by Betty Bolte
Folding up the paper wrapper, Tara tucked it into her jacket pocket and then zipped the pocket closed. “Let me have some water to wash that down, and I’ll be ready to go.”
He handed her the bottle and scanned their surroundings as she swallowed. “It’s beautiful here, but I’m longing for home right about now.”
She capped the bottle and gave it back to him. “I feel ready to continue now that I have some food in me.”
“After you.” He motioned for her to take point and he brought up the rear as they started walking again.
The trail wiggled and wound down the side of the valley into the bottomland near a murmuring stream. Then wended its way into a clearing where a small stone house with a matching chimney issued forth a thin but steady stream of smoke into the blue sky above.
If it wasn’t enough to find a residence within the ravines and hollows of what he believed to be a state park, the decorations on the exterior walls hit him in the gut. Arrowheads sparkled among the muted tans and beiges of the surrounding stone. Quartz? He’d have to move closer to identify the type of stone used, but it glinted and reflected the light much like some variety of silica-based stone. But why would such a useful and valuable tool grace the wall of a small house in the woods? As nothing more than decoration.
“It’s odd that they’d use arrowheads in such a fashion.” Grant pointed toward the glinting objects, then flung his hands wide, palms up. “They are probably very old, perhaps brought by Indians hundreds of years ago to trade for beads and blankets.”
“They’re pretty, so I can understand having them there.” Tara stopped at the edge of the clearing to scan the vicinity. “Why not use them in such a fine fashion?”
Grant halted beside her, angling his gaze to contemplate her with wide eyes. “They’re too valuable to hang on a wall.”
“Nonetheless, there they are. It’s not up to us to judge the occupant’s choices. Come on. Let’s see if anyone is home.” Tara stepped into the deep grass of the clearing and strode purposefully toward the house. “Hopefully, they’ll have a phone.”
“Or a working compass, or perhaps even be able to tell us how to get back to the car.”
“Surely whoever lives or works here can help us.”
Grant perused the house and its surroundings, then allowed a frown to settle on his forehead as he followed close behind her. No indication of any utility connections, no satellite dish. No vehicle or even a driveway. Nothing. What were they walking into?
Chapter 14
The wispy column of smoke on such a mild day seemed to indicate somebody was cooking. Otherwise, the interior of the small house would be hot and uncomfortable. Tara scanned the house as she ambled beside Grant toward the shadowy front porch. Her heart still raced at the near miss the bite had caused. She’d begun the healing process before Grant had asked to give her first aid. Fear of his finding out about her gift replaced the shock of the bite. Thankfully, he hadn’t pressed her any harder, or she would have been forced to reveal her true nature. An event she’d delay as long as possible. Maybe even never tell him. Even if she did follow her heart’s desire to be with him instead of letting Beth have all the fun.
As they neared the abode, the shadows lightened, so a single chair on the porch came into view. The dark brown door stood closed between two curtained windows. The air shimmered around the house as a flock of black birds swooped into the trees edging the clearing. The wedge-shaped tails confirmed which species of black bird.
“I don’t think we should go any closer.” Tara stopped, laying a restraining hand on Grant’s arm as she peered more closely at their avian companions flying to and fro, or perched on a limb, staring at them. The iridescent plumage, rough throat feathers, and large, sharp beaks clearly identified the birds as ravens. Dozens of them. Intently scrutinizing her and Grant as if they considered the people intruders in their territory. A shudder worked down her spine. She didn’t normally believe in superstition and legend, but when it came to ravens, she made an exception.
He glanced at her and then studied the house. “Why not?”
“I’ve got a funny feeling all is not as it seems.” She’d bet good money magic played a role in the hollow, but Grant wouldn’t want to hear what she suspected. He sent off waves of doubt whenever anyone mentioned things mystical let alone magical. Indeed, he’d blatantly denied the existence of magic. So Tara would keep mum until she had confirmation. Even then, convincing Grant of her findings would prove another challenge. But if she had to, then she was prepared to set him straight on several mistaken ideas he held onto.
“Why did all those birds show up?” He waved a hand toward the uneasy flock, calling to each other as they flew back and forth. “Are they starlings or what?”
“They’re ravens.” She followed the birds’ agitated movements for several moments. “I’ve never seen so many in one place before.”
“They’re noisy, that’s for sure.”
She folded her arms beneath her chest and slowly shook her head. “It’s odd to have such a large flock, or rather an unkindness, of ravens. They normally pair off after they reach maturity.”
Grant suddenly focused on her instead of the ravens, his brows raised as he let out a low whistle. “You know a lot about birds. How come?”
She grabbed the straps of her backpack. “I’ve always loved birds, especially owls and hawks. You know, birds of prey.”
“So why do you know so much about ravens? Aren’t they scavengers, not hunters?”
“Yes and no. I studied them for a report I wrote for a high school English class on Poe’s ‘The Raven.’ I wanted to know more about the bird’s characteristics so I could discuss how it was represented in the poem.”
Then she’d become somewhat obsessed with learning all she could about them. Much like the narrator’s obsession in the poem that drove him mad. She’d learned about the myths and legends surrounding ravens, how people associated them with death and the macabre for centuries. Poe had even said that they symbolized mourning as well as never-ending remembrance, which seemed like it would be another form of obsession. The paper she’d turned in received high marks, but she came away from the exercise wanting nothing more than to not be in their presence. To have so many of them clustered in the pretty little valley unsettled her composure even more than the unknown magic shimmering in the air.
Grant tilted his head to one side and rubbed his chin with one hand. “I’m impressed. My papers weren’t that specific, much to my teacher’s dismay. I’m fascinated by rocks and sediment, that sort of thing. Finding correlations between igneous rock and anything literary is quite a daunting prospect, believe me.”
“And to answer your other question, ravens eat a wide variety of foods. They eat carrion and small animals as well as eggs and berries. Most anything really. Even garbage.”
Grant swiveled his head to watch the flock’s movements. After studying them for a while, he aimed his gaze at her. “They seem to be observing us. Doing their own empirical research. It’s rather unnerving.”
“I know. That’s freaking me out.” She shaded her eyes with a hand, watching the erratic flight of the large birds. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“We can’t stand here all day doing nothing.” Grant drew in a breath and let it out on a long sigh. Then straightened his shoulders with a decisive movement. “I guess I should go knock on the door?”
The very idea sent chills down her spine. She inspected the stones, searching out sigils and signs within their surface. Or perhaps a pattern each stone contributed to the wall of the house. Anything to explain the magical shimmering enveloping the structure. She longed to have the nerve to confide in the man at her side. To work with him to solve the puzzle they’d fallen into. She did not want to enter the building without a better understanding of what they had stumbled upon.
But they had no other choice. Grant was right: they couldn’t stand there all day. The sunlight faded with each passing mome
nt. Would they make it to the car before dark? Or be stranded out in the woods along with the wild animals? A shiver wriggled through her. She steeled herself for what they’d discover behind the door.
She nodded and Grant strode to the porch. As he reached the bottom of the three steps, the door eased open. A bent, gray-haired woman limped through the opening, leaning on a cane. Tara peered at the woman, finally seeing what she’d searched for when she spotted the symbols carved onto the door frame and threshold. Magic did indeed exist in this clearing. In the house, more specifically. Powerful and yet subtle enough to make detection difficult. She put up a guard on her mind and heart and kept her eyes open as the frail woman moved into the diminishing patch of daylight at the edge of the porch.
She appeared to be in her eighties. Maybe older. Wrinkles and moles supported each other across her face. Ice blue eyes peered at Tara, thin gray brows arched above. The intelligence streaming through the woman’s eyes gave Tara pause. All definitely was not as it appeared. She needed to proceed with caution.
“Welcome to Raven Hollow.” The crone smiled, revealing yellowed and twisted teeth. “I’m Lenore. Who might you be?”
Tara started at the name. Weird. She’d heard that name before, but where? No picture of a friend floated into her mind. It tantalized her memory. Something mystical in its own right perhaps, or dangerous. Another reason for care.
Grant returned his foot to the grass at the base of the steps as he laid a hand on his chest. “I’m Grant, and this is Tara.”
Tara stepped forward when he spoke her name, a smile automatically springing to her lips. “Raven Hollow? Is that where we are?”
Lenore nodded and indicated the open door behind her with a jab of her cane. “Won’t you come in?”
Gracious, the shadowy interior didn’t invite. But she’d not turn tail on a little old woman and run like some frightened child. The very idea sparked determination in Tara’s soul. Even if the shadows weren’t stretching across the clearing, longer and longer as the sun moved closer to its bed for the night. Without a working flashlight, they’d never find their way after dark enveloped the mountains. The only real choice remained acceptance of the woman’s invitation.
Grant glanced at Tara as she moved closer to him. “Actually, we need your help if you don’t mind.”
“We’ve gotten turned around and don’t know how to find our way back to the trailhead we started from. Do you have a phone we could borrow?” Tara waited for the woman to finish combing fingers through her wiry gray hair. Wondered at the flick of those intense eyes up to where the ravens croaked to one another. The short bursts of harsh tremolo distinct and otherworldly, shooting another shiver of unease down Tara’s spine.
“I have no…phone to lend.” The crone blinked at her several times and then grinned. “But I’ve a lovely pot of soup on the fire to share.”
Why had she hesitated? The woman may be up to mischief. Tara could detect the presence but not the origin of the spell cast upon the house and hollow. She’d keep her eyes open. “We’d rather try to find our way back. It’s getting late.”
“Are we still in the state forest?” Grant glanced up to the croaking ravens before addressing the woman. “How come you live here in the middle of nowhere?”
“I don’t think this is a…state forest.” A glint of some undefinable emotion flickered through the crone’s eyes. “I’ve lived here for a very long time. It’s my home.”
“Do you live alone?” Tara saw no evidence of other people living in the hollow, but she needed the reassurance that they wouldn’t be surprised. Especially by someone lurking inside the house. “You must get lonely.”
“I have the animals of the forest to keep me company.” Lenore exposed her crooked teeth in a flash of a smile. “They’re quite friendly.”
A commotion among the birds drew Tara’s attention to the trees and the sky. The ravens shifted their positions constantly while the people below chatted. Almost as if they understood the disquiet in Tara’s chest. Lost in unfamiliar territory with night swooping down on them with every passing second. They had to be miles from the trailhead. They’d hiked for hours. Their meager supplies wouldn’t last through another day unless they gathered food from the forest. But in November there wasn’t much growing, and she didn’t know which plants to choose anyway. What if she picked something that ended up being poisonous? Quite a pickle.
Tara settled her gaze on Lenore, her chin angled a little to the right. “How did you come to live here? How do you survive?”
“Don’t you worry, missy. I make do.” The crone cackled and thumped her cane on the wooden floor of the porch. “With the help of my friends.”
Tara raised one brow at the evasive answer, suppressing the urge to question her further, to unearth the woman’s history and truth of her presence in such an outlandish place. Even as she recognized the urgency of finding their way out of the forest, she simply couldn’t walk away and leave Lenore behind. How could she abandon the crone to fend for herself so far from civilization? She must be senile to believe she could continue to survive on her own. No, the strange old woman must have guided them to her home for a reason. Or someone had. The crone had no detectable magic of her own. The mystery of Raven Hollow deepened with each fleeting moment.
The air around the house glittered with pulsing magic, tingling her skin at the proximity to what she could only surmise was the source of the supernatural essence she sensed. She peered more closely at the symbols flanking the door. Deciphering them required more knowledge than she possessed. Something about aid, a test, and forever among other curious designs. Obviously, if she couldn’t figure out what they meant, she couldn’t discern a means of breaking the spell, allowing them to return home. Which raised the other reason she’d stay. To discover exactly who and what had led them to Raven Hollow and why. She’d bet her last dollar they had not chanced upon the place but had been drawn to it for some yet obscure purpose. Lenore may be old and ugly, but she hid a dark secret. Of that, Tara was certain.
Chapter 15
The air cooled as the shadows lengthened on the valley floor. Grant zipped his jacket against the chill. The crone confounded him. What on earth was she doing living alone in the middle of the woods? Whether in the state forest or not, her situation remained untenable. Questions bombarded his brain as to how and why she had ended up in what to him was a worse predicament than what he and Tara faced. With night nearly upon them, he needed to decide their next move. Finding their way to his car was priority one, but how? The flashlight batteries had about given out already. He glanced at the sky, but no moon hovered above. The night would be pitch black.
Still, he should at least try. Tara’s disquiet rippled over him like waves in an agitated pond. He’d find a way to see in the dark later. Maybe the woman had batteries. Then again, given her situation? Ha. Probably not. He must return Tara to the safety of her home. Somehow.
“Lenore, can you point us in the right direction to return to the main trail?” He shoved his hands into his coat pockets, fingering the practically worthless flashlight with disgust. So much for his planning skills.
“I never leave the Hollow.” Lenore rested both hands on the top of her cane. “You don’t want to go now anyway. The sun has set.”
Grant looked up at the darkening sky above with a swallowed gasp. The sun sure set quickly in the mountains. Good to note for the next time he planned a harebrained hike in the woods to relax.
He cast a quick glance at Tara’s thoughtful expression and then regarded Lenore. “Well, if your offer still stands, we’d be much obliged if you could let us stay with you for the night.”
Tara stiffened beside him, mute and rigid. She seemed determined to remain calm despite whatever bothered her. What it might be he couldn’t imagine. The old woman was no threat, all hunched and hobbling. Nobody else apparently lived there with her given the lone chair on the porch. He’d stay alert to the possibility of someone hiding, just to be on t
he safe side. If Tara needed reassurance, then he could give her that much. He held a hand out to her, and she glanced at it before placing her own in his. She flashed him a grateful grin and then turned back to their hostess.
“Of course, of course. I so rarely have visitors it will be my pleasure.” Lenore slowly spun and limped toward the open door. “We’ll have some soup and bread and get to know one another.”
Grant led Tara up the steps and across the aged wood floor, its patina seeming to glitter as the sunlight faded away into dusk. He closed the door behind them and helped Tara remove her pack. The holes in her jacket reminded him of her ordeal earlier in the day, and he again marveled at her good fortune to not have been seriously injured by the snake. Handing her the knapsack, he perused the interior of the cabin as he removed his own.
Two doors suggested other rooms at the back of the house. The large room he stood in included areas set aside for a grouping of comfortable looking chairs, and the kitchen with its fireplace, a table and three chairs nearby. Surprise swept through him when he spotted the fine linen cloth on the table set for three in matching china and silver. A silver bowl of nuts sat in the center of the square surface between two candles. He glanced at Tara’s open-mouthed expression and then continued his perusal of the abode. She’d warned him things might not be as they seem, but he’d not expected anything like what he witnessed.
Intricate needlework pictures hung around the room. Lenore had to do something with her time, he supposed. Two or three multicolored braided rugs lay in front of the overstuffed chairs, reminding him of his grandmother’s home. A large buffet stood against one wall; one drawer pulled halfway open sporting a skein of yarn hanging over the front. Copper-bottomed pots hung around the fireplace and reflected the firelight.