by E. M. Fitch
“Welcome home,” Cassie imagined Laney whispering. Only it was more than that, it was “You came back to me; I missed you; I love you,” all wrapped into the one phrase. Cassie spent many nights dragging herself out of nightmares, tears stinging her eyes.
So she was not in any way prepared for their actual return, envisioning the terrors as she had been.
“That’ll be two-fifty,” the benign girl behind the counter at the chain coffee store said, her hand extended.
“Thank you so much,” the woman in front of Cassie murmured, her honeyed tone soft, familiar. An intimate tension zinged up Cassie’s taut spine. So much so that her father nudged her and bent low to whisper.
“Don’t stare, Cass.”
“What can I get you?” the girl behind the counter asked, looking expectantly from Cassie to her father.
“Two coffees,” her father started before Cassie interrupted him.
“Make mine a decaf,” she murmured.
The woman sat at one of the lone tables that lined the side of the coffee place. Her gaze hovered on Cassie, a knowing smile stretching her lips. She was one of the most beautiful women Cassie had ever seen, but in a soft, understated way. Her long auburn hair, not unlike Cassie’s in color, swung in gentle, heavy folds around her shoulders in a casual, effortless way that would have taken Cassie hours to style. Her eyes shone, not in the dull, sometimes almost gray way that Cassie’s did, but in the purest blue. She was older, clearly. Much older than any of the humans who milled past her realized. It was in the way she held herself, regarded Cassie; she was one of them. Even without seeing her though, Cassie would have known. She recognized her voice. This woman had been there the night the earth had sucked Cassie and Ryan into its depths. She had spoken then, but not helped.
“Cassie, take your coffee,” her father said, breaking into her thoughts. She started, turning back to the counter. Her father frowned at her. He didn’t speak again until they were back outside. The woman smiled at Cassie as she passed, waving her fingers at her, a whispered “Hello,” following her into the parking lot.
Cassie wasn’t sure if the words were spoken aloud, or an echo in her mind.
“That was rude, young lady,” her father said, opening his car door. Her brow scrunched up in confusion. Her father shot her an incredulous look from across the car’s roof. “Staring like that at that poor woman.”
“Who?” Cassie asked. She paused, unsure how to describe the woman she had just seen, because what Cassie had seen might not even remotely match what her father had seen. “The, uh, redhead?”
“You know who I’m talking about,” her father said, ducking and getting inside the car. Cassie opened her door and sat next to him, refusing to allow her eyes to drift back to the shop. Her coffee was warm in her hand. She brought the cup to her mouth, sipping carefully. Her fingers had started to shake and the plastic cup lid trembled against her lip. “You probably made that lady uncomfortable, looking at her like that. People can’t help it if they look differently. That’s no reason to treat them badly.”
Cassie had no idea what the creature looked like to her father, what appearance she had cast upon herself or why her father thought it would make Cassie gawk. Not that it mattered, she wasn’t staring for any of those reasons. It wasn’t what he thought.
Cassie’s father pulled his car out onto the road as an errant thought flashed through Cassie’s mind.
The scary part, Cassie thought, shivering as she watched the rain kick up and start to pelt the windshield, is that woman could help how she looked.
Rebecca and Samantha were both waiting for Cassie beside her locker. Cassie could see Jon down the crowded hall, his back to her. Behind Jon, at his own locker, was Ryan. She wanted to run over to him, force him to listen to her. But she knew that here, in a crowded hall, it would do little good.
He was right about there being someone else. Cassie couldn’t argue that; Aidan was a terrifying reality. Worse than that, Cassie had lied about it, to Ryan, to her parents, to everyone. She kept Aidan a secret and gave him that little edge of power over her relationships.
She had to be rid of him. Soon. Before Ryan lost all feeling he had ever had for her. It wouldn’t be fair to beg him to come back to her, not when fear would make it impossible for Cassie to be able to give herself completely. He deserved all of her attention, not just the little bit she could spare between visits from Aidan.
“You okay?” Rebecca asked, ducking her face in front of Cassie’s. Cassie blinked, not even realizing she had been staring at Jon’s back down the hall.
“I’m—” There were no words. Or if there were, she couldn’t find them. Rebecca nodded sympathetically, and Samantha put a bracing arm around Cassie’s shoulder.
“Boys suck,” Samantha said. “Even mine.”
“Jon’s head over heels for you,” Cassie murmured, turning from her sympathetic arm to put her books in her locker. “He has been for ages, since before school started even.”
“Oh, I know,” her friend replied. “But he’s still an ass. Ryan will come around.”
“Did he say … ”
“Just that it’s over between you guys,” Rebecca supplied in Cassie’s pause. A stone dropped in Cassie’s stomach. He hadn’t even said those words to her. He was angry and hurt, but he hadn’t actually said that it was over. Cassie’s throat felt tight. “Do you want to tell us about it?”
Laney would push. Cassie would have already been in the nearest lavatory, forced to repeat every word that had come out of Ryan’s mouth, analyze every shift in his posture all morning long. But Laney was gone. Rebecca wouldn’t push. Cassie shook her head, shutting her locker and letting her friends walk her to her first class.
Ryan was everywhere, seething and dismissive. Cassie hated seeing him like that, hated that she had caused it. There was nothing she could say to fix it though, not now, not with the threat of Aidan still hanging over her head. She gave him space instead, sat away from him in classes, and went to the nurse’s office to wait out the lunch period.
The nurse, a woman her mom’s age, let her rest on one of the beds there, even drew the curtain for her after Cassie said that she had a headache. It wasn’t until Cassie said the words that she realized that her head really was pounding. The darkness helped.
Softball helped, too. There were two games that week, both away, and Cassie felt a certain relief at traveling to the nearby schools. Somehow, she felt Aidan might not follow her there.
She was right about that. She hadn’t been expecting the others, though.
Cassie recognized Judoc immediately, nearly missing the pitch that hurtled toward her. She jumped back, knocking into the umpire who was crouched low behind her. She ignored his cry of surprise, her fingers wrapping around the ball that had just been pitched into her mitt. He mumbled, “Strike,” before aggressively dusting off the black shoe where Cassie’s cleat mark showed.
Jude leaned right up against the fence, near enough to touch Cassie’s coach. He was humming faintly; it would have been a cheerful tune from anyone other than him. Her coach squatted low in the dugout, level with Cassie as she called the pitches. Coach Kelly threw him a funny look, Cassie just noticed as she squatted back behind the plate, two fingers pointed down beside her knee. Jude laughed out loud, his cold eyes sparkling with amusement, as Stephanie Allen nodded her acknowledgement of Cassie’s call.
Cassie might not have noticed Jude at all if it weren’t for the low chuckle she first heard, not just with her ears but on the back of the dust kicked up by errant cleats, bouncing around inside her brain like Aidan’s taunts or the woman’s greeting. He smiled as she looked over and then waved to her. Jude was welcoming her again, welcoming her into the knowledge of his existence and what he could do.
The other girls saw him, too. Jude did not disguise himself in oddity like the woman at the coffee shop. Cassie wasn’t surprised by this. On his last trip through town, Jude seemed to enjoy th
e attention of high school girls.
Lindsey Crofton winked at Jude as she ran past. Cassie supposed that what she was seeing, Lindsey was seeing, too. If she didn’t know him at all—didn’t know he was the creature responsible for Jessica’s death, callous, and uncaring, and mean—Cassie supposed he would have been attractive. Here, now, against the fence, Cassie assumed she was seeing him as he truly was, just as she saw Aidan and the redheaded woman. What would be the purpose of hiding himself from her?
He was a bit different from when Cassie had last seen him. The sagging gut and stained tank tops from his nights at the carnival were gone. His face had changed enough that none of the others would recognize this as the man who was last seen with Jessica Evans. Cassie saw a tall man with broad chest and shoulders, dark hair that he swept back from his square, angular face. His jawline was precision cut, powerful. But the dark cruelty that lit his eyes couldn’t be hidden by his beautiful features. Yes, he was handsome, but he was scary and unaccustomed to hearing the word no. A dangerous combination.
So like Aidan, Cassie thought. It was a common thread between the monsters. And yet, even from the brief period of time she had spent with Corey, he hadn’t seemed like that. No, he was infatuated with Laney, very much in love. Maybe that was the difference. Corey truly cared for Laney; Aidan and Jude just wanted playmates. Cassie wondered, if Ryan asked her to come away with him, begged her to leave her home and her family and just go, would she?
She didn’t know. Just the thought wormed a hollow pit in her chest.
Jude hadn’t hung around after the game. They had narrowly squeaked a win, Lara sealing it with a triple in the last inning. Cassie had looked for him from under the arms of the teammates that had swelled around her. Jude seemed to be gone. Her chest had clenched when Lindsey broke off, ducking out of the team embrace to run toward the crowd. Cassie pulled back sharply, watching for her teammate’s swinging ponytail, but the girl merely jumped at her parents, both of whom welcomed her into a congratulatory embrace.
The creatures didn’t stop the torment with Cassie’s softball games. They lingered around town, sat in her local pizza joint. One strolled up and down her street, aimlessly wandering. She had no idea what they looked like to anyone else, and, other than acknowledging her presence, they didn’t interfere. They strolled past, moved around her, all humming similar tunes, soft and whimsical. Their faces changed and blurred, but only when she saw them from the corner of her eye. When Cassie looked at them straight on, they glowed, solid, unwavering expressions that beamed at her in amused acknowledgement.
They were becoming clearer. Not just in form, but in how easily Cassie could pick them out. It was as though she could sense them, like a coming dread that tingled up your arm and set your hair on end. She knew them, inherently. She didn’t want to think about how broken that made her, that she could already commune with the monsters of the trees.
It wasn’t until the weekend that Cassie saw Laney.
Saturday morning was bright and warm and Cassie had almost decided to spend it entirely in bed. She had a softball practice that afternoon and she knew she’d have to rouse herself for that, but the morning was hers. The plan had been to spend that time under her covers, faking sick and ignoring all messages. Maybe that way she could get out of going to the party that night without any fuss.
The town had lifted the curfew at the last meeting. Samuel Phillips had been given community service following his confession to vandalism. No one could account for the strange birds that swarmed the gym, but it seemed as though most people wanted to believe it was some freak act of Mother Nature. It was easier that way, easier than trying to find a logical explanation that would fit. Everyone was relaxing, everyone except Cassie. A party was planned last minute, something at one of her classmate’s homes. The high schoolers wanted to celebrate the curfew lift. All over school on Friday, students were talking about their parents dropping curfews and handing them back the keys to their cars. Parents just seemed relieved that all the chaos in town was nothing bigger than a punk freshman acting out.
Well, most parents. The Evans, Mrs. Evans in particular, were still loudly speculating about the existence of a cult-like gang that was roving about the edge of town. Cassie knew this because her father continued to complain about it at the dinner table.
Gwen Spiro’s parents didn’t seem to be as fussed. They were out of town. Gwen lived in a big log cabin—and not unlike most of the homes in their town, the house was stuck in the woods—the biggest difference was that Gwen’s had a sizable river running through her backyard. There was already talk of skinny dipping and strip poker. Half the softball team was going. Cassie wasn’t sure she wanted to go. Ryan would probably be there. She didn’t think she was ready for that.
Throughout the entire week of Cassie checking over her shoulder, being haunted by musical creatures watching her every movement, Ryan had been a lingering presence at the edge of her existence. He didn’t confront her, not directly, but he stayed, a black spot in the periphery of her vision. He was angry and hurt; and he blamed Cassie for that.
As he should, Cassie thought, looking longingly at her rumpled bed as she pulled the laces tight on her hiking boots.
In the end, instead of succumbing to the temptations of her bed and taking comfort in solitude, the forest called to her. Not in the sick, perverted way she had become accustomed to, but in the soft beckoning of newly budded trees. The air that blew in through the open window was balmy and pleasant, floral with a rush of fresh grass. With a sudden burst of energy, Cassie knew she didn’t want to spend the day at home, she wanted to be out. Not with people, away from them instead. She knew the creatures were out there, too. She decided not to care, not to let them interfere.
Cassie told her father she was going to the park, promised to be home by dinner, and pulled the front door shut behind her.
The town park had a small, barely-used-anymore playground. It sat lonely in the middle of the park, the play equipment made out of wood that had long since splintered and cracked. There was a beach volleyball court with a sagging net next to it and a pavilion with a dozen picnic tables underneath just beyond the parking lot. Cassie noted backpacks and purses left on three of the tables, the owners off somewhere on the grounds. The earth sloped steeply on her left, leading down to a tiny pond. A family with three small children played by the water. The father appeared to be trying to get a kite up in the air, the mother kept calling out her youngest child’s name over and over as the boy stepped closer to the water’s edge.
“Alex, get back here. Alex!”
During most winters, the hill would be marked with sledding paths and boot prints, the ice on the pond cut across with tracks from ice skates. Past the playground and tucked back into the woods was an enclosed tennis court. Graffiti remnants, the kind the police didn’t arrest people over, marked the back wall. Low, in a corner, a spray-painted set of faded red eyes glared. It was a leftover from the craze Aidan’s first bit of artwork stirred; only not done in blood. Cassie could see the rounded edges and drips left from a spray can held too close to the wood.
Beyond the courts were hiking trails. They weren’t long, not even that far from the road, actually. The trails were easy to navigate, even and marked, but they were pretty. A river ran along one of the short trails and the paths were all cut through with streams. Some had small bridges to help you cross, others used stepping stones. Cassie’s parents used to take her on the trails when she was little. Those short family outings usually ended with a picnic by the pond.
Cassie hadn’t seen Aidan for a week, not since she had spoken to him at the edge of her yard and Mrs. Blake had scared him off. He hadn’t left, she knew that. He was just keeping his distance, letting the rest of the creatures watch and unnerve Cassie.
Today, she refused to let it affect her. Cassie had almost considered bringing the fire poker with her. She didn’t, imagining how insane that would look, not only dragging that thing
throughout the woods with her, but explaining it to her parents when she returned home. Instead, she tucked a small bottle of pepper spray up her sleeve. Her father had gotten it for her mother ages ago, worried about her leaving the ER so late at night. Her mother never carried it though, insisting she was “just fine” getting in and out of work. She would never even notice it missing from her sock drawer.
Cassie had it ready, a small bulge inside her sleeve that she could whip out as soon as she saw Aidan. She wasn’t entirely sure it would be effective on him, but she knew it worked on animals. If it came down to it, Cassie could only hope it would work on monsters. Her breathing eased as she meandered the paths of her hometown hiking trails. The weather was perfect, the trails quiet. That spiral of anxiety that had taken residence in her chest loosened a bit.
She missed Ryan. She wished he could be here with her to see her acting so normally.
Soon. Hopefully soon she could be with him like that again.
She emerged from the woods an hour later to a scene not unlike what had been present when she went in. There were small changes. People were eating at the picnic tables now. Alex was soaking wet and being yelled at by his older sister.
“See! Now we have to go home!”
“But, Dad! We didn’t get the kite up!” the third child whined, tugging on his father’s shirt. It didn’t seem to matter, the whole group was heading up the hill toward the parking lot. Cassie suppressed a smile. She wondered if her neighbor’s kids, Quinn and Randall, came here often and thought she would ask the Sheridans about it. She thought the boys would like it here. Cassie moved to follow the disappearing family, rounding a bend of the small pond. A wider view of the park opened up for her, a corner of the volleyball court, a section of the pavilion, and directly ahead of her, an old bench with chipped green paint.