Chapter Text
When the sun finally lights the cool fall air of the Cats’ Cradle, her residents, those who slept at least, have already been up for hours. Shotgun Mary and the truck rumble in from the night shift in the mines around two that morning. She turns off the engine quickly so as not to disturb the sleeping residents and dashes across the yard to a second, smaller building a short distance away from the main house. As she goes, she catches sight of light in the treeline. Shaking her head, she pivots and approaches the floating light.
“Beatrice Young, you better get your ass to bed before I tell Shannon you’re out here before shift again.” A shadow jumps just beyond the soft glow of the lantern before a young woman in worn denim and a dark shirt steps into view.
“I just had to check.”
“You didn’t have to check, Beatrice.” Mary’s voice is worn and stern from hours in the mine.
“If they fail…”
“They’ve never failed before.”
“I’ve never warded against tarasks, Mary. They could.”
“Shannon’s a good teacher. You’re a good witch. They’re not gonna fail. Now go get some goddamn sleep, kid.” Her voice softens with affection as she pulls the lantern off the tree limb and holds it out. They stare at each other for a long moment before the younger woman finally takes it in hand and together, they head in the direction of the houses. She waits off the porch of the small house until Mary’s finishes removing her boots.
“Good night, Mary.”
“Good night, Beatrice.”
Mary watches Beatrice until her lantern disappears into the house, and then reappears in a window on the second floor a few moments later. When the light is snuffed out, she nods to herself, satisfied that her anxious sibling would at least get a couple hours of sleep now, and enters the house she shares with her partner, Shannon. She strips down to her long johns without hesitation, presses a kiss to Shannon’s head, and immediately drops into a deep, dreamless sleep.
A few short hours later, Mary is awake again. Already a restless sleeper, she knows she needs to get a word in with Beatrice before they go their separate ways for the day. She rises, redresses, and makes her way to the main house. Within minutes of her stoking the fire in the stove and setting a large percolator at the back, a woman in a blue gingham dress with a mess of black curls that look more awake than their bearer, makes her way down the stairs. She begins mixing biscuits as Mary pulls a plate from the icebox and sets about cracking eggs into an enormous cast iron skillet with what remains of the previous night’s cornbread and pork. The two figures work the kitchen quietly, Curls kneading biscuit dough to her precise satisfaction, until the percolator reaches its boiling point. Mary pours two mugs of coffee and passes one off to the other woman.
“Mornin’, Camilla. Quiet night?” Camilla takes a long, slow sip of the coffee before answering.
“Quiet enough for this kind of year. Mateo came by ‘round ten for his daughter. Her cough turned into a hard fever and dreams. Lilith had plenty of fever salve and I gave them charms for the bedrooms.”
“Good girls. Their family always struggles when the bindings get thin. Do you know if Beatrice slept?”
“She came up when I did, but I don’t think she managed to not check the wards. She’s asleep now so I think she got a few hours.”
“I found her checking the wards at two, so I hope so. Michael told me that girl was gonna fall over in the mine pretty soon if she kept that shit up.”
“Language, sweetheart.” A voice carries from the front door as the speaker crosses the room, and Mary turns with a crooked, apologetic grin.
“Sorry, Shan.” Mary greets her with a soft kiss and the second mug of coffee.
One by one, the remaining residents of the Cats’ Cradle fill the kitchen, quietly greeting each other and falling into a well-practiced routine. Lilith, a tall, lean figure in a gray dress, with dark hair and a severe gaze comes down the stairs to set the table, just as a stern woman a few years older than the rest strides out of one of the main floor bedrooms with a cane. Out of the other bedroom comes a man with soft eyes and a soft smile. Finally, just as Lilith finishes setting the table, a woman in faded denim jeans and a dark collarless work shirt, walks down the stairs rubbing sleep from her eyes.
“Good of you to join us before noon, Beatrice.” Lilith intones. Beatrice huffs darkly, and the older woman raps Lilith’s knuckles with the handle of her cane.
“Beatrice has never failed in her responsibilities for love of sleep, Lilith. Leave her be.”
“Thank you, Suzanne,”
Beatrice flashes a smug smile, and nudges the taller woman with her shoulder on her way to her seat next to her. The older woman speaks again,
“Brother Vincent, I believe we are ready for grace.” Vincent, the soft-eyed man, nods from the head of the table and the group inclines their heads to varying degrees. Beatrice and Lilith bow deeply, whereas Mary tilts in a respectful, but uninvested, nod.
“Thank you, Lord, for this gift of food. Bless it to the nourishment of our bodies. Thank you for our home. Bless it as a place of safety for those cast aside and misunderstood. Thank you for our gifts. May we use them to combat the Dark and protect our home. Amen.”
The gathered family quickly digs into their meals, noise rising from sleepy, mumbled requests to pass a dish, to full conversation about the day ahead as they wake further. Lilith and Camilla make plans to process some of the hanging herbs and start pulling seeds for the spring planting. Mary updates Beatrice on the night’s events in the mines while Shannon discusses the day’s lessons at the school with Suzanne and Vincent. Soon, with meal and conversation finished, another long day in Areala’s Gap begins in earnest. Beatrice and Lilith clear the table, but Mary takes the dishes from Lilith with a shake of her head and follows Beatrice to the wash bin. Beatrice begins washing without speaking, and after placing down her stack, Mary thunks the back of her head, not hard, but enough to make her stop washing and turn with a hard eye.
“The hell are you doing, Beatrice? Michael says you’ve been asleep on your feet most days this week and I come home and find you out in the dark at 2 in the morning? You know what’s worse than the wards failing? Being out after dark alone!” Beatrice has the sense to look chastened, but Mary rolls on.
“What are you going to do if something does happen and you’re alone? Or you fall asleep in a mineshaft? You fucking die, Beatrice, and you die alone. That’s what happens. You die for no good goddamn reason. You—”
“That’s enough, Mary.” Suzanne’s tone leaves no room for argument. She moves into the room steadily with the support of her cane.
“While her delivery leaves much to be desired, Mary is correct, Beatrice. It is far worse for us to lose you in an accident or unplanned patrol than to have your wards fail. You are gifted, but more than that, you are studious and practiced. You must trust the Green and yourself, the way you trust your sisters.” Mary nods in agreement, chastened.
“I just worry about you, kid.”
“I’m sorry. I cannot fail you. I couldn’t live with it.” Mary smiles ruefully,
“Unlucky for you, if you fail, you probably won’t be living with much at all.” Suzanne knocks against Mary’s arm with her cane.
“Enough! Mary, you need to rest and Beatrice, Shannon is waiting for you. May the Green light your day.”
Mary and Beatrice leave the kitchen with respectful nods to Suzanne and head out to the truck. Mary hands over the keys and leans through the passenger window to kiss Shannon on the cheek.
“I hope the children behave today. I can always make a special lunch visit if they’re not.” Shannon shakes her head with a grin,
“Like you’d be able to discipline any of them.‘Miss Mary, can we fly? Miss Mary, play soldiers with us!’ and all order in my school flies out the window. You’re worse than they are, most of the time. I’ll see you this evening, love.”
Seated behind the wheel with her lunch pail between them on the bench, Beatrice starts the truck and they roll off of the property. The ride to town is quiet, Beatrice not much of a morning person and Shannon more than sure that she’d had her fill of lectures for the morning, besides. They roll up to the schoolhouse and as Shannon exits, Beatrice simply says, “thank you.” Shannon gifts her a smile and walks into the small school.
Beatrice drives on, past the bar and hotel, past the small general store, the post office, to the train station where all the miners take a left to get to the mines. There was an early train today, she notes, a small gathering of people stepping off and milling about the platform. She sees a well-dressed man about her age with floppy black hair leap off the step and turn to help a young woman off the train. The woman seems to glow, and Beatrice realizes after half a moment that it wasn’t simply that she was glowingly beautiful, but she was—
Her thoughts are interrupted by a truck horn behind her and by the time the truck veering around her—driven by Sean Crimson, the impatient sonofabitch— is gone, so is the woman who caught her eye.