Page 18 of Beneath Hoof and Hollow
“Yes, the members of the Lamb’s Golden Light have taken up shifts to guard the town from witches.”
“Perfect. Bring them to me.”
“It won’t be that easy. I haven’t any clothes, and the men?—”
“Your lack of clothes is precisely why they will follow you. Lure them into the woods with a song. Your voice was powerful enough to summon me from another dimension.”
“But how?—”
“No more questions,” I snap. “Go before I change my mind.”
Emeline
I’ve already started walking toward the edge of the woods when I turn back. “Horseman?”
“Are you unaware of the meaning ofno more questions, nightingale?”
“I understand the meaning. I just, after what just happened, suchintimatemoments, I feel I should know your name? Do you have another name?”
He stiffens. “That question I will allow. Before I was The Horseman, they called me Fierdon.”
I nod. I still can’t see any sort of mouth. The lips he speaks with are completely invisible. Turning back toward the trees, my steps are slow as I think of that mouth. It’s hard to believe histonguewas able to make me convulse. I had some sort of seizure, surely. But the way it felt, like lightning rushing throughout my body. A storm of euphoria. Butterflies in forbidden places. The way it burned through me, all at once.
“Don’t let your mind wander too far, nightingale, or you won’t make it past the pumpkin patch without me inside of you once more.”
I hurry my pace, ears burning. Was I that obvious?
He calls out, “And next time you’ll get far more than a tongue between those thighs.”
My cheeks are so hot I may be consumed by the heat. How dare he say things like that. The impropriety is enough to make me…make me feel very odd things down low.
I’m still pondering the strange and wonderful things he made me feel when the first member of the Lamb’s Golden Light comes into view. I can’t make out his face from here, but whoever he is, he’s not alone. Two others approach him.
Good Lord, am I really going to sing, completely naked, in the haunted woods, in the middle of the night?
Singing has always been something that brings me comfort. Soothing my nerves in challenging times. Leed used to callme his little songbird. Thinking of him makes my ire rekindle. I’m anxious and uncomfortable, but those feelings are nothing compared to the suffering those women endured while being tortured, hanged, and burned alive.Toughen up, Emeline. You’ve been passive all your life. It’s time to grow a backbone.
I can’t think of a song, though I must know a hundred or more. Clearing my throat, I breathe deeply, and allow new words to flow from me.
“Come to my voice,
hear it lovely and bright.
The moon shines so fully,
at this time of night.”
All three men whirl toward the sound. They rush forward, rifles drawn. Another three race toward the woods from the south, bringing the total to six. My adrenaline spikes. This is it. I’m going to be caught and charged with witchcraft. By morning, I’ll be swinging from the hanging tree or burnt to a crisp on the edge of town.
But as I continue to sing, their movements slow.
“Come to my voice,
Such things we can do.
Hidden away in the woods,
Me and you.”
