Page 3 of The Silver Ones
It still pained Rem that she couldn't ask her gran more details of her life, or for advice with Rem’s predicament. She died only four months ago, and two months later the Silvers appeared.
Her gran died Rem had changed.
It's why Rem often stared at the small headstone in their backyard, the grass still fresh from the recent grave.Maybe one day, I'll hear her whisper in my ear.
Rem gave a single nod. She could be brave for her gran’s spirit.
"Here, let me go get you some tea, love," her mother suggested. "The hunters should be bringing shipments of coffee soon, and we can ask my cousin why the hunters have been so quiet. For all we know, they're sending men right now, and we just haven't caught wind of it yet. Either way, we will act. It's who we are, Remara."
Her mother got up and squeezed her daughter's shoulder, to which Rem gave a smile. She stared at her gran's headstone, determined to make her proud, determined to carry the flame of Ophelia the Brazen, or as her gran had been known back in her day.
What Rem wouldn't give to have that old woman sit on that porch with her, even if just for an hour.
* * *
Rem eventually wentabout her day, not wanting to linger in her mind for too long. It was around midday when Oliver burst through their front door with a piece of parchment in hand. He was a spitting image of their mother with high cheekbones and hooded lids, although his hair was a pale brown like their father's.
Rem and her mother eyed the frantic boy, pausing in their kneading of bread.
"Mother, Rem, a letter," he proclaimed, pushing the hair out of his eyes as he handed it to their mother. "The witches said the letter has information about Rem."
"Where is your father?" their mother asked, dropping the dough on the counter with a dullflop. Flour particles floated in the air, rays of sunshine beaming through the windows and reflecting against the pale cloud.
"At the town center. I lost him at one point, then a witch approached me and told me to take this home and that she would tell father," he huffed. "I ran all the way here."
Rem gripped the warm, yeasty dough in her hands, a lump swelling in her throat. She nearly didn't breathe as her mother read the letter with mumbling lips.
"Well, what does it say?" Rem asked.
Her mother hushed her, continuing to read.
Rem wanted to steal it out of her hands, but the act would prove rather pointless as she was illiterate—the witches forbade learning that skill. Her mother only knew because of her gran.
The witches declared book reading as a devilish temptation that led to asking too many questions. Curious minds meant challenging authority, which was strictly against their rules. Rem's mother only obeyed the witch's orders of illiteracy to spare her children from their wrath, which even her gran had feared.
Rem's heart dropped as her mother clasped a hand over her mouth, crinkling the corner of the parchment with her grip. Oliver looked devastated. He seemed to think it was dreadful news as well.
Their mother shook her head and laughed. "No, no children, it's not bad news," she comforted, her voice shaky. "It says that the hunters have gotten wind… They sent their own bird ahead with news that they are riding their horses bloody to reach any of the villages where the Silvers are said to be. They recommend sending the Silvers south, if they can, protected by a witch. The hunters will meet the Silvers en route."
Rem's knees weakened, and she placed a hand on the counter to steady herself, only for her to laugh as gravity brought her to her knees. The ground was cold, even through her dress, but she laughed, cried, and yelled out in relief.
If there was one type of being that a witchlistened to, it was the hunters. Rem never fully understood the complicated relationship, but she knew enough to know that if the hunters were coming, then she'd be leaving.
Oliver was elated. "Oh, this is such good news! The shifters can't take you, Rem!" He gave them both swift hugs. "And I can't wait. I am definitely going with her, right? I want to go, too... Okay good. Did you know, that where the Crowley hunters live..." he said, looking at them both with wide eyes, "they havethousandsof humans. They even have giant cities where people don't have yards! That's whatIwant. Not the dirt and mountains we live in. Gran used to tell me all about it. She said she loved it in the cities, and that I would, too.
"And you would get to seeHugo, Rem," Oliver pestered, laughing. "I've seen you look at Hugo like he was a slice of pumpkin pie himself," he teased, poking her in the shoulder.
"Oh, now you be quiet," Rem said with a laugh. "It was just a fantasy, Oliver. Besides, for all I know, he's married by now."
Rem laughed even harder at the thought of visiting Hugo all the way in southern California where the Crowley hunters lived. The thought of that man used to make her agonize with desire. She'd even dream about him, especially since he had been the only man she had been intimate with. For a while, it didn't matter that they lived states apart and nearly in different worlds, not as long as he'd visit.
Now, she didn't care if he was married and had children. She'd get to be under the protection of the hunters. She'd get to leave the control of the witches behind. She'd get to learn how to read, pick up any profession she wanted, and become her own person outside of the witch's command.
Most importantly, she may escape the shifters coming for her.
* * *
It washard finishing her chores for the rest of the day, her mind as difficult to rein in as a horse refusing to be broken. Eventually, Rem could focus on the kitchen, finishing up their dinner while her mother gathered herbs from their garden. Her father tended to their apothecary in a cabin on their property, still readying for the journey. It would no doubt take all day on the morrow.
