by E. M. Fitch
“Officer Gibbons told us. Why didn’t you say anything?” her mother murmured, kissing Cassie’s hair. “Those flowers. I realized, after Ryan had no idea, but I thought maybe another boy. I should have known.”
Her mother took a shaky breath. Cassie shook her head. “Not your fault, Mom,” she murmured as the door behind her opened.
“The social workers are here, Miss Harris,” a nurse said, poking her head into the quiet room. Cassie’s arms tightened around Liam. Two women entered the room, both eyeing Cassie. They gestured for her to sit, asked her to retell the story she had first told the police at the fair and later the emergency room nurses.
She told it exactly the same as she had before to the officers who first saw her and then to Gibbons, alone in the quiet hospital room. There was a man who had been stalking her. He had grabbed her at the edge of the fair, dragged her to a nearby grouping of trees. His friends were there, waiting for him to bring her. There had been a woman, a young girl who was obviously in labor. She had delivered the baby in the woods, and Cassie had helped.
Then the mysterious woman had left, leaving the infant in Cassie’s arms. They let her go. Because of the baby, she was safe.
It didn’t make complete sense and Cassie knew that. There was nothing she could tell them that would make sense. As long as the words were always the same, as long as her story never changed, they’d have to believe it. That’s how it worked, Cassie knew. So she’d repeat herself and repeat herself. Liam would be safe then, Cassie would be believed.
At the back of the room, Ryan hovered. Cassie was both relieved to have him hearing all of this, relieved she wouldn’t have to repeat it again for him, and horribly sorry that he even had to in the first place.
It wasn’t until one of the women indicated that Cassie hand her the baby, that she began to panic.
“Where are you taking him?” she asked, firming her grip. Her breathing picked up, sharp drags of air through tight lips.
“He’ll stay here overnight,” one of the women answered, smiling kindly at Cassie. “When he’s discharged from the hospital, we’ll take him to a foster family. We have a home already waiting for the little one.”
“Will they adopt him?” Cassie pressed.
“It won’t be that simple, Miss Harris,” the woman answered softly. “But we’ll keep a good eye on him. We promise.”
“His name is Liam,” Cassie whispered, looking from the room full of people watching her to the baby who had fallen back asleep in her arms. His skin was ruddy and perfect, his eyelids a soft lavender, lips the softest shade of pink. They puckered in sleep. The woman nodded, stepping forward.
Cassie’s chest caved as the warm weight was lifted from her arms. Her mother kissed her cheek and whispered words of encouragement, empty phrases, telling Cassie it was all going to be all right. They fell weightless in her ears.
“I want to go home,” Cassie murmured as soon as the door shut, Laney’s child already whisked down the hall by the social workers.
“Of course, sweetie,” her mother said, grabbing her husband’s hand. “We’ll get them to rush the paperwork.”
Cassie nodded, expressionless as her parents hurried out the door. She sat back, plunking down on the edge of the vinyl couch. The bed behind her looked cold and sterile, not at all welcoming. Too clean. Part of Cassie still felt anchored in the woods, the dirt and dust still lingered on her skin.
Ryan hovered by the door, looking unsure and out of place. He rocked back and forth on his heels, his gaze hovering on the wall behind Cassie. There was a clock there, she could hear it without having to turn. It ticked each second, almost echoing in the sterile room. Cassie had no idea what time it was, probably late. She wondered if his parents knew where he was. She guessed they did.
Her hands felt dry and cracked. The blood had been washed clean from her skin. None of it had been hers, not physically. She felt as though she had bled that night though, felt as though something had been ripped from her.
Her mind drifted to Laney, to the darkened forest and the creatures who were now caring for her.
Ryan must have sensed her watching him. His eyes met hers. She ducked her head a bit and held his gaze, patting the empty space beside her. His lips pressed together, an expression somewhere between a grimace and a smile fought on his face.
He sat next to her, formal and stiff, not touching her. She felt a million miles away and suddenly wanted to be reeled back in. The forest wasn’t her home, it never was. This was, now, right here. Her parents in the hall, Ryan sitting next to her.
There was nothing that could be done for Laney. Everything Cassie could do for her son, she had already done. Tiny Liam would draw her mind always, he’d dominant some small space of her waking brain for the rest of her life, she couldn’t deny that. But there was nothing for her that wasn’t in this hospital, with her right now.
“Are you okay?” she asked after a minute. He startled, looking over at her in concern. His lips parted slowly.
“Am I okay?” he choked out. “Cassie … ”
“What? Ryan, what’s wrong?” A tinge of hysteria leaked into her voice, she twisted in her seat, facing Ryan completely. “I’m sorry I didn’t explain it right before. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but I tried and no one believed me and even I thought I was going crazy at times and—”
“No, Cassie,” Ryan murmured, finally looking up at her. He looked crushed, his eyes bloodshot and glassy. Something in her chest reeled and kicked, because, no, not after everything! She couldn’t lose him, too.
“I’m sorry, Ryan, please,” she murmured, feeling tears, hot and fast, well in her eyes.
He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to his chest, holding her hard against him. She could feel the tears finally start falling, feel the sobs that shook through her, but even through that she could hear him whispering in her ear.
These were good whispers, right and normal. This wasn’t the trees or the unnatural voices that hissed, slithering about inside her skull. This was Ryan, steady and sure. She ached from her sprint through the forest. Her knees were cut and scraped from when she knelt before Laney, guiding the baby from her depths. Her arms and shoulders were sore and shaking, every part of her felt like she was falling apart.
Ryan spoke to her low and soft, asking for her forgiveness, telling her he loved her. He said it, he said the words that neither of them had uttered yet. Drowsiness stole over her and she felt warm. His hands rubbed soft circles on her back, drifting from the base of her neck to her waist, down and up again. Her eyelids fell as she lost herself in the soft murmurs of affection but not before she had time to whisper one of her own.
“Love you, too.”
When the door to the hall opened again, Ryan had to wake Cassie up. She blinked into his chest, unwilling to move from his warmth. His kissed the crown of her head and she unwillingly squirmed awake, her mind once again clouded with anxiety.
A head popped into the room, looking about inquisitively. “Is there a Cassie Harris in here?”
Cassie nodded, looking blankly at the smiling face. It was one of the floor nurses, though she hadn’t been in Cassie’s room yet that night. Cassie’s parents came in just behind her, looking with raised eyebrows from Ryan and their daughter, embracing on the small, vinyl couch, to the smiling nurse.
“I have someone who would like to speak to you.”
“I don’t know if this is such a great idea, Cassie.”
Ryan’s voice was cautious. It had been like that lately. He was there though, next to her, ready to catch her if she fell apart.
Not that she thought she would. For the first time in a long time, she felt held together.
“It’s probably not,” she murmured, her gaze focused out the passenger side window. The car rumbled underneath her, a gentle vibrating that at once soothed and agitated her. She wasn’t sure this was the right house. Ryan was right, it was a dumb thing to do, painful ev
en. But she had promised, silently and without words, though Laney and she had never needed words anyway. Theirs was a friendship that went beyond that.
“Gibbons shouldn’t have told you anything,” Ryan muttered, leaning back in his seat. The old car groaned under his adjustment.
“Just a few more minutes, Ry,” Cassie pleaded, not looking over at him. She didn’t want to admit how much she had to needle the older detective to even get this much information. “And we can hit that tough section you’ve been eyeing on the trail map.”
“I haven’t—”
“Wait,” Cassie shushed him. “Someone’s coming out.”
The green house across the street was a small cape style. The yard was neatly trimmed. It wasn’t all that far from Cassie’s neighborhood, just a few towns over. The couple that exited the home were young, an active looking woman and her husband who was just a little round in the middle. He struggled to open a brand-new stroller on the front walkway. There was probably a catch you had to hit to get it to spring open. He couldn’t seem to find it; the solid plastic frame trembled under his attempts.
The woman moved back to the open doorway, fussing around inside the house for a moment. Cassie couldn’t quite see what she was doing, but she saw the amusement on the woman’s face, trying not to laugh at her husband’s struggles. When he finally got it open, the stroller stretching out in front of the house, a huge beast of a thing, the woman gave a little shout of excitement.
“I wonder if they call him Liam?” Cassie mused, watching as the woman lifted the tiny boy—his outfit was blue today—and strapped him into the stroller. She linked arms with her husband and walked side by side, him pushing their new son in the stroller in front of them.
Ryan reached for Cassie, resting his hand on her forearm. She cleared the tightness from her throat, looking over at him.
“You know you’re my favorite, don’t you, Ry?” she asked, bringing her free hand up to her eyes and wiping the moisture away.
“Your favorite what?” he asked, a husky teasing in his voice.
“My favorite everything,” she answered, leaning over to press her mouth to his.
“Love you, too, Cass,” he mumbled against her lips. He gave her a quick but thorough kiss before he pulled back. “You know, it occurred to me afterward, perhaps I should have picked a more romantic time to tell you that.”
“You mean me shaking and covered in mud wasn’t romantic enough for you?” Cassie asked, teasing. He grinned and shrugged.
Liam disappeared down the street with his new parents and the forest called for Cassie once more. Not in the way it had all year, with taunts and whispers, but in the solid comfort of Ryan’s arms and the exhilarating thrill of becoming a part of it once more, hiking its trails and soaking in its tranquility.
The monsters had fled.
Cassie hadn’t been sure that they would, despite Corra’s assurances. Once home from the hospital, still shaking and covered in dirt, the lure of the forest had remained almost overpowering. Despite the trees that could reach for her, the whispers that might plague her, the children of the forest who wanted her for their own, something still called to her.
It was probably just the scent of the resin and dirt that lingered on her skin, the primal feel of birth, life, and death that breathed in those trees. It was probably just that. She knew she needed to shower, and she would. Even as she walked toward her room, though, she felt her attention pulled toward the outside world.
She had been sure she left her window latched and locked. It wasn’t any longer. It was wide open, the breeze sucking her curtains out into the wild and then pushing them back into the refuge of her room.
She walked slowly to the opening. Nothing was there. Cassie looked out, scanning her yard and the trees that weaved beyond. Something felt off, it niggled in her brain, but it took her a moment to realize.
The flowers were gone.
The graveyard, as Aidan called it, her discarded collection of his dead bouquets and gestures, they were swept away, as though they had never been there.
The air felt fresh and cool as she sucked it into her lungs.
Impulsively, she turned for her closet, reaching for the box of lost things she kept on her shelf. Laney’s old shirt, forest green, obscured most of the contents. Beneath the soft fabric were picture frames, shards of broken glass clinging like pointed teeth over photographic reminders of a time that was. Laney’s face smiled up at her from those frames, the human Laney from before.
There were no etchings, though. Those were gone as well.
In their place was a single rose, pressed flat and dry.
Aidan’s goodbye.
Cassie looked from the flower to the open window. She placed the box on her dresser, picked the dried rose out, and held it gingerly. It was so light, just barely a weight against her fingertips. She considered, for the space of a moment, throwing it from her window. Instead, she laid it back in the box, nestled in Laney’s old shirt.
For now, he was gone. She wasn’t sure how long the creatures would keep their word and stay away, but it did help now that she wasn’t alone. Ryan believed her that someone had been stalking her. Her parents knew as well, and she finally had a story she could tell Officer Gibbons that would explain away her residual fears, even if he still didn’t believe she should let that ruin her life.
Beyond those very important people, there was one more.
Samantha Reynolds had asked for Cassie the moment she woke up. Cassie had gone straight to her, already there in the hospital, covered in mud and whatever caked-on blood she hadn’t been able to scrub from her skin.
Her friend had asked to speak with her alone. She was pale and thin, unable to sit up without support. Cassie had never seen the pretty girl look so frail. Her parents hadn’t wanted to leave her side, but Samantha had insisted. She begged with as much volume as she could put into her voice until her parents relented, more to save her the wasted energy, Cassie thought, than because they really thought it was a good idea.
“I can come back tomorrow, Sam,” Cassie promised, moving to her side. She had been lightheaded herself with the sudden movement, abruptly aware that she hadn’t eaten in quite some time. Samantha shook her head slowly, locking sunken eyes on Cassie’s face.
“You were right, Cass,” Samantha whispered as soon as her parents had shut the door behind them. “The men. They’re real.”
“What men, Sam?” Cassie asked, a shard of ice slicing through her chest.
“The ones from before. They came back,” Samantha whispered, her heavy-lidded eyes sliding shut. “The ones from the trees. They’re real.”
Cassie had stood speechless as her friend fell back into sleep. When she went to see her the next day, Samantha said nothing. So neither did Cassie. But it was there, a subtle shift in her eyes. Samantha knew, and Cassie wasn’t crazy.
If they ever did come back—the monsters of the trees—Cassie knew now she’d have at least one other person who could see them, too.
Acknowledgements
I would like to thank coffee, the person who first thought to pour hot water over the crushed-up beans (whoever that is), and the person who created flavored creamer—especially the one that tastes like chocolate chip cookies. Seriously, man, you rock.
I would also like to thank Georgia McBride and the whole team at Month9Books. Cameron Yeager is an amazing editor who made my job so, so much easier. Michelle Millet, you are a joy to work with, your edits were wonderful and your comments made me giggle. Thank you all for your hard work on At Woods Edge. I’m thrilled and honored to be able to bring readers along on the continued misadventures of my misbehaving Fae, and that wouldn’t be possible without this fabulous team.
This year was full of madness—some inspired by excessive caffeine intake, I’ll admit—but I’m a lucky person because my anchors have remained strong. To my children, my parents, my brothers and their amazing wives, my niece and both ne
phews, I love you all dearly. I have the most loving and supportive family in the world, and for that I will be forever grateful.
Ginger, Rachael, and Jodi—you keep me sane. I know what a difficult task this is, and so I thank you for it. You are my voices of reason through the fog, unwavering supports who are always there to lend a hand. (Or an arm! Get it, Rachael?) My life wouldn’t be the same without you three, so it’s a darn good thing you all showed up.
Mav Skye—my beta reader, friend, and ax murderess extraordinaire—how lucky am I to have found someone like you in the mass confusion that is the human population? Very lucky. I’m blessed, in fact, and I know it. Thanks for being that person, the one I can trust with my stories, my fears, and the general chaos I call my life.
To my author group—the best thing to happen in my publishing journey was meeting you wonderful ladies! You all know who you are. You’re the only ones I’d allow to blow up my phone like you do, the only group for which I’d tolerate that horrible red notification dot. I wouldn’t have it any other way. There will be a day, sometime in the future, when we will all be in the same time zone, the same place, and at the same time. I’m looking forward to it.
For the fans who have become friends (or, in Sharon’s case, family. Hi, Sis! *waves enthusiastically*), many, many thanks for reaching out with kind words. For my ‘Winds family who have supported me in countless ways, some by actually reading my books (that’s you, Jessica Carlucci!) and others by tolerating my bizarre topic changes and love of serial killer podcasts, you’re all too numerous to name, but I sincerely thank every last one of you.
To my lovely readers, I wouldn’t be writing this without you. Thank you for traveling into the woods with me; I promise to bring you safely home. Well…most of you, at least.
