Beyond the Wild Wood

by E. M. Fitch

“Laney is alive.”

  Ryan froze, eyeing Cassie with disturbed concern. She reached for him, wanting to pull him back from the forest’s edge. Her lips parted, and she wet them with the tip of her tongue as her fingers wrapped in his button-down shirt and gently tugged. He moved forward woodenly, as though his legs had forgotten how to work.

  “You’re right; I’ve been lying to you for ages. I’m sorry. I don’t know if it was protective, or out of fear, or because I thought you’d think I was crazy. She paused, and a hysterical little giggle escaped, while tears formed and hung in the corners of her eyes. She swiped at them before continuing, trembling now in front of him. “And I did go a little crazy; I did. But it’s true, all of it; and I’ll tell you, though I wish I didn’t have to.”

  “Cassie, Laney—”

  “She ran away that day in the forest,” Cassie started, letting his rumpled shirt go and wringing her hands. “She ran into a life that she always believed existed, and one I fought against believing for a long time. But she was right, always; they exist.”

  “Who?”

  “The Fae.”

  “Is that a … a band?”

  Cassie burst out laughing, and Ryan’s lips hitched up into a kind of nervous grin. She reached out for him and he came to her, his fingers settling in her hair as she pressed her damp and grimy face to his button-down shirt. She inhaled slowly, savoring the sandalwood aroma that laced around Ryan’s scent. He smelled of forest trails and dead leaves and home.

  “I can prove it all,” she murmured into his warm chest, “and I will, but you need to hear it all first. You need to hear it from me, and trust that what I tell you is the absolute truth. Because you’re right, I love you; but it’s not enough. If we’re going to make it, I need to choose you, every time. So, let me do this, will you?”

  He nodded, pulling back. “I’ll listen,” he said.

  “I know you will,” she answered, lacing her fingers through his and pulling him toward the house. She needed to get something first, and so she pulled him in the direction of the ugly old iron set that her mother kept by the fireplace, even though it was missing the poker. Her hand wrapped around a set of heavy tongs, and she put an iron shovel in Ryan’s grasp. He took it, frowning. She had a quick flash of insight, and she ran to the garage, telling Ryan to wait for her where he was.

  When she came back into the living room, she had her father’s ancient set of golf clubs in a faded leather bag over one shoulder.

  “They call these ‘irons,’ don’t they?” she asked breathlessly. Ryan nodded. “Good; let’s go.”

  At the front door, she saw a sticky note reminding her father that his wife would be working this afternoon. And on the table by the door, probably thrown from her mother’s purse in haste, was a crumpled box of medical masks. Cassie knew for sure that this brand of masks was specifically sized to her mother’s face. She had described the process once to Cassie. They made her wear the mask, put a huge covered hood over her face, and filled the hood with sugar. Then, they had her mother try each kind of mask until she couldn’t taste the sugar through it, just to be sure the seal was good and tight. Cassie hesitated, and then grabbed the box of masks.

  “Do you have duct tape in your car?” she asked Ryan. He nodded, looking from the masks to her, frowning. “Okay, I’m all set now.”

  Cassie strode out the front door into the afternoon sun. She would take their weapons and supplies and lead him to the Gray Lady Cemetery. She’d not sit protected by vinyl siding, drywall, or insulation. They wouldn’t keep the Fae out anyway, and they’d cloud her senses. Instead, she’d wait in the forest, somewhere she’d be able to feel them coming. She knew she would.

  “But, Ry, we’ve got to do this quick,” Cassie murmured, turning for the front door. He followed her mutely, his expression disturbed. “He’s coming.”

  Samantha and Jon waited at the cemetery. Cassie shot a look at Ryan as soon as they pulled in sight of the hallowed ground. He shrugged, though the back of his neck colored bright red.

  “It’s better than me calling your dad, isn’t it?” he asked in the hushed interior of the car cabin. A rush of air swirled around them from the window Cassie left cracked, despite the air conditioning cooling the interior. She frowned and pulled her lip between her bottom teeth, chewing absently before she answered.

  “You promised you’d listen,” she whispered. Ryan nodded.

  “I will, I swear it,” he said, “but Jon and Samantha, can’t they—”

  “Yes,” Cassie interrupted, breathless, “they should be here, too.” She reached into the back seat and grabbed his hiking backpack, unzipping the main compartment and upending the contents onto the back floor.

  “Hey!” Ryan cried out. Cassie silenced him with a look, pulling the canvas into her lap and shoving the masks and the iron tongs inside. She tugged the zipper as best she could, though the handle of the tongs poked out the top, unable to fit completely inside.

  “Maybe we should find a way to break the ends off those golf clubs?” Cassie murmured absently as Ryan pulled his car up behind Jon’s.

  “And Rebecca,” he added, refusing to meet her eyes. “I texted Rebecca, too.”

  “Becca?” Cassie shot daggers at her boyfriend as he threw the car in park.

  “I had to, Cass!” he defended himself. “Everyone was freaked. Your dad begged me to look for you. They’re all worried you … ”

  “Finally went crazy,” she responded, opening her door. She pulled the bag over her shoulder and opened the back door, reaching for the golf clubs. “I get it. But Becca was a mistake; she won’t understand.”

  Cassie shut the car door and walked toward Lizzy Palmer’s headstone, the only headstone left intact in the entire cemetery. She patted it with her hand and thought a quick apology to the poor dead woman. All these years of people seeing lights out at the cemetery, swearing that they saw the grayish blur of her spirit haunting the woods in clouds of mist, and Cassie knew exactly what caused the mist and the blurred figures, exactly why people saw faery lights bobbing in the trees. It was never a ghost. It was never a ghostly husband looking for his drowned wife by lantern light. It had always been them, for hundreds of years. The Fae had haunted this cemetery and the woods that surrounded it. Cassie was sure she could find ghost stories in all the areas nearby, ghosts that haunted the Appalachian Trail, ghosts that knocked at windows at night and lured women out to the forest—only none of them were ghosts. The Fae were something long forgotten, and it was a detriment to all that humanity had ever let that happen. The ways of old, of fairytale and folklore, if forgotten, always came back to haunt the living.

  “It’s bad this time, isn’t it?” Samantha asked as Cassie moved toward them. They stood in the corner of the cemetery, and Samantha stood with one ear to the forest. She was able to sense it, just as Cassie was. Jon sat with his back to the woods, his feet kicked up on a crumbling stub of headstone.

  “She won’t tell me anything,” he said, standing. He looked to Ryan and then to Cassie. “What’s going on?”

  “Maybe it’s best if you sit back down, man,” Ryan said.

  “No time,” Cassie rushed to say. She dropped her bags at his feet, and Jon stepped back, eyeing her carefully.

  “They’re coming,” Samantha whispered, “aren’t they?”

  “Yes,” Cassie answered breathlessly. “How much does he know?”

  “Nothing,” Samantha said as Jon grunted. “We should wait for Rebecca, though.”

  “She better hurry,” Cassie murmured.

  As the words left her mouth, they heard tires crunch gravel as a car turned onto the old dirt road that led to the cemetery. Ryan turned and jogged toward the car. Rebecca sat behind the wheel, her expression skeptical. Cassie thought about the cell phone she left plugged into Ryan’s car to charge. She mentally pulled up her contacts list, thoughts hovering absently over Officer Gibbons’s number. He would understand. He had made her promis
e to call. Her mother was safe at work, and her father …

  “Ry, where’s my dad?” she called out across the graveyard. Ryan looked up, startled.

  “He’s on the trail,” Ryan answered simply. Goose pimples rose on the back of Cassie’s neck.

  “In the woods?” she asked, suddenly terrified.

  “The Appalachian Trail,” Ryan confirmed, and he pointed vaguely over his shoulder in the opposite direction. Cassie sighed in relief. That was on the other side of town, nowhere near where the Fae would be gathering. He should be fine there.

  “Oh, thank goodness,” Samantha breathed. She looked to Cassie. “My parents are out of town for the weekend.” Cassie nodded at her in relief.

  “What is this all about? My parents are waiting for me. Last camping trip before college and all,” Rebecca said, having finally reached the group with Ryan. They all stood in a loose circle, a pile of iron scraps at their feet. Ryan had thrown his shovel there, on top of the ancient set of golf clubs and the backpack with the tongs sticking out. Samantha stood next to Cassie, her gaze flitting through the forest, both girls waiting for the taste of mist or the sight of faery lights looming closer through the trees. Cassie wished sincerely that Ryan had never called Rebecca, wished that she was piled into the back of her dad’s truck, next to her little brother, and off to a campsite far, far away.

  “We’re about to find out,” Jon said, nudging his girlfriend. “Right?”

  “Right,” Samantha answered quietly. Her attention was scattered, unfocused. Cassie felt that same pull, but she couldn’t succumb to it, not yet. She needed to explain things first. She took a deep breath and repeated the three words that had stopped Ryan from leaving just minutes before.

  “Laney is alive.”

  “That’s it,” Rebecca said, throwing her hands up and stepping back. “I’m out of here.”

  “Becca, no,” Samantha cried out, tearing her gaze from the trees and fixing it on her friend’s retreating back. “She’s not lying!”

  “You know what?” Rebecca spat, turning on her heel. “Enough! She’s been acting crazy all year. I get how freaking terrible it’s been; don’t you think I get it?”

  “We know you do,” Cassie said.

  “Well, I should, shouldn’t I?” Rebecca yelled, tears sparking in the corners of her eyes. “Jessica is dead, too. My best friend. We did everything together. She meant everything to me. And now she’s dead. She’s gone. We buried her, Cassie. We did that together.”

  “I know, Becca,” Cassie said, forcing the words through the lump in her throat.

  “Apparently you don’t,” she said, swiping angrily at her eyes. “Is Jess alive too? Is that what you’re going to tell me next? That they both just ran away with the carnival, and those bodies we buried were elaborate ruses?”

  “I saw her, too,” Samantha interjected quietly.

  “Oh, Sam, enough!” Rebecca roared, stomping her foot. “You have no idea what you’ve seen or when; you’ve been in a coma for months! False memories and delusions and who knows what else.”

  “It’s not—”

  “Cassie, I can’t believe you’d manipulate her like this. It’s a mean thing to do.” Rebecca lost steam. She seemed to deflate where she stood, her arms hanging limply at her side. She shook her head. “I’m going home. You all should go home, too. Get ready for college. Grow up.”

  She turned on the spot and walked to her car. The sound of her door slamming shut echoed across the empty cemetery. Cassie felt a small piece of herself tear as Rebecca’s ignition rolled over and she pulled her car back onto the gravel road.

  “It’s safer for her this way,” Samantha murmured, a detectable tremble in her voice.

  “Safer from what, Sam?” Jon asked. He sounded tired. “From Laney’s ghost?”

  “She’s not a ghost, and it’s not a joke, Jon,” Cassie replied, turning to face him. “She ran away from me that night in the forest—”

  “To the carnies, right?” Jon scoffed. “Yeah, we know.”

  “No, not to the carnies. There were never any carnies. They’re ancient and they live in the forest. They call themselves Fae, and they live by an old hierarchy. One of them is called Aidan. He’s obsessive and dangerous. You know him,” Cassie shot at Jon. “You snapped a pic of him at the party Jessica died attending.”

  “I can’t believe this,” Jon muttered.

  “It’s the truth!”

  “Your brain snapped that night, Cass; it had to have,” Jon continued, shaking his head. “There’s no other explanation. You should see a doctor, or tell that therapist—”

  “No, Jon, listen!” Cassie begged. Samantha whimpered and looked back to the trees. Cassie could feel it, too. Something was coming.

  “No, you listen, Cassie,” Jon said, his voice rising steadily. “This shit is insane. It’s messed up. And what’s worse, you’ve pulled other people into your dysfunction. Samantha is a wreck, and don’t think I don’t know that you’ve been egging her on in this insane fantasy world.”

  “Jon, she’s not—”

  “Her doctors say she’s got to get a grip on reality. She’s got PTSD from that freaking stupid party! And I swear I’m not going to let you do this to her. We’re leaving.”

  Jon stomped off through the graveyard, turning only when he realized Samantha wasn’t by his side. He cocked his head, begging with his eyes for her to follow. She shook her head, trembling head to toe.

  “Seriously?” he asked, his voice quiet.

  “You don’t have to believe her. I do. Go home, Jon,” Samantha whispered.

  Jon looked to Ryan. “Are you hearing this? It’s insane!”

  “I’m hearing it,” Ryan said quietly. He looked disturbed, and Cassie saw his hand hovering over the pocket he kept his cell phone in. She reached for him and tangled her fingers with his. She felt just the barest impression of a recoil, and her heart sank.

  “Well, are you coming with me?” Jon pressed. Ryan shook his head.

  Jon left with a muttered curse and a slammed car door. In the quiet that followed, Cassie felt the briefest sense of crushing disappointment. Her friends didn’t believe her, and she was right all along to think they wouldn’t. A harsh sense of righteous anger swelled around her heart. She tamped it down.

  Some friendships, Cassie knew, were there for a season—to teach you something or bolster you in some way you didn’t know you needed. And once those seasons passed, the friendships did as well. But that needn’t be bitter; it was what it was. Rebecca and Jon might never understand or believe Cassie, but they had been an integral part of her high school years; friends and companions. Life, and all its seasons, were still waiting for Cassie, if only she could survive the next few hours.

  “It would have better if we had more people,” Samantha murmured. She brushed her sleeve over her eyes, wiping away the tears that had formed. “But at least they’ll be safe. Either way, we should go. Something is coming.”

  “Cass,” Ryan started, making both girls freeze in anticipation. Cassie looked up into Ryan’s face. His expression was torn—scared and concerned, angry and sympathetic. He seemed to chew the words before he was finally able to spit them out, weighing each syllable. “I believe you.”

  Cassie flew at him, hugging him tightly. He sank into the embrace, shaking slightly, but holding her without reserve, melding every part of his being to her. She felt it in the drawn breaths, sweet against her neck, and the moisture that met her hairline, remnants of his tears. She squeezed him hard, using her strength to hold him together. It seemed to help.

  Beside them, Samantha whimpered. “Cass, we have to go!”

  Before they could move, the trees above them swayed terribly. Sharp as firework explosions, branches broke overhead. Crack, crack, crack! Green leaves fell prematurely from tender branches, raining down on the trio in the graveyard. Samantha screamed, and Ryan tried to push both girls behind him even as both lunged forward to grab
a piece of iron. And then the forest stopped. The wind stopped. The trees stilled. And from between two oaks, a short girl of tiny stature stepped forward. She was out of breath, her chest rising and falling rapidly. She wiped her brow, though it was a reflexive action; her skin appeared free of sweat and blemishes. Her hair fell in perfect brunette waves as she pulled her tunic tight across her body, drawing a tender, green vine straight from the earth to belt it. Ryan staggered back and fell to the ground.

  “Sorry. Am I late?” Laney asked.

  Cassie and Samantha both ignored Ryan’s fall, striding toward the faery exiting the forest.

  “You scared us half to death,” Samantha hissed, though a tremulous smile curved her lips. Laney reached forward and embraced her, whispering her hello.

  “Are they behind you?” Cassie asked as the two girls broke apart. Laney shook her head.

  “No, I don’t think so,” she said. “I snuck away.”

  “Laney,” Ryan rasped, staring up at the trio. His legs were streaked with dust, and he absently brushed at his skin, though his gaze never left Laney’s face. His eyes darted about her features, as though his brain was trying to convince itself that what he saw was true.

  “It’s me, Ry,” she answered, tilting her head down at him and smiling. With a wave of her hand, the ground beneath Ryan swelled, gently pushing him to his feet. He jumped forward with a yelp, knocking into Cassie, who reached back to stabilize him.

  “All this time?” he murmured. The ground behind him shrank back, a mossy patch once again. She nodded.

  “We need to get going. I don’t think we have much time,” Laney said.

  “Is Aidan hurt?” Cassie asked. “Are you?”

  “Aidan’s healing. And they didn’t touch me, didn’t want to kill another of their own,” Laney said, stepping toward Ryan. He scrambled back, making way for her, and she raised her eyebrows as she inched passed him. “Touchy, touchy,” she whispered to Cassie, who pressed her lips in a line to keep her burgeoning grin in check.

  Cassie and Samantha bent over to scoop up their pathetic supply of weapons, and Laney took a healthy few steps away from them.