciated the effort. I put a hand on his shoulder while I gave him directions to the Redmarch mansion. The sun was setting behind us as we wound our way up the rocky path around the lake.
As the mansion came into view, I saw the setting sun illuminate the broken-tooth pillar on the lake’s lone island, and I remembered Zoe’s note. I felt a deep sense of unease for whatever was coming. Hector pulled to a stop next to Keith’s Jeep.
“Wait here,” I said. “I don’t know what I’m going to find inside, and if we have to go quickly, I’ll need you to be ready to drive. I’ll text you if I need help.”
Hector looked unsure, and for a moment I thought he was going to argue, but instead he nodded.
“Clara, be careful. I don’t know what I’d do if—”
I didn’t want him to finish that sentence.
“What did you want to tell me back in the café?”
He didn’t answer. Instead he reached out, pulled me close, and gave me a kiss on the lips. It was sudden, and our mouths didn’t meet right at first, but it still sent a shiver through me, and I kissed him back harder, my body moving on its own accord. All the fear and frenzy of that moment vanished in the warmth of his lips. I didn’t want to stop, but I had to. This wasn’t the time.
Hector’s eyes said he was thinking the same thing, and he squeezed my hand once before letting me go to whatever waited inside.
The heavy oak door groaned as I pushed it inward, and the last light of day pierced a few feet into the darkness of the interior. Again I was struck by the wall of gilt-framed portraits; the dark blessing that had benefitted the Redmarch family for generations was easy to see in the beautiful but cruel features of everyone who shared their blood.
“Miss Morris? Excellent, we’re in the dining room.”
Jonathan Redmarch’s sonorous voice came from the other room.
“Clara, you shouldn’t have come here.”
That was my father. I hurried into the dining room. Mr. Redmarch sat at the head of the heavy oak table. On his left and right were Keith and my father. They each had a glass of wine, and another had been poured for me. The black shape of a pistol sat in front of Mr. Redmarch. He acted as if it wasn’t there, but it was within easy reach and its message was clear.
“I’m glad we can sit down and talk like civilized people,” said Mr. Redmarch. “There are some disagreements we need to clear up, but really, we should be celebrating. Today is midsummer’s eve, and tonight is the full moon. We could not ask for a better time. My son and your daughter are of age, and I think it’s well past time we honor the bonds of blood that tie us to this place.”
I looked first at Keith, then my father. Both wore expressions of confusion and pure, animal terror. Mr. Redmarch seemed to tower over all of us without even getting up from the table. I looked at the wall where the setting sun threw our shadows into sharp relief. Mr. Redmarch had two distinct shadows, one much larger and darker than the other.
“This isn’t happening,” said my father. “You’ll have to kill me first if you think you’re involving my daughter in your sick family.”
“Tom, you’re my oldest friend, and I have no intention of harming your daughter, unless you do anything stupid.” Those last words echoed with a cold fury I’d never heard from Mr. Redmarch before. “You’re very lucky I haven’t made you pay for leaving us years ago. You have founders’ blood, and yet you seem to relish flaunting our laws. The Clyburns forgot their place, seeking to rise beyond their station. Do not repeat their mistake. I know all about your little book, and it’s very good that you haven’t decided to show it to anyone. I’m going to trust you’ll destroy it once this is all over. You’ll see I am quite merciful—not only will I forgive your many betrayals, I will give your daughter the honor of joining our family.”
My fa
ther only stared back at him, face set with a stony defiance I’d never seen him use with me or my mother. He poured years of pain and rage into that stare, but his childhood friend only seemed to drink it in, savoring it like the wine in front of him. The sun was taking forever to set—I guess it really was midsummer’s eve. I had no idea what was coming, but those last rays of sunlight were like my last faint hopes fading away.
“I doubt your father has told you the whole truth about this place, Miss Morris,” Mr. Redmarch said.
“He told me enough. I know all about your bloodline.”
“Did he tell you about yours, as well? Your family shares deep roots in this place. Did you know?”
“My daughter knows not to listen to your lies,” my father said.
“Tell me, is it a lie that you brought her back to this town as an infant?”
“We took a trip here to see the place I grew up. My wife had never been.”
“Oh yes, I remember, even though you didn’t pay your oldest friend the courtesy of a visit. I did arrange for a bottle of wine to be waiting in your room, though. And I made sure what was in it would keep you sleeping deeply for the whole night.”
My father was dead silent, his face contorted with rage and disbelief.
“What the hell did you do?”
“Only what you should have done. What your parents did with you and mine with me, all the way back to the founding. I immersed your daughter in the lake, so that she may know her home and it may know her, so that she would always feel her roots calling to her, and so that she would be a fitting bride for my son when he came of age.”
I watched my father, hoping he would dismiss any of this, or reveal it to be the lie I desperately hoped it was, but he only looked more and more horrified. I imagined being dunked in that unearthly lake, and I was glad I had no memory of it. Outside, the sun was almost gone at the horizon.
“Dad, what does that mean?”
“Nothing, sweetheart. It’s just an old superstition. I didn’t want you raised the backward way I was, but it doesn’t mean anything.”
Mr. Redmarch turned to me. “I beg to differ. Traditions are important, and they must be honored, even when they seem strange and pointless to us now. In truth, they are almost never pointless. Wasn’t your father pulled back to this town after trying to leave? Weren’t you called here, as well? There is power in our blood, power you are scarcely aware of, and the union of two founding families will take that power to new heights. My parents already added the Clyburn blood to our own—with all the bloodlines united, my grandchildren will be the strongest generation yet.”