Hidden in the Heartwood {sapphic paranormal}

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

26. || one's on the way.

"You need to leave, Boots." There was an anger in River's voice that Finley hadn't heard before and it cracked beneath the force of the words they spat out. "Get off this mountain and go."

"River," their name trembled in Finley's throat again, "I can't. I'm—"

"You are my debt to this mountain. You need to leave." Turning to face her finally, they dropped the hatchet next to the boy's severed head. That strange dark hue of blood she had seen spilling from Béla deep within the mine coated River from head to toe. Their own still bled bright red, dripping from the gash in their head down the slope of their cheeks to the hardened edges of their lips where just hours ago they had shown nothing but tenderness towards her. To see them like this now, drenched in violence, it didn't feel real, and yet, they had warned her.

But this wasn't their violence.

River reached up to their neck for the buckskin cord that held Finley's diamond ring and lifted it over their head. As they stepped towards her, she felt her body retreat. She shrunk behind a skinny pine, even though her head knew better. Her heart knew better. Even if they both were at opposing ends of this blood soaked curse, she knew River would never hurt her nor would she hurt them. But she feared what Buckmouse had told her could be true, that River was just the bait, and her body remembered fear regardless of its source.

And River seemed to recognize it on her face because their boots came to a stop. The shame in their dark eyes deepened to an anger that matched their voice, but they aimed it away from her, fixed to the hemlock once more. Tossing the diamond in her direction, they turned their back on her to walk to the tree and took a seat upon its roots. Within the hemlock's shadow, the blonde woman—Vera appeared, but remained in the cover of darkness.

No, this wasn't their violence. And she wasn't their debt.

Finley crouched to pick up the diamond and could feel the familiar rumble beneath her feet.

"Go!" River shouted. "Now!"

A tear slid down her cheek, burning her skin as it dried in the cold air. But she didn't wait for another to fall. Her body fully took over, feet in control, pounding over upturned limestone and wet mudded earth as she ran in between the pines and silver maples and down the mountain to River's jeep.

The engine clicked and sputtered and stalled until finally it turned over and the wheels squelched with a jerk forward. Last night's storm had torn up the dirt road, washing it away in sections, but the jeep maneuvered up and over the ruts and twisted roots that crossed its path til finally she let it roll to a stop in the dip of the valley where she was sure the boundary would bounce her back.

But even as the garnet ring glowed red on her finger, no boundary burned her body as it had at the wreckage of Devil's Elbow. She inched the jeep forward into town, unsure how much farther to go or where to even stop until she saw the parking lot for the Deerjaw.

As Finley walked through the door, Johnny Cash sang through a cloud of cigarette smoke. Dim amber lights wrapped in antlers hung over the front bar, highlighting a man in a baseball cap with blood dripping down the side of his head and face, smoking on a stool. Finley rubbed her eyes to make sure she wasn't seeing things, but he was truly there amongst a few other patrons who paid him no mind. And then Blaire popped out from the back wearing a low-cut crop top with angel wings strapped to her back and a gold pipe-cleaner halo atop her beautiful blonde curls.

Somehow, Finley had forgotten it was Halloween.

"Hey sugar, c'mon in and have a seat." Blaire's eyes searched behind her. "I thought I heard the jeep pull in. Where's..." But she seemed to figure it out without Finley having to say a word. "Good Lord, already? She sure knows how to sour somethin' sweet." Blaire let out a disheartened sigh and tapped the counter. "Looks like your drinks are goin' on River's tab. What can I get ya?"