“They’re perfect!” Poppy couldn’t remember when she’d seen Mack looking so happy.
“You’ll have to keep your eyes down. You know that.”
He nodded. “Yeah. I’ll try.”
“And tuck your hands into your sleeves. They don’t look old.”
He followed her instructions as Poppy jammed more food into her backpack—including some of Jute’s elderberry jam that she found at the very back of the pantry. Then they filled their canteens at the pump over the sink and checked the supply cupboard for anything else useful. The only thing in there was a dusty cartridge of nets. She took it, but for all she knew the nets were full of holes.
“Ready?” she asked, wishing again that Dog was by her side—or even that Jute was there to argue with.
“As I’m going to get,” Mack proclaimed with a smile that could have lit a room.
“What are you so smiley about?”
His grin widened. “I can’t believe I finally get to see Strange Hollow.”
Poppy laughed. “Hope you’re not disappointed.” Her expression grew serious. “We’re going to head straight down into the market. I’ll keep watch for the governor, but we head for Beth at the far edge of the square.”
“I’ll follow you.” Mack grinned.
They dragged an old dead branch out from under one of the little apple trees at the side of the house, and broke it into a reasonable walking stick for Mack.
“With Jute’s galoshes on, I’m going to need it for real by the time we get down the hill,” he griped.
“You’ll be fine.” Poppy patted his back. “Just keep your head down, and don’t say anything. You’ll just be my little granny, visiting from…”
“Trader’s Hollow.”
“Yeah, from Trader’s Hollow, way on the other side of the Grimwood.”
The rainstorm had passed and they walked in companionable silence, each drawn into their own thoughts. Bees buzzed carefully through the wet wildflowers as they walked. The sky still harbored a few clouds, but the blue was bright and gaining strength. Even the standing stones gleamed in the storm light.
It was a beautiful day—a beautiful afternoon for a rescue.
“Mack?”
“Hmmm?”
“You don’t think anyone would hurt them—my parents, do you?”
His brows furrowed. “I don’t know, Pop. I think it depends on who did the catching. People make bad choices when they’re scared.”
She swallowed. “Yeah.”
Poppy listened to the swish of the tall grass and the warm beat of their feet on the soil, and tried not to think about what that might mean. They were almost at the edge of town when she turned to Mack. “Time to get into your character,” she teased.
He snorted and pulled the blanket tighter over his head, stooping lower. His steps slowed.
Poppy watched him walk down the hill. The overall effect wasn’t bad. He didn’t exactly look like the average granny … but if you didn’t look too closely, he could pass. She had never seen Mack wear shoes, and etched the image in her mind to think about later, but decided to keep her mouth shut. There was nothing to be gained from pointing out that he was walking like a duck with a backache. She just hoped it would be good enough.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Strange Hollow was quiet. All the doors were shut. The whole town felt abandoned, as though the breeze had picked up all the people and blown them away.
There were even more ward carvings than the last time she was in town. Several tall ones had been lifted onto roofs to look out over the town. And there were signs posted that announced a dusk curfew. No one was to be out after dark.
“Whoa,” Mack said, his eyes wide. “Is it always like this … empty? Is this … a human thing?”
The hair along Poppy’s neck slowly rose. “No,” she admitted with a shiver. “It isn’t.”
“Listen,” Mack hissed and leaned forward on his staff. Voices—no—a voice, drifted over the houses and through the alleys from the market square.
They quickened their steps and turned the corner.
To find the whole town.
The crowd was packed into the square, shoulder to shoulder, listening.
Governor Gale stood on a makeshift platform made of crates, flanked by a handful of men that Poppy didn’t recognize.
“The Hollows are the future! The fog will shelter us from the outside, but for too long we have shared this air and the sacred waters of the Veena with monsters!”
A roar went up.
Poppy and Mack edged their way around the outside of the crowd. Mr. Talon, the innkeeper, was standing in the door of the inn. His eyes narrowed at them as they passed. “Keep moving,” he said under his breath. “We don’t need your kind here.”
Poppy’s heart skipped a beat. Was he talking to Mack?
“My kind?” Mack repeated, raising his voice and adding a quaver. “What do you mean? I’m just an old woman.”
“We don’t need spies for the wood.” His gaze sharpened on Poppy.
“Heavens.” Mack spun to look over first one shoulder, then the other. “Spies! Where?”
Poppy elbowed him. “We’re not spies, Mr. Talon. We’re just—”
“I know about your parents, little miss—going in and out the Grimwood like it’s nothing.” He looked down his nose at her.
“Have you seen them recently? My parents, I mean.”
“Maybe the wood finally took them. Claimed them as its own.”
Poppy stood a little taller. “They’re not in the wood, Mr. Talon.”
“And how would a little girl like you know a thing like that?”
“I just know, that’s all. Now have you seen them, or haven’t you?”
“What business would they have out here, among good folk?”
Poppy swallowed. “They are good folks! They keep you safe. They—”
He snorted. “Some imagination. Next you’ll be telling me the maledictions are harmless. Or perhaps you have some magic beans you’d like to sell me?”
“But Prudence Barebone—”
He folded his arms across his chest. “Wherever your parents are … if they’re smart, they’ll stay gone. And if you’re smart.” He leaned forward into her face, so she had to take a step back or be nose to nose with him. “If you’re smart … you and your … granny will keep moving till you’re out the other side.”
Mack hunched over harder and grabbed Poppy’s arm. “Come along, dear. Come along. Let’s not provoke the nice man.”
“Yeah,” Mr. Talon snorted. “Don’t provoke me.”
Mack dragged her away, while Poppy shot one last venomous look at Mr. Talon. They moved around the edges of the crowd toward the front row, where the governor stood above the gathered crowd. The tall stone clock tower loomed above him. Its enormous pendulum cast a shadow that moved like a blade across the crowd with each swing, like they were all running out of time—speeding toward something that could be sensed, but never truly measured.
Mack stopped walking. “Hey, Poppy, I don’t feel so good,” he said with a groan.
“Why? What’s the matter?” Poppy looked around, checking that no one was watching. Mack lifted his copper eyes to meet hers.
“I don’t know. I feel … kinda sick … and, I don’t know—funny. Maybe it’s because I’m wearing shoes. My … my whole body keeps cramping up.”
“It’s … it’s probably just nerves, Mack,” Poppy said, trying to shift her concentration away from her parents. Her heart pounded just thinking of them. Were they here somewhere? Could they see her? Would they hear her if she shouted their names?
Mack grabbed her hand and held tight.
She gave it a sympathetic squeeze. “We just have to stick it out a little longer—till we get something—a clue, about where my parents are. You’ll be all right … you’ve just never been around so many people, that’s all.”
“I … I don’t think so, Pop.”
“This is our worl
d!” Governor Gale yelled into the air, distracting her. He was practically frothing at the mouth, shaking his fists in front of him—first one, and then the other. An angry red vein throbbed in his forehead. “Yet we’re prisoners in it!”
Poppy’s skin went clammy. “We’ll go soon,” she assured Mack. “There’s no way we’ll get the governor alone in this crowd anyway. I just want to hear what he’s saying.”
Next to her, Mack grunted and gave her a nod.
“Our security is an illusion! People can live in peace—but for how long? How long before the wood starts taking more people? How long until sneak attacks turn into full-fledged battles? I say, we beat them to it! I say, we start this war on our own terms! Cleanse the forest! Purify it! Master the wood, and rid ourselves of all the monsters once and for all. The time has come—and if that means a battle must be fought, so be it!”
Another roar of approval, but smaller this time. Poppy leaned against a stack of crates behind her, knocking one of the lids loose. An acrid smell filled the air.
Mack’s chin shot up. “What’s that smell?”
Poppy peered into the crate. “It’s coming from these bottles, I think. It looks like beer or something.” Poppy put a steadying hand on his arm.
Mack gave a grunt and seemed to double up, his arms shifting to wrap around his stomach.
“Are you okay?” Poppy asked. “We can go. Are you going to puke?”
“Soon!” the governor yelled. “Soon we will take the fight to the trees—and purify the wood once and for all!”
Purify—what did he mean?
“I call all of you to arms! Be here at this same time on—”
Mack let out a bellow that would have gotten the attention of the soundest sleeper.
Poppy spun to him.
He had thrown off the blanket and stretched out his arms as if welcoming a hug from the sky but his eyes were wild, and his face contorted with pain.
Poppy tried to block the crowd’s view, but it was no use. Silence fell around them, everyone staring, pale and wide-eyed.
Mack cried out again, and this time, he grew.
He shot up a foot in an instant. His legs—his arms—all of him. He collapsed to the ground, out of breath and shaking his head like it was full of buzzing insects.
Poppy was at his side in seconds, but in that instant, the words “wood folk” whipped through the crowd, first soft and disbelieving, and then louder, more indignant—angry.
Without a word, Poppy wrapped Mack’s arm around her shoulders and helped heft him to his feet—which were bare again. She hadn’t seen what happened to Jute’s garden shoes. “Get up, Mack. We’ve got to go. Come on. Hurry!”
Mack stumbled to his feet and they began to move out of the crowd toward the far end of town.
Behind them, voices gathered, growing louder.
They were only a few steps out of the square when they passed a dark alleyway, and a small girl with light brown skin stepped out of the shadows. A little boy with her same dark curls joined her.
“Come on.” She waved them over. “This way! Follow us.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
The children zigzagged through alleys and behind buildings, leading Poppy and Mack in a dance all around Strange Hollow, in and out of alleyways, through two deserted houses, and at last, into the edge of the meadow.
The whole time, the boy—Peter—regaled them with questions: Was Mack really an elf? What was it like? Could he hear people’s thoughts? What did he eat? Were there other elves in the Grimwood? What about the pickers … had he ever seen one?
Poppy tried to answer, as Mack was in no condition to do so. He hadn’t been kidding about wood folk having unexpected growth surges. She half dragged him along as he bumped into corners and tripped over the cobbles and his own feet. He nearly knocked her over twice, just trying to adjust to his new size.
The questions went on and on, and the girl, who introduced herself as Mags, hung on every word, watching them with sharp eyes as she turned corners and climbed over the short fences that separated people’s homes.
By the time they reached the relative safety of the meadow outside Strange Hollow, Mack was a greenish shade, and Poppy was gasping for air.
She held up her hands. “Just a minute. Just a minute.”
Mags stopped, placing one hand on her hip as though to say, we can stop, but I really don’t see why it’s necessary.
“Mack … are you okay?”
He gave her a little nod and took her canteen when she held it out, draining the water. “I didn’t think it would be like that,” he said apologetically.
“Your growth surge? Yeah. Me either.”
“Sorry, Poppy.”
“Don’t be sorry. It wasn’t your fault.” She put one hand on his arm. His shoulder was a lot higher. He was taller than her now—by a lot. She looked up to meet his eyes and smirked. “Did you see their faces?”
His mouth twitched. “I imagine they were hard to miss … but to be honest, I didn’t see much of anything.”
Her smile faded and she lowered her voice. “Did you hear anything they were saying, Mack? They’re planning something. The governor wants to … to purify the wood. That’s—”
Mack’s eyes had widened. “That’s not good. When? How long do we have?”
A bitter taste rose in Poppy’s mouth. “I don’t know,” she whispered, fighting back a thread of panic. “He didn’t say. But … not long.”
Peter, who had been hopping from one foot to the other the entire time they were standing there, suddenly launched into another round of questions.
Poppy held up her hand. “Wait. I—not that we don’t appreciate your help, but … why are you doing this?”
Mags moved past her brother and Mack to stand right in front of Poppy. Both hands were on her hips now, and her brown eyes flashed. “You heard my brother. We have questions. Questions no one will answer.”
“Questions no one can answer,” Peter grumbled.
“Right. We know who you are. You’re that Poppy girl that goes into the Grimwood.”
“Are your parents really in league with the wood?” Peter’s voice quavered.
“No! Of course not. It’s not like that.”
Mags sent Peter a smug look. “Told you. She’s just a girl—like me.”
Poppy had a hard time believing that Mags was just anything.
Mags pinned Poppy with her eyes. “When we saw your friend was sick…” She tipped her chin at Mack. “We knew this was our chance.” She shrugged. “I don’t like to miss chances.”
“I see,” Poppy said, liking Mags more and more. Somehow, despite everything that had happened, she trusted these two kids. She understood them—their curiosity. It was their driving force, and as familiar as a friend.
“Where are you taking us?” Mack asked, his words slurred with exhaustion.
“Just up here, out of sight of the Hollow.” Mags led them up the sloping hill along the edge of the trees, and they tried to answer Peter’s questions along the way. Yes, Poppy had met Mack in the forest. Yes, there were monsters in the wood. What kinds? Well, banshees and witches and faeries. Were there other kinds too—that would eat you alive and kill you dead? Yes. There were.
“Have you ever seen a Mogwen?” Poppy asked, trying to turn the conversation around.
Peter shrugged, looking at her curiously.
She explained the Mogwen and was pleased to see Mags’s eyes get a faraway look. “We saw a herd of unicorns just a couple days ago,” she added, her cheeks heating.
Mags stopped in her tracks. “You did not.”
Mack stretched. His face had gone back to its normal color. “We did.”
“Tell us,” Peter breathed.
Poppy shook her head. “No. I mean … not now. Listen. Something bad is coming. The governor’s going to … do something to the Grimwood. Attack it somehow. And I need to find my parents.”
“Find them? What do you mean?”
Poppy
hesitated. “They’ve been taken. We think someone in the town has them.”
Mags chewed her lip, processing the new information. She crossed her arms on her chest. “Fine. We’ll find out,” Mags proclaimed. “Meet us back here at the edge of town in two hours.” Poppy and Mack exchanged a look.
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Mack began.
“Fiddlesticks,” Mags insisted in a tone Poppy was certain came from the girl’s mother. “I know a few people who will help. And anyway,” she continued. “You can’t go back into town now. You need to wait until dark. Once the sun sets there’s the curfew, and then we can all creep around all we want. And we know the town better than you do—we live there.”
Mack laughed out loud. “She has a point,” he said.
Poppy studied Mags, then Peter, who was back to hopping from one foot to the other. She didn’t want to wait until dark. She wanted to find her parents now … but she understood the logic. “I have a feeling Mags always has a point,” she muttered, and lifted her own hand to her hip. “What’s the catch?”
Mags’s eyes flashed. “Well, we won’t do it for free.”
Poppy scoffed. “Well, I haven’t got any money.”
Peter had blanched and was staring at his sister.
“We don’t want your money,” Mags scoffed back. “What we want … is answers.”
Mack smiled. “Answers.”
“Yes, answers. What’s so funny about that?”
Poppy’s heart gave a familiar twang. “Not a single thing,” she said softly. “I know just how you feel.”
Mack gave her a funny look. He must have seen acceptance in Poppy’s face because he stopped objecting.
“We’re not even sure they’re in Strange Hollow,” Poppy admitted. “But with whatever the governor is planning, we don’t have a lot of ti—”
Mags pulled a face. “Don’t worry. We’re not going to waste your time. Fair trades only. Anyone who helps can ask questions.”
Poppy considered. It would take her and Mack a long time to search the entire town, and it was true she wasn’t nearly as familiar with it as the local kids. On the other hand—she thought of all the angry townspeople. She wasn’t sure she wanted to drag more people into it, especially not kids. “How do you know you can trust them … the people you want to ask for help?”
The Edge of Strange Hollow Page 21