In the early morning, before dawn broke, in the sweet pink light that draped across the range just before the sun came up, the four mismatched Appalachians met in Zach’s kitchen.
Motheater had taken one of Zach’s jumpsuits and rolled up the arms and legs, giving her huge cuffs, exposing her tattoos. She was nervous but ready: prepared. She spread Bennie’s map across the table, the most likely routes into Kire’s fenced-off land marked in pencil.
“No movement in the night,” Jasper reported, leaning against the wall, arms crossed.
“Were a low moon, with snakes too cold, Kire won’t be seeing much,” Motheater said, mostly to Zach and Bennie, who were awkwardly standing on the other end of the table. “If the snakes are asleep, Kire will be waiting. He needs to make sure his momentum is spent just so.”
“You have everything?” Bennie asked, her arms folded. She seemed nervous, and Motheater thought it was a resignation deeper than fear that made Bennie’s shoulders tighten like that.
Motheater nodded, checking her pockets for the herbs she had picked an hour before, the small shard of quartz she had found in the house, which Zach had mentioned that he had found while on Kire, and a thatch-broom of thorns she had made from the weeds at the back of the house.
“Enough, I think.” It was not enough, Motheater knew, but it would have to be. She would make it enough.
“Do we really need to do this?” Zach asked. Both Motheater and Bennie fixed him with a sharp glare. “I mean it.”
“What you mean?” Motheater said softly. She could feel her power surrounding her, whole and without any consignor; the world seemed eager to bend to her. Jasper stepped forward, in front of Zach, a hand out as if to physically block her anger.
Zach, blue eyes wide, swallowed. “Look at all this,” he said quietly, gesturing to the map. “White Rock can’t go back into Kire with all this movement. Kire’s the problem, but if the mountain shifts too much . . . I mean, everyone is leaving—”
“Not everyone’s leaving.” Bennie’s voice was sharp. “The poor families aren’t going nowhere. Hallside and all the double-wides aren’t leaving.”
“They’re not staying.” Zach pushed. “And if most of Kiron isn’t even here—”
“Most ain’t all,” Motheater said quietly. She reined herself in, the echoes of her emotions reverberating, but soft enough that Jasper pulled back.
“This isn’t our job,” Zach said, exasperated. “None of this—”
A massive shudder swept through the home, sending Motheater to the ground. Bennie fell back onto the couch, and Zach and Jasper slammed into the table, Zach losing his footing and knocking his head against the corner.
“Zach!” Bennie scrambled off the couch, going to the man on the floor. As Motheater stood up, Zach was already draped across Jasper’s thigh, and her friend had his hand across Zach’s forehead, frowning deeply. Motheater felt her own veins going into Jasper, their connection never severed as he used her to heal Zach. All it took was faith, and Jasper had fixed Zach, who was blinking foolishly up at him.
“Ain’t gonna stop,” Motheater said, frowning deeply, Jasper holding Zach, Bennie gripping his hand. They weren’t being taken from her; they were only helping. “There could be other mountains who will answer Kire’s call when he revolts from his cradle.”
“She’s right,” Bennie muttered as she looked between him and Motheater. “It’s not gonna stop, and we’re the only ones who know how to stop it.”
“Do you even know?” Jasper asked. “Any of your witchcraft prepare you for this?”
Motheater’s heart leapt near out of her chest, her mouth went dry. “I have to try.”
“We have to try.” Bennie squeezed Zach’s hand and stood up. “Leave if you want, Zach.”
Zach groaned, pushing Jasper’s hand away to touch his forehead, where blood was still drying on top of healed, pink skin. Motheater knew it would scar. “You get proven right, and you find something else to prove,” he complained. “Fine, you win.”
“It’s not about winning.” Bennie reached down, holding her hand out. “It’s about helping people, jerkface.”
“I plead the Fifth,” Zach muttered, taking her hand and helping himself up. Bennie and Zach smiled at each other, sharing some kind of secret joke, and Motheater’s stomach clenched.
“Let’s get going,” she said, turning on her heel and going to the door. “As soon as the sun’s up, Kire will know what we’re up to.”
She was jittery as Bennie ushered everyone into the truck, and she didn’t miss the way that Zach stayed close to Jasper, following her old friend like a puppy.
Motheater wondered, briefly, as she climbed into the front seat, if some of the binding enchantment had been passed to Zach Gresham when she unlaced Jasper. Maybe it was loosing DeWitt’s curse, maybe it was Kire magic. Maybe it was nothing but Zach infatuated with a man who had the gall to look like that without invitation.
This time, Zach directed Bennie from the back seat as they went up to the White Rock holdings on Kire. It was technically trespassing, but Motheater didn’t care much for the law, and Zach had said that most of the power lines on Kire were out anyway. No recordings. Motheater sort of knew what a security camera was, but only vaguely. It wasn’t important enough for dead souls to pass on knowledge of security cameras.
As they drove, they passed great sinkholes and felled trees in the road, courtesy of Kire’s movements. Motheater moved a large oak with a flick of her hand and a proverb. Her resolve was great, and it made her powerful, steady. They got to the first fence that Motheater likewise shoved open with a Word, and then the second, and then were met with a ridge that hadn’t been there last week, that was still moving upward, slowly shifting toward the sky, the breathing god.
They stopped in front of the rock as the fault line moved slowly upward in centimeters and breaths. Scuttling bugs crawled out of now-exposed holes. Across the ridge, great sighs went up from the stone, cool mist evaporating as the shelf lifted itself skyward.
Bennie made a noise. “Well I’ll be fucked.”
“Jesus shit,” Zach said, causing Jasper to snort.
“We’re not even close to the part of Kire I need to go to.” Motheater glared at the ridge as she got out of the vehicle, going to the sliding ridge and putting a hand on it, just her fingers. “We’re still in the White Rock holler,” she said, stepping back.
Bennie jogged over. “What do you want to do?”
Motheater took a step back as the shale shook. “I’m going up the mountain.”
“We don’t even know what part of the mountain is what at this point,” Bennie said, frowning. “How are you going to find the cut you were torn from?”
Motheater frowned. Would the mountain reveal itself? Had she been shut out from Kire? Was it going to rise and destroy her regardless?
“I’ll find it.” She turned back to Bennie and gestured back to the truck. “You all should go. Ain’t safe.” The sounds from the mountain were clear enough. There was shifting and breaking, a thundering like cannon fire. Kire was moving fast now.
“I didn’t sign up for safe,” Bennie said quickly, grinning at Motheater and running back to the truck. “I’m coming with you!”
Motheater flushed again as Bennie explained something to Zach. Zach leaned out of the window to yell something, but Bennie made a rude gesture instead of getting in the car. She ran back to Motheater, her blue jay flying out of the trees, screaming behind her. Motheater felt some kind of blessed.
“Let’s go.” Bennie got serious again as she came back to Motheater, looking up at the moving ridge.
“Wait!” Jasper called out, easing out of the car unsteadily before loping over to Motheater. He pulled at Motheater’s shoulder, leaned down, and whispered in her ear.
“You got nothing left,” he murmured, his hand tight on her shoulder. Past his arm, Motheater saw Bennie take a few steps away, giving them privacy. The wind was picking up. “Your soul is Kire’s, your body, Kire’s. What do you have left?”
Motheater swallowed, eyes wide. “I dunno, Jas.”
“Hedge ain’t gonna settle the titan.”
“Call the souls I dinnae tend,” Motheater said, voice shaking. “Head up high, and when I need them most . . .”
Jasper squeezed her shoulder again. “I’ll see you in hell, Esther.”
She managed a small, wry smile as he stepped back. “Not too soon, I hope.”
Motheater took a deep breath, resolved, her features hard as Jasper loped back to the truck.
Bennie glanced between Motheater and Jasper, focusing on the witch as she paced along the ridge, trying to find the best place to scale the rock. “What’d he say?”
“Goodbye,” Motheater said, swallowing. Already the truck was out of sight, and the noises of the mountain creaking, shifting, owls crying, squirrels and chipmunks chattering, overwhelmed them. “And you? Where’s Zach heading?”
“Told them to keep watch from Wind Rock on Potts. I dunno how helpful it’ll be, but I think the fewer people in danger the better, right?”
Motheater nodded. Maybe it would be better for Bennie to go with them, but the truck was out of sight. So this was the army they had brought before Kire. “Aye.”
Motheater looked up at the peak, hidden by broken trees and rockslides, and felt the dark pull in her chest, the hollow where Kire was supposed to be. Motheater steeled herself and pulled herself up along the cliff, hearing Bennie scramble after her. They made it up the rising stone to a ledge, and the stone settled. She stood still, and Bennie came over to hold her hand as they waited for the world under their feet to stop turning.
“You good?” Bennie asked, squeezing her hand.
Motheater nodded. “All right.”
They walked through the holler, coming to White Rock Creek within half an hour. “We cross this, and we’ll be on Kire,” Motheater said, stepping into the river without hesitation. It was only a half-foot deep, barely a creek at all.
Bennie followed just behind. As she crossed over, Motheater heard Bennie pause. The witch glanced back, frowning. “Bennie?”
“Why the fuck does this river smell like whiskey?” Bennie asked, her perfect mouth opened in a soft bow.
Motheater’s eyes widened. She dipped her hand in the creek and brought it to her nose, and then tasted magic there. She whirled and looked up as the smell of heat and copper rose from the draft, strong and clear.
“We may be too late.”
Bennie crossed the shinewater and stood next to Motheater. The small rumbles and tears of stone and tree they had been hearing all through their walk came out fast and strong. All around them, roots popped like tendons. Motheater pulled Bennie down, and with a shout of Micah, the uprooted trees landed feet away from them, only a few branches scraping their shoulders. The rocks that were rolling downhill stopped in their tracks. A screech came, tearing metal, falling worlds, and when Motheater and Bennie looked up, in the early dawn of the last day, they saw the full breadth of the titan, standing on six legs, leaning forward among the ruins of the valley, bleeding dark coal from gashes and cuts along its sides.
Motheater stood, eyes fixed on Kire, the beast just under a mile away. Her bones shook as the great old one turned, wounded, betrayed, and stared right back.
x
“Give me your hand!” Motheater yelled over the booms of ancient, sliding stone. “Bennie!”
A shift under them had made Bennie stumble away, but she quickly stood and ran to Motheater, hand out.
Motheater took her thatch-broom of thorns out of her pocket and drove it into Bennie’s hand. She pressed the thorns into their palms, drawing blood. Bennie gasped, tried to yank her hand away, but that only worsened the wound. Her eyes teared up.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m sorry!” Motheater was half sobbing herself. She pulled her hand off the thorns roughly, making Bennie cry out. The motion left dark streaks against the plants she had so carefully wound together. She tossed the thatch to the ground and pressed their bleeding palms together, hard hedge and bargains made. “I wouldn’t need to do this if we had more time!”
“Goddamn that hurts! ” Bennie’s voice echoed, even above the clamor, even above the great mountain stretching above them.
And under her shout, the shattered forest held together for a few more seconds.
Time slowed down, Bennie’s yelp carrying around the small clearing that her blasphemy had made. She looked down at their clasped, bloody hands, held tight and painful. Around them, the leaves stopped in midair, the blue jay’s flight was frozen, wings and tail spread. Behind them, the sounds of the moonshine river stopped, all noise around them turning to silence. This was the last calm moment, held by the first command of a new mountain.
The snake tattooed around Motheater’s wrist slid across their fingers, wrapping itself around Bennie’s wrist, its tongue out, lapping at the blood trickling down her wrist. Bennie gaped at their hands.
Motheater was grinning like a fool, watching Bennie’s face, the spark of realization, the understanding, and like Motheater’s magic turned her hair white and silver, golden freckles appeared at Bennie’s temples, winking as the ridge fell apart around them. Motheater felt it. Their thread, the binding magic.
The magic wouldn’t have held if Bennie hadn’t wanted it, if she had decided Motheater wasn’t worth saving, that Kiron wasn’t worth saving. But they were aligned: Kiron over Kire, even if it meant Motheater would have to destroy that which she once loved. She couldn’t save Kiron without a Neighbor to anchor her.
But Motheater loved Bennie, admired her, wondered at her, thought that if anything in Kiron was worth saving now, it was her. This was the last thing she could give her. Maybe it was the only thing. This was the end Motheater made for herself. This was the grave she dug out of coal.
“You got my title now, Benethea Mattox. You gonna make bargains in love. You gonna break the world.” Motheater leaned in and kissed her, hard and half off her mouth, holding their hands in between their chests, blood smearing at the hollow of Motheater’s neck.
Time was speeding up around them. Leaves were starting to fall again. One passed by Bennie’s shoulder. Motheater saw it in her eyes; Bennie knew a goodbye when it bled on her.
“Motheater—”
“My name is Esther,” she said, eyes welling up with moonshine tears. “This is my fight. You’re gonna have to find another.”
“Esther.”
The way Bennie said it, like she was trying it out, like it was something reverential, made Motheater cry, tears floating down like samara fruit. She stepped back, not letting go of Bennie’s hand. Kire was behind her, agonizingly slow with the power of Bennie’s first True Blaspheme still hanging in the air. Such was the weight of a First Curse, the debut of a new Appalachian witch.
“You need to go back. Jasper and Zach will help you,” Motheater said.
“I can’t leave you.” Bennie’s pleading nearly broke her resolve. She could spirit them away, couldn’t she? Motheater didn’t want this fight, but she had it. It was hers.
“You gotta make off, Bennie.” The blue jay turned in the air, wings coming in toward its body. A groaning came from the great amaranthine creature behind her. Motheater squeezed her hand. “And I gotta meet Kire.”
The leaf was almost at the ground, the last grain of sand.
“You can’t fight a mountain!” Bennie held Motheater’s bloody hand with both of hers, begging.
Motheater grinned, kissed her again, and finally pulled her hand away. The leaf touched the ground. Blood dripped on the river stones. Time turned to fire in her belly.
She was thrilled, every nerve of her alight and terrified in the shadow of the leviathan. This, right here, this was what she was made for. She was ready. Bloody and aching, she was a thorn in the paw of a lion.
“I ain’t going to fight no mountain,” Motheater said, looking up at Kire, who had just taken his first slouching step toward Kiron. She felt her old assurances again, thrumming through her. She was bound to no god but hope, held by no chains but love. “That mountain’s gonna be fighting me.”