“What in tarnation is that?” Gramps asked, his eyes fixed above his bifocals, fork mid-air, looking into one green eye and one blue. Casper meowed from the windowsill, staring back at him.
“That’s a cat, Gramps. You’ve seen him before.”
“I don’t remember no cat … I wouldah remembered a cat … I don’t want a cat.”
“Too bad, you got one, and he’s been here for two months now.”
Gramps grunted. “It bettah not piss in my shoe, Moonshine,” he grumbled, going back to his breakfast and the crossword puzzle. “Off her kadoova … comin’ home … turnin’ inta … arfarfan’arf …”
I smiled. “Glad to see you got your ‘tude back.” And his appetite.
For the first time in days, Gramps had the energy to make it out of his room and into the kitchen. It was late morning, but it meant progress. I’d suffered a concussion and stayed in bed for two days, but maybe jumping off the cliff had worked. Maybe I had turned our luck around, and Gramps would be okay.
Last night, I’d fallen asleep with Julian. He’d fallen asleep too. Every so often, his hand moved over my back, my arm. It was nice. This morning, he was gone.
I didn’t expect Julian to stay until sunrise, but I still woke with a smile.
A rap sounded at the front door. Gramps grumbled again, muttering under his breath when I pushed out my chair.
Monday stood on the front porch with a wide smile. “Hey.” She peeked over my shoulder. “What arya doing?”
“Breakfast. Would you like to come in?”
She pointed behind me and whispered, “Is Benny in there?”
“Yeah, come on. I made extras.”
“No, thanks. Old people freak me out, with their skin and arms and legs …” She shivered.
A laugh slipped out from between my lips. “Then what are you doing here?”
“Checking on you,” she paused and released a breath, “Okay, that’s a lie. I know you’re good. You are good, right? After the cliff and the ocean…”
I leaned into my hip against the door, thinking about what Julian had said. I knew it was my fault, jumping into the ocean. I’d made the decision, never expecting anyone to come in after me. But it didn’t deter from the truth: none of them did. Was it selfish of me to hold on to something that was my fault? That was my decision?
“I’m good,” I told her, but the words didn’t feel good coming out. They felt like a lie. I was good, but I didn’t know if we were.
“Good,” she said through a long breath. “Because a body was found on the cliffs yesterday, and I could really use your help at work. I know you’re not supposed to come back until tomorrow, but I’m so used to having you around. I feel like a shit friend for not checking on you, but I wanted to give you space. You seem like the kinda girl who needs space, and I can be overpowering, and I’m working on that—”
“I’ll go in,” I interrupted, seeing her face turning red from not taking a solid breath. Plus, I was ready to get back into my old routine. It had only been days, but days inside this house alone with Gramps, and the occasional drop-ins from Mina Mae, could drive the sanest person into The Institute of the Insane.
Relief flashed in Monday’s eyes. “Night shift?”
“I’ll be there.”
The heavy door slammed behind me, rattling the shelves of the apothecary store. I darted my gaze around as if I’d get in trouble for not being careful, looking for Agatha Blackwell. A messy, black-haired bun attached to a girl popped up from behind the counter, and I froze in place.
“Sorry, the door—”
“It does that all the time, don’t sweat it,” she said with a wave of a hand. “Can I help you with something?”
My smile was easy but lopsided. “Please,” I continued toward the counter and pulled my satchel on top between us, “Agatha made me this tea for Benny’s cough, and I have no idea what she put in it, but it helped.” I craned my neck, looking into the back room. “Is she here?”
“No, my mom won’t be back until tonight.”
My brows jumped. “Your mom?”
“Yes.” She pulled a binder out from under the counter and set it between us. “Schools out for the week, so you’re stuck with me.”
If Agatha was her mom, then that made Julian her brother. I tilted my head, examining her features. She was young, black hair with a defined Italian nose. She was very pretty, all her features the opposite of my own.
“What’s your name?”
“Jolie. And you’re Fallon, right?”
“Right,” my shoulders relaxed, “you know my name.”
Jolie shrugged, flipping through pages, eyes scanning butchered lines. “Everyone knows your name. And you don’t look like what I expected.”
“How do you mean?”
Her eyes snapped up under her lashes. “The way people talk about you, it’s as if you had three heads or something. Unless they pop out without warning.”
“Nope. Just one head,” I said with a raised pointer finger.
“Call off the hellhounds,” she said through a laugh and shook her head. “I’ll tell ya, people are ruthless. And I doubt my mother wrote the recipe in here. She’s always mixing up new concoctions, so I never know what she gives anyone. Maybe you could come back tonight,” Jolie went on, her fingers flipping through pages some more.
“It’s okay. I can come back.”
“You sure?” She leaned back on her heels. “I feel bad. You’d think she would leave me with something to work with. I could probably mix something together, but it won’t be the same. My mom won’t give me all her secrets. Says no two herbalists are the same. That I have to find my own way.” She rolled her eyes.
“No, it’s fine. I have to work tonight, but I’ll come back another time. No biggie.” I slid my satchel off the counter and flung it over my shoulder. “It was nice meeting you, though. I had no idea Julian had a sister.” My eyes widened once his name rolled off my tongue. “Not that we’re close or anything,” I corrected, remembering Julian wasn’t supposed to be near me.
Jolie smiled, interested. “So, you’re not close?”
“No, I mean, I’ve met him. We’ve crossed paths. I just … didn’t know—”
“That the Heathens could have a family? A mother? A sister?” She crossed her arms and leaned into her hip. “You think the way the rest of the town does? That they were just what? Monsters? Born from a curse and not a family?”
“No, no, no. Like, of course Julian has a family.” This conversation was turning, twisting, and I was starting not to sound like myself. Jolie wore a blank face. Her mouth closed, her eyes waiting. How do I climb out? “I didn’t mean it like that, I just meant—”
Jolie’s cackle slipped between her lips. “Fallon, I’m messing with you.” She sucked in a deep breath and let it go. “I overheard Jai talk about you to Beck, so I already know about you two.”
My breath caught in my chest. “Jai?”
“Yeah, it’s Julian’s middle name. My mom used to always pull the first and middle name combo anytime we got in trouble. ‘Julian Jai get your hiney back inside!’”—she laughed, remembering—“Anyway, our baby brother called him Jai. It was his first word. So, Mom and me got used to calling him just that too.” She shrugged.
“You have a baby brother?”
Her expression fell. “Well, he passed on a long time ago.” She tilted her head. “I’m surprised you don’t know the story. People in this town love to hold it against the Hollow Heathens. They use the death of my brother to keep people afraid of them and away from Norse Woods. Sick if you ask me. It was an accident. My dad wasn’t a bad man.”
My chest shook. Julian’s dad accidentally killed their brother? Jai, Jai, Jai, I remembered. The little boy in the red and white striped shirt—the spirit that had led me to Julian twice. I’d been so wrapped in my feelings for Julian that I was blind to the ghost crying out for help, not putting two and two together.
I began to feel light-headed, seeing the little boy’s face again in my mind, and I shook my head to right myself. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”
“It’s not like Jai would’ve brought him up, anyway. He doesn’t like to talk about himself. That’s the thing you have to know about him, he’s … he pushes people away. But he’s not who everyone says he is. He’s not.” She shook her adamant head. “He’s not a monster. Jai and Beck and them, they have to act like that so people stay away. It’s to protect them. It’s really sad. People don’t see the sacrifices they had to make, what they’re still making, and what they had to give up.” Her eyes watered, as did mine. “Sorry, I just …”
“It’s okay,” I reassured. “You care about them.”
A laugh bubbled from her tears. “Jai always said I never know when to shut my mouth.” She nudged her head. “You have any brothers or sisters?”
“No, only child.”
“Jai may as well be one. He’s basically been living alone in those woods since I was five.” She released a long breath and relaxed her shoulders. “Just don’t give up on him, okay?”
“I won’t,” I promised with an honest smile.
In these five short minutes, Jolie confirmed everything I knew of Julian. It was reassuring and a breath of fresh air, hearing someone else defend him when the rest of the town looked down on the Heathens.
I wanted to hug her, but the counter between us only left us with smiles on our faces. Before exiting the shop, I flipped back around to face her. “Hey, Jolie? What was your baby brother’s name?”
“Johnny,” and her smile was weak, transported into the memory of him, “Johnny Blackwell.”
It was four past midnight, and the night shift, who we called the skeleton crew, had left hours ago.
I couldn’t stop thinking about Jolie’s words. The name Jai rang in my head. Johnny was the name of the ghost. Johnny was their little brother. My heart tightened with the possibility of what could have happened, what their father had done.
I promised myself I wouldn’t dig or ask any more questions, but the truth was already sitting all around me in this dark and dimly lit funeral home. I pushed the chair back and walked to where Monday’s desk was. She always kept an extra set of keys underneath. The bobbleheads bounced up and down, mocking me.
“You better not say a word,” I whispered, eyeing one of Jordan Knight as my hand swiped back and forth across the wood. My finger landed on the skeleton key, and I peeled the tape back. “Finders keepers.” I winked at Jordan.
All paperwork was locked away in Jonah’s filing cabinet. I turned off the desk lamp and shut down my monitor before climbing the spiral staircase.
Jonah’s office was on the main floor, and guilt perched on my shoulder the entire walk there. I was digging into a little boy’s death. But it was a ghost who had tried reaching out to me—twice now. Johnny needed me, was trying to tell me something. I could finally bring him peace. I had no choice but to do this.
In Jonah’s office, I squatted before the filing cabinet and jammed the key into the lock. The yellow files rolled out, the tabs faded, their edges frayed. I filtered through them in search of Blackwell. Jonah didn’t organize them alphabetically like the average person would. Come to think of it, he had nothing in this building organized. His mind was chaotically in place.
Jonah dressed as if he were from the Eastside, but openly had no ties to anyone. His mind was a puzzle, but every piece made sense to him. He only allowed me and everyone else to see what he wanted us to see, all his pieces purposely scattered so no one could crack his code. There was no doubt he would know I was here. Jonah always seemed to know everything. Jonah always seemed to be watching.
My eyes widened. Blackwell. I pulled out the thick folder.
Inside, multiple tabs dated back to the early 1900s. The most recent two files were from twelve years ago. Johnny and Javino Blackwell. Julian was only fourteen or fifteen when his father died.
Johnny and his dad, Javino, died within the same two-week span.
The elevation in the room changed, and the pressure pushed into me from all sides. I felt like my head was underwater, hearts in Atlantis. The proof was right here. Javino Blackwell killed his son.
An accident. My eyes scanned over the hardly legible handwriting. Johnny and Javino were playing in the woods. Javino picked up Johnny, and Johnny tore off his father’s mask. The curse took Johnny’s life. Cause of death: asphyxiation.
Johnny was only three-years-old. Johnny would have been fourteen today.
A black and white photo of Johnny’s lifeless little body on the morgue table assaulted my senses. My eyes watered, and I squeezed them shut and tried to find a stable breath. My legs gave out, and my bottom hit the concrete floor. My back fell to the cabinet, and the papers scattered around me. Words repeatedly screamed at me from the tile.
Asphyxiation. Tore off his mask. Three years old. Johnny Blackwell. Norse Woods.
A Hollow Heathen killed a three-year-old boy. Someone so helpless. The curse didn’t care. It didn’t care who it was or how strong the ties were. The curse could take anyone, even the people they loved the most.
My palms dug into my eyes, my tears hot and burning, my blood cold and churning. It didn’t matter because the curse didn’t care, my mind repeated. My breathing shook, the face of Johnny painted on the black canvas behind my lids. I tilted my head back and blew out a sharp breath. The curse didn’t care.
When I dropped my head back down, my gaze swept across the tile. At the corner of my eye, a letter with perfect and precise handwriting peeked from under the photo. My fingers quivered as I uncovered the rest of it. It was dated six days after the incident. The letter was from Julian Jai Blackwell.
To the people of Weeping Hollow,
If you are receiving this letter, then my father has taken the blame for what happened to Johnny. Here is my official statement. Let it be known, Javino Blackwell was only trying to protect me as a father should. I beg of you, do not condemn my father. Do not take him to the Wicker Man. Javino is a good, respectable man of the Order. I cannot watch my father burn for my carelessness.
I take full responsibility for what happened to Johnny. I killed him! Take me! There is no one else to blame but me! Please, rid me of this guilt and lie and set me free, set me aflame! I cannot live like this anymore—
“What are you doing?!” Jonah snatched the letter from my hands and ripped it in half. “You have no business coming into my office!”
I jumped to my feet, tears rolling down my face, papers at my feet.
Jonah slammed his fist over the shredder’s on button and sifted the two halves of the letter through the machine, his face angry, eyes in a red rage.
“You’re protecting him,” I whispered, understanding. “You protect the Heathens.”
“Pack all your things, Fallon,” Jonah stated, the paper shredded and gone forever. “You’re fired.”
“I would never tell anyone,” I cried. “Please, I lo—” I paused, tears frozen at the corners of my eyes. I dragged in a deep breath and straightened my spine. “I love him, Jonah. I would never say anything. You have to believe me.”
“Get out!” he screamed.