Rocks Fall Everyone Dies

by Lindsay Ribar

  My head should have been spinning. This should have sounded ridiculous. I should have been begging for the real truth this time. But I felt oddly calm.

  “Rumors of black magic were in the air,” Grandma continued. “Witchcraft, you understand. Now, what you ought to know is that my husband had magic. Not witchy magic—not the kind the accusations were about—but a certain affinity with the earth. An ability to influence certain natural phenomena. And he’d passed those abilities on to our children. Rose was a talented girl, quite self-assured, more than able to keep her powers hidden from prying eyes. But Ash had yet to learn full control over his magic. It was only a matter of time before he slipped up in front of the wrong person—so I made up my mind to flee. I didn’t want to see my own son hanged in all that madness.

  “So I sold my house for a wagon and supplies, and we started to move west, setting up camp in new places nearly every night, learning the ways of the land. Building fires. Hunting for our dinner… .

  “My children were out hunting the night it happened. I’d stayed with the wagon and built the fire, and I was waiting for them to return when a great rumbling shook the earth. The Cliff, you see. We’d camped in the shadow of the Cliff. And that night, it fell, crushing me beneath a mountain of falling rock. That was how they found me, when they returned.”

  This time, I couldn’t stop myself from interrupting: “Crushing you? You mean you died?”

  She regarded me, unblinking. “That is exactly what I mean.”

  “But …”

  “Let her finish,” said Aunt Holly quietly.

  Zombie great-great-grandma, I thought, and pressed my mouth shut.

  “It was my children who brought me back,” said Grandma. Willow. “The night I died, they built a fire atop the rocks that had crushed me. They burned an ash leaf and a rose petal: symbols of their willingness to give of themselves to bring me back. The next morning, both the Cliff and I were perfectly intact again. In the spot where I’d died, instead of a pile of rock, there was an oak sapling.”

  “The May Day tree?” I guessed. She nodded. “But … it’s nowhere near the Cliff now.”

  “It’s been moved since then, obviously,” said Aunt Holly.

  Willow silenced her with a look. “We had it moved, several years later. The tree attracts people to it, encouraging them to give of themselves in the same way that my children did—in older times, some even looked on it as a sort of holy place. But its nearness to the Cliff frightened people away. Only once we transplanted the tree did our sparse little community start to become a town.”

  “Wait, you mean Three Peaks exists because of the May Day tree?” I said.

  Willow shrugged. “There certainly isn’t a better reason for a settlement to have begun here as early as it did. But people came, and some of them stayed.” She gave me a not-quite-smile. “A good thing, too. We’d have been horribly lonely otherwise.”

  “Couldn’t you have moved somewhere else? If you were lonely, I mean?”

  “That was the original plan,” said Willow. “Going west, as I said before. We tried to move on the very next day. The Cliff stopped us. Or, more accurately, it stopped me. As soon as it felt that I’d wandered too far from the valley, I felt its voice in my head. Its hunger. I felt a fault in the stone that could only be repaired by means of my children’s magic.

  “Because, you see, that was the bargain that the Cliff had struck. It granted a wish for my children, and in return, it gave them the means of keeping it alive. Insofar as it perceives itself as alive, of course.”

  “You mean the reaching,” I said. “That’s where it comes from? The Cliff gave your kids the power to steal stuff?”

  Willow nodded solemnly. “It did indeed. And so it’s been, ever since. I am tasked with hearing the Cliff’s voice. My descendants are tasked with carrying out the Cliff’s commands. My children, my children’s children, and so on.”

  Her smile faltered a little, and she adjusted herself in the chair.

  “I won’t pretend it isn’t a nasty business, this thing we do. Stealing from people, feeding the Cliff with their energy. But it’s necessary.” She cast a fond look over at Holly. “For the sake of preserving our family, it’s necessary.”

  Nasty business. That was interesting. I’d never heard her say anything negative about the ritual before. But that was hardly the point of the story she’d just told me.

  “So you’re immortal?” I said. “Is that why you have us steal people’s memories of you?”

  She nodded. “I’m so sorry. I honestly thought you knew the reason. Or, rather, remembered the reason. I didn’t mean to deceive you.”

  “And … you died. You actually died?”

  Willow let her eyes flutter closed, her lashes casting odd shadows against the wrinkles in her cheeks. “I felt my bones break. I felt my chest cave in. It wasn’t a pleasant thing, dying.”

  Shivers threatened to overtake me again, but I pushed them aside. “But, so … what are you? A zombie?”

  She met my eyes again, leaning forward in her chair, all earnest. “I’m your family, Aspen. That’s all that really matters.”

  That was when Aunt Holly finally spoke up again. “We’re both your family. And being part of a family means we have obligations to each other. You understand that, right?”

  I nodded. “Don’t steal from each other. Yeah, obviously.”

  “No. I mean yes, of course, but not only that.” Aunt Holly looked pained, like every word was costing her something. “We … we have a question for you.”

  “Holly,” said Willow sharply. “This is hardly the time.”

  “It’s as good a time as any,” Aunt Holly shot back. “Aspen, would you consider … that is … Heather was …”

  Her voice began to wobble. My stomach began to churn.

  “What Holly is trying to say,” Willow cut in, “is that the triad ritual needs a third person. A permanent one, not just a series of relatives kind enough to fly in for a week or two. We need someone who can stay. Someone who understands the ritual’s importance—”

  “Someone who’s actually got control over his magic,” said Aunt Holly. “Unlike, for example, your father. Or, god forbid, Calla, with her damned ego.”

  “You’d be able to have your friends up to visit anytime you like,” said Willow. “We’ve already shown you that they’d be more than welcome.”

  My friends. Theo. Brandy. Brandy. We’d only just started dating. If I moved up to Three Peaks for good, we’d hardly ever be able to see each other.

  “You don’t have to decide now,” said Willow gently. “And you don’t have to say yes. We’d prefer it if you did, of course, but please know that this is an invitation, not a demand.”

  Aunt Holly’s lips were pressed together so hard that they’d gone white—but she nodded. My stomach roiled, and my neck was all kinds of tense, because the thing was, after that phone call with my dad? I kind of wanted to say yes, just so I wouldn’t have to keep living with him.

  But I had to wait. I had to let my anger at him cool off. I couldn’t just make a rash decision about something like this.

  “I’ll think about it,” I said.

  Willow smiled. “That’s good enough for me.”

  BEFORE

  The time with Geoffrey. It made sense now. Geoffrey, the corgi we’d had when I was little, had been really fond of snatching our food right off the dinner table. Until, one day, he wasn’t.

  One day, he just started eating his kibble and paying no attention whatsoever to what the humans were eating.

  Even at eight years old, it didn’t take me long to put two and two together. Dad had stolen Geoffrey’s desire for people-food.

  When I asked Dad if I was right, he nodded and said, “There’s no sense in having a pet who misbehaves if you can do something about it, right?”

  Curiously, right around the same time, Geoffrey stopped jumping onto our beds and chewing up our shoes. I asked Dad if he’d meant to take away
those things, too. If he’d taken away every single bad-dog thing that Geoffrey kept wanting to do.

  “Hm,” said Dad. “Now that you mention it, my shoes have looked less slobbery lately… .”

  “But that was on purpose, right?” I said, feeling slightly alarmed without knowing why.

  “Not exactly …” But Dad’s worried face quickly gave way to a winning smile. “But it’s a nice side effect, isn’t it?”

  I remember wondering how side effects could be a thing. I remember wondering if my own reaching had side effects, too.

  It had never occurred to me that Dad might just be really terrible at using his magic.

  I needed air. I needed space, and that space needed to be away from this house, because I had to think. So I called Brandy and asked if they were still at the lake. I had no intention of getting into a boat with them today, or ever again, but at least I could chill out on the beach. Maybe get drunk. Whatever. Anything that didn’t involve Willow and Aunt Holly being right there, watching me, waiting for my answer.

  But Brandy said they’d left the lake almost an hour ago. They’d gone back to Corey’s place to play video games—and there’d be beer if I wanted it because, apparently, Corey’s parents were never, ever home.

  “You feeling up for coming out, though?” she asked. “You really looked bad this morning.”

  “I think I was just tired,” I said. “But I took a nap, so hey.”

  “Hey hey,” she replied. “Well, totally come over. It’s number twelve, Cherry Street. Yellow house. You’ll recognize it from the party.”

  I probably could have asked to borrow Aunt Holly’s car, which would’ve gotten me there faster—but it was only maybe a twenty-minute walk. And walking was good for thinking.

  Still, when I got to Corey’s place, I was no closer to a rational decision than I’d been when I’d left.

  They’d left the front door unlocked for me, so I let myself in and followed the sound of voices through the darkened living room, then up the stairs to the second floor. Four people were inside the nearest bedroom, staring intently at a large flat-screen TV, on which four Mario Kart characters were racing around a track.

  “Don’t you dare take that—you asshole!” yelled a familiar-looking guy, jerking a game controller violently to one side. He and Theo and Corey were sitting side-by-side-by-side on the bed, like a line of gamer ducklings.

  “You so deserved that,” said Brandy, who was sprawled in a beanbag chair and holding another controller. I glanced at the screen, expecting to see her usual Kart character, Princess Peach, in first place. Brandy was awesome at this game, so it only stood to reason.

  But no, this time Peach was last. Had someone else claimed the character before Brandy got to her?

  “Hey,” I said, stepping into the room. Not too far, though, so as not to block their view of Corey’s TV. Thanks to Brandy, I knew what happened when you stepped between gamers and their screens. It wasn’t pretty.

  “Ooh, Aspen, hey,” said Brandy, eyes still glued to the television.

  “Who are you playing?” I asked.

  I expected her to say Yoshi, since Yoshi was currently in first place—but Brandy replied stiffly, “Peach. Duh. I’m always Peach.”

  I frowned at the screen. Peach’s kart wasn’t doing very well. “So how come—”

  “Shh, you’re distracting me,” she said, glaring at the screen as Peach approached a tricky-looking ramp thing. “Ooh wait, hold on hold on I got this I got this—dammit. Aaaand I’m dead.”

  Tossing her controller dramatically to the floor, she leaned back and closed her eyes.

  “Level’s not over yet, Brandy,” said Corey.

  “Yeah, but I am,” said Brandy. “You can grab the desk chair if you want.”

  This last was directed at me. I sat and watched as Corey and Theo and the other guy finished the level they’d been playing.

  Only once it was over—and Yoshi, played by Corey, had won—did Corey introduce the other guy.

  “Aspen, this is Kendrick,” she said. “Kendrick, Aspen.”

  “Oh, right!” said Kendrick. “From the party. You’re the one who passed out on the deck.”

  Corey laughed, and so did Kendrick, and I immediately remembered where I’d seen him before. He’d been hanging around the drink coolers at the party, bugging Leah to refill his cup.

  “Yeah, that was me,” I said. “Sorry about that. Again.”

  “S’all good,” said Corey. “At least you didn’t puke, like certain people I could mention.” She said this last with a pointed look at Kendrick, who waggled his eyebrows.

  “Want to play?” asked Brandy, nodding at the controller she’d tossed on the floor. She’d folded her arms across her chest, tucking her hands under her biceps like she was trying to keep them warm. “You can take over for me, if you want. I’m sick of losing.”

  Theo craned his neck a little to peer at her. “Yeah, what’s up with that, anyway? You usually kick our asses at this.”

  Brandy stuck out her tongue. “My hands have apparently committed mutiny.”

  “So you want in, Aspen?” asked Corey, leaning over to retrieve Brandy’s controller.

  “Not yet,” I said. “You guys play a few rounds. I want to assess the competition so I know exactly how to beat you when I join in.”

  “You wish,” muttered Corey. Within a few seconds, the three of them had chosen a new level and were playing again.

  “Mutiny, huh?” I asked, moving the desk chair a little closer to Brandy. “What’s wrong? You sick?”

  “I don’t think so,” said Brandy. “I mean, I don’t feel sick. My hands are just … I dunno. They just sort of started shaking. Like out of nowhere. That’s why we left the lake early—because I fumbled a canoe paddle. I thought maybe it was just because it was a little cold on the water, and it’d go away once I got inside, but …”

  I frowned. “Maybe you’re getting a fever?”

  “Feel my forehead,” she said. So I did. Her skin felt totally normal.

  “Hm,” I said.

  “Right? Now feel this.”

  She unfolded her arms and held out a hand. I took it—and she was right. She was shaking. Even when I clasped her hand firmly between both of mine, I could feel it vibrating against my skin. My breath caught in my throat as the sensation forced a memory—a very recent memory—right to the surface of my mind.

  Willow’s hand. A tremor. Never get old, she’d said.

  But Brandy wasn’t getting old. She was only seventeen, and I was pretty sure teenagers didn’t just develop tremors out of nowhere. So what the hell was going on?

  “When did this start?” I asked.

  “At the lake, like I said.”

  “Right, yeah, but what time? Do you know?”

  “I dunno. A few hours ago? Oh! No, that’s right, it was three thirty when we returned the canoe.”

  Three thirty. Half an hour after Aunt Holly’s phone call had woken me up.

  My palms went slick.

  “Maybe you’re right, though,” she said, sneaking a quick glance at the three Mario Kart players. “Maybe I’m getting sick. Maybe I should see a doctor.”

  I curled my fingers into fists, digging my nails into my palms. Heather had seen doctors, too. They hadn’t been able to do anything. How bad would this get? Brandy wouldn’t die, right?

  Well, of course she wouldn’t. This wasn’t lungs that had straight-up stopped working. This was just a little shakiness. Tremors were normal. People got them all the time … didn’t they?

  The uncertainty propelled my hand forward, until it was gripping the blanket that covered Brandy. Sweet, amazing, sexy Brandy, who absolutely didn’t deserve this. I reached into it, poked around long enough to confirm that it was definitely Corey’s, and then started searching for her hands. Her healthy hands, which didn’t shake, and—

  And then I remembered. You couldn’t replace things that the Cliff had stolen. Heather had said so in her letter.
>
  Whatever. Screw that. I reached anyway, found the steadiness in Corey’s hands, and gave it to Brandy. A careful, precise reaching job, just like I always did … except it didn’t work.

  I waited; maybe it would take some time to kick in. Seconds passed. Then minutes. But Corey’s hands remained steady as ever, and Brandy’s kept shaking in her lap.

  That was that, then. I couldn’t fix Brandy. She was finally mine, and now she was broken, and I couldn’t even do anything about it.

  “Hey, you okay?” asked Brandy, reaching out to ruffle my hair a little.

  I made myself smile. “Yeah, no, totally. I’m fine.”

  Does that girl know anything true about you?

  I’d dismissed the question when Leah had asked it, but now I couldn’t help wondering if maybe Leah had a point. It wasn’t fair that stuff like that could happen to Brandy, and she wouldn’t have any idea why.

  But I’d never told anyone my secret—and besides, what good would it do her if she knew?

  But then again, shouldn’t couples be honest with each other? If Brandy and I were going to stay together—and I had every intention of staying together—I’d have to tell her eventually. Like Dad had told Mom. And Mom herself had told me once that she wished Dad had said something sooner in their relationship… .

  But, once more with feeling: What good would it do?

  Then, the phone call happened.

  Brandy and I were making out like crazy on my bed, door shut, clothes starting to come off as I tried to ignore her shaking hands, when her phone rang. It was the chorus of “Piano Man,” which meant her dad was calling.

  She groaned as she extricated herself from my sheets. “Sorry. I have to get this.”

  “No problem.”

  As Brandy crossed the room and found her purse, I flopped back onto my pillow and willed my breath to slow down.

  “Hey!” said Brandy, in her best no-I-definitely-wasn’t-just-about-to-get-laid-what-are-you-talking-about voice. Then she fell silent, nodding slightly as she listened to whatever her dad was telling her. She rolled her eyes at me, then did a yap-yap-yap motion with her hand, which made me smile. Then she stopped, and her face started to fall, and she sank back down onto the bed. The nodding stopped, too.