She does not respond at first, not really. One of her hands slips through the leaves on the forest floor. She lifts it until I can count the boney fingers that rot there.
One, two, three, four, five. She wiggles them.
“She knew you were coming,” the creature says. “But did not think there would be so many others.”
So many others. The words are knives in my head, whittling out space between my bones.
The ghosts? No, they were already here.
Ransom?
My stomach caves. Did my father follow us in?
“Who are you talking about?” I demand. “Who is ‘she’?”
The creature hisses. “So many questions. She did not say the nasty blood would have so many questions.”
Nasty blood. Sickness tremors through my bones. As though my stomach is set to sea, my throat is thick with the need to empty my belly. But I shove it down, make myself ask the question I so desperately need answered.
“Do you know where to find my mother?”
The shadow woman drops her hand, lets it slosh in the leaves. She stares at me with unblinking, milky eyes. And then, her head cocks to the right, as if bent on a hinge. And her smile widens. There are too many teeth.
“Behind you!” she shrieks.
I whirl to search every trunk, every cut of stone, every stretch of crimson left in our wake. Ransom is breathing hot and fast, his palm sweating through the fabric of my dress.
But there is nothing, and when I turn back, the woman is gone.
I drop to my knees on the forest floor, the side of my skull aching, the bell like a weight in the folds of my skirt. Ransom lowers himself beside me, his hands tangled in my hair. I cling to him, the scent of dry gin, dark soil. The only thing holding me to this space of silver and red.
I reach into my pocket.
The bell is still.
I pull it out, running a finger along its brass surface. Why has it gone still? And why did it vibrate in the first place?
“Perhaps we should follow her?” Ransom’s voice is gravelly.
I look to him. His eyes are lifted to the trees before us. Down the lane, past the place the shadow woman disappeared, the forest seems to thin, more milky light streaming in between them.
“Are you insane?” I get to my feet, replacing the bell to my pocket. “We need to find the river. There is no way in hell I am following thatthing.”
For a moment, I think Ransom might argue, but he just nods. “Fine. Let’s move. The quicker we find our mothers, the quicker we can get out of the wood.”
He moves ahead of me, boots crunching leaves, but I turn back.
The shadows seem thicker between the trees, like someone has taken a bite out of reality and left only blackened space.
Behind you, the shadow lady screams.Behind you, behind you, behind you.
We run. Run until our throats are dry and our tongues taste like iron. The delicate skin on my foot throbs where the metal embedded itself only days ago. But still I go, chest heaving. Footstep after footstep. Until the trees have thinned and the path is lined in opalescent pebbles.
I stop, lungs burning. A gentle quiet falls over us. Only the labored sound of our own breathing while Ransom’s hand reaches for mine.
“I do not understand.”
My eyes flick to him, to the sweat rolling down his face in beads. I cannot tell if his cheeks are flushed or if it is just the red light of the sky reflected upon his skin.
