Chapter 1: The Cat's Cradle
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.
Chapter 2: Welcome to Areala's Gap
Notes:
TW: canon typical creepy old men, religious abuse, child abuse
Chapter Text
Gazing around the small, simple hotel room Ava Silva has to admit that while it’s not ideal, it’s a far sight better than where she’d been a year ago. Her traveling companion is a boy she’s sweet on, the sheets on the twin beds looked soft and clean, and the window lets in plenty of bright winter sun, something she never got enough of in California, even when she was no longer bed bound. She places her small bag on the bed closest to the window and hangs her spare dress in the wardrobe. The wardrobe smells mustier than she expected, and it takes her back.
She stood with a cane, the tallest and oldest by far in a long line of youths, in the damp main hall of the orphanage. All the others her age had long since been adopted, able-bodied, suited for work on a farm or in a factory. They were worth the extra mouth to feed. Ava was not.
Through the window, she saw the arrival of a red automobile, sunlight glinting off the silver bird on the hood. She looked down beside her to Diego, his jaw slackened by the display of wealth. The children rarely saw a Model T, let alone something as glamorous as whatever vehicle this is. Ava wasn’t sure she even knew the manufacturer. The vehicle slowed to a stop and the chauffeur stepped out. Just as the prior visit, the first time she’d seen him, he was dressed simply in a black suit and despite the overcast weather, wore sun goggles that distorted the appearance of his eyes. Even from a distance, Ava could see the odd darkness behind the tinted green lenses. It was unsettling, and she avoided looking too directly at his face as he and his employer entered the house.
Sister Frances greeted him with a simpering smile, demure in a way Ava only saw when the benefactors visited the home.
“Mr. Duretti, a blessing to have you visit us, as always. The children are eager to update you on their academics and activities.” Mr. Duretti was a man of average height somewhere in his fifties, judging by the gray increasingly streaking through his hair upon each of his visits. He had a way of sweeping into a room that bothered Ava. Like a cold wind on a sunny winter day he acted like his presence was a gift, but in reality, didn’t really do much about the weather. He clasped Frances’ hands in his and kissed the air on either side of her cheeks.
“Dear sister, I’m so glad to see you well. Let me say hello to the children and then we can speak of your work.”
Duretti greeted each child individually, remarking on John’s growth spurt, or Marcie’s lost tooth, and asking after the children who had joined or left the home since his last visit. He reached Diego, who rushed past the pleasantries to ask about the automobile. Duretti laughed, a practiced, disingenuous sound.
“It’s a Hispano-Suiza, my boy. Mr. Fonesca would be glad to tell you about it while I talk with Sister Frances, wouldn’t you, Baltasar?” Baltasar, always a step behind Mr. Duretti, nodded stiffly once,
“Of course, sir. Always happy to discuss automobiles with children.” Ava thought briefly that his tone suggested otherwise, but in truth his tone …didn’t suggest much at all. It was flat and dead. She glanced up to his eyes, catching a glimpse of that unsettling darkness again before he appeared to school his face and when she blinked, they were a normal, if dark, brown. Duretti looked to Ava and was noticeably surprised to see her upright and out of her chair.
“Well, praise the Lord above! Ms. Ava, it is wonderful to see you standing!” He stepped in and kissed her cheeks, to her surprise and distaste.
“Yes, Mr. Duretti. It is quite the miracle. Sister Frances’ care is such a blessing.” Ava had long since learned the lines Frances required of her, but refused to put any effort into her tone, much like Mr. Fonesca. Duretti smiled, not at all thrown by her attitude.
“It certainly is. How old are you now, prezado?” It takes all of Ava’s willpower to not cringe at the unexpected pet name.
“I turn sixteen in December, sir.”
“Ah! You are so much older than the other children here. Perhaps you would join Sister Frances and I for tea, once we’ve finished discussing the upkeep of the home. We can discuss your future.” Ava looked to Sister Frances in alarm, who for her part, looked equally unsettled by the man’s suggestion. To Ava’s dismay, she collected herself and nodded.
“Of course, a wonderful suggestion.” Ava looked back to Mr. Duretti and forced a smile.
“I would be happy to, Mr. Duretti.”
He smiled at her again, and proceeded towards Sister’ Frances’ rooms, his chauffeur and the sister trailing close behind. Mr. Fonesca made eye contact with Ava as he passed, and she was hit with a wave of nausea so strong she had to lean on her cane. Diego grabbed her arm in concern, but she waved him off, the feeling passing as quickly as it came on.
The nun and the benefactor closed themselves in Frances’ sitting room and Mr. Fonesca seated himself in one of the chairs nearby. Diego and the other children piled around him to pepper him with questions about the automobile, but Ava kept herself back. Mr. Duretti was a sleaze but relatively harmless. His driver was not. Animosity oozed out of every pore. She couldn’t explain it, but Ava had felt that if she looked into Mr. Fonesca’s eyes for too long she might lose part of herself. She watched the children, Diego particularly, but looked to Fonesca as little as possible, using his tone to gauge if she needed to step in and scatter them. They lost interest naturally after they asked as many questions about the automobile as their young minds could create, and they drifted away from the driver. Despite no longer being contained by childhood zeal, Fonesca remained perfectly still. Ava had begun to drift off from boredom when Sister Frances opened the door.
“Ava, come here, please.”
Ava begrudgingly rose and joined Sister Frances and Mr. Duretti in the sitting room. The room was mostly used for conversations with prospective adopters, so Ava had rarely, if ever, had cause to enter. The decor had to be the original decoration from the 1880s, and was somehow mustier than the rest of the house. Ava decided immediately that she hated the room. Duretti gestured to the chair next to him, and Ava took it. He began telling her about his life; his family’s nobility, his immigration from Portugal after the coup in 1910, and the businesses he had built in America. Ava admitted it sounded impressive, though she didn’t know why it mattered.
“Miss Ava, when you turn sixteen this year, have you thought about what you’ll do?”
“I’ve been thinking I’d like to work a little bit and travel, Mr. Duretti. My mother was from Portugal like you, but I grew up in Kentucky before we were here. I’d like to go east, and maybe even to Europe.”
“A romantic and understandable desire for someone your age. What work would you like to do? I’m sure the good sister would welcome another teacher.” The nun and Ava grimaced in unison again.
“Sister Frances and I both believe it will be better for me to branch out from the…safe walls of the home. I’ve had fewer opportunities to leave than most.
“Ah, of course. Sister Frances expressed a similar sentiment.” His tone was amused, as if he knew of the facade Ava and Frances put up for these visits.
“Well, Ms. Ava, I have a proposal for you. As I just told you, I have been blessed with much wealth and status despite the circumstances of my presence in this country. I have not, however, been blessed with a wife or heir. I am happy to continue to fund the church upon my passing, but do hope to carry on my family’s name. I hope you can help me with that.” Ava’s stomach roiled. His implication was clear, but too repugnant to voice. She adopted an innocent tone and asked
“You want to adopt me, Mr. Duretti?” Sister Frances choked on her tea and Duretti shifted uncomfortably.
“Ah, well, no, Ms. Ava. My proposal is, quite literally, a proposal. When you turn sixteen, we would marry. I understand an arrangement like this with a man my age is no longer appealing for most young women, however, once I have a son and he is weaned, I will be happy to fund a life of travel and relative luxury for you. You would not have to work and you could return to Kentucky and even Portugal as soon as the arrangement has been fulfilled.”
“It is an incredibly generous offering, Ms. Ava.” Frances interjected, “Mr. Duretti doesn’t expect an answer now, of course. He will return in a month for your answer, in order to make preparations. Return to the others and think on it. But know this, it is better than any opportunity I could have imagined for you. ” Her tone is still the simpering, sickly sweet one she adopts for benefactors, but the implication is clear to Ava. This is the best you’re going to get, girl, and you don’t deserve it. As she leaves, there is only one thought in Ava’s mind: run.
“Ava? You alright?” She’s broken from her reverie by the sound of her traveling companion JC entering the room. JC is a tall, tan boy just a few years older than Ava. She had managed to drop every one of his packages while wrapping them for him in Salt Lake City, one hot August day. Rather than upsetting him, it seemed to charm him and he invited her to join him at a speakeasy later that evening. Over sharp, illegal liquor and the music of a lone saxophone, Ava was entranced by his stories about traveling across the country with his friends, sometimes working but mostly scheming for meals, lodging, and entertainment. As they walked back to the lodging house, JC held her hand and asked her to travel with them. She wouldn’t get to New York much faster with them than by herself, but she’d see far more places and JC was downright handsome and didn’t seem to want to ask too many questions.
He was sweet, too, and fairly quiet. But when his friend Zori suggested they leave Ava behind when her pain flared in late November, he demanded they stay to ensure her safety. The pain receded after a couple of days and they were able to move on as a group, but not for much longer. Just after Christmas, and Ava’s 17th birthday, in St. Louis, as JC suggested going further east towards New York, Zori, Randell, and Chanel decided to go further south to New Orleans. And so the pair found themselves in this small town called Areala’s Gap, posing as siblings to preserve the sensibilities of the baptist biddies.
Ava smiles at him and closes the wardrobe.
“Just fine, JC. Just thinking about the pie at the diner we saw on our way here.”
“Always pie with you,” he teases, “Well, let’s go get a slice and then see who needs working hands. General store’s still going to be our best bet this time of year.” She joins him at the door and he gives her a brief, awkward kiss on the cheek before they exit the room.
The general store is the best bet for work by a long shot, as it happened. The owner Matteo, a soft-spoken man with tired eyes and an easy smile, looks relieved at the idea of extra hands.
“My little one has been sick. She and her mother are usually here as well, but it will be a long time before they are up to the work again. One of you can help me in the mornings, and one in the afternoons. Or, there is night work as well.” Night work was the only unusual aspect of working for Matteo.
“I’d like to work the afternoons,” JC says just as Ava asks,
“What kind of night work? Is there a late train for deliveries?”
“No no, nothing like that. Please follow me.” JC and Ava lock eyes and after considering for a moment, shrug, and follow. Matteo leads them to a door in the back of the store, which opens to a staircase into what Ava assumes is the stockroom. Matteo takes out a match and lights the candles along the wall as they descend. At the bottom of the stairs, rather than a stockroom, Ava is delighted to find a bar and collection of tables.
“There is bar work as well. Someone working the bar would mean I can take care of my daughter and let my wife rest at night. We are not teetotalers here; the sheriff enjoys his drink as much as any. It is better to keep up appearances, however.”
“Oh! I’d love to do that!” Ava bounces with enthusiasm. She could meet so many people, learn about so many places as a barmaid. Matteo looks as if he might cry from relief.
“How wonderful. My wife will be so happy to rest. Can you start tonight?”
Ava smiles broadly and looks at JC. Yeah, things really are looking up.
Chapter 3: Everybody Wants a Key to My Cellar
Notes:
TW: canon typical violence, magical violence, mild homophobia
Chapter Text
Areala’s Gap is as sleepy as JC and Ava expect one bar towns to be, and they settle into their usual routine easily. They’d share a fifteen cent breakfast from the diner next door, usually a ham biscuit and grits with an unholy amount of sugar or honey. The cook had graduated from open-mouthed disbelief at Ava’s crime against hominy to ignoring it in favor of shaking her head at whatever story she told as she and JC collected their meal. After a week, they found their tray often had an extra thick slice of ham, or a treat of leftover cobbler from the day before. JC would then go to open the store with Mateo. He told Ava he liked the work. There was a fair balance of physical labor, from moving sacks of dry goods, and opportunities to garner friendship with the locals. The gap wasn’t a wealthy town by any means, but he often came home with an extra few pennies that pretty girls “forgot” in his hand as he gave them change for their purchases. In their second week working for Mateo, Ava comes to the store early before her shift to eat with JC, Mateo, and his family. There’s always a lull before the bar opens so he lingers behind the counter while JC brings few more sacks of oats from the back of the store. The bell over the door jingles and they look up to see two women, probably close to their age, enter. Ava looks to their faces and warms in an way she’d long forgotten about. She faintly remembers feeling this way when she played with her mother in the stream, when they filled jars of honey with herbs. The tall one exudes tension, dark hair pulled into a bun that accentuates her severe cheekbones. She’s beautiful in the way a lightning storm is beautiful, simmering and building until the sky crackles and flashes with power. The shorter woman is no less beautiful, but the curls in her short hair seem to match her energy, relaxed and bouncy. She offers Ava a wide, easy smile as they make eye contact and Ava thinks of adolescent mountain lions. Playful, but strong and dangerous. JC drops the final bag of oats on the low shelf and turns to greet the two women. They’ve already begun shopping, the tall one inspecting bags of flour for damage and the short one collecting a few different cans of fruit.
“Well, hello there. I’m JC. Can I help you gather your items? The sharp one scoffs, but the other does answer,
“I’m Camila, and this is Lilith. We’re just fine shopping for ourselves, thank you.” To Ava, it’s a polite but clear dismissal. JC doesn’t seem phased as he says,
“Okay! Just let me know!”
He lingers some in the dry goods section, clearly waiting for Lilith to find goods to her satisfaction so he can take them to the counter for her. She eventually finds a few large bags that meet her expectations and collects them. She breezes past JC’s outstretched hands and places them on the opposite end of the counter from Ava. JC seems a bit surprised but drops his hands with a shrug and moves to the register. Camila brings up her now-full basket and gives Ava another smile. This close, Ava feels almost hot. There’s a neighbor at the door, the nice old man who gives Ava a rock candy when he and Mama trade vegetables for washing services and salves. Mama won’t let him in like usual, though. She sees him through the crack in the door, and she feels sick to her stomach. Mama’s voice is quiet and scary. She steps onto the porch and closes the door. Ava can’t see the man anymore, and she doesn’t feel sick anymore. Mama’s only gone for a few minutes, maybe and when she comes back Ava rushes to hug her. The air in the room feels hot, and her arms are almost burning on Ava’s back, even through their clothes.
“Mama, are you sick? Why is it hot?”
“Don’t worry, solzinha. It won’t be hot long. Mama had to do some work.”
Ava finds herself pulled again from her memories by JC’s voice. He’s rambling, gesturing to Ava as he writes down Camila and Lilith’s purchases and calculates their total.
“My sister and I are from California. It’s just been the two of us for a while. We’re trying to make our way to New York, but it’s taking some time and work.” Ava forces out a smile, and notices Camila’s friendly smile has turned curious and even Lilith’s previously unflappable countenance looks rattled.
“It’s hard, but it’s a great way to see a lot of places! We spent Christmas in St. Louis and visited the new symphony hall.” Ava spins a story about their travels as JC finishes making their change.
“That’s a good number of bags, can I help you home?”
“That’s so kind of you to offer, but please don’t trouble yourself.” Camila shoots JC down again gently.
“It’s no trouble! Ava can handle the counter until it’s time to close up, which isn’t long now anyway. It’d be a pleasure to walk you lovely ladies home.” He’s laying it on thick, and Ava wonders if she should feel jealous. They are sweethearts, but to everyone in town they are siblings and almost any single man of JC’s age would be interested in.
“That is unnecessary. Our husbands are just down the road with the truck. Thank you for the assistance, JC.” Lilith snaps out at JC, and nods to Ava. She gathers the bags of flour and oats and hefts them over her shoulder with ease. She exits in three long strides, and Camilla hurries after her, calling over her shoulder
“It was nice to meet you, Ava!”
Ava fills her morning with walks. She learns the town in a few days and soon begins venturing out into the woods. There’s plenty of signage to guide her to the river and back in time for her to open the bar. One unseasonably warm February morning, Ava sits on her favorite fallen log with Mrs. Dalloway, the book she splurged for after receiving her first week’s wages from Mateo. Sister Frances and the orphanage had little in the way of books beyond old copies of The New England Primer and moral treatises for children. Ava struggles to read many of the books she picks up, but she relishes the opportunity to even try. The river’s lazy gurgling and the sound of purple finches and kingfishers protect her little pocket of peace. She’s unsure how much time has passed when her reading is interrupted by the uneven snapping of branches somewhere to her left. The birds quiet, and she looks for the source of the noise. The culprit is a young deer, not quite a yearling. It’s dragging one of its hind legs, which is bloodied and caught in a steel trap. It reaches her clearing and collapses, exhausted and pained. Ava feels something sharp in her chest in response. She shallows her breathing and sets her scrap paper bookmark slowly. There’s only a handful of yards between them. Ava creeps over slowly, palms outstretched, silently pleading with the animal to not try to run. It tries to stand, terror evident in its eyes. Ava exhales, trying to calm herself, and she sees some form of ease come over the deer. It’s still in obvious pain, but it lays back down and eyes her with more curiosity than fear. Still moving slowly, Ava reaches the trapped leg. She places one hand on the release and the other on the injured leg. She takes a deep breath to gather her strength and presses down forcefully on the lever. It’s rusted and stiff, but after a moment, the steel teeth of the trap open enough for her to yank it away from the deer and toss it across the clearing. Despite its freedom, perhaps because of its exhaustion, the deer remains still under her palm. She looks over its leg. The skin is bloodied, rubbed raw from dragging and shifting in the trap. The deer becomes restless under her gaze and she releases the breath she had forgotten about. She rubs her hand across its haunches as she does so, and she’s shocked at the burning sensation that streaks across her palm. She feels something tugged gently from her chest and the young deer leaps up. It takes a few hesitant steps, still limping, but with each step it seems steadier. By the time it reaches the other side of the river, the limp is gone and it is bounding away as it reaches the edge of the clearing on the other side. Just before it disappears, it appears to stop to look back at Ava for a moment. When it’s finally out of sight, Ava feels a wave of fatigue roll over her. She picks her book up off of her log, and makes her way back to Areala’s Gap. By the time she reaches the edge of town the strange heat in her palm has faded, and when she reaches the hotel the fatigue is gone as well. JC arrives at their room around the same time, and when she gets to the bar for work an hour later, her encounter with the deer has all but slipped her mind.
Beatrice will imbibe on exactly one evening a week, Saturday, with many of the other miners, but mostly with Mary. It had taken Mary some time to convince her, but it was the one night that the end of Beatrice’s shift didn’t butt up against the beginning of Mary’s so she accepted the opportunity to spend some time with her friend. It’s the first time since Christmas they’d been able to stop in for a drink, between Mateo’s daughter’s illness and their own obligations. She kicks some lingering truck dust off of her Sunday boots as she opens the store’s door. She’s surprised to see the young man from the train station a few weeks ago behind the counter, writing in the ledger. He looks up,
“Hey there, can I help you?”
“I have an appointment.” He offers her a lazy smile,
“Sure thing. Mateo’s ready for you downstairs.”
She nods at him and makes her way down. She’s glad to see Mateo has some help as his daughter recovered. He’d gone from looking exhausted at church to missing it entirely in recent weeks and she’s sure the whole family was grateful to spend more time together. Beatrice steps into the basement, kerosene lamps casting a yellow glow and heavy shadows deep in the room. She looks to the bar, and is blinded again by the woman from the train station, looking quite in her element as she pours whiskey into short glasses. Mary’s already on her usual stool, chatting away with the shining woman. Beatrice is fixated on her brightness and realizes she must have been staring when a hard bump to her shoulder makes her stumble forward. It’s Sean Crimson, again.
“What, never seen an out of town broad before, Young? Close yer mouth, you don’t have what a gal like her likes anyway.” Crimson’s default nature is loud and crude, and he loves to exaggerate that to cause Beatrice discomfort. By the time he finishes speaking, the bar has quieted and everyone, pretty bartender included, are paying attention to him as he adjusts his crotch dramatically and sidles up to the counter. Beatrice rolls her eyes, but can’t hide the embarrassed flush that appears high on her cheekbones. She takes her seat next to Mary, who bumps shoulders with her affectionately and slides a waiting glass to her.
“Always a displeasure to see Crimson. His mama must wonder every day what she did wrong to have a son like him.” Beatrice laughs a little and looks at the woman at the other end of the counter.
“She’s the one I told you about, the woman at the depot.” Mary looks up from her glass,
“Ava? Yeah, she’s got it. I could tell when she said hello. Cam and Lil mentioned someone working the counter upstairs the other day looking pretty promising as well. Reckoned we were all talking about the same person.”
Their low conversation is interrupted by Ava’s approach. She leans on the bar, arms accentuating her breasts despite the simple cut of her dress. Beatrice’s eyes flit down briefly before she trains them on the face of the woman before her. The woman, for her part, smirks flirtatiously and makes no secret of trailing her eyes over Beatrice’s torso, whose strong shoulders appear broader clad in clean, wool broadcloth and the denim jacket Camila had specifically tailored for her.
“Hi there! I’m Ava. Whiskey or beer?”
Beatrice holds up her glass.
“I’m doing whiskey, but Mary had me sorted on the first one. Thank you.” Ava looks down at the glass and over at Mary, and looks a little embarrassed.
“Right! Silly me, she told me someone else was coming for that second glass. Well, when you’re ready for another, let me know okay…?” She trails off, hoping for a name.
“Beatrice. I will, thanks.”.
“Beatrice. I’ll check on you soon, Bea.” She flashes another smile and bounces off to pour drinks for a few other miners who’d just come down the stairs. Beatrice stares as she walks away for just a moment before Mary nudges her again with a grin only younger siblings and long-time friends recognize. Beatrice clears her head with a shake and says,
“ ‘Pretty promising’? Mary, I saw her from the road. I was damn near blinded when I walked in tonight. She has the strongest connection to the Green I’ve ever seen.”
“I’m just telling you what we’ve seen as well. I don’t know about the strongest connection, but she’s got it. Maybe she was in the sun when you saw her outside and you were just blinded by her tits just now.” Somehow, Beatrice thinks, her irritating smile has gotten worse.
“I’m not a teenage boy, Mary. I can look at a woman without fixating on her breasts.”
Mary snorts and takes a sip from her glass.
“Just pulling your leg, kid. She’s someone to keep tabs on for more than one reason. Anyway, tell me what kind of shit y’all got up to today.”
They settle into their usual comfortable banter with each other and some of the other, more pleasant miners from their shifts. Ava seems to be keeping a close eye on them. As soon as Beatrice’s first drink is gone, Ava is there, leaning on the counter with that flirtatious smile and pouring her another. Mary is ready to head back to the Cradle and Shannon after their second drink, and Beatrice is as well until she sees Crimson stumble back down the stairs after stepping out for a leak. He was piss drunk when he left and moved like he still was, but his eyes were far too alert for his condition. And they were trained on Ava, not with lust but with malice. Beatrice takes her jacket off and tosses it back onto the coat rack.
“I think I’ll stay for one more. It’s a nice night.” She leans close to Mary’s ear,
“I don’t like the way Crimson looks right now. I’m just going to make sure he doesn’t cause trouble.” Mary glances over, but Crimson is deep in another glass and she doesn’t see his eyes like Beatrice had.
“You don’t have to make up a reason, Beatrice. You get your girl.” She speaks loud enough for Ava to hear a few seats down, who looks over and rakes her gaze over Beatrice again. Mary grins and tosses Beatrice the keys to the truck.
“You’re not wrong though, it is a nice night. I’ll hoof it, since you got plans.” She leaves a few small bills on the bar and makes her way up the stairs. Ava steps over with the bottle.
“Just had to have another, huh?” She flirts. Beatrice flushes and decides to be brave.
“Not every night in Gap sees your drink served by a pretty stranger. What brings you this far off the path?” Ava looks delighted that Beatrice has decided to flirt back and Beatrice is again blinded by her as she breaks into perhaps her first genuine smile of the evening.
“Just traveling. My brother and I are working our way to New York, but taking our time. Seeing different places.”
“Sounds like quite an adventure. But why Areala’s Gap? We don’t have much out this way but the mines.”
Ava pauses. She’s not sure, now that she’s asked about it. It was in the right direction, sure, but it had felt *important* that they stop here rather than one of the big cities. She hesitates and finally responds with,
“It sounded pretty, I suppose. I’m a bit tired of the cities, too. I wanted to see something different.” Beatrice nods in understanding. They pass a couple more hours this way, Beatrice nursing her third drink and Ava stopping to chat between other customers. Even with her attention on Crimson, Beatrice feels the crackle of energy between her and Ava. Not the Green, though Beatrice feels that as she always does when she meets another person with the gift. Ava is magnetic, Beatrice feels it and sees it in the other patrons of the bar. She knows she has most of Ava’s attention, even when she’s helping other customers, and only the brightest of the other patrons also see where her focus lies. Eventually, most of them settle up and drain the last drops of liquor from their glasses with a nod to Ava and a wink at Beatrice. By the time Ava’s closing up bottles, the only patrons left in the bar are Beatrice and Crimson. He’s slumped over in a chair in the corner, snoring. Beatrice stands and dons her jacket. She places a five dollar bill on the counter.
“I’ll get that souse out so you don’t have to deal with him. It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss Ava. I hope to see you again soon.” Ava smiles and nods, slightly disappointed Beatrice hadn’t offered to walk her home. She would have declined of course, because JC should be outside waiting for her, but it would mean Beatrice was as interested as Ava hoped. Beatrice strides over to Crimson’s table and kicks the chair leg.
“Get up, Crimson. Bar’s closed.” The man’s head jerks and Beatrice catches a glimpse of lucidity in his eyes before they’re schooled back to the sleepy, unfocused gaze of a drunk. He grumbles but rises, and Beatrice grasps his arm, tight, and guides him firmly out of the general store. There’s a young man leaning on the window, tan and handsome by most girls’ standards, and Beatrice gives him a nod as she lets Crimson go. He seems well and truly stoned and Beatrice wonders if she’d been overly concerned earlier. She walks down the street to the Cradle’s truck, fully intending to leave. But as she turns, she hears a gruff “thank you” from behind her back, and knows she won’t be leaving until she’s sure Ava is back wherever she needs to be, safe. Crimson stumbles down the road towards his house some blocks away. Beatrice fades into the shadows around the truck. A few short minutes later, Ava appears in the doorway. She gives the man at the window a brief kiss on the cheek and they head off in the same direction Crimson had gone a few minutes before. Beatrice gives them a small head start, and follows slowly, sticking to the shadows and alleys as much as possible. If her distaste for a drunken Crimson was simply playing tricks on her, there was no reason to alarm the young strangers. The general store and her truck are just out of sight when it happens. Crimson stumbles out of an alley and into the pair, startling them. The young man yelps—who *yelps*?—and jumps back.
“Suh sorry, lost my feet there fer a second.” His words are heavily slurred and he sways as he leans on Ava. “Can ye help me get t’ my house? ‘S’not that far. Least I don’t think.” JC and Ava share a glance. Helping drunks home wasn’t exactly in their plans for the night, but Ava thought about how wet the winter had been and didn’t want to find out one of the most regular patrons of the bar had gotten sick from sleeping in the damp. JC shrugs, so the each sling an arm over their shoulders and continue walking. Every now and then, Crimson will tell them to make a turn. After a few minutes, Ava realizes he’s taking them out towards the mines, not the residential area and she slows her steps.
“Are you sure you know where you’re taking us, Mr. Crimson? I thought you lived in town.” The drunk man stops and straightens a little, looking around. His brow furrows.
“Huh. Thought I did. This is good enough, though.” Crimson draws a knife and rises up to his full height, all signs of inebriation gone from his face and posture. The voice that emanates from him as he speaks in not the familiar one of a man too many drinks deep. There is hatred, darkness, and power in its rumble.
“Adriel sends his regards, Miss Silva.” His lips split into a wicked grin and he lunges at her. His knife narrowly misses her ribs as she stumbles backwards.
“What the fuck?” Ava walks backwards, gaze trained on the man before her, willing the nausea roiling in her gut to cease. His eyes are pitch black, radiating malice.
“Ava, what’s going on?” JC’s voice cuts through the tension, and the Man Who Was Not Sean Crimson whips around to him. Crimson lashes out with inhuman speed and JC can’t move away in time. The knife catches him on the arm. JC looks at the wound, slowly welling with blood and blanches.
“Sorry, Ava.” He turns and hightails it down the street. “I’m uh gonna get help!” Crimson watches him run for a moment and turns back to Ava, grin just as twisted and wicked as before. He begins his advance again. Ava is so fixated on the blade in his hand that she doesn’t notice that he’s been forcing her into an alley until her back hits a brick wall. She risks a glance around her and sees no escape. The Man Who Was Not Crimson sheathes his knife and grasps her throat, lifting her into the air. His palms feel rough and gritty from work and coal dust. Time seems to slow as his grip tightens, relishing in the way she kicks and struggles. She claws at the hands on her throat.
“The Gap ain’t for your kin anymore, Silva.” It happens as her vision begins to spot and darken at the edges. She strains to grip his hands and she’s faintly aware of screaming. She can’t breathe, it can’t be her screams, can it? She only realizes as she’s dropped to the ground and collapses in a heap that the screams are coming from Crimson. His eyes have returned to their normal blue, and he’s clasping his wrists. She smells burnt flesh and sees the peeling, angry red on his arms. Above him, there’s a cloud of red mist. It advances on her as she gasps for breath, frozen in place. Crimson is still screaming as a strange, white knife splits and inexplicably sticks in the cloud, mere moments and inches before it envelops her. She whips her head in the direction the blade came from and she sees the woman from the bar, Beatrice, running up to her. She hits her knees and slides the last few feet to Ava’s side. The knife clatters to the ground beside them, and Beatrice picks it up. She barely seems strained from the effort of sprinting from whatever distance, but her tidy bun has loosened and strands of hair now frame her face.
“Are you hurt? Did the mist touch you?” Ava shakes her head, looking from her hands to Crimson’s burnt arms.
“How did I do that? What is he? How are you here? What the fuck is going on?” Beatrice looks her over quickly and says,
“I promise I can and will answer your questions, but we need to get somewhere safer first. There may be more people like him around. Can I help you up?” Ava nods and Beatrice grasps her elbows and they stand together. Beatrice holds on for a moment to steady Ava. She turns to the man on the ground, babbling incoherently from pain and alcohol, and hefts him over her shoulders with barely a grunt. Ava’s eyebrows raise at the ease with which Beatrice carries this grown man, one she knew to be at least 5 inches taller and probably 40 pounds heavier based on their brief showdown earlier in the night. Beatrice strides out into the night and Ava hurries to follow her. She turns to make sure Ava’s keeping up, and begins to speak.
“I can take you to where you and your brother are staying, but I can guarantee your safety if you come to the Cradle, my family’s property. I need to take him there, too, but he won’t be able to hurt you. My sisters can treat his burns and figure out how he got this way.”
“I burned him. He got that way because I burned him. How did I do that?” Ava feels panic rising in her chest as she thinks over the last few minutes.
“Some people from the mountains have gifts. We call it the Green. You have it and it lets you do, well, magic.”
“I don’t think Houdini can do what I just did.” Beatrice gives her a rueful grin.
“It’s less Houdini and more…did your ma ever put something special under your pillow when you had nightmares and it actually work? Or take you to someone when you were sick and the doctors hadn’t helped, but this person did?”
Family after family knocking on the door, Ma handing out bundles of herbs. Ava, rustled from sleep by her mother’s sweet voice. “I have to go see the Parsons, amore. Their baby isn’t well. I’ll be back before you wake up again.” Turning the mattress and finding the markings carved in the bed frame.
“Yeah. Yeah, I know stuff like that.”
“Yeah, so that’s usually thanks to the Green. The folk tales all have a little truth, and the really good midwives and healers all have a little bit of the Green in ‘em. My family…we have a lot of the Green. Know a lot more about it…and the other things in the mountains.”
“Other things?”
“Things like what got into Crimson tonight. He’s a right fool most of the time, and meaner than a snake when he’s drunk enough, but not one to get violent like he did with y’all. He was possessed by what we call a haint. Restless spirits. They usually stir up some trouble, throw cups, move your good shoes. Sometimes they get nasty, like this one. They’re from the Inner Dark of the mountains.” She pauses, deciding how much detail to give Ava at once. “They’ve been…real nasty recently.”
“The Green and the Dark. Original.” Ava quips doubtfully, and Beatrice smiles again and shrugs. By now, they’ve returned to Mateo’s store and Beatrice’s truck. She places Crimson in the truck bed with little fanfare and turns to Ava.
“Where do you want me to take you?”
Ava thinks for a moment. She barely knows this woman with the strange knife and giant muscles, and she’s talking about magic as if it’s real. But, she also barely knew JC when she started traveling with him and he turned out to be useless when trouble came around.
“I’ll come with you.”
Chapter 4: Stolen Roses
Chapter Text
The drive to the Cat’s Cradle is quiet, save a few particularly loud groans of pain from Crimson in the bed of the truck. Ava’s mind whirls as she processes the last hour. She’s had drunks try following her home, sure, but trying to kill her was new. And possession? Magic? She’d be justified in calling Beatrice crazy, and she’d be tempted to if she didn’t know Beatrice was telling her the truth. With each day that passes in Areala’s Gap, she’s had more and more inexplicable encounters like the one she had with the young deer earlier. She’s remembered more of her mother, too. She’d known her mother to be a midwife but perhaps Beatrice would have a different word for what her mother did, what she was. Beatrice seems to be projecting an air of calm, taking slow, steady breaths with one hand on the wheel. However, Ava notices the other is gripped firmly on the odd knife she carries and she spends as much time looking out the side windows as she does the windshield. After twenty or so minutes, they drive past a gigantic oak tree and Beatrice relaxes, just barely. Her head is still on a swivel, but she drops her grip on her knife. A few more minutes, and Beatrice pulls the truck off the road onto a large, open property. In the dark, all Ava can see is the looming shape of a large house with a small light creeping out the window, and another slightly smaller building. Ava suddenly feels the engine echoing in her ears, disrupting the peace and quiet of the clearing. Beatrice drives the truck right up to the large house and shifts into park. She leaps out and dashes to the front door, opening Ava’s door as she passes without slowing. Ava feels like she’s moving through sludge in comparison as she watches Beatrice’s flurry of movement.
“Aunt Suzanne, Vincent, we’ve got a problem.” She yells as she opens the front door and comes back to the truck. She climbs into the bed and hefts Crimson over her shoulder with as much ease as she had in town. Her feet thud softly on the ground as she jumps down again. A scarred, middle aged woman with a cane appears at the door, flanked by the two women JC had flirted with at the store a few days before, and a gray haired man. Beatrice strides towards them and lays Crimson out on the porch. Ava still stands at the truck, frozen and unsure of herself. There’s the crunch of footsteps as two more figures approach from the smaller house, the woman Beatrice had been with at the bar, Mary, and another woman. The name Shannon appeared distantly in her memory.
“Well, what’ve we got here?” Mary asked as they reach the larger house.
“A haint posessed Crimson and tried to kill the new bartender, Miss Ava. She pretty well had him handled herself but she’s in shock.” The group seems unsurprised by the mention of possession, instead most of them focus on Ava and give her a long once over. Some with curiosity, perhaps some fledging respect, and some with blatant doubt. The older woman, Ava assumes she’s Suzanne, takes over.
“Lilith, please get your sedative and burn salve. Camila, I think Miss Silva could use some tea at Mary and Shannon’s.” Lilith and Camila nod and set to their tasks. Mary and Shannon step to Ava.
“Hey again, Miss Silva. This is my wife, Shannon. You wanna get out of the wind?” Mary’s voice seems uncharacteristically gentle and Ava wonders if it’s due to her wife’s presence or if she’s that visibly shaken. Ava nods, and shakes the hand Shannon offers. Shannon pulls her into her side and guides her by the arm to the smaller house. Shannon sits her in a cushioned chair before hanging the lantern and lighting a few more candles before sitting on the couch. Camila had entered the house moments before, already stoking the fire in the small stove and preparing a kettle and several mugs of tea leaves. Ava sits stiffly in the chair, palms on her thighs. She looks almost unfamiliar with the comfortable furniture. No one speaks for a while, until Camila brings the tray of steaming mugs and sugar cubes into the room. She hands one to Shannon and then Ava with a smile. Ava clutches the mug close to her chest, focused on the warmth spreading from her palms and the sharp smell of mint and other herbs in her nostrils. Camila sits beside Shannon on the couch, curling her legs beneath her and arranging her house robe to cover the parts of her legs her nightgown does not. They wait until she’s sipped some of the tea and her breathing levels out to speak.
“So, Ava…Silva you said? That sounds so familiar, wasn’t Aunt Suzanne’s—“ Camila starts but Shanon gives her a gentle nudge and shakes her head and she redirects.
“Nah, I must be misremembering. So you and your brother are from California?”
“Brother? Oh, JC. He’s not my brother. We just say that to keep from scandalizing people. I met him in Salt Lake City a few months ago. He and his friends let me tag along in their travels. We just split up a couple towns back. They wanted to work their way down to New Orleans for Mardi Gras, but I just…felt like I had to keep coming north. God, I hope he’s okay.”
“You hope he’s okay?”
“He was with me when Crimson, whoever, whatever that was, attacked me. He asked us to help him home and attacked us in an alley. JC was hurt and ran for help before Beatrice showed up. I should have gone back to check on him.” She puts her mug down hastily and stands.
“I should go back. He might need help.”
Shannon stands as Ava does and is able to catch her as she stumbles slightly as her earlier exertion catches up with her. Her hands feel like being too close to the stove through the fabric of her dress, but it’s soothing rather than uncomfortable, and Ava suddenly feels every bit of the weight of the day in her eyelids.
“Miss Ava, you’re in no state to go back to town tonight, and even if you were, it’s not safe. You just rest here and we’ll get you fed and back into town to JC first thing in the mornin’” Shannon inclines her head towards the chair Ava just stood from, and Camila moves to make space on the couch. Shannon presses her to lay down with suggestion rather than insistence, gentle and barely there. Ava still feels so warm and sleepy, and these women of Cat’s Cradle had been so kind and didn’t even know her. She lets herself relax onto the rough-hewn wood and hand-stuffed cushions. Her eyes have nearly closed as Camila draws a blanket over her and she’s faded from consciousness before Shannon whispers “Do you think Aunt Suzanne knows who she is already?”
Towards the back of the property in a fastidiously cleaned shed, Sean Crimson comes to, bleary, sore, and pissed. He doesn’t recognize the shed as his own, but seeing as the last thing he remembered was takin’ a piss outside Mateo’s, and he could now see the pre-dawn blue of 5:30 in the morning outside the window, he reasonably figured he was at the Cat’s Cradle. He sits up, wincing at the stiffness in his muscles from reclining the wooden worktable with nothing but a quilt. By the door, one of the night shift heads Shotgun Mary and her terrifying, taciturn friend Lilith watch him wake. Lilith is working something into a paste in a black mortar, and Mary is absently whittling a piece of wood. Once he’s upright, Mary pockets the wood and a knife, and passes him a canteen. He takes it with a grimacing nod and drinks deeply. The water is cold and bitter, and its bite wakes him further.
“’S just ginseng for the headache. Probably worse than usual.”
Crimson scoffs and takes another swig.
“So one of ‘em got to me? I remember being at Mateo’s and that’s about it.”
Mary nods and leans against the shelf across from him.
“Yep. One of the smarter fuckers, too. Took his time, kept it quiet.”
“What’d I-it do?”
“You know I can’t tell you, Crimson. All I can tell you is that it didn’t succeed.” The man’s face looks more pinched than usual, but he nods and doesn’t press.
“Okay, then what happened to my arms? Hurts like a bitch-Apologies Miss Lilith.”
Lilith speaks up from where she’s been working at another table. “Amateur exorcism. Wasn’t us, but it’s not as bad as it should be. We’ll send you back to town with a salve. Apply it every day for a week. Come back if it starts weeping or doesn’t look better next Sunday.”
“What happens now? How am I supposed to work like this?”
“You tell us what you remember, and we take you home. Tomorrow, you go to Michael and tell him Vincent says it’s the Gap’s turn to take care of you. He’ll keep your pay coming till Lilith says you’re able able to work again. Now, tell me what you remember.”
“There’s not much to remember. You were around most of the night. I went outside to take a piss, er, leak. Apologies, Miss Lilith.” The tall woman scoffs and keeps working over her mortar.
“Then I decided to have a smoke. A couple men in suits were walkin’ by and stopped to ask me somethin’ about the mines. One of ‘em was a little shorter, maybe your height, Shotgun. He seemed like he was the boss. The other was tall, real tall, and skinny. Tall one asked if he could bum a stick ‘n I said sure. The last thing I really ‘member is handin’ him the cigarette. I remember my arms hurtin’ really fuckin’ -Miss Lilith- bad. And then I woke up here.”
“Do you remember what either of their faces looked like?”
“No, it was too dark. Think the short one had long hair, though.” Mary looks at Lilith and nods.
“Sounds ‘bout right. Alright, Crimson, time to get you back to town before anyone realizes you’re not just in your usual weekend soak. Take that salve Lilith just finished and do as she said. Take this vial’n keep it on you. They got you once, and you know that makes it easier for them to get you again.”
“I know, I know. You can’t tell me anything about what happened?”
“Not a chance. Not you.”
“Don’t know when y’all are gonna give the Crimson family some slack. It’s been 21 years since a Crimson willingly helped the Dark.”
Lilith exchanges the canteen in his hand for the pot of salve she’d just finished and a charm on a leather cord and says harshly,
“That’s only three bindings of seven, Crimson, and the record before that isn’t in your favor. It’s not your fault they got you but if the rest of the Gap found out, you know that’d be it for your clan here. We’re already pushing it by letting you go home.”
Crimson flinches at her and nods. He stands, looping the charm over his head to tuck it under his worn shirt and pockets the pot. Mary opens the door and the three walk to the front of the property where the truck remains after Beatrice parked it last night. Crimson stops at the passenger door.
“Well, thank you Miss Lilith for the salve and the charm. We’re uh, lucky to have your skills.” Lilith walks to the porch and goes inside without another word, and Mary gets behind the wheel with a snort.
“I’m just mindin’ my manners!”
“Put your fear boner away, Crimson. She’ll cut it off and you’ll deserve it.”
When Ava wakes, the sun is well on its way to risen. Golden light streams in through the window, the beams catching the edge of the neatly stitched quilt she lay under, and illuminating the face of the woman who’d come to her rescue a few hours before. Beatrice had seated herself in the chair nearest the door at some point in the early morning and fallen asleep. She looks many years younger in her sleep, the stern crease in her brow smoothed out and the bun that was so neatly tied in the bar last night loosened further into her face. Ava rises slowly, hoping to avoid waking her rescuer as she folds the quilt and looks around. Between the darkness of the night and the shock, she’d taken in little of the house she’d be brought to. It feels bigger in the daylight, but still cozy. The flames in the small fireplace have nearly burned completely out. The back of the main room hosts a wood-burning stove, thick wood counter, and table with two hand-carved stools. The walls are decorated with paintings, small studies of the woods, the town of Areala’s Gap, and what Ava assumed was the rest of the property. Between the fireplace and a closed door stands a quilt rack, which she moves to drape the quilt over. As carefully as she tries to move, Beatrice startles awake within a few steps. After a glance around the room, her warm brown eyes settle on Ava.
“Miss Silva, it’s good to see you awake so soon. We feared for how much you’d strained yourself last night. I’m sure you’re hungry, I can take you to the main house to eat and meet everyone when you’re ready.”
“Bea. Hi.” Ava doesn’t miss the faint blush that creeps up Beatrice’s neck at the nickname. “What do you mean, strained myself?”
Beatrice stands and attempts to cover her blush by lifting her hands, swiftly and expertly retying her bun, tucking the errant strands of hair away from her face.
“The first time someone really taps into the Green it’s easy to overdo it, even when using it intentionally. You were acting on instinct and not holding anything back.”
“So there’s a limit to the magic?”
“Not to the Green, no, but there’s a limit to what one body can handle and channel at a time. The capacity grows as you work it, like a muscle.”
“What happens if someone overdoes it?”
“It exhausts the body. I slept for a full day after my first major working, and it went as well as it could have.” Before Ava can ask what that working was, her stomach growls loud enough for Beatrice to hear it a few feet away. Ava grins sheepishly, and Beatrice gives her a small smile.
“Let’s go get you fed.”
They walk to the main house in an easy, almost companionable silence, Ava taking in the clearing in the light of day and Beatrice watching her discreetly. Most of the property is used efficiently. Ava can see the end of a dozen rows of tilled dirt behind the main house and a chicken coop filled with squawking hens. Even so, there’s adornment in places. Flowerbeds, bare for the winter, surround both houses, and the porch is painted a lovely white and blue. They reach the porch and Beatrice runs a few steps ahead to open the door for Ava. The main house is warm and bustling already, Shannon and Lilith setting the table as Mary and Camila put the finishing touches on a verifiable mountain of hotcakes and bowls of canned fruit. Beatrice closes the door behind them quietly, but the four women turn to them as they enter anyway. The chatter recenters on Ava as they ask how she’s feeling.
“Good to see those eyes open, Miss Ava Silva. Gave Beatrice quite a scare when Shannon said you collapsed last night,” Mary says with a grin. Ava turns to Beatrice in time to see her glare in Mary’s direction. She schools her gaze as Ava looks at her,
“I thought you said the exhaustion was normal?”
“Well, yes, it is. But collapsing should concern any practitioner. You’ll find I’m not as flippant about the weight of the Green as others.” Beatrice is honest to God pouting, hard as she tries to hide it and Ava finds it incredibly endearing.
“Good to know someone’s worried about me, Bea.” She reaches out and squeezes Beatrice’s hand quickly before making her way to the table, missing Beatrice’s blush. The women take their usual places, leaving the seat between one of the heads of the table and Beatrice open for Ava. The front door opens again and the older man and woman from the night before, Vincent and Suzanne enter, whispering harshly to each other. They stop as they approach the table and take their seats. Vincent immediately says a prayer over the meal, leaving Ava scrambling to adopt a respectful posture. The table is much more relaxed than it would be at the orphanage, and Ava decides to mimic Mary with a slight incline of her head. At the conclusion of the prayer, Vincent rises and sweeps out of the house again without a word to anyone. The assembled group watches him go with varying levels of interest and concern until Suzanne raps her knuckles on the table.
“Miss Silva, like the rest of my family, I am glad to see you alert and well. My name is Suzanne. You are welcome to stay with us for as long as you need.”
“That’s very kind of you, thank you.
“We would be happy to teach you about the work you can do with the Green, and should you decide to stay long term we would discuss your contribution to the upkeep of the Cat’s Cradle. That is a conversation for another day, however. Take the the time you need to rest.” Ava smiles and Suzanne takes a deep breath.
“By the by, most of the girls call me Aunt Suzanne. You certainly do not have to, but I hope you might one day come to do so because in your case I am, actually, your aunt. Your mother Raquel Silva was once Raquel Baptiste, and my older sister.”
Chapter 5: Ramble No More
Notes:
tw: gore, eldritch beings, panic attack, themes of abandonment
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.
Chapter 6: Stray Dog
Notes:
tw: panic attack
Chapter Text
Beatrice notices the shift in the Green as soon as she enters the house after helping Lilith reorganize the greenhouse storage. She looks into Suzanne’s room, then Vincent’s but sees nothing out of the usual, so she proceeds up the stairs to her room. As she climbs, the energy changes further and increases in intensity. There’s an undercurrent of panic and defense to it that Beatrice doesn’t quite recognize. She knocks softly on the door to Camila’s room. When she receives no answer, she opens the door gently and pokes her head through. Camila’s bed is in its usual, half-made state. On the other bed, usually unoccupied, she finds Ava tossing and turning in fitful sleep. She’s once again the source of the change in energy around Beatrice. She enters the room and kneels beside the bed. Reaching out slowly and softly, Beatrice whispers Ava’s name before touching her shoulder to wake her. Despite her warning, Ava jolts upright at Beatrice’s touch.
“Shhh, shh. I’m sorry to scare you, you’re alright. You were having a nightmare.” Ava heaves out a breath.
“Awful, awful dream. There was this…tree. A huge, terrible tree covered in black vines and they were swallowing my mother. Someone was laughing. I couldn’t see them, but it sounded like a man. I tried to get her out of the vines, but it was like they were alive. They swallowed me too.” Beatrice haltingly rubs circles on her shoulder, preoccupied by Ava’s description of the tree.
“Have you seen this tree before?” If Ava hears her question, she doesn’t acknowledge it.
“I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t move. I thought I was paralyzed again.” She falls into Beatrice’s chest and cries. After a beat, Beatrice brings her other arm around Ava and wraps her in a stiff hug. Ava doesn’t seem to mind her stiffness, and leans in a little harder. As she continues to cry, the room glows a bit brighter.
“Ava, Ava…Focus on me. I know you’ve gone through a lot in just the past day, but it’s very important that you rein in some of these emotions. The Green is very protective of you. Could you try to tell me a happy story?” Ava takes a few shuddering breaths, listening to Beatrice’s steady heartbeat under her ear.
“You know I grew up in a pretty awful orphanage. The one bright spot was a little kid named Diego. He’s 11 now. He’d get into so much trouble with Sister Francis for me. People looking to adopt a child would bring candy for everyone sometimes, and he always stole an extra couple of pieces for me, since Francis never took me out of my room, or brought any to me. Sometimes he could convince her to let him push the chair around so I could go outside when the weather was nice. No one else ever needed the chair but she didn’t want to deal with me, so she kept it in her office and me in my room. The week before I left the orphanage, Diego was adopted. I wanted to leave sooner, probably should have, but I couldn’t leave him there. These people really wanted a son. You know how it is, most people just want another pair of hands on the farm. But they had the money to hire help, and they seemed to really love him. He asked if before he went home with them, they would take me with them on one of the times they took him in to town. We went the day they adopted him. We saw a circus, had a fancy lunch at a hotel, and even big scoops of ice cream. Most of the kids had something like that at least once when people met them, but I never had. I’d only been walking again for a few weeks, and they were so patient. When it was time for Diego to leave with them, they hugged me and kissed my cheeks. It was the first time I hadn’t felt like a burden in years.” By the time she finishes, Ava’s smiling a watery smile and her breathing is steady and calm. The Green is calm again as well, but Beatrice realizes her hold on Ava has tightened.
“That is a beautiful memory, Ava. I’m glad you had that time with Diego.” She loosens her arms from around Ava, who sits up and blushes prettily.
“I’m so sorry, I’m sure you had other things to do than handle my out of control emotions.”
“Not at all. It is important to have support, especially when your connection to the Green is so raw and new. Happy, calm memories are one of the best ways to help you control the Green in moments of stress. It will get easier.” Now no longer holding Ava, Beatrice sits perfectly upright with her hands fisted loosely on her thighs. She’s a portrait of restraint, but as a line of sunlight peeks through the curtains across her knuckles, Ava sees a collection of scars and sees perhaps she has not always been that way.
“Still, thank you. For everything. I don’t know where I’d be right now if you hadn’t showed up last night.”
“Something had felt off about Crimson for most of the night and he was very focused on you.”
“Well, so were you and most of the other fellows, too.” Ava says, delighted by the blush that appears on Beatrice’s cheeks.
“I…It was more than that. The more attuned you are to the Green, the more obvious creatures of the Dark are. That was how I felt about Crimson. He’s a drunken fool on his best days, but he was different last night. I would rather lose sleep discovering a drunken fool is just a drunken fool, than wake up and find I was wrong.” Ava nods and places one of her hands over Beatrice’s.
“It was just a joke, Bea. I’m glad you were paying attention, regardless of the reason why.” Beatrice blushes so strongly at the soft touch and affection in the way Ava says her name that she has to look to her hands to make sure she hasn’t started glowing. They take in a brief moment of quiet together before Camila bursts into the room with Lilith not far behind. She’s monologuing about someone named Todd, with Lilith interjecting noncommittal sounds at the right points when they realize Beatrice and Ava are in the room. All four women seem surprised to see the others, and Camila trails off before leaping onto the increasingly crowded bed with Beatrice and Ava as her excitement bubbles over.
“You came back! I understood why you were upset but I really hoped you would stay. Lilith will be glad I have a roommate now, I won’t bother her for sleepovers as often.” Lilith scoffs at mention of her name, and offers Beatrice a pointed look and quirk of her eyebrow at Ava’s hand on hers. Beatrice wills herself to not tear her hand away in self-consciousness but does shift in such a way that Ava takes the opportunity to face Camilla on the bed as she rattles off the things she and the others could teach Ava about the Green. Despite everything, Camila’s excitement is a natural draw for Ava’s positive nature and she finds herself grateful for the distraction of Camila’s friendly, rapid-fire conversation. After a few moments, Beatrice rises and leaves the room with Lilith. As she passes, Ava squeezes her hand one more time and Camila finally takes notice.
“Oh, did Lilith and I interrupt something?”
“No, Beatrice just stepped in to check on me after this morning. This Green business is…difficult.” Camila nods in understanding.
“It was hard for me, too. I used to get into a lot of trouble and then out of it in ways I didn’t understand, but it often hurt people. Suzanne taught me how to work with it, rather than it using me.”
“Hurt people?”
“You’ve seen how protective the Green is. I’d get into trouble and be scared, or angry, and next thing I know, something or someone is broken. One day, Vincent caught me stealing from his traps. I ran away somehow, but Suzanne found my mom’s house later that day. I got ready to run again and accidentally broke her cane. I almost broke her arm, too, when she grabbed me, and I don’t know how. I was hardly strong enough to do that on my own. Instead of demanding I be punished, they offered me a place at the Cradle. She taught me how to use the Green safely, but it took months. I was scared to touch anyone. It’s not always like that, though. Beatrice and Lilith have always had good control over it, but their families don’t believe in the Green, to put it nicely. They though Vincent performed some sort of exorcism, but in truth he and Suzanne give gifted people a safe place to learn, and live if they need it. They could go home at any time now that they can hide their gift, but I don’t think the thought has ever crossed their minds.”
A green, twisted kind of anger wells up in Ava’s chest; for Beatrice (and Lilith, of course, to a degree) that their families would throw them away so easily, and for herself again. Had her mother just told Suzanne where they were, left some kind of sign, had Suzanne…she knows there’s nothing Suzanne could have done. But Suzanne is here and alive, and her mother is not. She breathes deeply and releases the anger as best she can. Camila, as perceptive as the rest of the residents of the Cradle it seems, offers her a pat on the knee.
“Would you like to learn how to make a charm to prevent nightmares?”
Despite her lingering grief and anger at Suzanne, Ava finds life at the Cat’s Cradle comfortable and interesting. Vincent largely keeps to himself, speaking mostly with Suzanne, Shannon, and Mary, and Ava doesn’t mind. She spends most mornings with Camila and Lilith as they tend to the apothecary and visiting neighbors’ ailments. Her friendship with Camila grows quickly and Ava delights in their late night, low-voiced conversations about Todd, Michael, and the other eligible young people in town. Lilith is nearly impossible to make progress with, but Ava had miraculously been restored her ability to walk so she remains optimistic. When Mary wakes in the early afternoon, she sometimes brings Ava into the kitchen with her, teaching her to create meals out of a mish-mosh of ingredients, which cooking methods work best with which cuts of meat, and eventually some basic knife work. After returning from their work in the evenings, Shannon and Beatrice take turns helping Ava further improve her neglected reading and writing skills. They find she’s a stubborn, quick study and thrives with the opportunity to push herself.
For as flustered as she made Beatrice the day before she rescued her, Ava often finds herself on the back foot when under Beatrice’s tutelage. Beatrice seems to possess unending patience, calmly and pleasantly correcting Ava’s pronunciation as she struggles through a paragraph. She listens attentively and once in a rare while cracks a smile or her own small joke at the expense of the literature they read. When Ava gets frustrated with the shape of a letter, Beatrice’s tool-calloused hands are there to gently guide her grip on the chalk. Her victories over the aggravating shapes of Qs and Fs and Ks earn progressively larger smiles and genuine, “well done’s” from Beatrice that spark a warm glow in her stomach.
Ava takes over making lunch pails from Mary, and starts including little notes every day to get more practice. She gifts everyone her most egregious puns to make Lilith groan when they take lunch, and soon she begins to find the pun from the day before in Beatrice’s pail with a pun of her own in response. Each time, she tucks the slip of paper into her pocket. Later in the day, she’ll deposit it in between the pages of The Golden Fleece and the Heroes Who Lived Before Achilles, a book Beatrice had “borrowed” from the school after reading portions of it to the students on a day Shannon had taken ill. Beatrice was fond of the Greek myths and this retelling. Because of the difficulty of the names, their reading of it was more collaborative than with the other books they read. By the early days of March, it became quite a common sight for the rest of the Cradle’s inhabitants to disperse for bed with Ava and Beatrice still seated together by the fireplace or a candle, reading quietly to each other. The second or third time the pair remains seated, completely unaware of the departure of the others in the room, Camila bounds down the hallway to Beatrice and Lilith’s room.
“Lil, are you awake?” She stage whispers.
“Unfortunately, yes.”
“Beatrice and Ava are downstairs still.”
“Good for them? Beatrice’s sleep schedule is none of my concern.” Camila rolls her eyes at the voice drifting out of the darkness.
“Together, Lilith. I think our Beatrice may be sweet on Ava.”
“Hmph. I hope for Beatrice’s sake that she loses her taste for her quickly. Ava’s not going to stay for long.”
“How can you be sure?”
“It’s just in her nature. She was bed bound for a decade; she’s not going to settle down any time soon, let alone for a coal miner.” Camila hums doubtfully and says goodnight. She pauses at the door.
“Is that why you’ve been so cold to her? Because you think she’s going to leave?”
“I treat Ava the same way I treat everyone, Camila.”
“Nuh-uh, you don’t treat me that way.” Before either of them takes the time to consider the weight of that sentence, Camila quietly closes the door and returns to her and Ava’s bedroom. She’s dozing lightly when Ava clumsily tries creeping into their room, hoping not to wake her. When Ava stubs her toe and sucks in a breath to keep herself quiet, Camila giggles,
“I’m awake, Ava. Don’t hurt yourself.”
“I’m sorry! I really tried.”
“It’s alright, I wasn’t asleep yet.” Camila rolls over to face Ava’s side of the room and watches the candle on the nightstand flicker as Ava dons her nightgown.
“How was reading with Beatrice tonight?” Camila swears she feels Ava start vibrating across the room at the mention of Beatrice’s name.
“It was swell. The myths are focused on Atalanta again. I was able to read most of the Greek names without Bea’s help this time. Which is a little sad, actually, because I like listening to Bea read.” She rambles on for another few moments about Beatrice’s reading voice, how steady and sure she sounds compared to Ava’s own stumbling, heavy tongue.
“I’m sure she’d still take turns with you even when you don’t need help anymore, if you asked.”
“Do you think so?” Camila makes a noise in affirmation and they settle into an easy quiet. Just as Ava moves to blow out the candle, Camila speaks up again.
“Have you thought at all about how long you’ll stay here? Certainly no one wants you to leave already, but you haven’t stayed put in one place for very long before.” Ava is quiet, thoughtful, for a long moment.
“I haven’t, really. When I came back that morning, I was so sure I wasn’t going to stay more than a day or two to plan. But…even with Suzanne, it’s nice here. You’re helping me a lot, and I like helping you in return.”
“But why stay? It’s a far cry from New York City, and you don’t want to learn about the Green.”
“ I’m just…not ready to leave yet, like I have in the other places.”
“I understand. I’ll say again from all of us, you can stay as long as you want to.”
By mid-March, it starts to feel as if Ava has always been at home in the Cradle. Suzanne keeps a respectful distance from her in conversation, and Ava’s hurt slowly melts into begrudging civility as the days pass and she sees the respectful distance Suzanne gives her. More than once, Beatrice catches Suzanne looking at Ava with the same heartbroken expression she’d had that night in June all those years ago. Likewise, she sees Ava looking at Suzanne with curiosity and longing. If the two would just sit down and talk, she thinks, they wouldn’t have to dance around each other like this. Still, she knows better than most the time it takes to face your family after a loss, and she keeps these thoughts to herself.
Ava still has little interest in learning about the Green, despite Beatrice and the other residents’ offers to teach her. She’s more than happy to learn herbalism and some of the midwifery that Camila specializes in but backs off at any mention of calling on the Green for assistance. She confides in Beatrice that learning what could happen after channeling too much of the Green at once, she’s afraid to use it at all. She explains no more than that she “can’t be like that again,” and Beatrice is reminded how little they know of the years Ava was away from the Cradle. She doesn’t push, and slowly the others suggest it less and less often.
One quiet afternoon, Vincent returns from the church early and asks Ava to walk with him. She’s surprised, as Vincent still hasn’t spoken more than perhaps one hundred words to her in the three or so weeks she’s been at the Cradle. He’s not unkind to her, simply withdrawn. It’s been a quiet day, mostly waiting for Shannon and Beatrice to return, so she sees no reason to say no. They walk in silence for a few moments as Vincent seems to gather his thoughts.
“If you don’t mind, Ava, I’d like to tell you the history of Areala’s Gap and the Cat’s Cradle. I understand you have no interest in deepening your usage of the Green, and we all respect that. However, I believe it is time you understand how this place came to be.” Ava remains quiet, but nods her head and he continues speaking,
“Areala’s Gap was founded and named in 1877. Before that, it was a small hunting community with immigrant families from many different countries who preferred the rural life. In the 1870s, a hunter named Adriel began advocating for the gap to incorporate and become a proper township. He was charming and well-spoken, and led the Gap to believe he had the best interests of the region at heart. People started going missing, however. People who questioned the idea and his motivation, people he’d had conflict with in the past, some children. The Gap became a very dark place, literally and metaphorically. The short days of winter arrived by August, and more and more neighbors were in conflict with each other than weren’t. Families were struggling to fill their stores for winter but the community refused to share. There was a sharp divide between the people who supported Adriel and incorporation, and those who did not. Adriel’s supporters became a mob and a cult. As the week of the community vote approached, the sides came to blows. Th day of the vote, incorporation passed by more than two thirds. The vote to choose the mayor, however, was much closer. Adriel narrowly won over the current Mayor Salvius’ great grandfather. As the days passed, Adriel’s followers grew stronger, more numerous, and more violent. It had become clear that Adriel had deceived the community, but the depths of his treachery were only revealed in the days before the winter solstice. A gifted healing woman named Areala discovered the remains of numerous sacrifices and possessions in the depths of one of the town’s first mines. Adriel had made a pact with a creature of what Areala would name the Inner Dark. In exchange for power and influence, Adriel would guide the region into the hands of this creature and the Dark.”
“How would he even do that?”
“You understand that the Green is the magic of life in all its stages, yes? It is in all things, it is all things. Birth, life, death, even rot, they are part of the Green” Ava nods.
“The Inner Dark is everything the Green is not and seeks to snuff it out. It is the drill against the mountain, unceasing. It is the quirt against the horse’s bleeding flank, relentless. It is the piles of slaughtered buffalo across the plains, wasteful. The Dark is destruction for the sake of destruction, consumption in excess, the hoarding of wealth, cruelty. To turn the mountains over to the Inner Dark simply requires acting against the interests of life. Adriel would gain power, accumulate wealth, and the Dark would feed on the slow destruction of the mountains and the communities that surrounded them.”
“So Areala found out about Adriel’s plan. What did she do?”
“As I said, Areala was a gifted healer, with certain skills doctors could not explain. She, and her mothers before her, had a special relationship with nature. Their salves and tinctures just seemed to work better than others. When it came down to the last scraps in the larder, a visit to Areala’s family always sent you home with enough for a meal, or a fat rabbit sitting, practically waiting along the path for you. The family knew of their gift, but knew not where it came from or how. With the discovery of the Dark, Areala concluded her abilities came from an opposite, positive force.” Vincent stops walking at the base of an enormous, sturdy oak tree. He presses his palm firmly against it, but pulls back quickly as if he’s been stung and looks at his hand.
“Ah, splinter.” He continues.
“She held her own ritual, right under this tree, pledging herself and her line to the preservation of the mountains and its energy, which she began to call the Green. In return, the Green expanded its gifts in her and other practitioners. These gifted people could now control the Green and its movement through them, where before the Green moved only when it chose to. The injuries you gave to Mr. Crimson are an example of that.”
“But I didn’t do that on purpose.”
“Not consciously, no. But the Green is protective of her own, and she found you in your fear. After Areala’s pact, the barrier between the Green and people became more porous. We can draw upon it more easily, but it can push through us on its own more significantly as well. The Green will act on its own when the situation calls for it.” Ava thinks back to when Mr. Fonesco started working for Mr. Duretti. She’d been inexplicably scared of him and his dead, unwavering gaze from under his driving goggles. A few short days later, she’d regained some measure of strength and control over her legs.
“So what happened after that?”
“With the guidance and power of the Green, Areala defeated Adriel and bound him and the creature working with him to a tree where he could no longer cause harm. As thanks for her bravery, the newly incorporated town was named “Areala’s Gap. She served as the adviser for natural resources for the first Mayor Salvius until she returned to the Green—passed— in 1884.”
“Why are you telling me this, Vincent?”
“Because Areala could not permanently do away with Adriel. His powers are such that every seven years, his spirit must be rebound to the tree. The ritual requires a physical remnant of the creature being bound. Most years only his spirit is released and his body remains in the tree for binding. It is never easy, but this year will be the seventh time Adriel must be bound. Because of the weakness of the bindings, his body has been freed from the tree, not just his spirit. It is founding task of the OCS to maintain these bindings and renew them every seven years, before the winter solstice. This year’s binding will be our greatest test yet because he walks freely and will not be keen to return to the tree.”
“I still don’t understand why I need to know this.”
“In four days time, on the spring equinox, Adriel is hosting a picnic at the tree he was bound in. He will be announcing his plans to challenge Mayor Salvius in the election, and bring progress to the region. We will be there to loosen his grip on our home before he can close his fist. I would like you to consider studying the basics with Mary and Beatrice and coming with us. I believe we will need as many hands as possible to subdue him and his followers.” Ava bristles beside him.
“Vincent, I…I can’t. There’s too much at stake for me to play with magic. I wouldn’t be any help.” He gives her a small smile, understanding.
“Please, consider it. The future of the Gap depends on this ritual.” He places his hand on her shoulder briefly and walks away. There’s an odd, deep feeling of cold on her skin where his hand had been and her arm feels stiff when she tries to shake away the feeling. When she returns to the house, everyone is gathered around the table and Beatrice and Shannon are home. Her greeting is subdued and Beatrice gives her a sharp look. As she takes her seat, Vincent begins to speak.
“In town today, I saw a flier announcing a campaign picnic at the binding grove. It will be the easiest opportunity we have to bind Adriel before he gathers more supporters. We will attend the picnic and make our move after everyone else goes home.” The table is surrounded by raised eyebrows and questioning glances. They silently agree to leave the discussion to Suzanne, who wastes no time expressing her doubts.
“Surely you see this for the trap it is, Vincent. He would never go to the grove if he thought he was at risk of being bound. Why even suggest it?”
“We all know this binding will be as challenging as the first. If we do not take the opportunity we know exists, we may never get close enough again. He cannot leave Appalachia, but these mountains are vast and if he slips through our fingers, we may not find him again. By the time he returns for the election results, his protection might be impenetrable.”
“And what if his protection is already too great for us? There will be civilians, children. He will use them against us. I believe it is too great a risk.” Shannon nods.
“This doesn’t make sense, Vincent. We know his haunts, we know the families that wait for him to return, even those we’ve sent beyond the borders of the Gap. We will be able to find him again. There will be better chances.” There’s a murmur of agreement from the rest of the seated women, and Ava looks at Vincent in time to see a flash of dark rage in his eyes before he speaks again, still calm.
“We should make an attempt. If after scouting the grove we feel it’s too dangerous, we will call it off and simply observe, glean what we can from the plans he shares.” There’s a moment of spirited discussion before the table assents to falling back into a reconnaissance mission if it felt too risky. The matter resolved, the OCS begins their preparations and Ava helps where she can. She grinds herbs for Camila and Lilith, helps Mary clean her guns and knives, and brings Beatrice food when she forgets to come downstairs because of her focus on perfecting her sigils. Beatrice is startled by her presence every time, no matter how loudly she knocks or gently she sets down the plate beside her. The second time Ava brings a meal up, she notices Beatrice had barely touched the first, despite drinking all of the tea she’d been brought. From then on, Ava chooses to stay with Beatrice for a few minutes to make sure she looks up from the slate and takes a break.
By the equinox, she’s still too obsessed with perfection to leave her work, but Beatrice seems to start anticipating Ava’s arrival, rolling her shoulders and stretching out her hands before Ava even enters the room. She coaxes more words out of Beatrice each time they talk, less and less about the shapes she’s drawing and more and more about the books she loves to read, naming flowers Ava brings back from her walks, or random facts about the birds Ava observes taking care of the garden while the others focus on their preparations. Ava is thrilled by the information and the little bits of insight into Beatrice’s mind. Talking to Beatrice feels a little bit like caring for the deer she encountered in her first days in the Gap. If she speaks softly, and reaches out slowly, Beatrice stays calm and opens up without coaxing. If she comes on too strong, Beatrice will blush (handsomely, to be clear) and close off for a time while Ava coaxes her back into the open.
After breakfast on the equinox, the OCS remains gathered around the table to discuss their plan for the equinox. Shannon and Beatrice would remain out of sight throughout the event, scoping the woods and setting wards to protect the townspeople and keep any spirits and haints within the circle. Everyone else would attend the picnic proper. Every so often, one of the picnic attendees would venture out into the woods to exchange information with Shannon and Beatrice. The plan settled, Vincent stands at the head of the table.
“As we prepare to work today, we must ask the Green for special guidance as this will be Ava’s first working, and what a task to start with.” After several days of Vincent’s pushing, Ava’s inexperienced presence finally sets the group off and the table erupts.
“This is your worst idea yet, Vincent.” Mary says.
“She can do literally nothing with the Green. Sorry, Silva.” Lilith snips and Ava shrugs.
“You’re not wrong.”
“Ava, I don’t think this is wise.” Beatrice speaks to her directly, rather than Vincent. Before Ava can respond, Suzanne speaks, her voice lined with an icy steel that sparks something in Ava’s memories. She hears it blend with the fading lilt of her mother’s voice in her mind, reciting words she no longer remembers. Then that same steel in conflict with her mother. They fought, before Raquel and Ava disappeared.
“She is not going. She has repeatedly refused to explore her connection to the Green, and we respect that. But I will not have her inexperience put the community, or herself, in harm’s way.” Ava feels a bit slighted by the phrasing but once again, Suzanne isn’t wrong. Vincent opens his mouth to push the issue but Suzanne slams the foot of her cane into the floor.
“No, Vincent. Your behavior this week suggests you’ve forgotten, so let me remind you that we make decisions as a family. With all respect to my ni—Miss Silva, I believe the vote is overwhelmingly in favor of her staying here. The women around the table nod emphatically. Vincent scowls but ultimately acquiesces.
“Of course, we decide as a family. I will see you all this afternoon.” He stalks away from the table to his room on the other side of the parlor. Ava flicks up a brow at Beatrice, whose face is clouded with worry. Before Ava can ask any questions, Suzanne raps her cane against the floor, gently this time.
“Well, with brother Vincent’s egress, I will lead our invocation of protection.” The gathered sisters adopt their preferred posture of respect as Suzanne begins to chant, the steel in her voice changing to something still hard, but warm and protective instead of cold. Ava mimics Beatrice this time, sinking deep into a posture of prayer, sending protective thoughts of her own to whatever good was listening to bring her new friends home safely this evening.
Chapter 7: The Devil Wears a Suit and Tie
Notes:
tw: blood, violence, danger to children, potential character death, eldritch beings, self loathing
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.
Chapter 8: The Messenger Will Always be to Blame
Notes:
tw: creepy old men
Chapter Text
It takes a few days, but Shannon wakes up. She’s weak and bed bound, but bright and compassionate as ever. After she begins walking again, perhaps a week later, she discovers her access to the Green is severely limited. Lilith temporarily takes over her duties as the school teacher and Ava is shocked when she visits one day by how pleasant and comfortable Lilith is with Shannon’s students. Mary and Ava take on the brunt of Shannon’s care, especially after Mateo learns she’s unwell. He promises to keep tabs on Michael at the bar, calling it the least he could do after the OCS helped his daughter recover from what Ava now knows was a possession by one of the malevolent spirits that gains strength when Adriel is free. Everyone is subdued, even as Shannon continues to improve. One afternoon as Shannon rests, Ava thinks back to the deer and to Lilith’s arm. She gently puts her hand on Shannon’s shoulder, closes her eyes, and breathes deeply. She imagines the warm, yellow glow that seemed to emanate from her mother every time she worked, and the glow she’s seen from her own hands until her skin tingles and her palms feel hot. She opens her eyes and sees that glow again, and tries not to lose focus in her excitement. She closes her eyes again keeps her breathing steady and envisions the energy flowing from her hand to Shannon. At some point, it begins to feel like something is running down her arm and exiting her palm. A cool hand grasps hers, and she opens her eyes. Shannon is awake and smiling at her.
“Hey, solzinha, cut that out. I’m alright.”
“I just wanted to see if I could. I could heal Lilith’s arm, and I started walking again after ten years, so maybe there’s more I can do?”
“I’m sure there is, but you haven’t trained and I know you’re scared about overdoing it and being paralyzed again.”
“But if I can help—“
“Don’t risk that for me. The Green and I will work together again, or she has decided my work with her is done, and I will make peace with that. The Green cannot be manipulated or forced into anything. She sometimes decides her time with someone is done and I will adjust to living like the rest of the people without her partnership. I am still as much a trained witch has my—our sisters. There is still work I can do.” She squeezes Ava’s hand and keeps it close to her.
“Why did you call me solzinha just now?”
“Aunt Raquel—your mother— and Mom used to call you that, when we were children. On my desk there’s a drawing, one of my first.”
“I saw it the night of the equinox, I wasn’t trying to snoop or anything, I’m sorry.”
“It’s alright, the interesting ones are in Mary’s locker.” Ava looks at her blankly and Shannon cracks a grin and winks.
“Oh!”
“That drawing, though—Mom and Raquel brought me here when you were a few months old. My parents tried, but they had too many children, and my birth mother knew learning from Suzanne and Raquel would give me better opportunities than a girl like me would otherwise. I…haven’t seen any of them in over fifteen years. I used to be angry at them, but I understand now how many families had to make that choice. I have a good family here, too. You were the first part of that.
With my parents, we’d never had anything for me to draw with. When Aunt Raquel found me drawing with slivers of chalk on a spare slate, she took me to Mateo’s and bought me my first sketchbook and charcoal. Turns out I had a knack for it. The drawing of you three was my third or fourth, and the first one I kept when that sketchbook filled up. You were the happiest toddler, always smiling. Sometimes you were so happy that the Green would start glowing while you were just sitting in your bassinet. So they called you solzinha, little sun. I always hoped I would get to show it to you again one day. Do you want to keep it?” As she speaks, tears well up in Ava’s eyes and Shannon looks sad, too.
“I would really appreciate that. Can I hug you?” Shannon is still fairly weak, but it doesn’t take much effort for her to pull a willing Ava down into the double bed beside her and tuck her against her collarbone. Ava squeezes her back as tightly as she dares. When Suzanne stops in to say hello a few hours later, she has to leave before they see her tear up at the sight of her adopted daughter and long-missing niece asleep together as they used to as children.
Throughout these unusual weeks, Beatrice and Ava keep reading together. Sometimes they go to the Masters to entertain Shannon, but mostly they stay by the fireplace in the main house, lost in the stories they read together. Their little world in the Cradle shifts again the night Beatrice and Ava begin reading about Perseus. As he slays the Gorgon, four crisp knocks echo from the door. It’s not uncommon for a neighbor to require assistance in the late evening or middle of the night. Vincent goes to answer the door and the other members of the household set aside their pastimes to greet their visitor and prepare to go to work. Vincent opens the door wide and Beatrice feels Ava stiffen beside her at the sight of a short, richly dressed older man and his tall, impassive chauffeur behind him.
“Good evening, gentlemen. What brings you to the Cat’s Cradle?” Vincent slips easily into his Sunday service voice—confident, welcoming, and louder than his usual, soft-spoken speech. The shorter man speaks with a rhythmic, lilting accent that Beatrice thinks must be Portuguese or Spanish.
“We are so sorry to interrupt your evening. I’m sure with your work in the community, a quiet night at home is a rare and cherished delight.”
“Please, it is no trouble. It is our duty to serve our neighbors.” Vincent gestures them into the living room and Ava sinks into her chair, attempting to slide it quietly back into one of the shadowed corners. The short man, distracted by conversational niceties, doesn’t notice. His driver, on the other hand, hears a whisper of a scratch against the floor and his head turns mechanically to locate the sound. Despite the hour and location indoors, he still wears his tinted driving goggles. The short man reeks of political grease, but the tall man feels dangerous. Beatrice shifts her chair slightly as well, positioning herself between Ava and the rest of the room. The driver’s gaze settles on their corner but he makes no other move to acknowledge them or speak. The short man settles into a chair and after taking a grateful draught from the tea Camila offers him, introduces himself.
“My name is Francesco Duretti. This is my driver and companion, Mr. Fonesca. I am a businessman and investor and I am mighty interested in assisting in the development of this region.”
“Our neighbors could certainly benefit from the improvement of some infrastructures.” Vincent begins, but Suzanne interjects.
“While true, I’m sorry you came all this way for us to tell you that you’ll have to discuss that with the mayor, not us. We are simply caregivers.” Beatrice hears the tinge of confusion —and heavy irritation— in Suzanne’s voice at the pointless intrusion into their evening. Duretti nods, unfazed.
“Of course, of course. I did in fact speak with Mayor Salvius earlier in the day, and she advised me to come speak with you. I’m lead to understand that in addition to caring for the well-being of the people of Areala’s Gap, you have a particular interest in the preservation of her flora and fauna?”
“We do believe in maintaining a…mutual respect between the Gap and her people, yes.” Vincent responds.
“And it is due to your advice that Mayor Salvius has declined to expand the mining operations of the county, choosing a subsistence approach rather than one that would be more profitable?” At further discussion of Mayor Salvius, Suzanne stiffens.
“Due to the risks of instability that come from creating too many mining tunnels at one time, we have recommended a more moderated approach, that is true. What Mayor Salvius chooses to do with that recommendation is up to her and her discretion about the good of the county.”
“Of course, there’s no untoward reason an elected official would take the advice of the backwoods granny witch over educated company men and the county board.”
“I am quite certain I do not understand your implication, sir.”
As Duretti continues, he grins and his visage drops. Gone is the clever, wealthy businessman. The OCS sees him for what he truly is for the first time: an ancient, cunning spirit of the crossroads, so strengthened by agreements and double crossings that he seeks his own dealings as he pleases, where he pleases. Tall, lean Mr. Fonesca grows impossibly taller, casting a large, monstrous shadow across the floor. Out of the corner of her eye, Beatrice sees Ava shrink into her chair even further.
“Then let us speak plainly. I am here to offer you a proposal, or a warning. You have something that belongs to me, an incredibly powerful conduit for the kind of energy we deal in. You know Adriel’s designs for this land. He has asked me for assistance in this, with the promise of retrieving my conduit. There’s quite a lot of effort involved in Adriel’s plans, however, and I must admit I’m rather fond of the trees here. I would be happy to cut out the middle man and lend you my assistance instead, if you simply return my belonging to me now.”
The only people in the room without a look of confusion are Vincent, Suzanne, and Ava, whose nose is twisted in disgust. Vincent remains impassive, and Suzanne’s face brightens with slowly spreading rage. Camila speaks for the rest of the room when she asks,
“What’s a conduit?” At the sound of a new voice, Duretti’s mask reappears briefly and he is a charming gentleman again.
“In this instance, a conduit is a magical practitioner naturally inclined to channeling large amounts of energy from a source—the Green or the Dark—to some form of target, such as another practitioner. The Gap’s founder was a conduit.”
“We don’t have anyone who does that.”
“Ah, but you do, young sister. The extent of her abilities are unexplored, but she is a rare creature indeed.” Disgust roils in Beatrice’s stomach at the leering way this man describes the conduit. He turns to the corner where Ava and Beatrice sit.
“Hello again, prezado. I hope you’ve had your fun, because it is time to come home.”
Ava recoils, looking for a way out. Fonesca begins taking slow steps across the parlor floor towards Ava, and Beatrice rises and plants herself firmly between the oncoming creature and Ava. She feels the Green shift around them, its natural movement to protect, but also Ava’s pull on it to protect herself growing stronger. Suzanne rises as well and gestures towards the door.
“There is no thing or being here that belongs to you, Duretti. I believe it best you leave before we discover how gifted Ava really is.” The rest of the women gather beside Beatrice, forming a protective line in front of Ava. Fonesca halts his advance and looks to Durretti.
“Come on then, Baltazar. The offer was a proposal or a warning; they’ve chosen the warning.” They make their way to the door, becoming more human like with each step, but now that the mask has been removed, it’s easy to see there’s something uncanny about them. They will never look perfectly human to the OCS again. Fonesca opens the door and exits and before following, Duretti turns and gives on last admonition to the room.
“This was your warning, Suzanne Baptiste. I always get what I’m promised. The fate of Areala’s Gap is solely on your head."
“Then nothing has changed in your visiting, Francisco.” The trickster glowers and exits the house in a huff. The door slams behind him, and the parlor is a flurry of activity. Beatrice collects the cup Duretti drank from and dashes out of the house to craft specific wards against any further intrusions from him or his accomplices. Ava collapses deep into her chair and works to regain control of her breathing, letting go of her panicked grasp of the Green. Camila puts a comforting hand on her shoulder as Suzanne kneels, with some difficulty, in front of her chair.
“Ava, you knew this man?”
“He was a benefactor of the orphanage for the last year I stayed there. He would visit every now and then, see how the sisters were using his money, I suppose. His first couple visits he didn’t pay attention to me much. And then… I started walking again, and he asked me to marry him when I turned 16. Said he was flush, obviously, but didn’t have an heir. He said he’d fund whatever kind of life I wanted after he had a son.” Every face in the room turns positively green with nausea. Lilith mutters just loud enough for Camila to hear,
“Glad Beatrice isn’t here to hear that.”
Suzanne takes a few slow breaths before speaking again.
“The story we tell new residents is not the full story. There is a story told only in our family. Areala was able to learn of Adriel’s plans to destroy the Gap because she was his wife. They were poor, by every standard, and Areala believed Adriel compacted with the Inner Dark out of desperation and shame for his lack of provision for their family. Once he had a taste of stability and comfort, greed overwhelmed him and led to the Dark’s full control over him.”
“What Duretti said was true, Areala was a conduit, the first. A practitioner who can access incredible amounts of power and share it with others. Her daughter, the first child she bore with Adriel, was a conduit as well. The union of a great practitioner of the Green and the Dark is powerful. The first born child of her line appears to always be a conduit, as Areala’s first grandson was a conduit, and so was your mother, my sister. You are Areala Baptiste’s first great, great granddaughter, and also a conduit.” She pauses to let Ava process. Ava seems to be a little overwhelmed, but finally cracks out,
“That’s honestly the most normal thing you people have told me since I came here.” Suzanne huffs out a rare laugh, but sobers immediately.
“Raquel ran away with you because Adriel set in motion plans to kill both of you in the hopes that without a conduit, future bindings would be weaker and weaker. She believed the best thing to do was to stay as far away as possible, hidden at the ends of the Green and the Dark’s reach, until it was time to perform the binding. The Cradle could not be abandoned, so I remained here, waiting for you. The day I lost connection with you and your mother, the day I now know was the day she died, I feared for you and for the future of our home.”
At this moment, Beatrice returns from reinforcing the wards and instinctively positions herself behind Ava’s chair with a posture of protection. Suzanne stands, taking Ava’s proffered hand of support, and addresses the room.
“Duretti finding Ava in California before she was reconnected to the Green, his ability to get close to you, to come to the Cradle tonight, tells me there is more danger than we thought in this seventh cycle. I thought then that Raquel was cowardly and running from her responsibilities, but I see now there was wisdom in it. Something is amiss in the Cradle. Duretti should not have been able to cross our wards with those designs in his mind. It is not safe to remain concentrated here. Shannon is still in no position to travel. As such, she, Mary, and Camila will remain here to maintain the Cradle. Beatrice and Ava, Lilith and Vincent. You will leave the Cradle as pairs. Pack a bag tonight, and in the morning you will purchase a train ticket to anywhere and remain there until I call you home. Lilith and Vincent will go southwest, Beatrice and Ava, simply southwardly. Beyond that, do not tell each other where you’re going. Only I will know where you are once you write me with an address. There will be no argument. I invoke my authority as Caretaker of the Green and Matriarch of the Cradle.” Ava’s eyebrow raises at her formality, but the rest of the room is somber and simply nods their acquiescence. Suzanne, still holding Ava’s hand, grasps it with her other.
“Ava, you have suffered more than any person should have in your 16 years, and I understand why you blame me for that. I swore to your mother on the day you were born that should anything happen to her, I would keep you safe. I have failed to do so, though never intentionally. I swear again to you now that no harm will ever come to you at the Cat’s Cradle. You have had little control over your life. I am sending you with Beatrice because, if you so choose, she will be the best teacher for you to learn about your abilities in the Green. When I call her home, I hope you will return here with her and help us contain Adriel. However, if you choose to forge your own path at that time, know there will always be a home here for you, should you want to come back.” No one is quite as surprised as Ava and Suzanne themselves at the tears they feel in their eyes. Ava nods, and leaps out of her chair to wrap Suzanne in a hug. Stiff and surprised for only a moment, Suzanne places her hand behind Ava’s head and pulls her in. After a long moment, the rest of the room slowly, quietly slips away to begin their preparations for the long, unexpected day ahead of them.
It takes Ava far less time than the others to pack her belongings, due to her practice and relative lack of possessions. Once completed, the family finds more and more reasons to not go to sleep. Another cup of coffee, another quiet song on the piano. Eventually Shannon, who made the slow walk over with Mary after Suzanne told them of the unsettling visit, lays out numerous quilts and pillows from around the main floor to rest on without going to their separate rooms. One by one, they drop into a dreamless, restless sleep.
The morning is less chaotic than Ava would have expected. They rise as normal and complete their housework as if in a few hours, Mary won’t be driving four of them to the train station with no knowledge of when, or if, in Ava’s case, they’ll return home. Suzanne surprises them with the last of a very excellent batch of apple butter to accompany their griddle cakes, and before Ava can blink, she’s in the bumpy bed of the truck on her way to the train station, several weeks later and several months sooner than she’d ever anticipated leaving, depending on the day you asked. The southwestern train leaves first, so with a quick nod goodbye, Lilith and Vincent disappear into the train station. Ava imagines it wouldn’t have mattered for her to see where they purchased a ticket to, as they would likely insist on purchasing a stop at a time and changing directions at least once to keep anyone on their trail, off of it.
When it’s their turn, Beatrice jumps out of the truck first, and offers Ava a hand down, not dissimilarly to the way she did that night in February. Ava’s steadier on her feet now, in many ways, but she still takes the offered hand and presses a fleeting kiss to Beatrice’s cheek. She wraps Mary in a bear hug, who pretends to push her off for a moment before returning it. She and Beatrice shake hands briefly before cracking into small smiles and also exchanging hugs.
“Baby girl, don’t let Beatrice get into too much trouble out east. You know she’s wild” Beatrice rolls her eyes fondly and walks away with their bags.
“Goodbye, Mr. Masters.”
“Bye, Mary!” Ava jogs to catch up with Beatrice’s long strides. In the station, Beatrice pores over the map. She seems to come to a decision, and looks around for anyone eavesdropping before pointing at a place on the map.
“Ever thought about Switzerland, Ava?”
Chapter 9: You, Me, and The Mountains
Notes:
tw: teeeeeeny bit of self loathing but someone is learning to love themselves.
Chapter Text
Switzerland, or Little Switzerland, North Carolina as it were, is five hundred miles and a few convoluted train transfers south of Areala’s Gap. Ava, quite comfortable with both passenger and hobo use of trains, settles into the window seat of the car without a second thought. Beatrice has only ventured a few hours beyond the Gap by truck since her arrival over a decade ago, and finds herself ill at ease with the size and noise of the locomotive. She feels unmoored and Ava takes note after her third visit to the privy in half as many hours. Upon her return, Ava links elbows with her and begins chattering away about what she’d learned about trains in her numerous conversations with conductors and engineers after being caught rail jumping, sweet talking her way out of being kicked off at the next stop. Her rambling is soothing to a degree, but Beatrice still stiffens each time another passenger passes through the car. Despite Ava’s efforts, she’s unable to relax until they’re well into the final leg of their journey. She takes a slow walk through each of the carriages of their last train and, finally satisfied that she has seen all the other occupants, settles in next to Ava who has made considerable progress in her latest acquisition from Mateo’s small collection of books, The Mysterious Affair at Styles. As Beatrice sits Ava loops arms with her again, turns to the beginning of the book, and begins to read quietly aloud to her. Aside from offering the occasional pronunciation guidance, Beatrice is able to sink into the story and the remaining four hours of their journey pass without incident.
It is well into the evening when the train reaches Little Switzerland, and Beatrice wastes no time finding lodgings for them. A growing vacation town, the Switzerland Inn is clean, new and upon speaking with the proprietor— a tall and stressed mustachioed man who asks they simply call him Hans— the next morning, more than willing to offer them a smaller staff room in exchange for work. With the beginning of the season approaching, the only remaining staff positions to fill are for a waitress and an assistant to the proprietor, as the first assistant unexpectedly fell ill and would be unable to work for some months. The lack of an assistant appears to be the main cause of anxiety for the man, who inherited the Inn unexpectedly. Ava offers to take the waitressing position without hesitation, saving Beatrice the trouble of pretending she wouldn’t be driven to madness by the social nature of that work. Employment secured, the pair move their belongings to the staff wing. Hans apologizes as he opens the door saying,
“We usually do not have staff share lodgings. Part of the wing was damaged over the winter, however, and we are short rooms. I hope you will not mind the close quarters, considering you are already traveling together.”
“We are quite used to community living. This will be fine, Hans. Thank you for your assistance.” He nods and offers a hand for Beatrice to shake. A woman approaches from further down the hallway, and begins speaking rapid-fire German, gesturing towards the kitchen. Hans passes a hand over his mustache with a sigh.
“Please, take the morning to unpack and make yourselves comfortable. When you are ready, I will introduce you to the rest of the staff and show you the grounds.” He departs, tripping over his boots as he turns too quickly to follow the woman. Beatrice enters the room first and immediately freezes, causing Ava to bump into her. She pokes her head over Beatrice’s shoulder.
“Bea, what is it?”
“When Hans said close quarters, I would not have imagined he meant there would be only one bed. I will find extra blankets and sleep on the floor.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Beatrice. That bed has plenty of room for both of us.”
“I would prefer to do so anyway, please.” Ava opens her mouth to argue, but the set of Beatrice’s jaw tells her it would be an exercise in futility at this point. After a few uncomfortable nights on the floor, Beatrice would be much more amenable to sharing. If not, Ava wasn’t above using her feminine wiles to convince her to take turns on the floor. Ava shrugs and says,
“Suit yourself.” Honorable nature appeased, Beatrice ventures deeper into the room and begins unpacking. Ava takes the wardrobe, hanging her dresses haphazardly. Beatrice opens the small chest in the corner and neatly organizes her shirts and trousers. She sucks in her lip as she looks at her shirts.
“I may need to purchase more appropriate clothing for this business. Your dresses are fine for service, but I don’t believe farm clothing is suitable for the management of a hotel.” Beatrice takes out her cleanest and newest shirt, a heavy, white cotton piece with an attached collar, and her nicest pants, corduroy that had seen better days despite her maintenance, and Ava hums in agreement.
“I saw a tailor on our way here. We’re essentially unpacked, we could go look at what they could fit for you.” Beatrice looks at their now empty bags and nods.
“That would be logical. Suzanne gave us money, in case it was difficult to find work initially. I believe it could be justified.” Ava smiles.
“Shopping trip!”
Ava should have assumed Beatrice would be particular about her clothing simply from the cut of her denim jacket she wore the night they met. The tailor, a round and short man with a booming laugh, is delighted to show them the few samples he has of the latest styles, but agrees with Beatrice that the more conservative, straight leg trouser suited her work. After more discussion, she settles on a navy suit and double-breasted gray vest for warmer weather and any outdoor work the hotel required. As Beatrice steps out of the changing stall for final sizing, Ava nearly chokes on her tongue at the sight. Beatrice is too busy adjusting her sleeves to notice, but the tailor does, and offers her a broad grin and a wink. To distract herself, Ava turns to the accessories and adds a pair of armbands and ties to the small stack of shirts. Beatrice tries to argue against the gifts but is overwhelmed by the sheer amount of positivity in the room between Ava and the tailor.
Upon their return to the hotel with the expectation that Beatrice’s wardrobe would be ready within the next few days, Ava and Beatrice find Hans in a fit of stress in his office. The Switzerland Inn, as it turns out, is in desperate need of the same logical mindedness that led Beatrice to spend forty-five minutes debating the merits of the fashionable Oxford bags with Little Switzerland’s tailor just an hour or so before. Beatrice steps in and shoos Hans away with Ava to meet the restaurant staff. When they return an hour later, the desk drawers and cabinets are reorganized, Hans’s task list for the next three days is rewritten, and Beatrice is working on several examples of new bookkeeping methods. Without looking up from the books, she hands Ava a short letter to post back to the Cradle with their address. Hans takes a long look at the new systems and the renewed state of his office, and when he turns back to her, Beatrice and Ava are both concerned he may kiss her, or begin to cry.
“Would you like to own a hotel? I’ll give it to you for free, truly. I’ll be the errand boy.”
Beatrice is surprised to learn how much she enjoys working and living in even closer quarters with Ava. As endearing as her chaos is, she assumed that in too close of proximity, she would find it stressful. Instead, after a few false starts in which Beatrice trips over Ava’s shoes in the middle of the night when she needs to check the mechanical room, she finds herself looking forward to Ava’s offkey, nonsensical singing, the little gifts Ava leaves for her in places, like the flower she finds tucked in between the pages of The Golden Fleece , and the perfectly smooth stone left on her small desk in Hans’ office, and the way she bursts into their room full of stories from the hotel guests after each night’s supper service. Ava even broaches the subject of learning to work with the Green on their first night in the staff quarters. Hans seems perfectly content to let Beatrice complete her work at her leisure so long as he doesn’t hear about the issues, so she takes time each morning to walk with Ava into the woods and assist her in growing her confidence in the Green. Much to Ava’s distress, they spend a good portion of these mornings sitting, or walking quietly if Ava simply cannot sit, and meditating. Beatrice had seen first hand how naturally the use of the Green came to Ava so there was little she could do in the way of teaching uses, but she had patience and stamina in droves, which would be the greatest tool for Ava to acquire as a conduit. She also hopes to address Ava’s fear of becoming paralyzed again by teaching her to recognize the feeling of the Green and its connection to her, so that she can recognize when she risks pushing too far.
Her only struggle is sleeping on the floor. After three nights, there’s an incessant aching in her back and hips. She still outpaces Ava on their walks, and her hip only twinges once or twice a day as she rises from her chair. She spends a little extra time in the mornings stretching and slowly adds more blankets to her mat on the floor. If Ava notices, she doesn’t say anything so Beatrice feels safe in assuming that she’s doing well to hide her discomfort.
She’s not, of course. Ava notices on day four that Beatrice’s gait is a little stiffer, but each time Ava asks how she slept and if she’d like to swap or share the bed, Beatrice says no. Ava gives her another week and a half to admit defeat and ask for different sleeping arrangements. At the end of their second week in Little Switzerland, Beatrice is dressed down in her corduroys and cotton one evening after the dinner service, with Ava seated at the bar subtly watching over the pages of her book, as Beatrice takes inventory with the bartender when her back twinges and she nearly falls off the ladder. She straightens with a grimace and attempts to get back to work, but the bartender shoos her away. After a moment of argument, she shakes her head and walks slowly down the staff stairs. Ava waits a few minutes before following her into their room, hoping to save her from any further frustration and embarrassment. She slips quietly into their room. Beatrice has stripped down to her cords and undershirt and is moving through a series of stretches, wincing with each new movement. Ava announces herself loudly as she enters from the hallway, hoping Beatrice won’t feel embarrassed being caught if she didn’t think Ava’d been watching.
“Hey, Bea, you doing okay? I looked up from my book and you were gone.” Beatrice straightens with another grimace.”
“Just a bit of soreness. I’m not used to this kind of labor. Ava struggles to hold back a snort.
“Hotel management does seem much more strenuous than mining coal, absolutely.” She deadpans. Beatrice blushes and tries another stretch.
“Beatrice, lie down. Let me help” Beatrice tries to protest, but Ava hears none of it, and gently pushes her face down onto the double bed. Ava sits beside her and begins gently kneading her shoulders. Beatrice tenses further at the touch, and hisses as the knot in her neck seizes. Ava makes a soft shushing noise and stills her hands.
“If you’re uncomfortable, I’ll stop, but I’d really like to help.” Beatrice takes a slow, deep breath and nods for Ava to continue. Ava smooths her hands over Beatrice’s back, increasing the pressure in her hands each time, slowly warming up the muscles. She works on her neck for a while, but finds Beatrice’s undershirt cumbersome in working deeper on her back.
“If you’re comfortable taking your shirt off, there’s some mint tallow in the drawer I could use.” Beatrice thinks for a long moment, and sits up. As she undresses, Ava jumps to her feet to give her privacy. Keeping her back to Ava, she removes her shirt and bra, neatly folding them before laying back down on the bed. Ava takes a small amount of the infused tallow into her palms and clasps them together to warm it. She turns back to the bed and bites her lip at the sight of tan skin and broad, thick shoulders. She shakes her head, chiding herself for leering, and kneels beside Beatrice on the bed again. She’s never given any form of massage before, but with enough attention to Beatrice’s breathing, she figures out what seems to work. There’s a particularly tense spot in her middle back that Ava can’t seem to get enough pressure in her current angle.
“You’re hurting somethin’ fierce right here aren’t you?” Beatrice grunts in agreement.
“I think I can work it out, but I need a better angle. Is it okay if I kind of sit over you?” Were they facing each other, they’d find matching blushes across their faces. Beatrice lifts her face from the pillow enough to give her consent, and Ava gingerly straddles the back of her thighs. Immediately, she’s able to work deeper in the muscles and the effect it has on Beatrice is audible. There’s a vibration under her hands as Beatrice groans in relief and Ava smiles to herself. Ava breathes slowly and draws on a miniscule amount of the Green to warm her hands further and ease Beatrice’s muscles. The moments pass peacefully and Beatrice sinks further into the bed, lulled to the edge of sleep. She digs into her lower back in earnest and the loud whimper that escapes Beatrice catches her off guard. Her entire body flushes with heat, still unfamiliar desire and the shyness of inexperience a bit overwhelming. She feels Beatrice tense under her again, and the brief pause in her ministrations is enough to break her from her reverie. She shifts uncertainly under Ava’s legs, who swings off and sits at the head of the bed. As soon as she’s free, Beatrice bolts upright and distances herself from Ava. The panic in her face deepens as she realizes she’s still half naked and Ava hands her her shirt, turning her gaze as Beatrice dons her shirt and buttons it with slow breaths. Under her panic, Beatrice wonders if this is what it feels like to be in love.
“I’m truly sorry—”
“For what? You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“It made you uncomfortable.”
“I wasn’t uncomfortable, just surprised. Why would I be uncomfortable?”
“Because you were being kind and l behaved inappropriately.” Ava turns back to face her.
“You did not. How else would I know that I was working those knots out?” Beatrice still looks embarrassed, so Ava approaches her slowly. She takes her hand, and looks into her eyes.
“I didn’t mind. At all. You’re sweet and imperfect and by far too thoughtful. You’re human, Bea. What you are is beautiful.” She squeezes her hand and lets it fall between them again, turning to remove her apron and change into her nightgown.
“Please, sleep in the bed. There’s plenty of room for us both, but if you’re not comfortable sharing, let’s at least take turns sleeping on the floor.” Beatrice is pointedly staring at the floor when Ava finishes changing but when she settles pointedly on one side of the bed and turns the blankets down on the other corner, Beatrice climbs in beside her without another word of argument.
When Beatrice wakes the next morning Ava is curled around her back like a knapsack. It’s the first time she’s woken pain free and fully rested in weeks.
Ava falls in love in Switzerland. Little Switzerland is charming and for once, she doesn’t feel like she wants to leave after a month. She’s able to meet people from all areas and walks of life without tearing up her admittedly shallow roots. The few permanent residents, mostly other employees of the hotel, are riotous after hours. Beatrice, and indirectly Hans, are good bosses. Many nights she finds herself in the office with Hans and Beatrice, bringing levity to Beatrice’s attempts to teach Hans to run his business. She’s happy here, and tells Beatrice as much.
More than anything, though, Ava falls in love with Beatrice in Switzerland. The days go by and she settles into herself and her role at the inn. Ava watches her interact and play with the numerous toddlers and primary school children who pass through the doors of the Switzerland Inn. Every crisis Hans brings to her, every lost little human, she treats with quiet understanding and even the occasional joke.
After resolving the issue of shoes on the floor their first week sharing a room, they fit in their snug room together like lincoln logs. Ava learns first hand just how much Beatrice hates mornings, and begins waking up even earlier than she needs to in order to greet her with a cup of coffee. The few minutes she spends in the quiet of the kitchen preparing Beatrice’s coffee become some of her favorite moments of the day, second only to the time they still spend reading together in the evening. Beatrice picks up on the fact that after some particularly difficult days in the restaurant, Ava’s legs show sign of their long years of disuse and will cramp. On these nights, Ava sits in a spare chair Beatrice repaired for them and Beatrice kneels in front of her to work mint salve into her sore calves while she reads aloud. One such evening, Hans knocks for Beatrice and enters without pausing, and promptly falls over his feet in his haste to exit with his hand clapped over his eyes. Beatrice blushes furiously, but Ava simply snorts a laugh, kisses Beatrice’s cheek in thanks, and sends her out after him, shouting,
“Pull yourself together, man, no one was naked.” There’s a long moment of eye contact between Hans and Beatrice, after which they silently decide to never speak of the moment again.
No matter what she does, Ava is never able to forget how devastatingly handsome Beatrice is. She’s seen her up to her elbows in mechanical grease, cheeks smudged and hair falling out of its tidy bun, chewing her lip over an engine problem, and perfectly dressed in her navy suit, kneeling at eye level with a child and smiling at the incomplete joke they’re trying to tell.
One warm, quiet day in July, Hans insists they both take off and take his automobile to a nearby trailhead and hike to the waterfall at the trail’s end. Ava wears her new overalls and Beatrice is glad to have packed her favorite pair of worn denim as they push through a few thick areas of brush. The day is hotter than they anticipated, and by the time they reach the water’s edge, they’ve decided they will have to take a dip in the river before beginning the hike back to the automobile. The push through the last bit of brush and branches and both simply stop to take in the view.
“Wow.” Ava breathes
“Wow, indeed.” Beatrice agrees. After another moment catching their breath, Ava takes off, kicking off her shoes and socks and heading straight into the river. Beatrice smiles and follows slowly behind her. She places their picnic basket on a patch of grass and neatly sets her (and Ava’s) shoes beside the basket. After rolling up the cuffs on her jeans, she lays out their blanket and sets up the plates of sandwiches, cut fruit, and half a pie the cook had packed for them after Ava batted her eyelashes at him enough times.
“Ava, come eat so you don’t soak the blanket later.” Ava looks up from where she’s crouched in the river trying to catch a frog, overalls soaked up to her knees, and looks back at her pants with a chastened look on her face.
“I think it may be too late for that, Bea.” Beatrice laughs and gestures her over with a sandwich anyway.
“You get to help with the washing this week, then.” Ava grins and bounds over, taking the proffered sandwich. They enjoy their meal quietly, gesturing to different birds and animals without speaking, the pleasant intimacy sinking deep into their chests. After eating and drinking their fill, Ava meanders back into the river. She hears Beatrice follow after her, steady strides turning into small splashes. The misty air of the falls is crisp in her nose and she inhales deeply, closing her eyes. Behind her she hears,
“I think I’m water-falling in love with this place.” She turns and sees Beatrice not even two feet away, standing as she was a moment before, eyes closed, breathing deeply. The sun breaks through the trees at just that moment to bathe Beatrice in light and Ava loses her breath. At the sound of her splashing, Beatrice cracks one eye open and smirks.
“I think I’m water-falling in love with you.” Ava blurts out. Beatrice’s other eye opens slowly, and her smirk turns into a surprised smile.
“Oh.” She breathes out. There’s a long pause between them, before Ava closes the gap, kissing her cheek, again, again, again, before hovering, waiting, mere millimeters away from Beatrice’s lips. For a fraction of a second she fears she’s wrong, before Beatrice kisses her so softly it reminds her of a butterfly landing on her nose last week while she read on the patio. She kisses her back just as gently. Beatrice looks a little shell shocked when they part, but her expression quickly turns hungry when Ava kisses her again, firmly, and guides them out of the river to the blanket, fumbling with the buttons on her shirt. Beatrice’s tongue slides against Ava’s lips and the breathy moan that escapes as she opens her mouth sets Beatrice on fire. Her hands wander, cautiously but with increasing desperation as they fall onto the blanket.
The sun is close to setting when they return to the Switzerland Inn. Hans smiles as they enter, making note of Beatrice’s hair being not quite as neat as it had been when they left, and Ava’s overalls, just a little more disheveled and twisted in the back than they normally would be.
“My friends! Did you enjoy the waterfall?” They both smile, fatigued but happier than Hans had ever seen them.
“We did. Beautiful recommendation, Hans. It was just what we needed.”
“Wonderful. I am pleased to tell you that there were only two crises today, Beatrice, and I resolved them both in a most satisfactory manner. Oh! Before you retire, a telegram came for you today.”
The couple exchanges a tense glance as Beatrice takes the telegram and reads it quickly.
“ L and V with A. Come to JS ”
“Ava, I have to go home. Will you come with me?”
Chapter 10: God's Dark Heaven
Notes:
tw: coercion, violence, blood, eldritch beings, potential main character death, derogatory word for women
Chapter Text
The earliest train out of Little Switzerland doesn’t leave until nearly noon the day after they receive Suzanne’s telegram. Beatrice wires back with travel plans before even returning to the room she shares with Ava. When she arrives, Ava stands at the foot of the bed neatly folding Beatrice’s clothing the way she knows she prefers, shoulders shuddering softly every few moments with tears. Beatrice comes behind her softly and places a hand on her back. Ava drops the shirt she’s folding and turns to bury her face in Beatrice’s shoulder. They’d been in the same position only a few short hours ago, but instead of lost in newly found love, they’re surrounded by uncertainty.
“Ava…I know you’re happy here. I’m happy here, with you. But I owe this to Suzanne and the Gap for raising me.” There’s a sniffle in her shoulder.
“I know, Bea. But I’m scared.”
“You can use the Green now, but what Suzanne said in March is still true. You don’t have to come back. This can be done without you, and you have no responsibility to the Gap”
“I think I have to, Bea. Everything in the past two years has been leading me back to Areala’s Gap. Duretti, regaining my mobility, going north to a town I’d never heard of instead of New Orleans. I don’t think I have a choice. It was Areala’s promise.” Beatrice is quiet for a moment.
“I think the Green has called you back, yes. But it should always be your choice. Whatever you decide, Ava, we all will support you.”
Mary’s waiting with the truck when the train pulls into the station. She looks like she’s aged ten years in the few months since they’d seen her last and she’s sporting a fresh black eye.
“Jesus Christ, Mary, what happened?”
“Nice suit, kid. Not here. Talk at the Salvius house” They toss their bags in the bed of the truck and pile into the bench seat. Ava takes the middle, and Mary gives her an affectionate nudge as she slides behind the wheel and takes off as fast as the truck will take them. The Gap has changed in the few months they’ve been gone. The streets are far too barren for the middle of the day and there’s a yellow, sickly feeling to everything. Beatrice sheds her suit coat, adjusting her sleeve garters to free her arms should she need to use her bone knife that had returned to its place on her hip as soon as they exited the train.
“Baby girl. Been awfully quiet without you and Camila giggling all over the place.”
“Missed you too, Mary. How’s Shannon?”
“Still some ups and downs, but she’s stronger every day. She’s still gonna have to sit the grand finale out, though.”
“I’d rather she did anyway. I don’t ever want to see her, or you, like you were that night again.” Mary hums in agreement and the cab settles into an uneasy silence for the remaining drive. The Salvius house was modest, by business tycoon standards. A formal parlor and dining room, but only three guest rooms, all of which were currently overtaken by the OCS. One room was filled with tables and jars from the greenhouse, and the other two with sleeping cots in addition to the original furniture. As they enter the house, Camila bounds down the stairs to envelope Ava and Beatrice in a tight hug. She whispers in Ava’s ear,
“I knew you’d come back. Suzanne was nervous.” She leans over to Beatrice.
“That better be your hickey on her shoulder, or I’m going to smack you.” Beatrice blushes as Ava quirks an eyebrow up in question, but they’re interrupted by Suzanne and Shannon emerging from the library, matching maple canes in hand, followed by Michael Salvius, and a tall blonde woman Ava concludes is Mayor Jillian Salvius. Shannon greets them with a tired smile and a kiss to each of their foreheads. The speed with which Suzanne crosses the foyer to embrace Ava is as unrestrained as many of the OCS have ever seen her. Her hug squeezes the breath out of Ava’s lungs. After a long moment, she releases her and gives Beatrice an equally bone crushing hug. As she lets go of Beatrice, she gestures to the Salviuses.
“I have no desire to cut our reunions short, but there is work to be done. Before we begin, Ava, this is Jillian Salvius. She is, of course, the mayor as well as a…old, dear friend of mine.”
“Seems rude to call your sweetheart old, Aunt Suzanne.” Ava quips without thinking. Michael and Beatrice go slack in the jaw as the rest of the room waits for a response. Suzanne seems flustered, looking back and forth between Ava and Jillian. Jillian appraises Ava for a moment before letting out a peal of laughter.
“Oh, you do take after your mother. Welcome to my home, Ava, Beatrice. Any family of Suzanne is welcome here.”
“Thank you, Madame Mayor.” Beatrice says.
“Absolutely not. Please, Jillian.” Beatrice nods. Suzanne finally seems to have regained her footing from being caught out and gestures deeper into the house.
“Come, it’s time to get to work.” Jillian takes Suzanne’s hand as they lead the way into the library. Michael falls back to join the other young people.
“Wait, our moms are going steady?”
After the spring equinox and the OCS’s rapid disbursement from their home, things in the Gap went south quickly. Jillian rejected Duretti’s proposal of a mining expansion and obvious signs of sabotage began appearing everywhere in the mines. Just before each potential disaster, Michael or Mary would stumble across the problem and were able to minimize the damage. After the second incident, they split the day’s three shifts into two between them, ensuring every hour of the day had someone equipped to address the threat. Unfortunately a few weeks ago, they couldn’t avoid having both of them gone from the mines at the same time and within the hour, there was an explosion deep in one of the exhausted tunnels. There were only a few injuries from falling rubble, but the entire mine was destabilized and had to be closed for an engineer to reexamine it. It leaves most of the men out of work and bored for the time being, and despite the Salvius’ providing a portion of their missing wages, most prefer to grumble and drink away their limited funds. When the money runs out, they wander the streets looking for trouble and things to do. This is where Adriel’s haints move in. They step out of alleyways in sharp, not quite new suits, and thick wads of cash, offering work and stability for their family if they’d just come out to this address. When they return from the farm, wallets padded, they aren’t the same men who left. They’re emotionless or plain angry, and prone to extreme violence. They become loyal to Adriel to a fault, attending each rally and speech, offering to buy more meals than one man could possibly eat. The first trip Shannon takes out of the house a few weeks after the equinox, she’s nearly blinded by the amount of red power surrounding the people of Areala’s Gap, each possessed by some form of haint or tarask. The town felt sick from the amount of dark energy growing in her people, and neighbors began to avoid each other.
Some weeks ago, Lilith sent a letter explaining her suspicions that Vincent was in league with Adriel, detailing his disappearances, the odd changes in behaviors, and beliefs no longer lining up with what he and Suzanne taught to the students of the Cat’s Cradle. The day the letter arrives, a poorly banked fire erupts in each of the fireplaces on the property and nearly causes irreparable damage to the Cat’s Cradle. In the light of day, the garden beds were destroyed, Beatrice’s wards have all been scuffed away or smashed. Jillian offered use of her home as a temporary safe haven. Rather than expose them, Suzanne asked Lilith to ignore what she saw and convince Vincent to believe she was learning from him and agreed with him about the changes the Gap needed. Lilith was more than successful in convincing Vincent of her support, and he brought her to meet Adriel after a campaign speech. She saw an opportunity in one of the few weaknesses in Adriel’s image: his marital status.
Lilith made herself an indispensable part of Adriel’s campaign, coordinating potlucks, chatting with the women’s auxiliaries, stroking the right arms and egos, including that of Adriel himself. At a campaign dinner with Duretti and several other mining executives, Adriel proposed marriage. Lilith accepted with all the appropriate demurity of a politician’s wife and, according to her letter from that day, promptly returned to her room and vomited before writing to plan a public falling out with Suzanne and Mary to further convince Adriel and Vincent of her loyalty. That fight was the cause of Mary’s black eye. Lilith had managed to sneak a letter into Mary’s pocket during the scuffle, containing: an apology, instructions for applying a salve for the bruising, and a snarky comment about Mary still not hitting hard enough.
Suzanne takes a deep breath after relaying the details of the past three months.
“This is where we stand. Adriel has set the wedding date for July 20th, ten days from nwo. He, and Vincent, believe Lilith has betrayed us. In her fight with Mary, Lilith obtained a vial of lady-slipper. Now that Ava and Beatrice have returned, Lilith will drug Adriel and Vincent at some point before the wedding and we will be ready to take them to the grove to complete the ritual. Once the binding is complete, it will be significantly easier to free our neighbors from the grasp of the haints that possess them.” Beatrice nods in agreement.
“Ava, I cannot express the gladness I feel that you returned. There is still no expectation for you to participate in the ritual, no matter what reason you have for it. If you wish to help, however, Shannon and I will teach it to you.” Ava looks at Beatrice, who gives her a comforting nod.
“I want to help. Let’s put this bitch in the ground.”
Camila wastes no time in catching Ava up on the gossip from town since she’d left, specifically about Jillian and Suzanne. Suzanne and Camila shared one of the guest rooms, with Mary and Shannon in the other. One night at perhaps two in the morning, Camila woke to use the privy and found Suzanne’s bed empty and long since cold. She found the parlor still open and lit with a few candles. She heard some whispering and giggling, and a short peek showed the back of Suzanne’s head over the sofa, and Jillian in her lap. Beatrice is nearly as gobsmacked as Michael, but at least she’d had her suspicions. The door to their room opens as Camila finishes whispering about the mess Suzanne’s hair had been in the next morning. Suzanne enters, takes in the sight of three young women huddled on a bed in their nightclothes and sighs. The fondness is heavy in her voice as she says,
“Perhaps I’d sleep better sharing a room with Shannon and Mary.”
“You certainly wouldn’t sleep if you bunked with Jillian.” Camila quips, and she gets a slipper tossed across the room at her in thanks.
“That’s more than enough from you today, Camila.”
A few hours of giggling and half hearted scolding later they begin to drop off to sleep, Ava not bothering to move to a different cot once Beatrice dozes off, too comfortable to move.
Lilith grew tired of playing house with Adriel quickly, as expected, and after just three short days of preparation, one of Shannon’s students is sprinting up the driveway of the Salvius home early Sunday morning with a letter. Suzanne unfolds it, reads quickly, and tosses it onto the table.
“It’s time. Shannon, stay here to conserve your strength for after the ritual is complete. Mary, you will, as usual, be our main line of protection against any followers of Adriel who find the grove. Michael, you will be responsible for keeping Vincent restrained until the rite is finished. Camila, Beatrice, you and Lilith will weave the bindings. Ava, solzinha, I need you to stay back until we begin to tire. It will be safest for you, and the influx of your power at the end will ensure the bindings remain strong.” There’s no need for discussion this time. Suzanne gives Jillian a chaste kiss, and Jillian pulls her in for another, decidedly unchaste kiss. Mary wolf whistles and pulls Shannon in for a kiss of their own. Tasks set and of one mind, the Order of Christian Sisters face down their work with grim determination.
Lilith is reclining, bored in the gaudy parlor of Adriel’s home, throwing knives into various tasteless portraits and daguerreotypes, when her sisters arrive. Vincent and Adriel are unconscious in their chairs, empty mugs of coffee beside them. She flicks one more knife directly into the painted eye of Adriel as they enter the room.
“I thought Tommy was the fast twin.”
“No, that’s Billy.”
“Well, then. We’d better get to work. Who knows if this wears off more quickly on him. Mary, sorry again about your eye.”
MIchael sets to work gagging and tying the two men. Once done, he hefts Adriel over his shoulder and Mary takes Vincent. They’re unceremoniously dumped into the bed of the truck, covered with a tarp, and Michael climbs into the back as well, pistol trained in case they wake. They reach the grove without incident pulling the truck directly onto the open grass. The summer heat has toasted away any remnants of the conflict from March, but Beatrice still feels the acrid bile of guilt rise in her throat as she looks around. Ava notices the change in tension and takes her hand.
“Hey, Bea. You can do this. You have done this. This would have gone perfectly in March if Vincent hadn’t messed up your wards. He’s not awake to do that now. You won’t fail.” Beatrice takes a deep breath and nods. She presses her lips to Ava’s and whispers, “thank you” before walking the same path she had those months before. Ava watches her set the first ward. Her movements are precise and unhurried as they always are. Not for the first time, Ava loses herself in watching her.
“We’ll admire how special Beatrice is later, solzinha. I need you to get to a safe place.” Ava blushes but Suzanne is as gentle as she is stern in this moment.
“I think I’ll stay in the truck? Not too close to the tree, not too close to the woods.”
“Good choice. I’ll see you after.” Suzanne squeezes her arm and walks to the base of the tree where Michael has Adriel and Vincent laid out. Camila and Lilith are setting up their final preparations, checking the weave of the ropes, the quality of their herbs. Beatrice is halfway done setting the wards when the forest around them erupts into screeching noises. It’s multi-tonal, unlike anything Ava has ever heard before. It cuts through her ears, vibrates through her skull, and she wants to curl into a ball until it stops. It seems to go on forever, but when it stops as unexpectedly as it starts, the sounds that replace it are thunderous. Footsteps? Hooves? Both? And laughter. Unstable, cruel laughter. She looks to the tree and sees Adriel spitting out his gag and laughing, struggling to stand with his hands and feet bound.
“Very sneaky, my little wife. I’m impressed you’ve managed to restrain me this time. It’s a shame it’s not enough, we really would have played quite well together.” Michael shoves Adriel back against the tree. The thunderous noise grows louder as a mass of skeletal deer and panthers leap out from the woods into the clearing. To her left, Ava sees a group of large, suited men approach from the road. Beatrice has one and a half wards to finish.
“Bea, watch the road!” Beatrice glances up, finishing the stroke of her blade in the dirt without hesitation, and her brow furrows. Two swift motions more and she’s sprinting to the final stone that marks her wards. She has perhaps 20 seconds to finish the ward before the tarasks cross into the unfinished circle and without Shannon, she’s not sure they’d make it through another fight against that many tarasks. With mere moments to spare, she makes her final mark in the dirt and leaps inside the protective circle. The tarasks no longer a concern, Beatrice feels confident Mary can handle the skeletal beasts. She bolts over to Camila and Lilith, taking her portion of rope in hand. They look to Suzanne for guidance. Mary has the beasts well in hand, Ava is secure in the truck, and Adriel is enraged. There will never be a better moment. She begins to recite Areala’s Oath to the Green, knelt before the tree. The wind shifts and blows heavily through the trees as she concludes, leaves swirling around her. She begins another recitation, one of banishment and restriction. As she does, Camila, Lilith, and Beatrice begin working complicated loops and knots around Adriel in the tree. The energy of the Green surges and Adriel starts to look uncomfortable. Mary destroys creature after creature with her shotgun. He tries talking to them, getting in their heads. He stares at Beatrice for a long, long moment, though she avoids his gaze.
“Where are my granddaughters?” He yells. “I’d like to see what kind of bitches I sired.” The shock and insult of it causes Beatrice to drop her hold on her rope and she punches him squarely in the nose. Satisfying as it is, it causes enough of a slip in the working that Adriel is able to access some power and push back. Suzanne can’t stop chanting, but she shakes her head at Beatrice. She can’t let him get to her.
Ava watches intently from the truck. Over the sound of Mary’s gun and the clattering hooves, she doesn’t hear what Adriel says to Beatrice, but it’s enough to get her to drop her rope and punch him. The moment she does so, Ava’s struck by a wave of nausea. The same feeling she gets with Mr. Fonseca. The Green wavers just a moment and surges back, but the nausea never subsides in her. Adriel and Suzanne strain against each other and Ava feels each inch of the battle. Eventually, Mary handles the last of the skeletal creatures, and plants herself at the warding line on the road. Ava watches as she slices open her palm again and presses her blood to the barrel of her gun. Six rapid shots later, the tarasks that still stood waiting for their master are piles of ash on the ground. Adriel screams as his creatures fall. The surge in the dark and rage are so overwhelming that Ava would have collapsed under the weight of it were she standing. She sees Suzanne’s hand start to quiver on her staff as she forces out the remainder of the spell, and Ava begins to channel her breathing. She steps slowly out of the truck and kneels on the ground. Palms in the grass, she feels each blade of grass and each miniscule creature underneath it. She thinks about the glow within everything, the Green, and she opens herself up to it as she inhales. As she exhales, she focuses on her aunt, her sisters, and her beloved. She sees the glow in them brighten and Suzanne’s hand steadies as the knots are finished. Suzanne gives one final cry and drops to her knees, heaving. There’s a blinding burst of light and when Ava opens her eyes, there is no Adriel. The great tree looks different, as if it has a face, but she feels nauseous if she looks at it too long.
She clambers to her feet and makes her way to her aunt. She kneels beside her and wraps an arm around her shoulder. Suzanne embraces her back. They look up at the sound of their family’s footsteps, but before they can speak, three shots ring out across the grove and Ava falls onto her back, sharp pain radiating from her chest. The last thing she sees is Beatrice’s panicked face.
Chapter 11: In Your Love
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Ava’s sore when she wakes up. Her head and chest throb with every pump of blood through her body. And her mouth is so very, very dry. She cracks her eyes open, but it’s too dim to see. She tries to speak, but makes only a croaking sound. She moves her hands to feel if there’s anyone next to her, and bumps against someone’s knee.
“Ava, darling!” Beatrice jolts upright at her touch. She lights a few more candles and takes her hand. They’re in a room Ava doesn’t recognize.
“Don’t do too much, Vincent shot you. The surgeon said you’ll make a full recovery but you have to stay still.” Ava tries to speak again, but croaks ever more loudly than before. Beatrice gently holds a cup of water to her lips as she gulps it down greedily. No longer parched but still fuzzy headed Ava asks brokenly,
“Three? Three shots?” Beatrice nods.
“One for you, one for Suzanne—she’s fine, he barely grazed her because she followed you to the ground. And one for him between the eyes, from Mary.” Ava nods, satisfied.
“Adriel?”
“The binding still holds. We did it.” Ava grins.
“How long was I asleep?”
“It’s been about a week. You channeled a lot to Suzanne, and you used a lot to stay alive after you were shot.” Ava feels a bit queasy about that and starts to wiggle her toes. Thankfully, she still has full control over them. Beatrice notices and kisses her palm.
“It was a lot, but you did well. You didn’t cross your threshold. Your attunement was very strong” Ava breathes a sigh of relief and blushes a little pink at the praise.
“Can I get up at all? I want to see everyone.”
“Not till the surgeon comes back tomorrow. You’re in Vincent’s old room—all his stuff is gone, of course, but when morning comes we’ll keep the door open so you feel closer.” Ava’s satisfied by that and nods. She takes a close look at her sweetheart and notices the deep bags under her eyes.
“Honey-Bea, when was the last time you slept?”
“I catch a few hours every now and then when someone comes to sit with you. But I’d rather be here with you.”
“Why on earth are you still not sleeping in beds with me? Come here.” Ava tugs weakly on Beatrice’s arm, trying not to agitate any stitches. Beatrice smiles and presses a kiss to her nose as she stands, adjusting her pillows and positioning so there would be room for her in the bed as well. She eases down into the bed beside her and both drop immediately into peaceful, dreamless sleep.
Traditional or not, Ava decides that the best time to build a house in Appalachia is late September. Ava knows this because it’s the time that Beatrice, Mary, and Camila all join efforts to repair the damage done to the houses at the Cat’s Cradle and build another, third home on the property. It’s going to be a lovely fall, Ava thinks as she steps onto the back porch with a tray of lemonade and sets it on the table beside Lilith, Shannon, and Jillian. Suzanne’s still a little too stiff to do much in the way of construction, but she’s out in the sun in her jeans and loose cotton shirt anyway, directing the other three this way and that. Mary’d worked on a few home raisings before, including her own after she proposed to Shannon, but Beatrice and Camila were inexperienced. Beatrice stands up and stretches her arms over head, lifting her old shirt enough to reveal a sliver of toned stomach, and Ava takes a gulp of lemonade.
“I know they’re working, but I think we need the lemonade more.” Jillian observes, not even pretending to read her the council report in her hands. Lilith hums in agreement.
“Keep your clothes on, ladies, goodness.” Shannon teases before calling across the yard,
“Lemonade!”
Their hard-working partners drop their tools and cross the property, laughing, and exchange kisses for cold glasses. Camila gets a swat on the nose with the newspaper for dunking her curls and shaking them out too close to Lilith. Beatrice wipes her face with the spare rag in her pocket and pulls Ava to her side.
“Hello, darling. How are you feeling?”
“Perfectly healthy, Bea, like I am every time you ask.” Ava says, not unkindly.
“That still won’t make me stop asking. Are you excited for our home?”
“I’m already home, wherever you are.”
Notes:
Holy heckin' wow, we made it. Thank you for going on this wildly self indulgent journey with me. This is the longest work I've ever attempted, let alone written and published. I'd like to say a huge thank you to Erin and rest of the ABB team for running this event, my incredible artist partner for bringing visual to this world, my beta reader Mags and our writing server for the sprints and encouragement, as well as my wife for being understanding about the amount of time I needed to spend staring off into space to get this done. I'm so in love with this little universe and hope to add some scenes that I had to cut for times sake, including some spice, so I hope you'll sit and stay a while for those.
You can check the art here:
https://www.tumblr.com/kaisollisto/751941995708219392/im-so-in-love?source=share
and the playlist here: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3MHgaQETAfoRmNJZ1XNzGm?si=04bae42d7baf4b68