Page 40 of Welcome to Blackbird Hollow
Now, she’s lying on the fluffy old sheepskin rug we found in the garage the year we moved in, staring at the crown molding like she does when she’s got an idea brewing. Alice and Fern are stretched out on the cracked leather chesterfield, like two peas in a pod, with Alice giving that spoiled wolfdog far too many belly rubs.
Cat appears out of nowhere and jumps into my lap as the fire pops. Fallon sits up to scratch the giant cat-sìth on the head, before wrapping her arms around her knees. “I’ve been puzzling out what we’ve seen of the Hunt over the years,” she says, caution in her voice as she glances my way. “And I’m not sure I remember much that’s useful to us. Just the stuff we’ve already talked about.”
I nod. I know where this is going, but she’s gotta say it.
Alice turns her head away from Fern to look between my sister and me. She feels it, then, the tension in the air. I can feel the question behind her teeth, just itching to get out:What’s going on?But she doesn’t ask. She just waits.
“What doyouremember about the first time?” Fallon asks, her voice small and soft.
I blow out a breath, stroking Cat’s back as he makes biscuits on my chest. He’s immediately irritated with me and disappears, reappearing next to Fallon. “We really gonna do this tonight?”
Alice sits up a little, and to my surprise, Fern doesn’t stir. She really does feel comfortable with Alice.
From the floor, Fallon nods, still staring at the ceiling. “We were living in California when our parents died, which is also the first time we came across the Hunt. Wyatt’ll remember better than me…I wasn’t myself at the time.”
She swallows hard, but can’t seem to manage more. Alice is alert, but quiet. I like the way she listens but doesn’t throw out a bunch of preemptive platitudes. Alice is obviously deeplyacquainted with sorrow, and she’s better than saying empty shit to grieving folks.
“Am I alright to explain this to her?” I ask Fallon, keeping my voice gentle as I can.
It says a lot that she’d bring this up in front of Alice. I don’t want to step on her toes, but I know how hard this is for her to talk about. Fallon nods, closing her eyes as Cat lies across her chest, purring loudly.
Alice sits up, pulling the cream afghan over her criss-cross applesauce legs. I can’t think about Alice’s legs, what they might look like bare in the summertime, stretched out over an inner tube on the lake.
I have to clear my throat to remind my blood to run someplace other than straight to my cock. I grew up with no question in my mind about respecting women, but the thoughts running through my mind since that kiss are anything but respectful. Another sharp breath, taken straight through my nose, helps me to refocus.
And my sister’s face, eyes squeezed tight against the story of how we got here. Nothing kills a hard-on like remembering this shit. I take another drink of Fallon’s herbal spirits, wishing they had just a bit more bite. But maybe it’s best to tackle this tale straight-up.
I stare at the coffee table for a long time. It was one of the first things I made when I started working wood, and Fallon’s cherished it ever since, piling it high with old art books she’s gathered over the years and her favorite poetry. There’s a dog-eared copy of Mary Oliver’sDevotionsthat makes my teeth ache to look at.
Fallon may look like our Mama, but she’s not a damn thing like her. Nothing has ever made me more conflicted than my gratitude that she’s everything our mother could never be. Fallon actually loves us.
And that’s why this story’s so hard to tell.
“When Fallon and I were ten and eleven, and Cade was naught but a babe, our parents had settled for a spell in New Big Sur. There were kelpies there for the first time in centuries, and we stayed to help the locals figure out how to navigate Them. Then the phoukas moved in and people got confused between Them.”
Fallon smiles from the floor, probably remembering how she and I spent hours telling the NBS Elementary kids about all the Fey horses they couldn’t ride. It’d been a surprisingly infuriating conversation that led to talk of unicorns, which always gets Fallon pissy.
Alice leans forward to look at Fallon, and the movement’s so tender that I almost have to stop to collect myself. She’s intuited that this conversation’s a sensitive one, and she cares. Best to rip the bandage off, then.
“Seemed like we were gonna stay there forever,” I explain. “Maybe our parents got too comfortable, I’ll never know. But we came home one day to the little house we’d rented for three years, and it seemed like every inch of it was covered in blood. Cade was in his crib, his jammies soaked through, but perfectly intact.
“Our parents were nowhere to be found, but there was a trail of blood, like they’d been dragged. I stayed with the baby, and Fallon went after them.” I pause for a moment. Fallon’s face has gone pale, but her eyes stay resolutely closed. “She didn’t come back. It took me two days to get someone to watch Cade so I could go after her. Found her in the woods with them, practically catatonic. Best I could get out of her was that our mother was still alive when she found her.”
This was the hard part to tell, because Fallon hated how bitter it made me. “She didn’t bother to tell Fallon who’d attacked them. Just told her she’d fucked up coming home solate, and that she didn’t get to be a little girl anymore. That she had to take care of us and teach us ‘what little she knew.’”
That part was the worst, because I knew it wasn’t an exaggeration. Our mother was always on Fallon’s back, always making her feel like she’d never live up to the standards of a hedgerider matriarch.
“I had no idea what was in the woods, what could’ve killed our parents, or what might still be lingering. But the forest was far too quiet. As I got Fallon to her feet, the Hunt rolled through. What we do know about Them is that They mostly take folk on holy days for the Courts. Samhain, equinoxes, and the like.”
Alice nods when I pause, her eyes sad as her gaze rests gently on my sister. It gives me the push I need to keep going. “So I wasn’t afraid They’d take us, but Iwasafraid. Fallon wasn’t there, not really. She was just…gone. I was afraid of what might happen if the Hunt saw her.”
“Why?” Alice breathes when I can’t continue right away.
I meet her eyes, trying to keep my heart in my chest rather than jumping to my throat. “Because once They’ve chosen someone, They never stop hunting them. And she was soft, vulnerable, and I didn’t know much about the Hunt at the time.”
From the floor, Fallon whispers, “You should’ve seen him. He puffed up his chest and yelled, ‘You can’t take this girl! She’s my sister!’” She grins up at Alice, as though she can reassure her that this whole tale ends up just fine.
And I guess, to look around now, that’s how it might seem. But I’ll never forget the terror I felt as the hounds passed us by, the sound of Their baying as They caught the scent of Their quarry.
