RAVEN'S HOLLOW

by Jenna Ryan

  “Done and done. You sure you don’t mind if I leave early?”

  “If I did, you’d feel the negative ions.”

  “Like I did the time I failed to notice that the camera shop’s ‘Shot in the Dark’ ad layout ran with an i in place of the o?”

  “Exactly like that. I’m off tomorrow, so bright and early, okay?”

  “No problem.”

  The door creaked open and closed, leaving Sadie alone with the cleaning crew and a welter of troubled thoughts.

  She knew it was her own fault that she felt unsettled. While Eli and her great-grandfather had played chess last night, she’d foolishly gone over one of the many accounts he’d collected detailing their family’s sordid history.

  She’d skipped the chapters that dealt with their persecution in Europe and zeroed in on Nola Bellam’s life in New England.

  An unwed eighteenth century mother, Nola had never named the father of her daughter. Some speculated it was Hezekiah, and that the two of them had had sex after a Halloween-style party at Blume House without Hezekiah ever knowing the name of the young woman he’d bedded. Others claimed the child was Ezekiel’s, and he’d known exactly who Nola was.

  Sadie didn’t buy either story. Her feeling was that Nola had simply fallen under the spell of a handsome stranger who’d been passing through the Hollow en route to parts unknown, and she’d wound up pregnant as a result.

  Whatever the case, Nola had come to Hezekiah with a seven-year-old child.

  Sadie had fallen asleep with the book in her hands while her great-grandfather and Eli continued their chess match. Of course the dream had snuck in and played out as usual. Until the end.

  In this new, altered version, the cloaked shape that appeared after Ezekiel’s death missed the mark with its enormous knife. There was no pain in Sadie’s chest, no cry of triumph from inside the voluminous hood, and for the first time in memory, she hadn’t woken up gasping on the bedroom floor.

  In her still-sleeping mind, astonishment had quickly given way to hope.

  She’d unpinned her cloak and, twirling it outward, trapped the figure’s knife and arm with the hem. The figure had fought to free itself. As it did, the wind swirled up, filling the huge hood with air.

  Though she’d never been able to in the past, this time she’d glimpsed a man’s face within the folds. Hezekiah’s perhaps, or Ezekiel’s. The features had been unclear, as if they’d been distorting before her eyes. Or maybe they’d been transforming. Into what or who, she couldn’t say.

  As suddenly as it had swirled up, the wind died, the hood deflated and only darkness and death remained.

  Alone in the silent woods, Sadie had heard the voice again. As the moonlight faded away, it had seemed to whisper directly into her ear.

  “You are no longer mine alone, Sadie Bellam. The monster is awake....”

  * * *

  “YOU SHOULD HAVE told me about your dream, Sadie.” Still parked in Ben Leamer’s farmyard, Eli stowed her camera bag. “Yes, I’m a cop, but I’m also a Blume. I was raised on similar stories. With Rooney, legend trumps history every time.”

  “For me, legend crowned dream. Or maybe it was the other way around.” Mission finally accomplished in terms of Ben’s corn maze, Sadie leaned against the side of Eli’s truck while he opened the passenger door. “In any case, I had a much better second dream.”

  Setting his hands on her waist, Eli boosted her onto the truck’s running board. “Any reason you didn’t mention that before now?”

  “I thought about it.” She leaned into him. “The thing is, my great-grandfather’s not as sexually liberated as yours. Having been at the wrong end of a shotgun wedding himself, he’d have no qualms about threatening you with the same fate in the not-unlikely event that our jittering vibes, in combination with my überhot dream, had gotten the better of our personal resolves and sent us stumbling out to the backseat of your truck.”

  “Your great-grandfather had a shotgun wedding?”

  Laughing, she pushed an elbow into his ribs. “That wasn’t the point, Eli.”

  “I got the point, Sadie. Hot dreams plus hot vibes create explosive situations.”

  “Then again...” Seated now, she bent forward to brush her lips over his cheek. “As a cop, you’d be accustomed to excessive heat.”

  “Then again.”

  Her eyes sparkled as she slid a finger over his jaw. “Is that your subtle way of suggesting we abandon our personal resolves and fumble around in the backseat before we head over to Joe’s bar? Because, I promise you, one swig of his green beer, and hot sex will be the last thing on your mind.”

  He kissed her fingers before closing the door between them. “Is that why Ty doesn’t drink?”

  “No, he doesn’t drink because he likes to be in control of his faculties at all times. He’s quite particular about that.”

  With a look at the darkening sky, Eli climbed into the truck. “Tell me, Sadie, how did it happen that you very nearly married a fussy old lady?”

  “He’s not...” she began, then remembered that Eli and Ty were cousins and gave his leg a gentle swat. “Ty’s a good man, and I wanted, or thought I wanted, Andy Griffith. You know—Mayberry, the fishing hole, Sunday dinners, that kind of thing.”

  “You wanted to marry Andy of Mayberry?”

  “No, I wanted the front porch swing—and you’re laughing at me.” Her next swat wasn’t quite so gentle. “I’m baring my soul here, Eli. Haven’t you ever wanted normal?”

  His lips twitched. “Okay, first of all, no TV family was ever normal. Second, you don’t strike me as a porch swing kind of woman. And third, where you’re seeing white picket fences in Mayberry, I’m seeing you waking up one morning and suddenly realizing you’re in Stepford.”

  She sent him an exasperated look. “When I said Ty liked to be in control, I didn’t mean he wanted to turn me into a robotic zombie with a perma-smile and no will of my own.”

  A shrewd brow rose. “You don’t think he’d have tried?”

  “No.” But after a quick search of her feelings, she shrugged. “Maybe. To some degree. He’s a little old-fashioned.”

  “He’s the apple that fell from the tree, Sadie. You’ve met his parents, right?”

  “Not since I’ve been back. His father’s asthmatic. They moved to Santa Fe a year after Ty graduated from college.”

  “Daddy’s choice, not Mommy’s.”

  “Asthma is a medical condition, Lieutenant, not a choice. Where are you going with this, anyway, because you and I both know Ty’s not stupid enough to believe he could have run roughshod over me, no matter how close the apple fell or where the parental tree currently lives?”

  “You said it yourself, he still loves you.”

  “I also said he’s not in love with me.”

  “It’s a small step from one to the other.”

  “It’s a huge step from love to obsession, which I realize now is what you’ve been hinting at since this conversation began. Ty’s a straight guy. He doesn’t drink, he doesn’t obsess and he would never threaten someone he cared about.”

  Eli sent her a fathomless look. “Anyone can have a monster lurking inside, sweetheart. I was part of a team that brought down a serial killer three years ago. The killer ran a family supermarket in Yonkers. He did the baking himself every morning. He had a wife and three kids, and he came to Manhattan four times a year for conventions and ball games. Every time he left, there’d be at least two less women alive and working the streets.”

  She sighed. “Look, I can understand, even appreciate your mistrust. I just can’t believe I’d have missed seeing it if Ty had a side to him as evil as the spirit that possessed your ancestor. How old was Ty when Laura died? Sixteen, right?”

  “Just.”

  “But you were fou
rteen. Funny, when I was young, I thought you and Ty and Brady were the same age.”

  “Nope. I squeaked through grade school at the usual pace. Ty and Brady had a hate-hate relationship with a couple of our teachers and took a bit longer.”

  Amusement stirred. “Would one of those teachers be Mr. Hart?”

  “Heard about him, huh?”

  “Heard about and met.” She widened meaningful eyes. “Your Mr. Hart is Orley’s father.”

  * * *

  ELI HAD TO look twice to be sure she was serious. “Orley’s father? How the hell did I miss that?”

  “Raccoon on the road,” Sadie warned. “Eyes forward, Lieutenant, and I’ll give you the easy answer. All girl babies born to Bellam females are given the Bellam surname. It’s tradition. My dad’s is a Winter, Molly’s is a Prewitt and Orley’s is a Hart. Orley claims he was nicer at home than at work, but my family’s situation being what it was, we didn’t interact a lot. Plus, I was ten years younger than her. Your situation being what it was, however, I’m surprised you were never forced to endure weekend dinners. Maybe your dad and hers didn’t get along. Does your father hunt?”

  “No.”

  “There you go, then.”

  Elbow propped, Eli ran a finger under his bottom lip. “I’m trying really hard here to picture no-Hart with a kid. Does he still live in the area?”

  “Nope. North Dakota. Could be that’s why Ty and Brady felt it was safe to take jobs here.”

  Eli geared down when the moon slipped behind a cloud and the wind booted up to kick the side of his truck. “Is it ever not blustery in this hollow?”

  “Weather’s a crapshoot once summer’s done.” She regarded the endless stretch of darkness ahead. “Molly’s in love with Ty.”

  He allowed himself a brief smile. “Yeah, got that one from Orley. Six-inch heels. Ink spill on the sidewalk.”

  “Molly uses red ink and a raven’s quill to do the place cards for her séances. She thinks it’s more authentic.”

  “It’s bizarre.”

  “Molly’s a deep person, Eli, unlike—look out!”

  He spied the glint of metal as she did and swung the truck into a wide arc. Not in time to avoid the obstruction, he realized instantly. The entire vehicle shuddered, then began to lurch. He glimpsed a five-foot boulder and heard a screech as the back end scraped across the rock face and sent them stuttering toward the edge of the ravine.

  He didn’t think, just grabbed Sadie’s hand and helped her climb over the stick shift. “With me.”

  They jumped together from the still-rolling truck. Eli made sure she landed on top of him, then lost his grip and half slid, half tumbled over mud and weeds and slime. He flew through an air pocket and finally came to rest in a patch of cattails.

  Between the wind in the trees and the thrum of blood in his ears, he needed a moment to get his mind and body back in sync. He took half of that moment and rolled onto his stomach. “Sadie?”

  “Are we dead?”

  Her voice came from the right. Working himself to his knees, Eli fought to steady his thoughts. Through the hair that dripped in his eyes, he caught a movement. When he pushed upright, however, the entire mud hole tilted. “Where are you?”

  “I never want to do that again.” The movement he’d noted became a squelch of wet weeds. “I can hear you, Eli, but all I see is mud and black.”

  On his feet now—not quite sure how he pulled it off with his muscles reduced to rubber—he made his way over to her, then lowered himself to a crouch and inspected her face. “Anything broken?”

  “Other than my skull and tailbone, no. Or—I might have twisted my knee.” She used both hands to swipe the hair from her eyes. “What in living hell did we hit back there?”

  He glanced up. “It looked like a spike strip. Blew all four tires simultaneously.”

  “Spikes. In the middle of the road. Why?”

  “Someone wanted to impede us, I imagine.”

  “Impede or impale. I thought...” She halted, swiveled her head. “Damn. Damn! We’re in the bog, aren’t we? Those spikes were only a few feet past the place where the pine tree came down. This is where we found Laura’s body!”

  Wrapping the fingers of one hand around the back of her neck, Eli stared into her eyes. “You’re not going to get hysterical on me, are you?”

  “Not sure. Maybe.”

  “Better if it could wait until we’re out of here.”

  Little shivers ran through her, but she held his gaze in the faint wash of moonlight. “Where’s your truck?”

  “Probably ass up in the bog.”

  “Okay, well, you had to figure. At least we know the way out on foot. Or we did twenty years ago.”

  “Let’s hope nothing’s changed.” He scoped the shadows that appeared to be multiplying around them. “Fog’s rolling in.”

  “That’s not possible.” She plucked leaves from her hair. “There can’t be fog when there’s...” Pausing, she raised her eyes. “Where did the wind go?”

  “Good question. Can you stand?”

  “Stand, no problem. Walk, we’ll see. Eli, wait.” She tapped a fingernail lightly to his wrist. “We’re being watched.”

  “Felt it. But watched isn’t the problem.”

  “Of course not. That would be too simple.” She was bending to examine her knee when a lethal-looking shaft whizzed over her head. “Uh...”

  “Stay down, Sadie.” Placing himself in front of her, Eli reached for his gun. “That was a crossbow arrow.”

  “Someone’s using a crossbow at night?”

  “Yeah.” Eli held his gun barrel up. “Looks like the monster wants to hunt.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Every shadow became a monster to Sadie. Fighting through her fear, she sketched a quick mental map of Raven’s Bog. Trouble was, with the exception of her recurring nightmares, she hadn’t ventured deep into these woods since she was seven. And back then, no one had been shooting arrows at her with frightening skill and accuracy.

  Eli pulled her to the ground several times as they ran. With good reason, she realized, as arrows began to embed themselves chest high in the tree trunks.

  “Avoid the direct moonlight,” he said from behind. “And don’t trip.”

  A hiss formed. Of all the things he could have said, that was the least helpful. How could she not trip on a path bulging with roots from a bunch of gnarly old trees that reminded her of the faceless mob from her nightmare?

  “Stop.” Catching her shoulders, Eli halted her so abruptly her feet almost shot out from under her. “Behind the stump.”

  Sadie landed on her sore knee but didn’t cry out. Instead, she strained to separate shadow from substance behind them.

  Ground fog slunk through the rocks, slithered out of crevices and crawled up over the marsh vines. A few leaves rustled in the high branches, but otherwise the woods had gone silent. Unless she counted the drumbeat that was her heart, hammering against her ribs. Because that sound could drown out a rock band.

  “Give me something,” Eli invited their pursuer. “Put one damn foot wrong.”

  The moon disappeared behind thin fingers of cloud. Far in the distance, a frog croaked. Then another. And a third.

  “Any chance you could shut them up?” Eli asked her.

  “Is it possible they’re communicating because the danger’s gone?”

  “Only in cartoons, Sadie. Someone who lays down a spike strip and follows up with a crossbow isn’t likely to go away. Did you see anything before the first arrow flew past?”

  She shook her head, and would have preferred not to think beyond that, except... “Military troops use crossbows to detonate land mines, right? Eli, Ty was in the military.”

  “Means nothing. Brady and I were com
petitive marksmen in high school archery.”

  “And many of the local residents are hunters, or come from hunting backgrounds.”

  Eli made a slow visual circle. “Don’t discount the spike strip that landed us here, either.”

  “Who’d own...? Ah, Cal Kilgore.”

  “Man forges metal products.” He nodded through the trees. “There. Someone moved. Looks like he’s keeping his distance and circling.”

  Sadie’s throat muscles tightened. “In that case, shouldn’t we be leaving?”

  “Ten seconds.”

  She tried not to grind her teeth. “If we head west, there’s a cave that climbs up to the road. My great-grandfather took me through it when I was six.”

  “Knee okay to stand?”

  “As I will, so mote it be.” She worked up a humorless smile. “Means I’ll take pain over death.”

  It also meant staying low and not disturbing the ground cover.

  With only the occasional moonbeam to guide them, Sadie would have missed the cave if she hadn’t spotted the haunted tree. The old oak was massive and had probably died before she’d been born. Yet it continued to stand, a home for ravens and, many believed, Hezekiah in his transformed state.

  Like a wizard casting his spells, two large branches stretched upward, leaving the smaller limbs at the top to spread and curl like claws. There was even a black oval where a face might have been.

  They had to backtrack twenty yards to locate the overgrown cave entrance.

  “I’d sacrifice a year’s pay for a flashlight,” Sadie whispered once they’d wedged themselves inside. “Even a jarful of fireflies would help.”

  “In that case, you’ll be pleased to hear I smoked until last summer.”

  “You have a lighter?”

  “Yeah. Not sure how much juice it has left, though. Feel around the ground for a dry branch, the thinner the better.”