Chapter Text
“Excuse me?” Ava’s voice is sharp and full of disbelief, and the other women at the table exchange glances. Shannon and Mary, the only two residents of the Cradle around the time of Raquel’s disappearance, look grieved.
“My aunt? My mother had a sister?”
“I know the past day has been quite a lot to take in—“
“Where the fuck were you? I was alone with a sadistic nun for ten years! She tried to marry me off to some creep for money!” The table is covered by an uncomfortable silence. Beatrice knew Suzanne had a sister and niece who disappeared in the years before Beatrice joined the Cradle, but Shannon was the only one who had known them. Mary moved in a few months later.
“Ava, when Raquel left with you, she made it impossible for you to be found. I didn’t know where you were, what had happened, anything. I promise we would have come for you immediately if I knew where you were.”
“Well that completely makes up for ten years of neglect, doesn’t it?” Beatrice hears the pain and fear of an orphaned child underneath her scathing words, and her heart breaks. She understands the confusion of losing family intimately, and her fingers twitch with the desire to reach out, provide some comfort.
The morning of December 26, 1912 is freezing. Beatrice is at the train station, and for the first time her parents aren’t boarding with her. To the public eye, all was well with the Young family. Their only child, quiet and polite, is a model of good behavior and her parents are stern but proud. Behind the closed doors of their modest home, however, it’s been weeks since either parent has spoken a word to the young girl. Several Sundays before, as she scampered about with the other children after church, there had been an incident. Beatrice doesn’t fully understand what happened, but she knows she did very wrong. She followed the other children as they laughed and chased each other to the woods, enjoying the last dregs of fall warmth. It’s her turn to seek as the winner of the last round of hide and seek. The game is easy for her. She finds the most climbable trees, the softest bushes, all the best places to hide with ease. When she seeks, her feet follow the most natural path to her friends without a thought. She’s found most of the children already when it happens. She’s looking for her best friend, Eliza, who is always a good hider. She can feel that her search has lead her back towards the edge of the woods, closer to the church and their parents, but she’s just not sure where Eliza is. She hears her suddenly.
“Hi, little kitty!” Eliza’s just out into the clearing between the church and the woods, kneeling in front of a young cat too large to be a barn kit. She’s reaching out to pet it, and it stretches its nose out curiously. Beatrice thinks of the terrifying yowling she’s been hearing at night. Papa said they were “catamounts,” big, wild cats, being pushed out of their isolated territory by the growing railroad and coal mining operations. She thinks this little kitten is too small to not have a mother nearby and she trips over her sensible winter shoes as she runs.
“Liza, leave it!” A few strides of her little legs and she’s beside her friend. Behind her, she feels, rather than hears the catamount mother stepping out of the woods. Something like a tickle of electric energy flows from where where she feels the cat’s paws on the earth to her own feet, through her shoes. She imagines it’s low to the ground, looking for her baby and when to strike. She turns slowly, hoping to not spook the mother.
“Eliza, you have to stay still.” Her friend looks around, her focus on the kit finally broken.
“Why?” As she speaks, she raises her head and sees the tensed, big cat at the edge of the trees, pacing forward, and sucks in a terrified breath. She falls away from the kit as it prances over to its mother. Eliza is flat on her back on the ground, scrambling. Beatrice stands as tall as she can between her friend and the panther, slowly spreading her arms wide. The panther’s gaze flicks to her at the movement and the moment they make eye contact, Beatrice can sense the catamount’s…not thoughts, but feelings. As it continues forward, she’s overwhelmed with feelings of the urge to protect, fear of exposure, relief of seeing the kit safe. She sees the cat see Eliza on the ground, and the question of if she’s a threat remains in her head. Beatrice slowly reaches a palm in the direction of the cat and focuses her thoughts on the kit’s safety. “The kit has been found, smell the kit, it’s okay. She’s not going to hurt you.” Her eyes water and she realizes she hasn’t blinked since she turned around. Her breath is slow and deep as she continues projecting thoughts to the cat, trying to convince it to leave. The cat finally stops inches away from Beatrice’s outstretched palm. She lets out a puff of air against her hand and Beatrice feels a fire-like glow of warmth extend up her arm. The cat nudges her hand briefly and turns, picking up her kit in her mouth and lopes back into the woods. There’s the crack of a gun as the panther’s tail disappears into the brush, and while Beatrice feels the spike of fear in the cat, she knows the shot missed.
When Beatrice finally blinks, there’s a crowd of parents and children around her and Eliza. The mothers and aunts are doting on Eliza, dusting off her dress and checking her for skinned knees and elbows. She hears the fathers and uncles discussing the increase in panther sightings and what is to be done about it. The other kids surround her, gushing over her bravery and how close the cat was to her. She feels a little tired, like she’d just run a three-legged race with the fastest kid in class. She doesn’t answer the questions thrown at her by the other children, if the cat was soft, did it smell bad, did she think it was going to bite her hand off. Her eyes finally land on her parents, off to the side and separate from the others. Her mother looks terrified and sad, and her father looks enraged. She walks up to them and without a single word, they begin the long walk home.
The memory washes over her and is gone in an instant. On her other side, Suzanne’s stern facade is betrayed by the bright shine of tears on her eyes. She remembers her first July at the Cradle.
She hadn’t learned it yet, but Suzanne’s missing sister and niece had birthdays in July. Suzanne, who had been kind to her from the start despite her quiet nature, was more reserved than usual that month. The night Suzanne told her was hot and sticky, and Beatrice couldn’t sleep. She’d lain in bed for what felt like hours, willing herself to slip away. Suzanne said she could always come to her if she needed to, but her parents would never allow her to leave her room after being put to bed. After a few more minutes in the dark, she plucks up her courage and slips out of bed. The stairs creak softly and she flinches. Suzanne looks up from her chair by the fire in concern. She’s clutching a mug to her chest and Beatrice thinks she sees the firelight glint off of tear stains on her cheeks.
“Beatrice? Are you alright?” Her voice is gentle, as it always seems to be for Beatrice, but she sounds tired.
“I’m sorry I got out of bed. I couldn’t sleep. I think it’s too hot.”
“You don’t have to apologize, Beatrice. You can come to me whenever you need, even after you’ve gone to bed. It does get hot up there in the summer. Let me get you something to drink and we’ll make up the couch for you to sleep on. It will be cooler down here.”
“Thank you, Miss Suzanne.” The older woman smiles at her and goes to the ice chest. She chips off a few shards of ice into a glass and pours her a small amount of lemonade made for the next day, and cuts it with water.
“Our little secret, yes? Shannon and Mary won’t miss it.” Beatrice smiles a little. She’s still wondering if Miss Suzanne was crying. She takes the glass and sips gratefully, the ice and tang of the lemons cooling her face almost immediately. She thanks her and they sit in tired, sad silence for a moment.
“Miss Suzanne?” The woman hums in absent acknowledgment, “Why were you crying?” Suzanne is startled back to herself.
“You saw?” Beatrice nods, a little afraid that she’d been wrong to say anything.
“Just a little.”
“That’s quite alright. You’re an observant one. I was crying because I miss my family.” Beatrice understands. After the panther incident, her parents had only spoken to her once on that day to yell at her for sin and witchcraft. Then the day they sent her here, to the Cat’s Cradle to tell her the Cradle would “free” her from whatever possessed her.
“Where is your family?”
“I don’t know. I have a sister and a niece, a little younger than you. I woke up one day last year and they were gone. Their birthdays are this month, and I miss them very much.”
“Why did they go away?”
“Sometimes, when people are very scared for their families, they think the best thing to do is to go away to protect them, even though their family doesn’t want that.” Beatrice nods and thinks. She doesn’t know if her parents were scared when they sent her away, but she understands a little.
“Do they send you any letters?” Suzanne tears up again. She knows Beatrice has yet to receive a letter from her parents after seven months, even as her 11th birthday passed a few months ago.
“Sometimes. I can never send a letter back to them, though.
“Why don’t they want to talk to us, Aunt Suzanne?”
“I don’t know, dear Beatrice. I don’t know.”
Beatrice is brought back from another memory by the harsh scrape of chair legs against the floor as Ava pushes away from the table and storms out of the house. The sisters look around the table at each other, grimacing. No one speaks, waiting for Suzanne to set the tone. After an awkward silence, she sighs and says,
“Somehow, that managed to go even more poorly than I thought it would. Mary, Beatrice, one of you please make sure Ava doesn’t walk all the way to town, if she chooses to leave. Otherwise, let’s all give her her space and go about our business.” They all nod, and Mary and Beatrice engage in a heated conversation using solely the movement of their eyebrows to decide who would take Ava back to Areala’s Gap proper. Finally, Mary sighs and stands from the table. She kisses Shannon on the cheek and passes Suzanne with a squeeze on the shoulder as she collects the truck keys and leaves to catch up with Ava.
Ava’s angry stride has taken her to the edge of the clearing and up to the road by the time Mary gets the truck running and finally reaches her. Mary leans over the bench seat and cranks down the window.
“Get in the truck, kid. I’ll take you to town,” Ava looks up, tears clear despite the anger on her face. She looks like she’s considering telling Mary to kick rocks so the older woman adds,
“And we don’t have to talk about it. Whatever you wanna do, wherever you wanna go I’m just going to make sure you get to it safely.” Ava contemplates the long walk back to the Gap, which she isn’t even sure she could do herself without getting lost considering Beatrice drove them out in the middle of the night. She furiously rubs the tears off her cheeks and clambers into the truck. True to her word, Mary doesn’t say a word about Suzanne during the drive back to the Gap. Instead, she’s mostly quiet. She occasionally points out landmarks, some relevant to the Gap as a whole, but mostly those important to the OCS. The place she asked Shannon to go steady; the place Vincent caught a young Camila and her brothers stealing from his traps and instead of punishing them, brought them to the Cradle and fed them until the practically fell asleep at the table; the place Beatrice broke Sean Crimson’s nose for slapping Lilith’s rear during a summer picnic. The stories settle Ava’s mind a little, but break her heart even more for the memories she could have had, had things gone differently, had Suzanne found her, had her mother just let them be found. After a few stories, Mary seems to sense the conflicting emotions and eventually lets an emotional silence settle between them.
When they reach the hotel, Mary parks the truck and follows Ava inside. Something sets her teeth on edge immediately. It’s fairly early in the day, no trains have arrived yet, so the desk being unattended should be unsurprising. However, things are in just enough disarray for her to feel uncomfortable with it. She eases out of her jacket and places it on the coat hook to free up access to her knife and pistol and follows Ava, still fully absorbed in her musings, up the stairs to her room. There are more signs of trouble the closer they get to the room. The hallway runner is bunched up, the walls appear to have been slashed or clawed at with a knife, and the door to Ava and JC’s room is wide open, the sight of which finally snaps Ava out of her reverie. She takes in the damage surrounding them in the hallway and pauses. The sound of tearing flesh and breaking bone, wet, sucking, cracking, nauseating, punches through the open doorway like a gunshot. Ava turns to Mary, eyes filled with panic. Mary gestures for her to stay still and creeps forward, drawing her pistol from her belt. She peeks in the doorway and immediately pulls her head back out of sight. She mouths a word to Ava that she doesn’t recognize. Ava’s wild eyes convey her confusion and Mary waves her closer. Together they look into the room again and Mary clasps a hand over Ava’s mouth before she can react to the creature inside. A monstrous, hulking creature that looks to be made of simmering coals is crouched facing away from the door. Ava’s jaw drops against Mary’s hand. Mary whispers in her ear,
“Need you to stay put out here. Shout if anyone or anything comes up the stairs.” Ava nods, wide-eyed and terrified. Mary drops her hand from Ava’s face. She pulls the knife from her belt and makes a small, precise cut on her palm. In less than a second, the cut wells up and she wipes the blood on the barrel of her pistol. Ava swears she sees a flash of golden light where Mary’s palm meets the metal. Mary steps into the room, brings the gun up and fires three times. Ava looks into the room. Rather than a puff of smoke and a bullet leaving the gun, there is another bright flash of gold. The first beam hits the creature in the back, and as it lifts its head to turn their direction, Mary adjusts her aim to send her final two shots directly to its face. The beast roars in pain, lurching towards the door. The golden light consumes it as it strides, and it collapses into a pile of ash before it reaches Mary.
Beyond it, blood spatters and viscera cover the floor and lower halves of the furniture. At the back of the room, limbs torn asunder, lie the barely clothed bodies of JC and Zori. Ava takes in the carnage, processes the implications of Zori’s presence, and promptly vomits on the hallway rug. Mary winces sympathetically and pulls the hair back from Ava’s face while she empties her stomach.
“Hell, baby girl. I’m sorry about…all of this.” Ava wipes her mouth with the sleeve of her dress and tries again to take in the room.
“Jesus Christ. What the hell was that?”
“It’s called a tarask. They’re really big, powerful haints but instead of possessing people though, they change their appearance to blend in. They act like hounds. They can smell the Green on people, especially when they’ve done a large working. I would guess it smelled your work on JC and followed him here. They’re driven by blood lust, so they probably didn’t even consider these two not being the prey they were actually hunting. Do you know who the woman was?”
“That’s Zori. She traveled with us until our last stop before the Gap. She was supposed to be in New Orleans.”
“So you didn’t know she was here?”
“I had no idea.”
“And they are…”
“Naked. Yup.”
“I don’t know if it’s possible for you to have a worse day, kid.”
“Still not the worst day, or second worst day of my life.”
“That, uh, sounds really awful.” Ava shrugs and enters the room with the collar of her dress over her nose. She steps gingerly to the wardrobe and pulls out her bag and two spare dresses, another to work in and nicer dress for social events. She’d been so proud buying that nice dress, her first luxury purchase. She’d hoped to wear it for JC one evening, but that chance would never come now. She shoves them haphazardly into her bag along with her book and a few of her sparse belongings that had escaped the splashing blood and viscera. Her few precious items gathered, she exits the room and drops her collar from her nose, scrunching her face as the tang of iron hits her again. Mary pulls a handkerchief from her pocket and offers it wordlessly. Ava dabs her stinging, watery eyes and hands it back. Closing the door to the destroyed room, Mary places an arm around her shoulders and they walk down the stairs. In the lobby,
“Do…do you think I could go back to the Cradle with you? Will Suzanne let me stay?”
“Suzanne will never turn you away, Ava. Neither would Shannon, and so neither would I.”
On the main floor, the desk attendant has started tidying up the mess from the night before. Mary fishes a few dollars out of her pocket and gives them to the attendant.
“This should cover a few days of the room upstairs. The OCS will be back to handle clean up later today.” They look much less surprised than Ava feels about the morning’s events. They do offer a grimace at Mary’s sober expression.
“Better y’all than me. Thank you for taking care of things.” Mary nods and gestures for Ava to follow her out. The only sound during the drive back to the Cradle is the rumbling of the engine and Ava’s breathing. Every few moments another wave of panic and nausea overtakes her and Mary notices as her breathing shallows out, the temperature in the truck rises as Ava unknowingly pulls on the Green to protect her. Mary’s a bit worried she’ll burn a hand print into the seat so she raps her knuckles softly across Ava’s and says,
“Hey, baby girl. I know it’s hard, but you gotta calm down a little. You’re pullin’ on the Green a lot and these seats aren’t fireproof.” At Mary’s words, Ava realizes how bright and hot the truck has gotten and she gathers her hands in her lap, taking a few slow, intentional breaths. The temperature of the cab drops by a few degrees immediately.
“Atta girl. We’re almost back to the Cradle. We’ll get safe behind the wards and we’ll start teaching you how to blow off some steam without setting things on fire.” Ava nods, but remains silent as she continues to focus on her breathing. After a few more minutes, the cab returns to its usual ambient temperature and Mary smiles slightly to herself. Ava had raw power, but her ability to learn and adapt quickly was where her real strength would come from. When they reach the Cradle and enter the main house, Suzanne is slouched ever so slightly in her chair from earlier that morning. She stands as Mary closes the door behind them. Her eyes are rimmed red. Ava’s posture is stiff and try as she might to hide her emotions, resignation and grief are evident in her voice as she speaks.
“Tarask killed JC. I have no where else to go. Is there still a place for me here?” Suzanne feels her niece’s sorrow radiate across the room in the energy that connects all beings in these mountains. She thinks back to the days when Ava would toddle over to her, reaching out with sticky hands and tear-filled eyes, her aunt the safest place after her mother and she wishes she could comfort her in that way now. Instead, she simply nods and speaks softly in return,
“Of course. Mary, please take her to Camila’s room. The spare bed there is yours for as long as you want it.”
“Thank you, Suzanne.” Mary shows Ava up the stairs, pointing out Lilith and Beatrice’s room down the hall before opening the door to Camila’s empty room and gives her a comforting squeeze on the shoulder before leaving her to settle in and unpack her small bag. It takes Ava mere moments to hang her dresses and shelve her few books and knickknacks. She collapses onto the small bed, reminiscent in appearance to her bed in the orphanage, but fortunately much more comfortable. Safe and alone for the first time in days in her new, shared room, Ava breaks into body-wracking sobs. The past twelve hours had been filled with trauma after trauma with no time to process until now. Abandoned again by JC, his betrayal with Zori and gruesome death, the realization there had been a family member thinking of her all along. Each one alone would be more than enough to send someone spiraling. Ava wishes for her mother more today than she has in a long, long time.