What the Woods Keep

by Katya de Becerra

  “Elspeth and Gabriel Diamond. I think.” I sit next to him, the box wedged between us, and pretend like I’m not all buzzing with anticipation. I wait for Shannon’s face to reveal something—anything—after hearing me mention the father-daughter team, the very same one we just had the pleasure of seeing in the woods, but he remains stoic.

  “Hayden, what do you think this means?” He looks at me in that serious way he used to.

  “I don’t have any proof, but I think their blood carries that compound my father discovered.”

  “And how on Earth are you so calm about it? You do know that if your mom had it, you could have it, too?”

  “I haven’t seen any direct evidence of my blood’s radiation-making qualities. Therefore—for now—I’m calm.”

  “Somehow I doubt that.” He looks at me funny, barely containing a smile. “Anyway…”

  “What?” I demand.

  “It’s just … You’re just as you were, just as I remember you from ten years ago, and yet you’re a different person. It’s fascinating, that’s all. I keep seeing signs of the old Hayden in the way you wrinkle your forehead when choosing your words or how you use your logical voice. But then you turn your head and it’s like a different slant of light. You’re this completely grown-up version of you that’s so…”

  “So what?” I murmur, leaning just slightly into his space.

  “Never mind.” He shrugs, but I catch a blush painting his cheeks a faint shade of pink. I’m about to tease him, but the deliberate, careful way his hands move when replacing the vial of Mom’s blood in the box makes me wonder what’s suddenly made him so tense.

  When unexpectedly he leans in and his lips touch mine, I freeze like a terrified bunny. To say I’m caught off guard is an understatement. In this moment, my world realigns, everything’s changing, but all I know is that Shannon’s kissing me and his lips are soft but persistent. Different from his strong, rough fingers that ran the length of my arm up and down at the blood collection point.

  Right now, we stay very still—all except our lips, barely touching but burning. Delicately, he pulls at my lower lip before covering my mouth whole. When our kiss deepens, I shudder. Shannon lands one last short kiss on my lips and retreats, looking amused but hesitant.

  “Hayden, you’re like a deer in headlights.” He lets out an uncertain laugh. When I can’t produce any words, his tone becomes even less certain. “Okay, I think you have to say something. At least tell me if this is … good or bad?”

  “Good. Definitely good. Just unexpected.”

  “I know you have a lot on your mind and a kiss from a long-forgotten friend is perhaps the last thing you need … and besides, you probably have a boyfriend.”

  “I don’t have a boyfriend, and I do have a lot on my mind, but a kiss from you has been on my need list since I saw your broody face at the blood collection spot. I’ve been having dreams about you, you know.”

  “Tell me.”

  “You and me at the head of a supernatural army, riding side by side, ready to raze humanity to the ground. That kind of stuff.”

  “Oh, apocalyptic end-of-the-world dreams. I thought you meant something else.”

  “I’ve been having those dreams for as long as I can remember. You’re a new addition, though.” I look away, no longer blushing but feeling slightly embarrassed at having told him about the dreams. But I keep talking. “Shannon, I’ve been in Promise only a few days, and already I’ve heard some pretty outlandish things about my family! And I have a strong suspicion that there might be something very odd in my blood, and … other strange stuff happened, and everyone talks in riddles! Plus my own father’s been obsessing about this town for years, and my guess is that he knows even more now about what Mom was—and what I am.”

  “We all have to deal with family secrets at some stage of our lives, I guess,” Shannon says calmly. “It’s just that yours are weirder than most.”

  “Is that all you have to say?” I look up at him, waiting for more.

  He nods at the blood vials. “Let me take these to the lab tonight. Someone’ll be there during the night shift, so they can get started straightaway. Once we have the results, we’ll know for sure. If the blood is ordinary, it’s likely you are, too.”

  When I fail to appear enthusiastic, Shannon says with a laugh, “What? You’d rather be a supernatural half-human hybrid with magical blood?”

  “Honestly, I don’t even know anymore.”

  And I mean it.

  34

  I’M NOT MY MOTHER

  From the porch, I watch the jeep reverse out of the Manor’s driveway. Shannon is a silhouette inside the car, his outline dark against the bleak moonlight.

  My lips are burning from our kiss. Mindlessly I want more, while the logical part of me can’t help but wonder what our kiss meant. Is Shannon genuinely into me, or is he driven by the emotions of our shared past? Worse, is he using me as part of some weird plot with the Institute? Or with my dad? Did I just make a huge mistake by handing the blood over to him? The night volunteers no answer, and when Shannon’s car disappears into the fog, I’m left edgy in my own skin.

  The rain thickens. I’m about to walk back inside when I notice a lone figure moving toward me across the field. Dressed in a long black robe, the visitor seems bathed in a weak glow. My legs refuse to move, so I remain on the porch, watching Elspeth approach. Her short hair is wet and flattened against her head, her mouth twisted in an odd smile.

  When she stops just below the Manor’s porch, only the steps between us, a wave of surreal panic crashes over me. On instinct, my hands scramble to open the Manor’s door. Once I’m over the rune-protected threshold, the relief washing over me is absolute. The urge to slam the door in Elspeth’s face is so strong, I’m shaking. But I can’t bring myself to do it. All the Shannon-induced dizziness is erased from my head, replaced by the discomfort I feel whenever I’m in Elspeth’s proximity.

  And yet with all her creepiness, I can’t help but admire her. The slashing rain doesn’t seem to bother her: An amused expression is playing on her face as she observes my clumsy rush off the porch. Her long, straight nose and delicate lips make her look like an elf from a folktale.

  But when she speaks, her voice, low and husky, has almost the same dizzying effect on me as Shannon’s kiss. What. The. Hell?

  “Your mother’s always been private and secretive. Even with those closest to her. When she bought the Manor, it was meant to be our safe house. But later … she decided to have it all for herself and her offspring, so she twisted the runes a little, added a few of her own, and voilà: I can’t enter and neither can Gabriel.”

  On cue, a silver-gray raven materializes out of the night and lands on Elspeth’s shoulder with a bewildered cry. Elspeth, goddesslike in her eerie serenity, turns to meet the bird’s eyes before zeroing in on me again. When our eyes lock, a flash of lightning breaks through the thick clouds, illuminating everything around me. That includes Elspeth’s face, all strong angles and odd shapes. She’s looking even less human than before.

  “Your perception changes the longer you stay here, close to your own kind,” she says.

  I wonder if she’s reading my body language the way mentalists do when they claim to have telepathy.

  “Do you feel my pull? Like calls to like.” She’s whispering, but I can hear her clearly all the same.

  Yes, I do feel your pull. I want to come closer—every cell of my body screams that I need to—but I manage to stay where I am.

  Instead I ask, “Who are you, Elspeth? And how exactly did you know my mother?”

  “You don’t need to fear me, Hayden. I have your best interests at heart. Just like I had your mother’s best interests at heart.” She doesn’t answer either of my questions.

  “And now my mother’s gone.”

  “That wasn’t my doing.”

  “What do you want from me?”

  “Will you come and have a walk with me? I want to show you so
mething.”

  “It’s raining like crazy. I’d rather not.” Not to mention the alarm bell buzzing in my brain, competing for attention with the urge to accept Elspeth’s invitation that’s setting my body on fire.

  “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of a little rain!” she says. “Ella danced in the rain! She celebrated every storm, every flash of lightning. She especially loved nights like this one—a perfect night to be outside, to feel the water on your skin, like kisses from our gods. She’d never miss a chance to let her blood flow in the woods, if not to release her army, then at least to feed their hungry souls with her intent.”

  I shiver at the picture of Mom cutting herself, blood flowing, weakening her, feeding the insatiable earth while a supernatural army howls closer.

  I can hear them, too, now.

  In fact, I could always hear them, the voices in my head whispering in that language that makes me want to cry and scream in euphoria at once—the tongue of the Nibelungs. But I push it away and say, “I’m not my mother.”

  “No, of course not. You’re something she created for a special purpose. Let me guess … Ella left you some instructions and they seem important. You come here and learn your daddy’s been lying to you for years and your mommy had a plan for this world that entailed human extinction. And now you’re all confused and haunted by these woods and what they’ve been keeping for a long, long time. But guess what? The choice is yours. Not your mother’s. Yours. And you’ll be a liar if you tell me you haven’t considered the real implications here, your role in all this. You were born into this, yes, but you can make this into something of your own. You can be the leader your people need.…”

  I rest against the doorframe as Elspeth’s blunt words hit me hard. Everything I’ve learned in the past few days all appears to align with what Elspeth is telling me now: My own mother wanted to end this world. And for what? So that her dying people could have another beginning? I force the words to come, sounding like I’m announcing my own death sentence: “What you’re really talking about is some kind of supernatural apocalypse unleashed on this planet, and I definitely don’t want that. If that’s my birthright, I refuse it.”

  For a second, Elspeth’s face twists and ripples. “I tried to be nice, Hayden, but if you don’t cooperate, I won’t let you ruin it for us. If you don’t want your birthright, then give me the blood Ella squirreled away in the Manor. The blood doesn’t belong to you, and Ella never should’ve taken it. Then you can leave town and take your friend with you. Think before you deny me again. This is a one-time offer.”

  The steely finality of her words doesn’t escape me. But I don’t feel I’ve got much of a choice. The blood’s gone now, entrusted to Shannon in a bid to find proof of my otherworldly heritage. But even if I had it, would I give it to Elspeth? The woman’s goal is pretty clearly an apocalyptic vision of the human world burning.

  I tell her, “I don’t have what you want. I wish I could say I’m sorry, but I’m not. Also, I’m not scared of you.”

  She shakes her head in a gesture of impatience, as if pacifying an unruly child. “Too bad. Keep in mind, Hayden, that whatever happens from this moment on, you brought it upon yourself. And upon your friends.”

  I’m beginning to shake all over, but I stand my ground. “Fair enough. Thanks for the warning.”

  From my safe spot beyond the Manor’s threshold, I watch Elspeth’s black-clad shape disappear into the night.

  * * *

  Later, as I snuggle into my cotton pajamas and climb under the covers, I expect my busy mind to keep me awake, but I fall asleep with ease. I plummet into a soothing abyss. The sensation doesn’t last long. I wake up to the sound of raucous laughter, which in my post-sleep wooziness seems to be shaking the Manor to its foundation. As I blink my eyes awake, I hear doors flying open and thumping closed, followed by the loud patter of running feet slapping against wooden floors.

  Perching on the edge of my bed, I rub my numb feet till they regain sensation. Then I put on a pair of Docs, tightening the laces hard before grabbing my Hunter hoodie from the floor and putting the amulet in my pocket. My movements are mechanical; my body knows what to do and how to do it, but my brain’s playing catch-up. This feels like a repeat of our first night here, and I’m already wondering what other surprises Del’s going to dig up for me in the basement.

  In the hallway, I look around. The door to Del’s room stands open. Inside: no sign of Del or Santiago. I do a quick run around the Manor, even remembering to check Dad’s secret office (dark, aside from the glowing numbers on the computer) and the basement. Nothing. I call out for Del before heading outside, garnering no response.

  I’m on the porch again, half expecting to see Elspeth standing on the grass, waiting for me. But the lawn is windswept and empty. I pull the hoodie on and stare into the night. The skies are black and clear, and the moon’s shining full blast. In its light, I catch the outline of a slender figure crossing the field, moving away from the Manor, in the direction of the forest.

  All I’m thinking right now is that Del’s having a sleepwalking episode and she needs my help. So I forget everything else and dash after her across the field and into the forest.

  I come to a point where the forest path I’ve been following diverges. My heart beats a little faster when I’m facing left. I’m sure this path will eventually take me to the Black Clearing. As if in response to my thought, the amulet pings in my pocket. When I rub it with my fingers, it sends electrical sparks through my skin. It’s as if the Black Clearing knows I’m approaching.

  I take the path to the left. Already heightened, my senses tense up and tune in as I listen and watch for any sign of Del. My choice of path pays off when the sounds of hushed crying reach my ears. Blood pounding in my head, I set my feet down more softly, thankful my eyes have now adjusted to the dark.

  The part of me that feels a presence in the fog, that hears Mom’s voice in my dreams, the part Elspeth wants unleashed—that part lifts its head in anticipation.

  The Black Clearing. There’s definitely something ungodly about this place. Unnatural. Being near it, let alone setting foot on its sooty ground, is like coming face-to-face with the void. I have to tiptoe carefully around it to keep the void from consuming me.

  The soft cries I heard seconds ago do not subside. Instead, they’re growing louder, more defined. I listen and, as I approach, my mind zeroes in on the telltale noises of a struggle. Del’s being attacked!

  I move ahead without thinking or planning my next steps. Considering my modest size and only basic knowledge of self-defense, my best chance is to surprise-attack whoever is hurting Del. In my dash for the Black Clearing, I only stop twice—first to pick up a rock and then to exchange the rock for a large branch. I figure I’ve got a better chance of surprise-attacking someone with a branch—I’m too squeamish to actually hit someone on the head with a rock, and my rock-throwing aim is shit.

  A massive tree blocks my path, its width concealing me from whatever lies beyond. When I peek from behind the tree, my jaw drops a little at the sight of Del and Santiago getting it on in the middle of the Black Clearing, their naked bodies bathed in moonlight. Just like one of the images from the weird Eydís book.

  My perspective changes; those cries I took for the sounds of a struggle take on a different meaning. The ridiculousness of this moment hits me like a sledgehammer. What I’m seeing cuts me raw and deep. Out of all places in the woods to have sex, why choose this one? My awkwardness evaporates, replaced by a sense of utter wrongness.

  I avert my eyes, then retreat back into the depths of the woods, back the way I came.

  35

  RANDY AND THE SPACE-TIME GAPS

  When I return home after my unnecessary rescue attempt, the moment I step over the Manor’s threshold and take off my jacket I know it: Something’s different. Something’s not right. The air doesn’t sit well in my lungs. A little voice in my head—the one I used to hear growing up that told me I’m some
kind of abomination and that’s why other kids were scared of me—says the vacation’s over and Promise demands its payment now.

  I hear it: distant buzzing. Vibrations in the air. I touch the wall and feel it shake. An earthquake? No, more like the humming of electrical wiring when the current’s too much for cables to handle. There were times I heard this noise in Dad’s lab, back when he still took me there, back when he still had a lab.

  I listen, holding my breath as I go around the Manor, trying to isolate the source of the strange noise. I end up in Dad’s secret office.

  The computer on Dad’s desk is all lit up; the screen showing the muon count chart is spiking out of control. Next to the chart, the countdown is also going nuts. Watching the numbers and timing how fast they’re going down, I quickly figure out that the event it’s counting down to is set to occur in less than twelve hours. Crap. This is it. I’m taking Del out of here. I’m going by Shannon’s house to ask him to come with me. Nothing, no fallen trees or streets rearranging themselves before my eyes will stop me from leaving now.

  In my agitated state, I forget that Del’s not here. Double crap. And Shannon might still be at the blood collection point, trying to get someone to analyze the blood from the vials. Does it matter what the analysis will reveal? I’ve already made my peace with Mom’s nonhuman nature, and it’s clear to me now that Elspeth, at least, wants to end the world.

  But I can’t leave Del here. I have no choice but to wait for her return.

  My restless fingers leaf through the pages of one of Dad’s many leather-bound journals. The skylight above glows with the dawn. The light’s rising fast. I can’t remember the last time I had a good night’s sleep. No good decisions are made when the decider’s tired and agitated. To calm down, I start reading a random journal entry where Dad talks about cases of space-time anomalies and interdimensional gaps.

  The list goes on. I set the journal aside and flip through a couple other volumes. I start to zone out when my bleary eyes pick up on an entry in Dad’s journal entitled “Randy, the White Raven.” All sleep’s gone from my mind now, erased by a spike of adrenaline.