The Edge of Strange Hollow

by Gabrielle K. Byrne

  Brynne shook her head as if shaking off sleep and glanced over either shoulder at her battle sisters.

  Then she turned back to Poppy.

  Then she pulled her sword.

  Poppy gasped and spun around, but there was nowhere to run. The bird was gone, and the Valkyries’ formation kept them blocked from the wide grassland behind them.

  She caught sight of Mack’s alarmed expression as the Valkyries stalked toward them with slow, purposeful steps, their eyes suddenly dark and gleaming against their pale skin. Brynne’s were fixed on Poppy.

  Behind them, the cliff fell away fifty feet or more to the fathomless waters. Poppy swallowed. It wasn’t so far … there was a good chance they would live. Probably.

  “We have to jump off the cliff,” Poppy muttered, trying to keep the Valkyries from seeing her lips move. Her knees shook as she backed up.

  Mack shook his head. “Hitting the water will be more like hitting stone at this height.”

  Poppy met his eyes. “I don’t think we have a choice.”

  Nula appeared at her side. She cast them a sympathetic look and changed into a swallow, zipping out into the open air. Mack stared out for a moment as if willing another solution to make itself known. Then without a word, he reached down to sling Dog over his shoulder, and turned to meet Poppy’s eyes. “Now?”

  “Now!” Poppy shouted as she grabbed his hand, and jumped.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  This time they didn’t scream. The air rushing past was like a scream itself—sharp and cold. The wind was so strong Poppy couldn’t open her eyes at all. It whistled painfully in her ears and flapped at the fabric of her hoodie, whipping her long black hair against her face. She sensed that Mack and Dog, and even Nula, were still with her, but she couldn’t see them. Fear stiffened all her muscles and made breathing impossible.

  Her feet pierced the water with a shock of pain, rushing downward through the still, salt sea. For a moment Poppy’s eyes flew open, but she only saw the dark shapes of Mack and Dog hanging in the water, before her eyes were burning with salt. She tried to move in their direction as she rose to the surface, arms outstretched to grab them if she could.

  Mack broke the surface, sputtering, as Poppy took her first gasp of air. Nula—at least she assumed it was Nula, had become a dolphin, and held Dog to the surface, swimming in graceful circles around them.

  Poppy’s feet stung, and her legs ached from hitting the water. She took deep, choking breaths as she turned, looking for any hint of shoreline. In the distance, she could see the Holly Oak island. Behind them, and all around, were cliffs. No shoreline in sight. The river and shallows were on the other side of the Alcyon.

  “We’ve got to get to the island.”

  Mack grimaced, and Poppy moved toward him. “Are you okay?”

  “I—my shoulder.” He was holding it as he bobbed awkwardly.

  She couldn’t see much through his hand, but the strange angle told her he’d knocked it out of the socket. “Can you put it back?”

  Mack blanched, but gave a stiff nod. “I think so. Put a hand against my back and when I hit it, push.” He took a breath and hit himself hard, knocking the shoulder back with a grunt. He closed his eyes, floating on his back for a moment. When he opened them, his eyes narrowed. “Look,” he said.

  Poppy followed his gaze up the cliffside. At the top, the Valkyries peered down over the edge, their armor sparking in the afternoon sun.

  “I hope they don’t stay angry,” Poppy sputtered.

  “But you caught their song.” Mack smiled at her.

  “Yes.” Poppy grinned back. “I did.”

  They swam for the island, Mack moving slow to favor his shoulder. The quiet between them grew heavy. Poppy knew she needed to talk to him—say something about what she’d done, and she didn’t think she could wait any longer to do it.

  “Mack?” Poppy kept her eyes pinned to the Holly Oak island.

  “What?” he puffed.

  “I’m really sorry.”

  A long pause.

  Poppy risked a quick look. His expression was hard—his copper eyes fixed on her. She looked away again, her cheeks heating. She took a deep breath. “I’m sorry for what I did. Breaking my promise … it was reckless.”

  “Yeah, it was.”

  Poppy swallowed her pride. “You’re my best friend,” her voice hitched. “I should have trusted your advice and been more careful—more thoughtful. Also, I made you a promise, and that meant something, and I didn’t keep it. And I should have … I should have at least talked to you about it.”

  He was quiet, swimming next to her, but she risked another look. His expression had softened. “I’m sorry too,” he said. “Finding your parents is the most important thing right now. You needed me, and … I was really harsh. I’m sorry.”

  “You were just trying to keep me safe.” Poppy forced herself to stop swimming and look Mack fully in the face. His eyes widened, and he stopped swimming, treading water as she wiped her eyes. “It’s just splashes,” she said. “I’m not crying.”

  He looked away.

  “Mack?”

  He looked back.

  “Thank you for caring. I’ll do better, okay? I’ll really try. Please don’t give up on being my friend.”

  Their eyes locked for a heartbeat … then two. Mack gave her his best smile. “I won’t, Poppy. I promise.” Then he lifted his good arm and sent a splash of water right at her face. Poppy ducked, laughing, and swam toward shore again.

  The sun was scorching, drying the salt on their skin until it stung. Poppy’s eyes burned. While she and Mack struggled along, Dog seemed to be enjoying Nula’s bursts of assistance. They’d made a game of it, with Dog paddling along, then falling behind, waiting until the dolphin came up beneath them to shove them forward with a few flips of her tail. Two’s tongue lolled, and Eta and Brutus looked like they were smiling. After the third time, they even wagged their tail, slapping the water as Nula approached.

  Poppy almost laughed, but she needed all her breath. Her whole body hurt, and next to her, Mack’s face had grown grim. He was hurting too.

  “Hey, Mackintosh.”

  He turned his head, his copper eyes dark.

  “I forbid you to drown.”

  His eyebrows rose and he choked on a laugh.

  “If we’re going to die in the Grimwood, it’s going to be much more exciting than sinking—I can promise you that.”

  He snorted. “Only you, Poppy Sunshine, would forbid us to die boring.”

  Poppy tried to laugh, but had to pinch her mouth shut to keep the water out. “Someone has to do it,” she retorted, and focused on the island. It was getting closer, and there was someone on the shore. “Who is that?”

  Mack had spotted them too. “Is that—”

  “It’s Jute!”

  At that moment, Nula’s tail slapped the water, splashing their faces. “Hey!” Poppy cried. But Nula’s only response was to shoot around and give her back a painful shove. Poppy spun to yell at her, then froze.

  Far off in the dark water behind them, a long black muzzle lifted silently. It was followed by black eyes and a floating black mane that she could almost sense more than see. There was a flash of red where the horse’s nostrils flared.

  Poppy’s heart flew into her throat. “M—Mack?”

  She heard his intake of breath.

  Another head rose next to the first, this one the deep green of thick water. Only the smallest ripples showed in the water as others rose to join them.

  Nula was already rushing Dog forward through the water when one word left Mack’s lips. “Swim,” he said.

  “What are those?”

  “Kelpies,” he said, and the tremor in his voice scared her more than anything. “Swim, Poppy. Swim as fast and as quiet as you can. Maybe they haven’t seen us.”

  But Poppy knew as well as Mack did that the kelpies knew they were there.

  Poppy had read about kelpies in her parents’ jou
rnals, but their notes hadn’t said anything about them being in the Alcyon—only in ponds and lakes.

  She supposed her parents had never fallen into the Grimwood’s fathomless sea. Maybe no one else had either.

  Or maybe they just hadn’t lived to tell about it.

  Water horses, the kelpies were sometimes called. They gained legs for the land only on the summer and winter solstices … long enough to lure something to them. Their beauty was so magnetic that sometimes their victims would even climb up on their backs.

  But once you were in its power, a kelpie would race into the water and drown you. Then eat you. Not necessarily in that order.

  For once in her life, Poppy didn’t want to know any more than that.

  They swam.

  There didn’t seem to be enough air.

  I didn’t mean it, she thought. I didn’t mean it, about dying an exciting death. I want to die a boring death—a quiet, boring death … a long time from now.

  She wondered if it was the last time she would ever see Jute. The tall hob paced the shore, his long arms laced over his head. He could see the kelpies too.

  Tears swam in her eyes, mingling with the salt sea.

  Then Jute did something she’d never seen before. He stretched out his arms toward her, as if he could catch her hands and pull her to him, even from so far away. At first it only made her heart ache, but as she watched, his arms began to grow. They twisted and stretched, moving toward them.

  Nula reached the shore ahead of Poppy and Mack, and transformed back into herself, with Dog on her heels.

  “Swim, Mack! Swim!” Poppy screamed.

  “My shoulder—” Mack grunted. He was slowing down … falling behind.

  Still Jute’s arms stretched.

  The ripples in the water grew closer.

  “Go,” Mack choked, but Poppy grabbed his hand, tugging him forward. “No way. I won’t leave you!”

  They were barely moving.

  Something brushed against her leg.

  Impossible though it seemed, Jute’s arms had reached them. One vine-like arm wrapped around her wrist as the other hooked itself around Mack. The hob tugged hard, and Mack cried out as they shot forward, skimming the water like flying fish.

  Behind them she felt the water pulling at her feet, like a wake building, and she heard splashes.

  She looked back.

  The kelpies churned the water, utterly silent, their heads and necks high. Their sharp teeth gnashed, eyes rolling with fury or hunger, the herd rolling toward them like a wave.

  Poppy screamed.

  Jute yanked.

  She landed on the pebbled shore next to Mack, her face pressed into Jute’s long toes.

  The rushing sound continued. A few yards from the shore, the water horses pawed the water with their forelegs, their strange undulating bodies moving them forward and back again, so that they seemed to hover there.

  “The Holly Oak is sacred ground,” Mack spoke into the stones pressed to his cheek. Nula paced the beach behind them, muttering to herself as Dog trotted at her heels.

  Jute studied the pooka but said nothing as he pulled Poppy to her feet. She turned her face into his scratchy wool sweater, and he wrapped his arms around her. His arms had returned to normal, but his knuckles and fingertips were still twiggy.

  “I didn’t know you could do that,” Poppy said, stilling at the sound of his two hearts beating their syncopated rhythm.

  “Neither did I,” he said, pulling her closer. “I guess we’ve discovered another of my special hob powers.”

  “Nice of them to show up when you need them.” Poppy gave a hysterical laugh as Jute kissed the top of her head.

  “Poppy Sunshine. Little bug. You’re safe,” Jute murmered. “I have you.”

  She squeezed harder. “I’m sorry for tricking you, Jute.”

  “Shh, shh, shh. Never mind.”

  “I didn’t think it would be so hard,” she confided.

  “I know.”

  “It’s not like I expected—not at all.”

  Jute held her tight, the rumble of his voice tickling her ear. “Expectations are often just a trick we play on ourselves,” he said, patting her back. “The truth is always something more than we expect—and always something less as well. Contentment comes when we learn to be grateful for the good things in front of us.”

  Poppy turned her face farther into him, breathing in the smell of wool, and warmth, and the sharp green scent that was her uncle. “What if I can’t be content?” she asked with a quaver in her voice.

  He chuckled and wrapped the long fingers of one hand around her chin, lifting her face until she was looking into his speckled eyes. “Contentment isn’t something we are,” Jute explained. “It’s only a place we visit for a while. But it grows familiar over time, like a crooked little house on a map of strange lands—where there’s always a light in the window.” He sighed, letting go of her face. “When I first felt contentment, it came from a sense of belonging—from feeling kinship with myself and those I love.” He paused. “It came slowly, as I discovered who I was, and what made my heart sing. And after a time, it got easier to find my way back.”

  Poppy wrapped her arms around Jute’s middle and squeezed until he woofed. “You’re young,” he insisted. “Still seeking … but one day contentment will be as familiar as an old friend.”

  Jute let go of Poppy and reached over to ruffle Mack’s hair. He seemed to size up Nula for the first time. “A new friend, Poppy?”

  “That’s Nula. Nula, this is my uncle Jute.”

  Jute dipped his head. “A pooka, if I’m not mistaken?”

  To her credit, Nula didn’t question the family relation. Instead, she blushed blue and gave him a quiet smile. “Fionnula, really. Nula is just a nickname.”

  Jute smiled gently. “You’re a good swimmer—and I see you’ve taken a shine to Dog.”

  Nula dipped her head. “Everyone likes Dog. And it’s nice to meet you.”

  A twig snapped behind her, and Poppy spun to look behind her. Something moved behind an outcrop of rocks. She hesitated, then left Jute and the others talking, and moved closer.

  She’d only taken a few steps when an old woman leaned out from behind a boulder. A bright kerchief held down wisps of white hair, and her eyes glittered. She beckoned for Poppy to come closer.

  Poppy glanced back at Jute. He was explaining something to Mack and Nula—probably something wise … and heavy. She turned back.

  “Come,” the old woman mouthed eagerly. “Come.”

  Poppy went.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  The old woman’s stomach growled.

  Poppy moved to the other side of the rocks where Jute and the others couldn’t see. She fumbled in her bag, and found one last apple. When she held it out, the woman patted her arm with her wrinkled hand and gave Poppy a sad look. “Such nice manners. Slice it up for me, dear?”

  Poppy pulled her little knife from her boot. She cut the apple into slices and held one out. “Are you … are you a witch?”

  The woman hesitated, then snatched a piece of apple. “Hasn’t anyone told you not to talk to strangers in the wood, child—especially not old women?”

  Poppy pulled back. “We have talked about that, actually. But this is the Holly Oak island. It’s sacred ground … right?”

  The woman gave her a wide smile. She was missing teeth, but the ones she had were sharp and yellow. She winked. “Good thing for you.”

  “So you are a witch! A bad one!” Poppy couldn’t help the tiny thrill that ran down her back.

  The old woman bit the slice of apple, chewing slowly. “Well, I’m no faery godmother,” she laughed, bits of spit and apple flying. Her face grew serious. “But never mind about me. Let’s talk about you. You’re the human girl … the one wandering around the wood like it’s a playground.”

  Poppy’s jaw dropped. “I’m not wandering around—I’m trying to find my parents, and before that—”

  �
��Listen. You’re here … and a good thing too. The Grimwood folk need you.” Her fingers wrapped around Poppy’s wrist like iron bands. “That’s the marrow of it, girl. That’s the marrow.”

  “Need my help how?” Poppy tried to pull free, but the woman’s grip only tightened.

  “I’m not here to eat you, child. We need you to remember the promise.”

  “What promise?”

  Her eyes flashed. “The promise of Prudence Barebone,” she snarled.

  Poppy startled. “Who?”

  The woman frowned. “Prudence. Barebone.”

  “Who’s that?”

  “Who? Who? So sad. Like a little owl.” Her wrinkles deepened. “You should know her name. Some say she is the mother of all this.” She waved her free hand to take in the trees and the shore and the fathomless sea.

  “Why do they call her that? Who—I mean, what did she do?”

  “When I was a girl, every child knew this story.” She huffed a breath. “Prudence Barebone made the promise—the very first, between the people and the Grimwood.”

  “Tell me,” Poppy breathed.

  The woman took another bite of apple and chuckled. “The Holly Oak was just a sapling looking for a place to root for good, or so I was told. The people kept burning back the wood. They didn’t want her, or her dark forest of monsters and magic. Too dangerous. Too strange.” She chuckled again. “They soon learned the Oak doesn’t take kindly to fire.”

  Poppy felt her eyes widen. “The thorn groves … the old ones in the deep! That’s when they grew!”

  The woman snorted, but Poppy hurried on. “What about Prudence—did she want the Grimwood?”

  “Well, she’s dirt dead and long gone. Can’t ask her.” The woman let go of Poppy’s arm. Poppy rubbed at the bruises forming from the witch’s grip.

  “But since I’m an old woman,” she continued, “I can say what I think, and I’m not afraid to give you my opinion of young Prudence. She was pragmatic—a young lady not too much older than you, I’d guess. She was greedy too. That seems clear enough. There was only Strange Hollow then—none of the other Hollows, mind you. The people tried to burn the wood, and the Oak fought back—sent all its creatures into the Hollow. It wasn’t pretty. There was a great battle … and it went badly for everyone.