Chapter Text
Beatrice thinks the OCS has made a mistake as soon as they get close enough to the grove to hear the crowd. After a lengthy back and forth, they’d agreed to at least scope out the event. They hear the crowd before they see the clearing in full. There’s perhaps fifty people sprawled out on picnic blankets, setting up for an early supper as Adriel navigates and greets the crowd. Change already overflows from the sizable donation box in front of a recently constructed stage. Offerings of blood are painted high on the trees, out of sight of the pedestrians but clear as day if you know where to look.
Camila, Lilith, and Mary claim a patch of open space by the O’Shaunnessy family and spread out a blanket. Vincent greets a few parishioners and exchanges brief words with Adriel to keep appearances before rejoining the others with their picnic basket. Beatrice and Shannon move swiftly and silently some yards back in the thick of the forest. They take turns drawing symbols in the damp dirt with their knives, the bone blades stark white against the rich loam. At intervals the symbols are reinforced by the placing of a rod of iron tied with a bundle of herbs and other relics. Just as the last ward is placed, a few community members with instruments take the stage and begin to play a few tunes, some rousing tales, and some versions of religious hymns that Beatrice had never heard before. Their preparations done, Beatrice and Shannon position themselves behind their family, still tucked into the shadows of the woods. Shannon worries over the worn runes of Suzanne’s staff, handed to her just before they left the Cradle. As the shadows begin to lengthen the musicians take a small bow and yield the stage to Adriel, who bounds up the stage. His long brown hair is neatly tied behind his head, and his suit looks well-maintained, but not new. His gestures look natural in the way that only repetition creates. The polish of a conman. As his voice rises, Beatrice finds it hard not to react to his facade.
“Dear neighbors, I thank you for joining me on this fine spring day to celebrate my campaign for mayor. I have a vision to bring our beloved home into the 20th Century, with greater technological advancement, finer buildings, and more profit for each and every one of us…”
The crowd’s reaction to Adriel is largely positive. Someone jeers and a tall, thin man at the base of the stage weaves his way through the crowd to the source. Kneeling, he is still a full head taller than the seated crowds. Beatrice assumes there is an exchange of words and the tall man leads Michael Salvius, the mayor’s son, out of the clearing. He goes willingly, and only a few of Adriel’s strongest supporters boo as he leaves. The rest of the crowd looks mildly amused or completely unperturbed. The interruption seems to have broken some sort of spell, however. Beside her, Shannon inhales sharply.
“There are at least fifteen haints, not counting the three goons on stage. They’re almost all parents, and they’re all spread out.”
“Could we cause a disruption? Get everyone to scatter and use that to our advantage?” Shannon purses her lips.
“I don’t know if there’s a way to do that without risking our cover or Adriel getting away. The others wouldn’t know to stay.” Beatrice shakes her head.
“Should we even do this?”
“I have more reservations now than I did before.”
Twilight has fallen heavily by the time Adriel finishes speaking to rousing applause. Adriel’s smile is magnanimous as he shakes hands and thanks families for their donations. The crowd begins to dwindle as a few families pack their baskets and return to the Gap for the night. The OCS remains, someone producing a pie in the illusion of spending a little more time in the woods. The possessed parents remain, ensuring their families do as well. The risk of collateral damage is too high. Vincent rises, excusing himself under the guise of relieving his bladder and steps back into the woods a few feet away.
“Do you have a plan, Shannon?”
“I don’t think we should do this.”
“Why? You are all powerful practitioners.”
“There are near twenty haints, and too many children. We’d need to get the families out, but make our move quickly enough that Adriel doesn’t escape with them. If Camila could step away and create a distraction, Beatrice would keep eyes on Adriel and we would start the binding as soon as it’s clear. I don’t know if there’s time”
“And Lilith and Mary?”
“We all know the haints are jumpy. They should give themselves away quickly enough for Mary and Lilith to take care of them.”
“Let it be done.”
“That’s not what I said!” Shannon objects but Vincent turns and walks back to the blanket. Shannon and Beatrice fume as they’re forced to prepare for a battle they’re not sure they can win.
A moment later, Camila makes her exit from the clearing. It takes a few minutes, but soon there are a handful of shots that sound like they’re from a revolver and a thick, foul smelling smoke fills the clearing. The remaining families hasten to leave, save for the possessed, gagging and choking. The children start to run back to town but the Ones Who Were Not Their Parents snap at them to stay. The adults argue for a moment before the children run away anyway. In the few moments it takes for chaos to set in, Mary and Lilith slice through the smoke to knock five of the Ones Who Were Not unconscious and bind their wrists before the others realize their allies are collapsing. Shannon flits in behind them, clasping hands with the unconscious. A faint glow emanates from her hands and with a gasp, red mist appears above their bodies. White bone cuts through the smoke and into the mist, slaying another haint.
As the smoke billows, Beatrice sprints towards the last place she’d seen Adriel. She reaches the other edge of the clearing, near the Great Tree, she hears laughter.
“Ah, there you are. I was beginning to wonder when the OCS would show its claws. Mighty kind of you to let me spend the beginning of the year in peace.” The smoke clears, and along the path to town, just before the boundaries of her wards, stands Adriel and his suited guards, nonchalant with his hands in his trouser pockets. His eyes, glowing red with power, water from the foul air but his smile remains smug and wild. He pulls the handkerchief from his lapel pocket and dabs his eyes. When he speaks, the politician’s polish has been replaced with pure malice.
“You didn’t think it would be so easy to put me back in that tree, did you? That I’d just serve myself to you on a platter, like Mammaw’s Christmas turkey? It’s been forty-nine years. Seven cycles. Foolish, childish witches. Know this—I invited you here to see the beginning of a new era in our dear Appalachia because you will not live to see it end. The world is ripe for change. The bonds are weak, the veil is thin, and I will walk this entire earth until it is mine.” He claps his hands and looks to the ground, searching for something. His grin widens further as he finds what he’s looking for, and he steps over the warding line. Beatrice’s stomach drops to her feet as she sees her greatest fear realized and her wards fail. Stupid, stupid, stupid. You knew it was a trap and you still couldn’t do your job. He’s going to get away.
“Adorable effort, really, but you had to do better than that. Gentlemen, take care of them.”
The Ones Who Were Not Their Neighbors turn their attention to Mary and Lilith and the remaining bystanders escape the clearing, retching and coughing. Back to back, Mary and Lilith circle and dodge the heavy, clumsy strikes of the possessed.
“Can’t say I haven’t wanted to punch some of these fuckers before, but I’d rather we be drunk outside Mateo’s” Mary quips as she downs another one of her shift mates.
“You have punched most of them outside Mateo’s before, Mary.” Lilith replies, shoving Mary out of the way of another stumbling blow.
As Adriel strolls away down the path, Beatrice again begins her chase but she’s forced to stop as the suited men’s forms begins to shift and crack. Their clothing tears as they grow to their full, monstrous size. Their flesh darkens and hardens until it resembles the coal woven deep in the ground underneath. The ground quivers beneath each heavy step; Beatrice falls back to her sisters, fingers and golden motes of light flying through the air as she weaves protection around them. Just before the tarasks fall into formation and block her view of the path, she sees Vincent take off after Adriel with revolver in hand. As much as possible, the small band use brass knuckles and handles of their knives to incapacitate their possessed neighbors, but a handful of the large miners are held by stronger revenants, and they’re forced to take their blades to them—a slash to the shoulder, across the chest—anything to force the spirits out without causing lasting damage. As the foul smoke begins to dissipate, red mist takes its place as more and more of the Ones Who Were Not are forced back to their spirit forms and surround the OCS.
“Tarasks!”
“Just wonderful.” Mary says and pulls the pistol from her belt. There’s a stripe of blood on her cheek where the tailor, Mrs. Elosa, clawed into her, which she gathers with her thumb and paints onto the barrel. She fires twice into the massive chest of the closest tarask, knocking it off balance. Fueled by Mary’s blood, rather than bullets, the gun pulses gold and emits its streaks of holy fire. The tarask bellows in pain as the fire spreads across its torso but stomps onward. Lilith continues cutting through the spectral mist, clearing the way for them to move away from the unconscious bodies that now litter the ground. The tarasks close in, crushing several of their neighbors. Mary catches a glimpse of two-toned brogues under the tarask’s foot and has only a moment to grieve her friend Earl. Poor kid was so excited about wearing those damn new, fancy shoes on Sundays.
Camila emerges from behind the Great Tree, dropping to her knees and upending a vial of water into a bare patch of dirt. She digs her fingers in deeply, turning the soil over in her hands. A few moments of whispering passes and the ground begins to ripple out from her hands, turning into a deep, thick mud. The tarasks’ thudding footfalls give way to a squelching sound as the mud spreads, further slowing them. Shannon, who has been running in and out of Beatrice’s peripheral vision to dodge the tarasks and care for their neighbors, casts out the final haint and cuts through its misty form with fury. She runs to Camila’s side and calls out,
“Spread out, make them separate!” Shannon holds Suzanne’s old staff in front of her, chanting growing louder as she uses it to draw symbols in the direction of each tarask.
Mary fires into the tarasks again and the other two ignite behind their leader, but despite everything the beasts are undeterred. As Shannon prepares, the other members of the OCS feel the tug of the Green in their chests as she pulls an enormous amount of power to her hands and the staff. They slow their breathing and stand their ground against the oncoming creatures, releasing as much of their power as they can to aid their sister’s work. The moments pass and Shannon pulls more power still. With a sinking feeling in her stomach and heavy eyes, Beatrice watches the early spring weeds near her feet wilt as the life force leaves them. Never seen her do that before. A tarask closes in on her, inches from striking distance and Shannon is still working the spell. Beatrice is sure she won’t finish in time, and she readies herself to duck or to die. Just as the tarask pulls its arm back and swings its claws at her, she’s blinded by a blast of hot, white light as Shannon finishes her recitation and slams Suzanne’s staff into the ground, sending bolts like lightning into each creature. Beatrice stumbles back, choking on the hot air. When she opens her eyes the tarasks are piles of ash, and Shannon is deathly still on the ground.
“Shannon!” Mary is shouting, sprinting across the clearing and leaping over bodies to reach her wife, who collapsed just as she spoke the last syllable of her spell. Mary drops to her knees and begins checking for any life in her body. Beatrice, Camila, and Lilith hover nearby, drained. Any one of them could help, but they knew better than to step in without Mary asking. Mary holds Shannon’s wrist for a long, agonizing moment before sagging onto her chest in relief.
“She’s alive. Thank the Green, she’s alive.”
They all hear the sob in Mary’s voice as she genuinely thanks the Green for the first time in their memories. While Mary carries her wife back to the Cat’s Cradle, the remaining three sisters tend the wounded and perform rites over Adriel’s deceased victims. When the final wound is dressed and the last person woken by pungent smelling salts Camila and Beatrice return with them to town, burdened with the task of informing the families of the deceased of their lost loved one. Lilith returns to the Cat’s Cradle alone. On her way back, she sees the remnants of the warding symbol placed behind the OCS picnic blanket. It has been scuffed, the edges toed through.
It is long past dark when Mary returns to the Cradle, stumbling but still tenderly cradling her wife’s body. Ava and Suzanne have been waiting at the window since sunset, trepidation growing between them as more time passed. Suzanne, usually the picture of composure, had started tapping the foot of her spare cane on the floor about an hour earlier, after there was a pull in the Green so significant that even Ava recognized it with no training. Every lantern they could find is lit and scattered about the property, lighting the way home. When a figure emerges bearing another, Ava leaps from her post and runs to meet them. Mary barely spares a glance at Ava, locked in as she is on her small house. The shadows from the lamp light deepen the bags under her eyes.
“Mary…I’m so sorry.”
“She’s alive, baby girl.”
“Did Bea not…? What happened to everyone else?”
“They’re alright. Cleaning up the mess, I’m sure. Took just about every bit of life in her, but Shannon kept us all alive.”
“What can I do?” That earns her a sharp, appraising look.
“Get the door for me for now, and then get Suzanne. She’ll want to talk about things.”
“She’s been so worried, Mary. I didn’t even know she could worry.” Mary snorts a little.
“She worries a lot, kid. I know it’s hard to imagine it now, but when you ‘n your mama disappeared all those years ago she was a wreck. She didn’t sleep for days, until that first and last letter came through.”
“Ten years in that orphanage tells me a little differently.”
“She thought you were dead, Ava. You were so far away that she could barely feel your mama through the Green at all. One day she stopped feeling either of you, and was never able to figure out why. What else was she supposed to think?”
Mary’s shouting a bit by the end, and Ava feels a pang of guilt for taking out her lingering bitterness at Suzanne at a time like this. By now, they’ve reached the Masters’ home and Ava rushes to open the front door, and then the bedroom. As Mary gently lays Shannon on the bed, Ava stokes the fire before running back to the main house.
“Suzanne, Mary’s back. Shannon’s in a bad way.”
“The others?”
“They’re all coming back.” An extra wrinkle Ava had noticed earlier in the evening smooths out of Suzanne’s forehead at her words. She sees rather than hears the deep breath Suzanne takes as she sets her shoulders and rises with the help of her cane.
“Stay here and start some coffee please, Ava. There will be lots of work to do when the others get back.”
Ava’s surprised to find that she doesn’t feel like arguing with Suzanne for once. She nods and goes directly to the kitchen. Throwing an extra log on the fire, she’s grateful for the busy work she and Suzanne did earlier as they waited, as the water jugs are freshly filled and she doesn’t have to go back out to the well to fill the percolator. While she waits for the water to boil, she scavenges through the icebox for something for the OCS to eat. Maybe they won’t want to eat immediately, but surely they’ll be hungry at some point. She finds boiled eggs and ham (always ham). There are always plenty of biscuits, so Ava sets those out on the table as well, along with plates and mugs. She’s contemplating her ability to replicate the fried cornmeal mush she sees Mary make when Lilith stalks through the door, dropping heavily into a chair. Ava is still not particularly interested in initiating conversation with Lilith after their fight earlier in the week, but she pours coffee into the mug in front of her all the same and nudges the sugar bowl in her direction. Lilith makes a sound between a cough and a grunt as she stirs a surprising amount of sugar into her cup, which Ava takes as the closest thing to thanks as she’s going to get. Fight or no, she’s dying to ask questions. She holds her tongue, though, and continues poking about the kitchen to see if there’s anything else she can set out for her friends. She takes a plate of biscuits and ham, and a thermos of coffee to Mary. Mary gives her that look again, but she’s too focused on Shannon to say anything more than “thank you.” Ava understands.
A short time later, Camila and Beatrice finally return. Camila has obviously been crying and Beatrice’s lips are tightly pursed. They, too, take their coffee wordlessly and sit around the table. Ava is beginning to think she’s going to explode from the pressure of heavy silence when Suzanne reenters the house. Four heads whip to the door and follow her walk to the head of the table in expectation. She takes a long draught from her coffee before speaking.
“Shannon is resting. She is strong. She should wake in a day or so, but it will take her much longer to regain her strength. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen someone channel that much power. I don’t know if she’ll ever be the same as she was before.” The table is still, somber.
“Mary will need help caring for her, obviously, and I hope we all will step in to make sure Mary rests. Ava, I ask that after we discuss this evening’s events, you take more coffee to Mary and stay with them until Mary falls asleep. Lilith will show you how to make it with passionflower and ladyslipper to encourage sleep. She won’t want to, but she will after the coffee. Someone will relieve you from watching over them at sunrise.” There’s a bit of tension in the air as Suzanne makes her request. Ava knows she could have been more cooperative, considering everything the OCS has done in letting her stay with them, but she’s a bit insulted they think she wouldn’t help care for Shannon at a time like this.
“Of course, Aunt Suzanne. Whatever they need.” She studiously avoids looking at everyone but Beatrice, who bears the faintest of tired, proud smiles on her face. Suzanne’s voice is a little softer and cracks when she thanks Ava and moves on to debriefing the evening’s conflict. Beatrice takes the lead in recounting the speech, Michael’s outburst, and the battle.
“We shouldn’t have made a move. We didn’t even get close to him. He ran as soon as the smoke hit, and my wards didn’t even slow him down. The tarasks killed four people.” Ava hears the guilt in her voice, the grief. Beatrice is taking the mission’s failure entirely on herself.
“I don’t know what happened. Shannon and I set the wards exactly where they needed to be.”
“It’s not your fault, Beatrice.” Lilith’s voice reminds Ava of snow, cold, but somehow still soft. “I saw one of the sigils on my way home. It’d been scuffed over. It may have been an accident, but we may have been sabotaged.” Camila looks alarmed but says nothing. Beatrice shakes her head.
“How would that be possible? We were the only ones who knew they were placed, and the haints can’t touch them. Michael, Vincent, and Camila were the only ones who went that far from the clearing the whole time, and we know where they went.” Suzanne’s face is grave and troubled.
“I didn’t say we were sabotaged, just that it was possible. It was just a scuff on one of the edges, but it was enough.”
“Lilith is correct that it was probably an accident,” Suzanne interrupts, “but we should plan to keep an eye on Michael nonetheless. You say he disrupted the speech and was escorted out? It may have been planned. He may be of sound mind and in league with Adriel. He would then be able to break the wards.”
“But that doesn’t make sense! He’s so supportive of his mother.” Camila says, and Ava gives a small nod of agreement. She’d only spoken to the handsome young man once or twice when he visited Mateo’s, but she could tell from those conversations that he was still quite attached to his mother’s apron strings, as the saying went. Jillian Salvius was purportedly an intelligent, formidable woman. It seemed much of the town held her in high regard and until Adriel’s return, she had no competition for this year’s mayoral election. Michael loved to share stories of the railroad executives Jillian put in their place or the funding she secured to protect the wooded areas surrounding the Gap.
“Handsome mama’s boy or not, he’s still the most likely suspect.” Suzanne chides. Ava blushes a little and sees Beatrice’s lip turn down in a scowl. Interesting. Is she jealous of him? Why?
“Beatrice can watch him at the mines and Ava can listen for anything suspicious at the bar. Perhaps I should visit our mayor soon as well, to see if she needs our services.” Camila and Lilith quirk an eyebrow at each other and Ava makes a mental note to ask Camila about that little tidbit later. Suzanne takes a deep breath.
“I am loath to say this about one of our own, but Brother Vincent’s behavior in recent days has been concerning. We must also be cautious with him. I hope the Green would have revealed any treachery before now, but this cycle is uncharted territory for us. We should be safe and apologize later, rather than too trusting. All we can do now is rest and stay on our guard. It would be unwise to make any other moves now. Lilith, please help Ava with Mary’s coffee before you retire. Beatrice, Camila, go to bed.” The assembled women nod and disperse.
“Ava, start the percolator. I’ll be right back with the herbs we need.” Ava doesn’t argue. It only takes Lilith a moment to retrieve the herbs they need. She returns with a thick, weathered book and a few jars and sets them on the table.
“We’re mixing lady-slipper and passionflower in the coffee. Find them in the book. Passionflower has sedative properties. It also treats seizures.” Ava flips to the back third of the book and finds the entry for passionflower. The original drawing and details of sedation and pain relief have faded, but she recognizes Beatrice’s handwriting in the freshly written copy. Above the common names, she’s neatly added the Latin name passiflora incarnata. The new sketch of purple-ish petals and sepals invoke Shannon’s careful, artistic hand. In the margins, Lilith has scrawled half-complete notes about “asthmatic support” and “blood pressure regulation.” After taking in the page, she turns to the entry for lady-slipper, cypripedium calceolus, and the page looks much the same. Aptly named, Shannon’s sketch details a long, yellow flower surrounded by three, two-toned leaves. Lilith’s note on this page simply reads “hard to find, make tincture to stretch usage. Fresh steep best for Camila’s headaches” Ava smiles. The collaborative maintenance of the book is another glimpse at the tenderness hidden in the center of life at the Cat’s Cradle.
“We will use a quarter dose of previously-steeped lady-slipper and supplement with a half dose of passionflower. A typical dose of lady-slipper alone would be enough to put Mary to sleep for half a day, but we just need her to go to sleep, not stay asleep. It’s also incredibly difficult to find, so we use it sparingly.”
“Unless Camila has a headache?”
“Camila does most of the healing work in the Gap; it is important she feels well.” Lilith’s tone is measured, but the lamp light is bright enough for Ava to see her blush. She grins, but lets the subject go.
“Of course, that makes sense. Won’t Mary be able to tell the coffee tastes differently?”
“Between the length of time this infuses with the coffee, and the amount of sugar she uses, no. The base dose of lady slipper tincture is a four milliliter dropper full. We’ll add a partial dropper to the coffee before you take it over, but first, we steep this sachet of passion flower for a few minutes.”
Lilith opens the sachet briefly to show Ava the dried herbs inside before tying it back up and tossing it into the coffee pot. They stand quietly for a few moments, Ava looking through the pages of the herbal, Lilith tracing the grooves in the counter top with her fingers and staring into space. Eventually Ava looks up and examines the other woman. Through the torn sleeve of her dress, Ava sees a gash just starting to dry and clot over with a poultice.
“Hey, Lilith? If you want, I,I think I can take care of that cut on your arm.” Lilith cuts her a sharp look. “Not that you can’t, but I assume you’re tired and didn’t want to use the energy. But if something bad happens soon it would be better that your arm is healed.”
“Oh. Um, I suppose that would be fine.” Lilith sounds surprised and apprehensive. “You can do that?” Ava hops out of her chair with a small smile.
“Apparently. Did I tell anyone about the deer I saw the first week I was here? It was a fawn and its leg was caught in a trap. I dunno how long it had been limping but it was exhausted. When I released the trap, I touched its leg and I healed it completely somehow. I think I could do it again.” As she speaks, she places her hand carefully on Lilith’s shoulder, above the gash. She trails off as she focuses on channeling the warm, glowing energy that the OCS has spent the past few weeks teaching her about. She scrunches her eyes closed and after a moment, Lilith feels the itching heat of skin knitting back together.
“Don’t push too much, Silva. I don’t mind scars.” Despite her warning, she almost feels a burn on her arm before Ava lets go of her shoulder, swaying for just a moment. Lilith brushes the dried poultice off and examines the tender new skin. There is no scar.
“Not bad. I told you not to push, though.” Ava sticks out her tongue.
“You’re welcome, Lilith, for ensuring your arm doesn’t fall off from gangrene! I can’t exactly tell when it’s done doing its thing.”
“My treatments would have been more than sufficient in preventing infection. But yes, thank you. You would be an adequate healer with practice.” Ava grins and looks at the coffee.
“Is this ready? You and Mary really need to get some sleep.” Lilith nods, and Ava makes her third trip that night to the Masters’ cabin.
Mary is seated beside Shannon, staring blankly at her wife’s unmoving face, half empty bottle of moonshine on the nightstand. She doesn’t acknowledge Ava’s presence until she’s tapping her on the shoulder, handing over a coffee cup.
“Oh! Hey, baby girl. Why aren’t you in bed?”
“I wanted to bring you some more coffee and check on Shannon before I went. How is she?”
“She’s about the same. Breathing better, though, so that’s progress.” Mar looks at the coffee. “That’s real sweet of you, but Suzanne didn’t put you up to this, did she? Put a little somethin’ sneaky in the coffee?”
“Of course not. When have I ever just done what Aunt Suzanne asks?” Ava’s poker face may have fooled Sister Frances, but Mary has actually played poker. She snorts at the exceptionally blank look on Ava’s face.
“It’s fine, baby girl. We’ve all had to nudge each other along the path to sleep at some point. Earlier this winter when Mayor Salvius was down with pneumonia we had to dose Suzanne up twice just to get her to take a cat nap. For Green-gifted people, we don’t always trust the Green. Or perhaps our gift is why we’re this way. She has her own designs. Get me the sugar?” Ava complies, mulling over Mary’s words.
“So the mayor and Suzanne, huh?” She says when she returns.
“Been sweet on each other since their school days, as I understand it. Unfortunately for them, the mayor’s parents arranged a marriage for her to secure some mine and railroad business. You and your mama disappeared, and Mr. Salvius kept Jillian from supporting Suzanne. Then Mr. Salvius died a couple years after Michael was born in a rail accident and they could talk again. I think Suzanne understood Jillian hadn’t had a choice, but it still hurt. They still hadn’t quite stopped dancing around each other when Jillian got sick. I think it put some things into perspective for them. Suzanne thinks she’s being sneaky, but Michael tells me she visits more days than not.” Mary smiles, and takes a large drink of the coffee.
“That’s very sweet and sad.”
“It is. I think Suzanne is going to spend even more time with her now that Adriel’s shown his hand a little. I don’t think she could live with herself if Jillian got caught up and hurt in this.” Ava nods, and they sit in companionable silence while Mary finishes her coffee.
“I take it Suzanne asked you to sit up for Shannon? I’ll have a lie down, then. Throw as much wood on as you need to stay warm, and help yourself to some of those biscuits you brought over if you’re hungry. It’s not going to take long for this to put me out.” Mary gives Ava’s shoulder an affectionate squeeze as she passes to go sleep on the same couch Ava had on her first night in the Cradle those short weeks ago.
“Yes. Go get some rest, Mary. I’ll come get you if anything changes.”
“Thanks, kid.”
Ava takes the bedside chair and settles in. There’s not much to watch for or do. Shannon’s deep, even breaths remind her of Diego when he was young and finally recovering from his illness. The strong and steady pull of air, of rest and healing, is comforting. Ava feels confident Shannon will recover. It is more than a bit boring, waiting for someone to wake up. She wishes she’d brought the herbal from earlier, or maybe the small collection of protection and fertility charms Camila had been teaching her to make. Even though she feels the Green, she’s still not sure how she feels about the rest of the craft around it that the OCS relies on so heavily. Still, it would be nice to have something to do with her hands while she sits.
The rest of the night passes uneventfully. At some point Ava checks on Mary in the living room, tossing another log on the fire and covering her with one of the quilts from the rack. She munches on a biscuit, and examines Shannon’s watercolors and sketches, some incomplete and half scattered across the desk in the corner, more closely. All the while, Shannon sleeps peacefully. At the very bottom of the pile, is a page heavily yellowed with age. Ava thinks it must be one of Shannon’s earliest drawings, as her hand isn’t as steady and the proportions aren’t quite right. Even so, Suzanne is unmistakable. She’s sporting shorter hair, worn down around her shoulders, and what Ava considers a rare smile. She’s taking a flower proffered from a small, chubby toddler. Beside her, also smiling, is a woman a few years older. Her face is unsettling in its familiarity. It’s like looking at an aged version of herself. Ava realizes she’s seeing her mother’s face for the first time in more than ten years. The first family portrait she’s ever seen. She holds the paper gently, reverently, and takes it back to the chair beside the bed.
She must have fallen asleep looking at the drawing because the next thing she knows, the sun is peeking through the window and Camila is gently shaking her awake, steaming cup of coffee in her other hand.
“Morning, Ava. Did Mary give you a hard time?” Ava takes the mug gratefully and shakes her head.
“Not at all. She knew what Suzanne was doing, but she wasn’t upset about it. She says you guys have to do that kind of thing a lot.”
“We do. It’s hard when a loved one is hurt, sure, but Mary’s never seen Shannon like this. We weren’t sure if she’d let us help.” Ava nods and sips the coffee, already sweetened exactly how she likes it. She raises an eyebrow at Camila, whose expression resembles a cat that’s caught a particularly fat mouse.
“Beatrice made the coffee this morning. I don’t think she’s ever made our coffees before.” Ava’s smile is small but smug.
“Well, that was very sweet of her. I’m surprised she got it exactly how I like it.”
“Please, of course she did.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you’re both idiots. Go eat and get some real sleep.”
Ava scrunches up her face and sticks her tongue out at Camila who simply laughs and sticks her tongue out back. Ava returns the old sketch to its place on Shannon’s desk and leaves the bedroom. Mary is still asleep on the couch, snoring lightly. Ava creeps out, avoiding the squeaky floorboard and shutting the door quietly. She crosses the yard and takes a moment to enjoy the sun from the porch while she drinks her coffee. There’s no collection of syrupy grounds at the bottom as there is when she doctors her coffee herself, too impatient to stir until it’s all dissolved. Beatrice and that extra thirty seconds of patience makes her smile as she finishes the warm beverage. The first floor of the house is empty; it seems everyone has gone back to sleep or started the day’s work. Ava quickly washes out her mug and climbs the stairs to the room she shares with Camila. The door down the hall from hers is cracked, and she peeks her head in to see if Beatrice is around. Her friend sits at her desk again, slate in front of her, drawing protective sigil after protective sigil. In the moment she watches her, Beatrice nods off, chalk dropping from her hand. Ava’s heart swells with fondness. She walks softly into the room and crouches beside Beatrice’s chair to whisper,
“Hey, Bea.” Beatrice jolts awake, slate clattering on the desk. As her eyes alight on Ava, the tension in her posture eases slightly.
“You need to rest.
“Ava, the wards—“
“Nope. Lilith already said someone smudged them. There was nothing you could have done better. You shouldn’t be punishing yourself for things that aren’t your fault.”
“It’s not punishment, it’s improvement.”
“Bea, there’s nothing to improve. Your wards have never failed, and everyone on this property and in this town who knows anything about this bananas ‘Green’ thing knows you’re the best at them. It’s not your fault. Go to bed, Bea.” Beatrice’s lips purse as if she wants to argue, but her exhaustion overwhelms her guilt. She stands up slowly from her chair, the day prior weighing her down. She drops onto her bed a few steps away, face to the wall. Her voice is almost too soft for Ava to hear.
“Stay for a while?” Ava sits beside her on the small bed wordlessly and gently strokes her arm the way she remembers her mother doing. Before she knows it, Beatrice’s breathing becomes slow and deep.
“Goodnight, honey-Bea.”
Before she goes to her own room, she leans over to press a kiss to Beatrice’s cheek. At the same moment, Beatrice rolls over and Ava misses, instead ghosting along Beatrice’s lips as she pulls back to avoid knocking noses or accidentally kissing her, waking her, and ruining everything. She freezes to see if Beatrice wakes, but when nothing changes after a moment, she exits the room as swiftly and silently as she can. Closing the door, she leans against it and exhales heavily before going to her own bed.
On the other side of the door, Beatrice groggily touches her fingertips to her lips and blushes before falling into a deep, dreamless sleep.