“He promised there would be no further interference with the pregnancy. He swore we would have a child naturally, no matter what the outcome. But then someone told him the tale of the Barrow-Man. He never revealed who it was, but they gave him a name to speak, and they said he should go to the Barrow at midnight. He was told to set out a dish of mingled milk and honey, a piece of raw beef, a handful of berries, and a round loaf of fresh bread. Then, standing beside the Barrow, facing north, he must cut his palm and drizzle a bit of his blood into the dishof honey-milk. While doing so, he should speak the name and make his request of the Barrow-Man.”
“What the fuck,” I whisper. “He did that?”
“He did.”
“And what happened?”
“A great seam opened in the hill, and the Barrow-Man appeared. He ate the meat and drank the contents of the dish while your father repeated his request. Then the Barrow-Man went back inside the hill for a moment. When he returned, he gave your father a vial and instructed him to make me drink the liquid inside.”
“You knew better,” I interject.
“You’re right. I wouldn’t have done it, and your father knew that. So he broke his promise, and he put the contents of the vial in my tea. I thought it tasted strange, so I only drank half of it, and I tossed the rest out when he wasn’t looking. The Barrow-Man had been very clear to your father that I should drink every drop, and your father thought I had. But I didn’t.
“When you were born, your father took one look at you and stormed out of the room. I knew he was furious about having another daughter, and I hated him even more deeply for it. That night, while I was sleeping, exhausted from the labor, your father took you from your crib and carried you into the forest.”
“What?” I gasp.
Mama nods, a solemn horror in her eyes. “He took you to the Barrow. He shouted the Barrow-Man’s name and demanded that he come forth. The hill opened, and the Barrow-Man came out. Your father railed at him for failing to fulfill their bargain. He held you out for the Barrow-Man to see. The Barrow-Man came near and touched you on the forehead with one fingertip. He told your father that I must not have drunk all the liquid, and that he wasn’t responsible for the result.
“The Barrow-Man said something about needing more supplies or subjects; your father was never certain about thatpart. The Barrow-Man walked to the top of the hill, and he whistled several times, until all kinds of creatures of the forest left their holes and burrows and came running to the Barrow. They ran straight into the crack of the hill, dozens and dozens of them. Then the Barrow-Man went back inside, and the seam of the earth closed up. Your father yelled again, but no one answered. In his fury, your father laid you down at the foot of the Barrow and started walking home.”
A sick thrill runs through my stomach. “Heleftme?”
“You were there for hours. He got all the way to the edge of the forest before he thought better of it. He went back to find you. You were still where he left you, screaming, so he picked you up and carried you home. That last part, about him leaving you in the forest—I didn’t know about that the night before he left us, when you were twelve. Even when he first confessed to me about his deal with the Barrow-Man, he was too much of a coward to admit that he abandoned his infant daughter in the fucking forest.” Her voice turns cold with rage, and her eyes snap with a vengeful fury I’ve never seen from her. “You could have died from exposure. You could have been eaten by wolves. When he told me about that, I lost my mind. I—” She cuts herself off, a muscle throbbing along her jaw, a vein pulsing in her temple.
What did you do?I want to ask the question, but I dread the answer. Secrets are safeguards. So I remain silent, and I squeeze her hand.
She lets out a shaking breath, as if the pressure of my fingers released something that was tightly coiled inside her. “Do you hate me?”
“Never.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you until now. I convinced myself it was better not to. But I need you to stay away from the Barrow from now on.”
“You’ve let me walk in those woods for years,” I point out.
“Because I knew the Barrow-Man wouldn’t emerge unless he was called. Grandmother Riquet took over the old woodcutter’s cottage shortly after your father left, and she has a particular kind of influence. She thought she could help you, and she told me it was safe as long as you traveled in the daylight and stayed on the path.”
“Is there something special about the path?” I ask. “Something that keeps it safe, keeps it from becoming overgrown? And Grandmother… what’s special about her? She has always refused to talk about herself or her past.”
Mama purses her lips, then says carefully, “I’m not sure how much I should tell you about her. Some secrets aren’t mine to share.”
“I fear she’s growing too old to remember them,” I say. “She has seemed odd lately. I think whatever influence she had over the forest is waning, or it’s gone. Things are changing in there, becoming dangerous and distorted.”
“Distorted?” My mother frowns. “What do you mean?”
I hesitate, unsure how much I should say. “I don’t think any search parties should go in there looking for Herron.”
“So his father should give him up for dead?”
Wincing, I nod.
“What else did you see, Sybil?” Mama asks, concern darkening her gaze. “What aren’t you telling me?”
My mind fills with images of Herron’s eyes, Grandmother’s teeth, and the enormous two-headed wolf. But if I tell Mama everything, she might become so worried that she goes into the woods herself to see if Grandmother needs help. And I can’t lose her.
“Just promise me you won’t go into the forest,” I say.
“Only if you’ll promise me the same.”
