Night Tide

by Kory M. Shrum

  Grayson realized Abby was speaking again. “They’d gone down to the water but hadn’t got in it. I think the sirens only come if you touch the water. That’s how they know you’re there, right?”

  Before Grayson could affirm that he also thought this was true, she was barreling on.

  “So these people weren’t in the water. They were on the ledge. And another freak storm rolled in and they’d started to walk back to their cars and that’s when four sirens had come out of the water after them.”

  “But they can’t leave the water.”

  “Well, no one has seen them out of the water. But these people said they did and practically chased them up the embankment.”

  “No way.” He couldn’t believe it.

  He could practically hear her shrug. “That’s what they said, but my mom thinks they were exaggerating. She says that they were pretty drunk when they gave their statements. Anyway, she suspects that there’s some connection between the weird storms that keep rolling in and the sirens’ strange behavior.”

  It wasn’t much to go on, this connection between freak thunderstorms and agitated sirens.

  “Anyway, enough about that. What were you doing before you called?”

  He looked at the two books on his lap. Then he told her about the books and Gladys’s recommendation.

  “Send a pic,” she said.

  He dutifully snapped two pics of the books in his lap and texted them to her while she waited. There was a pause as she looked at the pics, then her voice returned, though a bit farther away. Grayson suspected he was on speaker phone now. But if her mom was at the station, then she was home alone.

  “I can’t read the title on the leather one. Is that a tree?”

  “Yeah,” he replied. “It’s called The Dark Mother and Her Children.”

  “Creepy.”

  He laughed.

  “What does it have to do with sirens?”

  “I don’t know. I’ll have to read to find out.”

  Finally, she said, “About last night.”

  “I meant what I said.” He wanted to get that out there before she had a chance to do anything ridiculous like apologize again. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  She sighed. “Does this mean I can go to bed?”

  He smiled. “Get some rest. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

  Once the call ended and he was once again sitting in his dark quiet house, he turned his attention to the books.

  He decided to begin with the first book. It told a story about a woman named Vendetta, who lived in a small barony with her six brothers and a little sister. The sister died of starvation shortly after her mother did. The family had been wealthy when her parents had first married, but had lost their wealth with time because of a demanding and greedy queen who brought ruin to the people through extensive (read: expensive) military campaigns. In one way or another, the queen became responsible for her whole family’s deaths, events picking off her father and brothers one at a time.

  While she was still alive, Vendetta’s mother had been a woman who worshipped the old gods. It was her mother who told her the story of The Crone Tree, which Grayson learned, was the tree depicted on the front of the cover.

  This tree had many names—The Tree of Knowledge, The Tree of Life and so on. But inside this tree that could not be torn down or destroyed was the soul of a goddess.

  Vendetta’s mother believed that this goddess would help anyone, but particularly women, who prayed to her in their time of need. They need only be willing to give her a sacrifice.

  When Vendetta had only one brother left, she and her brother walked into the wilderness to find this tree. At this point they were on the brink of starvation themselves, so they were willing to believe in old gods. They walked through the woods in the dead of winter for many miles.

  They had just found the tree when some of the queen’s soldiers found the pair. They killed her last brother and raped her. It is said that these two sacrifices were more than enough to awaken the sympathy of The Crone.

  After Vendetta buried him beneath the tree and made her way home alone with only her grief as company, she had no life left in her. She died from cold and hunger that night in her bed. The following morning, just before the sun rose, she was visited by her six brothers, who were now demons.

  They asked her if she wanted to be a demon too, with immense power, so that she could vanquish the evil queen. Vendetta agreed and with her six demon brothers, they rode to the castle, killed the queen’s soldiers and slayed her court. Lastly, Vendetta killed the queen herself, finally avenging her family. After they killed her, they razed the castle. The castle ruins that now overlook the sea just east of the cove were supposed to be what was left of that very castle.

  It was said that the goddess was so impressed with Vendetta’s strength and will, that she offered Vendetta immortality in exchange for hunting down and destroying The Crone’s enemies.

  The front door burst open. “WE ARE THE CHAMPIONS MY FRIENDS!”

  Heart hammering, Grayson slammed the book closed just as his brother Tanner ran in, covered head to toe in dust and tossing his glove dramatically on the couch.

  “Off!” his mother cried. “That’s filthy.”

  Tanner dragged his glove off the couch. “Gray, we won!”

  “Whoa! High-five!” Grayson put his hand up and the kid gave it a hearty slap, his grin at full-wattage.

  “Go take a shower. Now,” his father begged, swatting at the glove-shaped outline of dirt now stuck to his sofa.

  “You can tell me all about it later,” Grayson assured his brother, when he looked ready to refuse. “Go on.”

  He kept singing the Queen song long after the bathroom door shut and the water came on. His father sighed, knocking the last bit of the dust off the cushion. “I don’t understand why he slides across home plate when he can run across it just fine.”

  Grayson smiled. “Good game?”

  “They won by ten points,” his mother beamed. Then she saw the books. “Oh, what are you reading?”

  Grayson almost laughed. She’d shown immense interest in her family’s reading choices for as long as he could remember.

  “The Dark Mother and Her Children. I found it at Curiosity. It was published by Castle Cove’s University Press over a hundred years ago. I think it’s a collection of fairytales.”

  Having ticked all her boxes, his mother came to the sofa and squeezed in beside him. “Let me see.”

  She took the large volume in her hand. “This is amazing. Can I read it when you’re done?”

  “Sure.”

  “What’ve you learned so far?”

  He recited the tale of Vendetta to her. Instead of looking delighted, she looked worried.

  “What?” he asked, not understanding the worry on her face. “What’s wrong?”

  “Why did you pick this book?” she asked. He couldn’t understand the strange, searching expression on her face.

  “I didn’t,” he said. “Gladys picked it. Why?”

  “They’re just fairytales,” she said. She was staring at the embossed cover, the creases between her eyes deeper than he’d ever seen them.

  “I know.” It was so unlike his mother to say such a thing. She lived for fairytales. She believed they were keys to hidden truths and untold magic. There was no such thing as just fairytales. “What’s wrong?”

  She handed the book back, but her scowl had deepened.

  He thought of the returned demon brothers. Of what it had cost Vendetta to achieve her revenge.

  His mind also caught on the words Druid’s Hollow.

  “Promise me you’re not planning to do anything crazy,” his mother said. She clutched the book, looking as if she wouldn’t return it to him. “Like look for The Crone Tree so you can make a sacrifice and bring Landon back.”

  When he didn’t answer quick enough, she yelled his name. “Grayson!”

  “What?”

  “Promise me!”

&n
bsp; “I don’t even know what I’m promising not to do!” he admitted.

  “Don’t go into the Western Woods and try to bring Landon back. It wouldn’t be Landon you brought back anyway.”

  “It would be demon Landon,” he said.

  “That isn’t funny,” his mother replied. Color had risen in her cheeks. “Don’t even joke about it.”

  His father was regarding them both in a way as if he realized what danger they were all in. “It’s about time for bed, isn’t it?” he asked. When no one moved, his father added, “Honey, Grayson is a smart kid. He isn’t going to go into the Western Woods to resurrect demons. Right?”

  It never occurred to Grayson that he could take it back. That maybe this was his chance to undo what had been done. With Landon alive, he wouldn’t have to live with this awful, terrible guilt.

  With Landon alive...

  His mother looked ready to explode. He forced a smile, “You worry too much, Mom.”

  “Do I?” she asked.

  Druid’s Hollow.

  He thought he knew where it was.

  As a wood scout, he’d done a report on the woods for his explorer badge. This meant that he’d crafted a detailed (and enormous) map of the woods for his project. It was his scout leader—a werewolf named Thomas—who’d corrected the map and made it to scale for him.

  “Now you’ll never get lost, buddy,” he’d said.

  Once his parents’ bedroom door clicked shut, Grayson crept up the stairs to his room. He eased open the closet. He pulled down a box of old photo albums and a box of trophies. Behind that was the mail canister. He popped the white plastic lid off one side and found the map rolled up inside. He took the map to his bed and unrolled it on top of his comforter.

  It showed the city in the center and the outline of ocean on two sides—east and south. Then it showed the woods. North of the city stretching off into nowhere was the Wayward Woods. Sunset Park, the lake and lupine trails, Black Water River, even the Witch’s Backbone, a steep 8-mile hike. All of it was there. His scout master had even penciled in Howler’s Hollow, the meeting place of the resident werewolf packs.

  In case you ever want to visit, he’d said with a wink.

  But then there were the woods west of the territory line bisecting the Wayward Woods.

  A marker read 23 miles from the territory line to Druid’s Hollow. So that’s where the tree was supposed to be.

  Of course, 23 miles through a treacherous forest full of maneaters would be one hell of a trek. However, it was only about nine miles from Vendetta Heights to Druid’s Hollow. If he parked on Canyon Road and walked across the field known as Vendetta Heights, his journey would be shorter. There was the fact that Vendetta Heights was the make-out and feeding spot for local vampires and that these woods—even if only nine miles—were still crawling with monsters.

  Was bringing Landon back really worth risking his own life?

  He could never go in at night. It would be a massacre. But tomorrow, with daylight on his side, maybe, just maybe he could pull it off.

  Grayson Choice 11

  Go into the Western Woods

  Do not go into the Western Woods

  Reese: Go home with Violet

  Reese considered the offer. It was an excuse to get her out of the bar and away from the other demons. Even when they’d been together, Violet had a way of angling Reese away from her demonic companions. Reese had once asked why, and Violet had laughed. We’re a bunch of bastards. I thought that’d be obvious to you.

  Reese drank down the last of her beer and nodded toward the door. “Let’s go then.”

  Violet rose from the table and led the way. As they passed the bar, Bathory flashed a wink. “Have a good night, you two.”

  Reese stepped out into the cool night air and descended the wooden steps.

  “I’ll follow you to your place,” Violet said, throwing her leg over her Honda Rebel. “That okay?”

  “Sure.”

  Violet lifted the bike, and kicked back its stand. Reese watched her walk it backwards out of its parking spot before turning the key in her ignition. Her pickup rumbled to life.

  Heading toward her place in Cliffside, Reese kept looking in her rearview, half-believing the demon might ditch her. But the single headlight of her Honda stayed with her as she drove through the dark streets.

  Reese’s mind wandered back to Violet’s protective measures and her tendency to buffer her from the demons in town. She suspected the real answer lay in the confession Violet gave her one night about eight months into their relationship. They’d been lying in Violet’s bed in her Old Town apartment. Dawn had been approaching, the moment when Violet would go unconscious for the day. Maybe that’s why she’d been speaking so freely, delirious with the approaching sunlight.

  “You know why demons are so attracted to shifters?” she’d mumbled. She’d been curled into her pillows and blankets, looking deceptively angelic.

  “Because we fuck like animals?”

  “That.” Violet snorted. “And your magic.”

  “What do you mean?” Reese had asked, reaching over to run her hand through Violet’s hair.

  “In low-level demons like me, it neutralizes us. But in stronger demons, in the old ones—they like to eat it.”

  A shiver had run down Reese’s spine.

  “It gets them high as hell on the power of it,” she said. “You smell like magic.”

  The sleepy demon had rubbed her nose.

  “Not like that diluted shit we can find anywhere. Pure magic. Source magic. You have no idea how intoxicating that is. It’s like being starved for a thousand years and here you come, smelling like the best Bolognese I’ve never had.”

  Reese laughed. “Bolognese is your favorite.”

  Violet smiled. “It is.”

  But just as quick the smile was gone.

  “But stay away from the old demons, okay? You can’t fully neutralize them. And the moment they see a chance to—”

  She’d kissed Violet then. “You worry too much. I’m safe.”

  “No one is safe in Castle Cove.”

  Reese laughed. “Then why are we here?”

  Violet had opened her eyes in sudden clarity then. “Where else can we be what we are?”

  That’s when the rising sun had taken her.

  A rough knock on her pickup window startled her out of her thoughts. The sound brought her back to her surroundings. She was sitting in her driveway, staring at the three-story oceanview house without really seeing it.

  It was Violet.

  She opened the door and climbed out. “Sorry. It’s been a long night.”

  Violet wore her usual smirk. The tension surrounding her in the bar had dissipated. “Then let’s put you to bed, princess.”

  Reese leaned against the driver’s side door. “Why did you really want me out of there?”

  “I told you. Channery was about to gobble you up.”

  “And what about the other two—the woman in the back and whoever she was talking to.”

  “The woman,” Violet said, her eyebrows arching. “So that’s who you followed in?”

  “How do you know I followed her?”

  Violet snorted. “She arrives and then a couple of minutes later, so do you, looking for someone. Then you directly refer to her while interrogating me about her. How in the world did I ever figure it out?”

  Violet crossed her arms.

  “At least you weren’t looking for the other one. Of course the woman isn’t much better.”

  “Who is she?”

  Violet shook her head. “Invite me inside, Ree. Make me a drink. Maybe I’ll tell you.”

  Reese knew that if Violet came inside and they started drinking, very little conversation would be had. Of course. Maybe Violet would surprise her.

  “Would you like to come in?” Reese said. “I can make you a Jager bomb if you want.”

  Violet wrinkled her nose. “I’m not trying to get trashed. A G&T will do.”r />
  Reese unlocked the door and led them both inside. They kicked their shoes off at the door and crossed into the living room on the right. On the far wall, past the soft pale blue rug and glass coffee table was the bar. Reese made the G&T, but needed lime from the kitchen. When she came back with one, she found Violet on the white leather sofa. She’d removed her jacket and had thrown it over the arm of the couch. She’d pulled her hair up into a ponytail, revealing a luscious line of neck that Reese instantly wanted to kiss.

  Violet knew the effect she had and blinked her long lashes. “Smell that lust. You did miss me.”

  Reese wasn’t masking her scent, so no doubt her pheromones were betraying her. No matter how calmly she put her own gin and tonic on the ceramic coaster and sat down beside the demon, body language never lied.

  “Don’t distract me,” Reese said. She found her voice thick in her throat. “That woman was doing something down in the cove. If she’s here to cause trouble—”

  Violet laughed. “No doubt she’s here to cause trouble. But you need to stay out of it. She could wipe Alpha’s floor with both of us. Let Ethan handle her. He’s probably the only one in town who can.”

  “How can I tell him—”

  She wrinkled her nose in disgust. “Don’t be a tattletale, Ree. Besides, I can think of a better way to spend the morning with you.”

  Her eyes had filled with soft, flickering hellfire. Of course, they did that when Violet was pissed off too. But Reese had the strong impression Violet wasn’t angry at the moment.

  Before she could set her drink down, Violet had moved across the couch and pressed the full length of her body against Reese’s. This shoved her back into the cluster of blue, green, and gold throw pillows clotting the corner of the sofa.

  The demon’s mouth was hot, sparking electric across Reese’s lips. Muscles low in her body filled with heat. When Violet slid down the length of her body, making Reese hyper aware of every curve, every patch of exposed flesh, Reese moaned.

  Violet pulled back with a Cheshire cat grin. “Already? I haven’t even started.”

  Reese finally got her gin and tonic onto the table, freeing her other hand. She entwined the demon in her arms, slipping her fingers under the hem of her black tank top. There was no bra to unfasten so Reese enjoyed the freedom to trace her skin without hindrance.