The night air smelled like freshly-dug dirt. The crescent moon leered.
Ursula stumbled to the edge of the river, icy mud squishing between her toes, and didn’t stop until she caught sight of the white jacket. She dove in, stroking powerfully, gliding between rocks, and catching her daughter just before the falls, twenty descending feet of rocks and pools. Using the branches of a fallen tree that had spanned the river since she was a girl, she pulled them both to shore.
The mud made a sucking squish under her knees when she knelt down at Katrine’s side, both of them shivering with exertion and cold. She pushed the stringy hair out of her daughter’s face and slapped her between the shoulders as hard as she could, fear and confusion powering the blow. She didn’t stop when Katrine started gasping, either, not right away.
The coughs erupted into big wet burps chased by buckets of silvery vomit. The moonglow caught the tepid, chrome streaks as they fled down the mud bank to their source. Katrine heaved on her side, her back arching with every tremor. The painful spasms continued until Katrine fell onto her face, too tired to hold her eyes open. “Leave me here.”
Ursula’s hair was plastered to her cheeks. Her breath puffed out in cumulus clouds. “What the hell were you doing in the river?”
Katrine pulled herself up to a sitting position. It felt like trying to balance a bowling ball on noodles. It hurt to talk. “I had a right to make up my mind about him, but he didn’t tell me the truth.”
“Adam?”
“Sure. Let’s start with him.” Katrine tried to chuckle, but it morphed into a juicy retching.
“You couldn’t have known.” Ursula spoke firmly, but she was shivering.
Katrine was still. The house snapped as if it was moving closer to hear her response. Even the river was listening. She sighed, and when she spoke, it was with the gravitas of old wisdom. “I could have. I can see the truth of people. That’s my gift.”
Ursula started coughing. It began as a wheeze but grew until her whole body was vibrating with it. Her mother was laughing. “Is that what you thought your gift was, all these years?” Ursula asked. “To see the truth in people?” She laughed even more, the sound hoarse but full.
Katrine appeared deeply offended. “I should think I’d know my own power.”
“Then you have a lot to learn.” Ursula shook her head and rubbed Katrine’s cold arm. “Besides, being unfaithful wasn’t the truth of him. That’s why you didn’t see it. Things like that are a part of a person, a part that they work hard to hide, but it isn’t all of them. Not by a long shot.”
Ursula had to tread carefully. Her laughter had started with surprise, but she’d held onto it to nurture the one thing that could save Katrine: anger. She knew that if a person stared too long at the dark strands that made up a moment, they were lost. It’s what was killing Jasmine, and she’d be damned if she’d let it devour either of her girls.
Katrine hugged her knees. “I make terrible choices with men. I want a new story.”
“You can’t have the trees without the worms.” Ursula studied her beautiful child, all headstrong will and careening intuition. She stroked her shivering head. “Let’s go inside.”
“I’m damaged,” Katrine said. She hiccupped. “I let John…” She switched tacks, a yelp of hysterical laughter startling out of her mouth. “Forget John. You know what’s even worse? Adam is a selfish monster, but I miss him. I miss him most in the places I least expect it, like the grocery store when I see his favorite food and realize I have no one to cook for.”
Ursula held her daughter for the first time in years. “You’re going to be okay.”
“I let him bleed me.”
Ursula took her daughter by the chin and turned her head so they were nose to nose. “They can hurt you, but they can’t break you. Ever. You’re stronger than you know.”
Katrine sighed, and it sounded like a ship being retrieved from the bottom of the ocean. “Hey, if I ever consider another relationship again, I’m going to take him to a psychologist to get him checked out the way you take a used car you’re considering buying to a mechanic.”
Ursula smiled in the dark because in that moment she knew Katrine was going to be okay. She would help her sad and weary daughter into the house, where she would bathe her and rub balm on her wounds and brew a potion to heal her heart.
“And mom?”
Ursula helped her to her feet. “Yes?”
“What the hell is the deal with the snakes? They’re all over Faith Falls. Thousands of them. Millions maybe.”
Ursula twitched, the memories connecting. Snakes. “They called you home, baby. When the snakes come, it’s time to face facts and clean house. That means something different for each of us, but I’m guessing you’re doing it right now.”
Katrine nodded, whispering the words John had breathed into her ear. I will take your power when the snakes rise. Your children will pay for this, and their children. I will return to make you pay. Not one of you can stop me.
“What?” Ursula asked, her heart locking. She was falling deep into the earth, a great whooshing in her ears, her eyes flooding with water and then dirt, ever deeper, into the grave she’d dug herself using secrets as the shovel. “What did you just say?”
Katrine shook her head. “The man who…took something from me tonight. That’s what he said to me. You know what it means?”
Ursula sank even lower. Velda had made her promise never to tell that they’d murdered her father, but it was Ursula who’d let her shame seal that promise. That secret had festered like a poison, gathering her, and then Katrine into its green bubble. But what of Jasmine? She tried to push back against the dirt. She had to fight. “He’s going to get Jasmine next. He said he’d come for my children when the snakes rose.”
Katrine shook her head. “This guy doesn’t even know her, except for when he stopped by last Christmas. With the carolers. You were in the shop.”
Ursula couldn’t stop falling. “It’s not the man,” she said. “It’s the spirit inside of him.”
Katrine’s cheeks hollowed, great crystal tears carving her cheeks. Her face was a mask of horror and realization, a sun rising over a crime scene. “Then he already got her, mom. When she came into the kitchen and said she was raped as a girl? That happened last time the snakes were here. I saw them, in the little bit of the memory she allowed out.”
The words doubled Ursula over. How had she not realized this already? The secret she’d kept all these years was a tumor pushing against her brain stem, blinding her. The horror was too thick to swallow.
She’d let this happen.
She’d kept the secret that allowed this to continue down the line.
She could only mouth the word: Tara.
Chapter 44
Tara
Every nerve in her body quivered, screaming at her to run, hide, protect herself, but she was trapped in the tunnels. Her terror grew shoots and then cords that wrapped around her ankles and moored her to the earth as sure as cement. She waited, trembling, for the man in the cowboy hat to come into view, strip her, hurt her, separate her from herself. Her hand went to the hem of her shirt, kneading at it.
If you can move your hands, you can move your feet. Run!
But her body wouldn’t listen. And so she stood, shivering in her own fear, cold to her marrow, awaiting the executioner’s blade.
Which is why, when the boy appeared, a dim flashlight wobbling in his hand, she couldn’t make sense of it at first.
“Tara?”
She’d been panting. She tried to draw a breath but couldn’t get her lungs around it.
He moved to step forward, turning the circle of light on her face, and stopped himself. “Are you okay?”
The air wouldn’t move past her mouth. She grew lightheaded.
He almost moved forward again, concern painted on his face, but stopped himself a second time. “I will leave if you don’t want me here. I’ll go right now.”
“No.” The
word released the iron cage on her chest. She drew air all the way to her belly, sucking desperately at it, grabbing for another before she was through with the first. She hoped he understood that she meant for him to stay.
“My name is Leo. I work for your great-aunts. At Seven Daughters?”
She’d recognized him as the boy she’d seen last Christmas. He’d visited many of her dreams. Seeing him, she could smell the pfeffernüsse and feel the magic of Christmas morning. She still couldn’t find her tongue.
“Is someone else down here with you?”
The gentleness in his voice allowed her to breathe even more deeply. “No.” She thought of the dark-eyed man in the cowboy hat, couldn’t stop thinking of him. “At least, I don’t think so.”
He nodded, shifting his stance.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
His smile was sheepish. “I came looking for you. I stopped by your house when I saw the store was closed, and they told me you’d run away.”
She tensed, waiting for him to ask her why. Or to tell her to go home. Instead, he glanced around, flashing the walls with his feeble light.
“Looks like I remembered.”
“You’ve been here before?” she asked.
“Once.” He ran his hands through his hair and glanced down at his feet. “It was a party. I drank peach schnapps. I can still taste it anytime I’m sick.” He smiled ruefully. “I don’t think I’m much of a drinker. Anyways, if I am, I’d prefer to do it aboveground in the future.”
A warmth melted out from her chest. She was glad she wasn’t alone down here, even happier that he was the one with her. “I have a hiding spot near the entrance. Want to see it?”
“I think I passed it coming in.” He paused. “It didn’t look very safe. You’ve slept there the last two nights?”
She nodded, rolling up the ball of string to lead her back to her hidey hole. They didn’t talk. When they reached her spot, she stopped in her tracks, seeing her hiding spot through his eyes. Her penlight caught a glimpse of purple—her sleeping bag. Her backpack was right behind it. She’d been foolish to think she was protected down here. Her cheeks burned. She felt very young. She didn’t want to look at him.
“Wait here,” he said. “I’ll be back in an hour.”
***
When he returned, he had wood, nails, a hammer, and two dark blankets. He explained that he wasn’t as good at carpentry as his father, but he’d picked up enough. He began constructing a wall around the alcove within the cave. The recess was only knee-high. If someone was looking for it, they’d see it, but he said it was his hope that the blankets would camouflage the nook and give her a more secure hiding spot.
He was working fast, and sweat began to drip down his spine. She watched him warily, but found herself moving closer. The next time he went for a nail, she handed it to him, the smile blooming on her face.
He glanced at her as he took the nail from her hand, and his mouth dropped. Her smile was so bright that they no longer needed the flashlight.
“You’re PINCing me,” she said. “With wood and nails. I didn’t know boys could PINC, too.”
He leaned forward, drawn into her smile, and she knew he wanted to kiss her, that he’d have given up a million dollars in that moment to do it. She leaned forward, too. He’d never kissed a girl, she could tell, but she’d never kissed a boy, so they were even.
Just before their lips touched, he pulled back. “I’m sorry.”
She knew what he meant. This wasn’t the place or the time. She liked him even more for not kissing her, despite her disappointment. The thought made her giggle. Her laugh tickled his funny bone, and he started to laugh, too. She reached her hand out to feel his laughter in the air. It popped like soap bubbles.
“Are you hungry?” she asked, suddenly shy.
“No.” His stomach growled.
She giggled again, a calliope sound, and then wiped her smile away. “Your belly sounds like the walls down here. They’ve been grumbling since I came. Anyhow, I have crackers. And raisins.” She leaned over and rifled through her backpack before handing him a little yellow box.
He seemed reluctant to take her food, but equally uncomfortable turning down her offer. “Thanks,” he finally said. He opened the top and popped a raisin in his mouth. “What’s it like sleeping here?”
Words worked around her mouth like marbles until one spilled out. “Scary.”
He nodded, chewing thoughtfully on his raisin. She found herself wanting to hear what he said next, wanting to hear every word that came out of his mouth from now until the end of time. She leaned forward, reaching out to him. She wanted to brush her hands against his skin, to feel it next to hers, just for an instant.
A scraping sound stopped her. It was the entrance lurching open. The sound chilled her blood.
It was the cowboy. She knew it without seeing him, the same way she knew the sun would rise tomorrow and that water always flows downhill. He’d already gotten Katrine, and now he’d sniffed Tara out like a mongoose, found her underground, was going to chew on her flesh.
“Run!” she screamed.
Chapter 45
Jasmine
The devil was at her daughter’s door. Jasmine knew this. All her years devoted to protecting Tara, keeping her close, and on the night when it mattered most, Jasmine could do nothing. Her daughter was gone. The terror set her outside herself, lending her a grotesque calm.
“What happened to you two?” Her question lacked any emotion. She’d employed the words because she tripped over a memory of them being an appropriate response to bruised and bedraggled people showing up at her door.
Did Katrine, already looking like she’d fallen out of a moving car, grow even paler when she laid eyes on Jasmine? Did a dripping Ursula put her hand to her mouth in horror? It didn’t matter what they saw when they looked at her. Jasmine had the knives sharpened. She’d deal with the hissing as soon as they located Tara.
“I’m not leaving you behind this time.” Katrine pushed past her. “Where’s Dean?”
“Driving around. Looking.” The sibilant sounds were so loud that she wondered if Katrine could hear her words over them. Sshhh, strum strum sshhh, swee, sshhh. Was the hissing really music? Bluegrass? It almost sounded like…no, the thought slipped away again, leaving a maddening buzzing that she could not turn off. Her daughter was gone. He’d found her. Just like he’d found Jasmine, twenty-five years earlier. He was going to clip her daughter’s glorious wings. She could not help her baby.
“Jasmine, look at me. Ursula never seduced Dean, and she never would. You saw her cleaning wax off of him. He was in her cottage to get a potion to keep you all together. I’m so sorry you were molested, and that I wasn’t there to stop it, and that I wasn’t strong enough to fight the spell that sent me away. Please let me in? We can deal with this together.”
Jasmine cocked her head. She didn’t understand the words. And why were snakes coming in through the door?
“You have to face it, though. Face it head on and claim your gift, or it’ll kill you. You have to face yourself, Jasmine!”
Katrine cupped her hands over Jasmine’s ears. They stared into each other’s eyes. Jasmine got lost in Katrine’s for a moment. She’d felt the absence of her sister’s gaze acutely when Katrine had first left Faith Falls. Katrine’s glance was a blessing. She’d been born with the ability to evolve any person in her focus. Her attention didn’t just make people feel smarter, funnier, or kinder, as Velda’s did. Katrine raised them up a level by locating and amplifying their best self. Katrine was the sun to each person’s divine seeds.
She’d worked this powerful magic on Jasmine growing up. Jasmine’s amazing food tasted twice as delicious and healed those who ate it in half the time when Katrine helped her cook. She’d also unknowingly applied her magic on her friends in high school, who were more popular and scored better on tests when Katrine was in the room.
Jasmine even knew via letters that Ka
trine had worked her talent on Adam, nurturing him from an angry, underemployed graphic artist to owner of a successful gallery who also discovered that he had a flair for cooking and didn’t mind public speaking. She opened up his world for him. That he resented her power was the ultimate irony. And of course, there were people who even at their best were not worth scraping off your boot, in Velda’s words. Why boots? Was the incessant hissing a marching song? Had it been military music all this time? Jasmine caught the tail end of the tune and then it slipped away. She couldn’t wait to slip away.
“What?” Jasmine yelled. They were still standing in her entryway. The air had gone scratchy. Ursula’s lips were moving. What was she saying? Was that more knocking at the door? Knocking, knocking, knocking, always the knocking of the bass drum, a backbeat to the rhythm guitar that took the trumpet and bleated fear and buried her alive. Knocking, knocking, knocking on the garage door, she ran away from Katrine and Ursula to grab Dean’s sledgehammer.
She was going to make her own noise. She couldn’t take it anymore. She was going to knock back, and then she was going to shove a knife in her ears and puncture that mighty itch. She charged down the basement stairs, sledgehammer in hand, the air around her electric with dancing, taunting hyper-hissing and the iron smell of wet metal.
She swung the hammer at the brick wall that hid the hissing creatures that had driven her mad, that were bedeviling her from behind the brick wall. The knick knack shelves were easy to destroy. They clattered to the ground, a pile of useless pig-pink pieces landing on top of wood. She swung harder, and for a moment, she matched the beat on the other side of the wall. The synchronicity was the closest thing to silence she’d felt in a week. She almost wept. Fleeing back to the garage, she gathered more hammers and a crowbar, tools clattering around her, and hurried back to the basement.
The Catalain Book of Secrets Page 19
