Page 11 of Welcome to Blackbird Hollow
I let my mouth fall open in mock offense. “What kind of word is ‘fogey,’ then?”
“Write it down, Hayes,” she replies. “You need to beef up your vocab for our next game night.”
I raise my cup to her and nod. “That I do.”
She tilts her head at me, her smile wistful and her dark brown eyes sparkling. It’s like no time has passed, even though it’s been a few weeks since I got out this way. It’s always like that with us;we just pick up wherever we left off, giving each other shit and swapping tales.
“Well,” she says, tucking her tiny hands into her oversized alpaca sweater. “I heard that Rebecca Jackson caught Michael cheating on her.”
I let out a low whistle, even though that’s not news. Mike’s been cheating on Rebecca since they were homecoming king and queen. But leaning into the drama is more fun, so I play up my scandalized act a little.
Marion’s cheeks pink up a little, as though she’s a bit excited. This is gonna be good. “With Marcie Cavendish.”
“No shit,” I breathe,actuallyscandalized now. This is a juicy bit of news. Marcie Cavendish has been a pain in Rebecca Jackson’s ass for nigh on three decades now. Fallon used to call them the Warring Barbies. “Is Becks pitching a fit?”
Marion’s cheeks puff up with pure smugness. “Keyed both their cars last night while they were bumping uglies in Room 23. Wrote ‘whore’ on hers and ‘cheating filth’ on his.” Marion leans back in her chair, shaking her head, pleased as punch. “I almost considered liking her.”
“Almost,” I quip, before taking a long drink of coffee. Everyone makes better coffee than me. “Anybody else interesting staying over?”
The mirth drains out of Marion’s face. “This about the missing leafers?”
I nod.
Marion shakes her head. “Any chance you might just sit this one out, bud?”
Marion’s tribe has very particular ideas about what’s weird in the woods. They’re not wrong about any of them. The things she knows are real. They’re just not the things hedgeriders are tasked with handling.
We originated in the British Isles, long before they were called that. Historically, hedgeriders deal primarily with Them, like our ancestors. They have a long history of traveling far beyond Their land of origin to make trouble. The entities the Indigenous peoples of this land recognize are not ours to care for, only to respect. We don’t talk about these things much, but Marion’s always known what I am.
Though Fallon’s always been stubborn about making sure Caden and I know the difference between Them and the entities indigenous to the land, it’s possible we’ve got this one wrong. “Is there a reason for me to?”
Marion shrugs. “It’s your kind of thing. Reeks of Them. Just some wishful thinking that maybe you’d just…y’know…”
“Butt out?” I suggest.
“Yeah,” she agrees. “Any chance of that?”
Marion’s a good friend. I always appreciate that she gets concerned about me. I shake my head and take another sip of coffee. “Nope.”
Before Marion can fire off another volley, the bell on the front door tinkles. A white woman walks in, a gust of cold wind behind her, sending wet leaves swirling inside. My heart slows, thumping so hard in my ears I could swear I hear drums beating.
Her wavy blonde hair is the color of wildflower honey, and with the rain coming in, it’s curled up a bit more around her face. Her frame is swallowed by a canvas barn jacket that looks about two sizes too big for her. Nice enough body, I suppose, but it’s her face that gets me.
She’s got one of those mouths that probably turns downward naturally, and cheekbones that make me wish I could paint, just to capture the way the light hits them. But her eyes. Her eyes are avid, filled with an intensity I can’t rip my gaze away from.
I’m staring. It’s rude. But I can’t stop. Marion’s eyes flick between me and the woman a few times before she saves my awkward ass. “Hey there. Room 11, right?”
The woman nods, giving me a wide berth as she steps around me to speak to Marion.Couldn’t have been the staring that did it.I wonder if the universe might do me a favor and swallow me whole.
“I’ll just load the salt, then,” I say when it becomes obvious the woman isn’t going to say a word with me leaning on the counter.
Marion just closes her eyes and nods, so full of secondhand embarrassment for me thatshemight blush. As I push my way out the door, I let out a hiss of air, feeling for all the world like someone’s smashed me over the head with something.
Chapter 7
Alice
When I reach the parking lot of the motel, I break into a jog, my boots thudding on the pavement. I shoulder through the heavy glass door, tumbling into the lobby. I don’t know why, but I’m expecting it’ll be empty save for the woman at the desk. My mouth is almost open to begin questioning her, but then I notice there’s someone else in the dim, carpeted room.
