And today is that day.
I stand in the middle of my kitchen, suitcase laid out in front of me with a few items of clothing I don’t want to part with. There’s not much, but I didn’t choose the largest suitcase to store my clothes. There are things in this kitchen I can’t leave without. This room is my childhood. Where I learned how to cook. Where Daddy and I would dance around the room and bake cookies. Where my mama would listen to me go on and on about whatever problem I was facing that week. If I could take the entire room with me, I would. But I can’t, so I have to take the things in the kitchen that mean the most to me.
My mama’s sauce pan she used at least once a week to make our Friday night family dinners. My father’s stock pot he used to make the best gumbo and his famous summer vegetable soup. There are a few other pans I grab, putting them into my suitcase until it’s full to the brim. Some people pack clothes, and some people pack kitchen utensils. But I’d rather die than leave these things behind. They have too many memories tied to them to simply be left to rot. It almost feels like, if I takethe things my parents love, they get to finally leave Grym Hollow with me.
I’m not sure what happens to the house when I’m gone. I’m certain the city will eventually claim it once they realize no one is paying the bills. Part of me grieves for this life and home I’m leaving behind. This house was once full of love. My parents didn’t have much, and the house was entirely too small for all of us, but it was still our home. So many movie nights and tickle fights took place inside these walls. But a lot of heartbreak and loss happened too.
The last thing my mom wanted for me was to escape. The Guardian’s deal is my ticket out of Grym Hollow. Hell, it’s my ticket out of this world entirely, according to what I could make sense of the contract. Still not sure I fully believe it, but I’m excited to see and try new things, just like my parents always talked about doing. They won’t be with me physically, but I carry them in my heart. Always will. And I carry their recipes with me, hoping the food they taught me how to make will impact others the way it impacted me.
A knock at the front door brings me back to the present. “Evangeline? You in there, dear?” comes the voice of Sister Tammy, a Grym Hollow nun who also runs our only taxi service. Small towns are strange in that way.
Letting my fears lead my decisions would be easy. Stay in the same familiar town with the same familiar people and die in the same familiar home. Maybe I’d even settle down with a nice guy from town and have two-point-five kids.
Absolutely fucking not. My mind is made up.
Careful not to dent or scratch the neatly stacked pots and pans, I zip up my suitcase, sealing away the last of my belongings. My gaze drifts to the worn parchment resting on the kitchen table. It’s the contract from The Guardian, the agreement that has set my fate in motion. I pick it up, my fingers tracing the intricate, inked sigils before folding it carefully and tucking it into my coat.
With a deep sigh, I scan the tiny home one last time. The faded couch, the chipped countertops, the scuff marks near the door—all remnants of a life I’m about to leave behind. This town, this home, was never meant to be my forever. My parents always said I was destined for something greater. Now, it’s time to find out if they were right.
I steel myself, gripping the handle of my suitcase, and step toward the door. My heart thrums with a mixture of nerves and anticipation. “Here goes nothing,” I whisper, then pull the door open and step into the unknown.
Chapter 2
Evangeline
The low thrum of the engine does little to block out the nervous thoughts swirling in my head like my own personal tornado. Each bump and divot on the road has my heart lurching, and every time we pass a mile marker, I grow more nervous and anxious. Even the soft tapping of Sister Tammy’s fingers against her cheetah-covered steering wheel sets my teeth on edge.
“You know, honey,” Sister Tammy’s inquisitive eyes meet my gaze in the rearview mirror, completely oblivious of the raging storm growing inside me, “I can’t help but notice you seem a bit… you know, on edge. Like how I feel when I’m playing cards with that lyin’, cheatin’ priest in our parish. He may be a man of God, but he’s partying with the devil, that one is.”
“You mean Father Joseph?”
“Don’t say that vile man’s name in this holy car.” Sister Tammy shudders while murmuring a prayer under her breath. I had no idea there’s so much tensionamongst our congregation. To be fair, I can’t even remember the last time I stepped inside a church. No one in my family was overly religious. Spiritual, yes. But not religious.
“Enough about me. What’s bothering you?” Sister Tammy’s attention is back on me. I wish she’d pay attention to the road. Getting killed before I have the chance to reach The Guardian would be a sick joke from the universe.
“I’ve seen so many young women, all about your age, leave Grym Hollow after talking to The Guardian,” Sister Tammy continues, her voice teetering on accusatory. As if I had a say in what those other women did. I hardly knew them. “What’s going on? Is this some secret club? A cult? Please tell me it’s not some sort of sex thing.”
“It’s not some sort of sex thing.” Or at least Ihopeit’s not some sort of weird sex cult I signed up for. The truth is hardly any better though, and something I don’t want to get into with this gossipy nun. Sister Tammy will happily tell my business to anyone who’ll listen. If there’s tea to be had, Sister Tammy is the town crier, always informing everyone of “breaking news.”
“Evangeline, are you in some type of trouble? Is that why you’re gonna see The Guardian? Oh, honey, your mama wouldn’t?—”
“I’m not in any trouble, Sister.” And I don’t particularly want to hear what she thinks my mama would or wouldn’t want me to do. One thing I learned from her is, if I don’t have anything nice to say to keep my pie hole shut. I just hate when people speak about my mother as if they knew her better than I did. My mother wasn’t arecluse, but she didn’t have many friends either. Sister Tammy would not have made the top of her meager list. I know best what she would and wouldn’t want from me.
Not that it matters much now. She’s gone, and I’m left to make my own way in life.
I don’t realize I’m crying until the first tear rolls down my cheek and lands on my clenched fists in my lap. Each tear is a reminder of how far I’ve come and what still lies ahead. They aren’t of sadness, at least not entirely, but a reminder to keep pushing. For them. For me. For a future I have yet to carve out in a new and mysterious world. Despite my fears, a spark of peace blossoms within my chest, a sign I’m on the path I’m supposed to be on.
Sister Tammy is still speaking about The Guardian and the other woman who went before me. I try to tune her out, but when Sister Tammy talks, she demands attention. “I’m starting to feel like…oh, what do you kids call it nowadays? Pimp? Sugar mommy? Whatever it is, I’m starting to feel like one since I’ve been sending you girls into the unknown. Gotta say though, compensation? Not that great. You would think?—”
Just then, something hits the top of the car. A loud echoing of metal breaking reverberates around the car. Sister Tammy screams and swerves off the road, straight into the woodsy area around us.
“Sweet baby Jesus, take the wheel!” Sister Tammy screams, and I watch in horror as she takes her hands off the wheel as if really expecting Jesus to poof from wherever He’s at to take over her 2008 Honda Civic.
“Hit the brakes!” I scream over her prayers. Our car is heading straight toward a large oak tree.
“I didn’t come all this way to fucking die by tree,” I growl and do something stupid. I unbuckle myself from my seat, something I’ll stay awake and think about later when my adrenaline isn’t on high. While Sister Tammy has moved on to praying to God and Mary while the radio blasts a country song I’ve never heard before, I climb my way to the front seat of the car.
“Evangeline! That’s not safe!” Sister Tammy shrieks as I fall onto her lap. There’s no helping it. I take the wheel, jerking it to the left, and slam my foot down on the brakes, which make a horrible screeching sound, indicating the brake pads have been neglected for far too long.
