The Edge of Strange Hollow Page 7

  The fog had faded back, but Poppy still felt as though something watched them from inside the white billows on the other side of the river. She wouldn’t pass this way again if she could help it. “Right,” she said. “I think all we need to do is follow the river upstream to reach the Holly Oak.”

  “Agreed,” Mack said.

  Nula paused. “The Fae are west.”

  Poppy scowled.

  Nula held up her hands in defeat. “Okay, okay,” she muttered, and proceeded to chat at Dog.

  By the time the thin rays of early afternoon sun trickled through the forest canopy, all Poppy could hear was the sound of Mack’s stomach growling. She stopped under a giant oak. The ground below it was littered with acorns.

  “Perfect!” The pooka let out a little squeal and set to gathering them, while Dog trotted behind her hoping for a game of fetch.

  Mack let out a groan and sank to sit with his back against the tree. He tipped his head back and looked up into the tree. “I’m famished.”

  Poppy’s mouth twitched. “Hard to argue with that,” she replied, pausing to look around for anything that might be lurking in the shadows before she dropped her pack off her shoulders. She collapsed to the ground and let herself lie back next to Mack, brushing away the acorns from underneath her. Above them, the branches shifted in the slight breeze, light shaking down through the leaves as they danced. She pushed the pack toward Mack. “Sandwiches.”

  He grinned at her and sat up to dig inside, fishing out three of the wrapped boar sandwiches she’d piled inside. He handed one to Nula who took it and sniffed at the mustard.

  Poppy watched. “Homemade,” she explained, with a pang. She loved Jute’s mustard. Where had he been that morning? Sending word to her parents about what she’d done, most likely. What was he doing now? Pacing the floor, and worrying, if she had to guess.

  “Careful,” Mack told Nula. “It’s a little spicy.”

  Nula scoffed and took a big bite. Her eyes widened. “This is good,” she said in a muffled voice, through the sandwich.

  Mack wiggled his eyebrows.

  “So … can you change into other things … besides a mouse, snake, spider … and bird?” Poppy asked, needing to turn her thoughts away from Jute.

  Nula dropped down to sit on the other side of Mack. “Sure. I can turn into pretty much anything,” she said around another bite of sandwich. “Till I’m old enough to decide what my permanent form will be.”

  “Huh,” Poppy said. “So, the mouse, and the snake … and the spider are regulars or…”

  Nula smiled tightly. “Small things are easiest, and I like them—except for moths.” She shuddered. “The lynx is the biggest creature I’ve done so far.”

  “Really?” Poppy smiled. “If I could change into animals, I’d change into … I don’t know … a lion, or something huge and scary like that.”

  Another flicker crossed Nula’s face. “Yeah, well. Small things can move fast,” she explained. “And they can hide almost anywhere.”

  Poppy cocked her head at the pooka. “Makes sense.”

  “Anyway,” Nula added, “you don’t need to turn into anything. You’re already scary enough.”

  Mack choked on his sandwich.

  “What does that mean?” Poppy snapped.

  Nula’s eyes widened. “Oh! Sorry. I wasn’t … I didn’t … You just have, you know…” She halfway pointed at Poppy’s face. “Resting witch face.”

  Poppy’s mouth fell open as Mack barked a laugh. Nula flushed and turned to pick up Dog’s bone with two fingers. She dropped it into Poppy’s backpack. “How old are they anyway?” she asked, patting Two.

  “Changing the subject.” Mack grinned at her. “Good idea.”

  “About three,” Poppy answered and gave Nula one last glare before she turned her attention to stroking Eta’s face. Eta’s eyes closed.

  Nula looked at Dog sadly. “They’re really special, Poppy. I … I wish—”

  “Yeah. They were the best present ever. Well,” she added, rising to brush herself off. “We should get going.” She paused and met Nula’s eyes. “Thanks.” She held out her hand. “It was good to meet you.”

  Nula’s face fell. “Oh. Oh … sure. Um … I’m really sorry if I insulted you earlier.”

  Poppy shook her head. “No problem. I’m sure you’ve got other stuff to do, and now that the banshee thing is over, we don’t want to keep you. I think we’re good from here.”

  It wasn’t that she didn’t like the pooka. She seemed okay. It was just that part of her wanted to explore the forest with Mack—just the two of them against all obstacles—like she’d always imagined. Besides, she was sure Nula needed to get back to her friends and family.

  Nula looked away. “Um, okay, then. Good … Good to meet you.”

  Poppy and Mack waved and turned to keep following the river. The pooka stood under the oak, her pockets full of acorns, and watched them go.

  Now that it was just them again, Mack’s shoulders seemed to ease a little and he sent her a small nod of acknowledgment. The scent of pine and something darker wafted up from the forest floor as they moved past patches of trillium and around huckleberry hedges. Poppy forced herself to take a deep breath. She had an elf and a cerberus by her side. She was going to find the Soul Jar before her parents and show them once and for all that she was ready to be a family—to hunt maledictions by their side.

  Despite her excitement, she had to admit that nothing here was really how she had imagined it. She hadn’t expected it to be so quiet, for one thing. She hadn’t expected to see so many thorn trees … or be attacked by a banshee … or to be followed by a pooka. Doubt chewed at the edges of her confidence, like a mouse nibbling a pea. What if she was wrong about the tree? What if the Holly Oak didn’t know anything? What if she got her parents in trouble somehow, for going after maledictions? What if the tree laughed at her and told her she was acting like a child? Worse, what if she was—acting like a child?

  Mack’s steady footfalls fell beside her. A surge of warmth rolled over Poppy. The truth was that if Mack was there, she couldn’t be doing the wrong thing. Her best friend would never have gone along with her—he wouldn’t have stood for it.

  Her ideas might not be the exact right thing … doubtless Mack would say staying home and listening to the grown-ups was the right thing … but at least it wasn’t wrong. As long as her best friend was still at her side, things would be okay.

  She shook off her doubts. They had a plan, and with a plan, and friends like Mack and Dog, she didn’t need anything else. Nothing could go wrong.

  CHAPTER SIX

  The Holly Oak was at the very center of the forest. There was no way for them to get there in one day … at least, not on foot. A ripple of excitement fizzed along Poppy’s spine. She was going to meet the Holly Oak, for real—not just in her imagination. Not just in some dream. She wanted to know everything there was to know about the tree, and then … she wanted to know more.

  She pulled her journal out and checked the notes she’d copied from her parents one more time. “It should be right up here,” she muttered.

  Mack didn’t ask questions, but he let out a long sigh, and Poppy sent him an apologetic smirk. Of course he wanted to know what she was planning—what it was—but she wasn’t quite ready to share yet. She just had to make sure she was on the right track first.

  Mack knew her scraps of knowledge about the Grimwood had never added up to enough. Not even close. Knowledge is the enemy of fear, her father liked to say, but to Poppy, knowledge meant more than the power to fight her fears. It meant belonging.

  Two’s head tipped sideways as Poppy stroked his ear. Mack stood patiently next to her, patting Eta’s head, and then Brutus’s. His mouth twitched into a half smile. “You have the funniest look on your face, Poppy. What are you thinking about?”

  “Hm? Oh … I was thinking about this story my parents told me about the Holly Oak one time.”

  Mack’s smile cra
cked wider. “What’d they say?”

  “Well…” She reached up to yank her ponytail tight. “They had gone into the wood—into the deeps to one of the big thorn groves. And I guess they passed through a Hyphae village without realizing it.” She watched his face for a reaction.

  Mack cringed. “The fungus folk don’t like anything to touch their soil without their permission.”

  Poppy smirked. “Right, well, my parents didn’t know that at the time. The Hyphae mother tangled them in these long fungal ropes. Mom said they were so tight it was hard to breathe.”

  Mack shivered. “They’re lucky they didn’t get spored. How did they escape?”

  “They didn’t. The Hyphae took them to the Holly Oak.” Poppy smirked. “It was the first time they met her. The Hyphae mother asked the Oak for justice.”

  Mack scrubbed one hand over his face. “Thorns! What happened?”

  “The Holly Oak told Mom and Dad that ignorance was not an excuse. She said if they insisted on being in the Grimwood, then it was their task to learn about it and understand it. She told them how to watch for the Hyphae boundary.”

  “The ring of red mushrooms.”

  “And then she told them they had to make amends.”

  Mack pulled a face. “Make amends … how?”

  Poppy grinned, holding back a laugh. “Mom told that part … and you should have seen the look she gave Dad.”

  Mack raised both brows. “What—”

  “They had to carry these huge…” She snickered. “These huge backpacks full of fresh manure from Strange Hollow, back to the outskirts of the Hyphae village.”

  Mack barked a laugh. “I bet your mom loved that!”

  Poppy couldn’t hold back her laughter. “They had to … make two trips,” she wheezed.

  Poppy turned to the page in her journal where she’d had her dad draw one of the red mushrooms that signaled a Hyphae village, lifting it to show Mack. “Don’t worry. I know what they look like now,” she added.

  Mack chuckled. “I know them. I’m sure we can make plenty of our own mistakes.” He stretched his arms over his head, reaching for the lowest branch of a tall ash tree. “Speaking of which … you know the Holly Oak is way too far for one day’s travel, right? I know you have plans and all, but we should set up camp for the night.” He paused. “Please tell me you brought salt and iron.”

  “I did. But we’re not camping.”

  “But—”

  “We won’t be in the wood for the night at all. Really,” she added when he pulled a face. She shoved her journal back in her bag. “I have a plan.”

  “But Poppy—”

  “Trust me, Mack. Now, come on. There’s no time to waste.” Poppy called Dog to her side and traipsed through the brush, following the riverbank upstream.

  “Okay, so where are we going to spend the night?”

  “Shush. I’m looking for the dock.”

  She heard him stop walking. “You mean … a dock for the Boatman? That kind of dock?”

  She reached into her hoodie pocket and tossed an apple over her shoulder. “Yup.”

  Mack caught it and took a bite, jogging to catch up to her. “How are you going to pay him?”

  “My gold coins are burning a hole in my pocket.” Poppy had been young when her mother, speaking where Poppy could hear her, let it slip that three gold coins would buy a ride with the Boatman to anywhere in the Grimwood. She’d fallen asleep with more questions on her lips, but she remembered that much.

  Mack rolled his eyes. “Your birthday money?”

  Poppy winked. “It’s weighing down my pocket.”

  “I thought you wanted to buy books at next solstice.”

  She lifted a shoulder. “This is better.”

  “Right. Well, I suppose I should be grateful. At least you’re not running around looking for old ladies to trust and give your gold to,” he muttered. “That never goes well in the wood.”

  Poppy looked up at him. “Well, I wasn’t even considering that option … but why doesn’t it?”

  “When is an old lady in the Grimwood ever just an old lady? Answer … never! They always turn out to be witches.”

  Poppy laughed but quickly smothered it at the sight of Mack’s earnest expression. “Huh. But witches help you sometimes if you help them first, don’t they?”

  “I mean, there are good ones and bad ones, sure. If you help an old woman in need, theoretically they might owe you something.”

  “Like information?”

  “Sure, or, they might give you a poison apple that puts you to sleep for years, or steal your voice, or make you an old lady too.” He punctuated the comment by biting his own apple. “Point is, you never know what you’re going to get with old ladies in the wood. Unreliable.”

  His eyes followed Poppy as she moved ahead, searching the river. She was just beginning to doubt her parents’ notes when they came around a bend and Poppy spotted an old dock, twisted and rotting. It stuck out into a deep part of the river and looked more likely to collapse than to hold their weight. What would the Boatman be like, she wondered. He was a strange creature, she had gleaned that much—a creature, not a human. Her mother’s notes said he looked like a man, but … wrong. Whatever that meant.

  Regardless, he might be the only creature who had access to the entire wood. His docks sprang up here and there all along the river Veena inside the forest, like fingers pointing. There were none of the Boatman’s docks in any of the Hollows.

  She had asked her father once how the Boatman got through the shallow parts of the river in his boat. Her father had laughed and told her he didn’t think the actual river made much difference one way or another. She’d tried to get him to say more, but he only shuddered, and added that he sometimes wondered if, once you were in the Boatman’s boat, the whole river might be a passage to somewhere else, other worlds … maybe the land of the dead, where the Boatman was said to travel.

  Poppy stepped onto the dock first. An old iron bell hung from a pole at the far end. Once she rang it, in theory, the Boatman should arrive to take them where they wanted to go. As long as they paid him, in theory, they were safe. He wouldn’t harm them, or take them anywhere else. In theory.

  She wasn’t sure she believed the Boatman could go between the Grimwood and the land of the dead, but she also didn’t see any point in finding out if it was true. Dog came and stood by her side, watchful and quiet. Mack stood farther back, trying to distribute their weight along the rotting boards of the dock.

  Poppy was reaching for the bell when a huge green and purple dragonfly landed between her and Mack, then turned into Nula.

  “You were really going to leave me?” Her long tail whipped the air behind her.

  Poppy jumped, but Mack just stared.

  “What are you doing here, Nula?” Poppy blurted.

  “You never asked where I was headed next,” the pooka said, not meeting their eyes.

  “Don’t tell me…” Mack crossed his arms. “You’re—”

  “I’m going to the Holly Oak.”

  Poppy laughed out loud. “You are not.”

  “I am too. Don’t tell me where I’m going.” She turned to Poppy. “Could I—I mean … do you mind … if I go with you?”

  Poppy considered. The pooka had helped them twice now, once with her blood ward, and once with the banshee. If Nula wanted their company, why should she argue?

  Two friends, she thought, letting the idea roll around in her mind. “If you really want to,” she said, and gave Nula a smirk. “I guess that’s fine.” She glanced back at Mack. “That’s okay with you, right, Mack?”

  Mack nose-sighed as Nula beamed at both of them, and Poppy took the mallet off its peg and hit the bell. The deep tone rang out. It raced along Poppy’s arm, leaving goose bumps behind, and seemed to ripple out over the river and into the trees. A hush fell over the forest.

  The sound of an oar in the water made Poppy’s heart beat faster. Nula moved to stand behind Mack, looki
ng like she wasn’t sure whether to hide behind him, or bolt. She and Dog both had their ears back. Everyone stared upstream, waiting. Even the woods seemed to be holding its breath.

  And then, the Boatman appeared.

  He was a wide, round man with pale white skin. His black beard and hair wrapped around his head like a mane, and looked singed at the edges, all of it sticking out as if he had been struck by lightning. His black eyes were fever-bright. He pulled the shallow boat up to the end of the dock, and held out his hand, palm up.

  Poppy swallowed. “Can you take us to the Holly Oak?” she asked, her voice faltering.

  He studied them for a moment, his gaze flickering over each of them as if weighing them, or perhaps, judging them. He didn’t answer but moved his open hand nearer to Poppy.

  She looked back at Mack. He just tipped his chin. Poppy’s throat went dry as she reached into her pocket.

  She pulled out three of her gold coins and dropped them into the Boatman’s waiting palm. His thick fingers closed around them, and they hurried aboard. The boat rocked wildly as Dog jumped on, sending up the thick wet smell of the river. The murky scent seemed to rise from the Boatman himself as he stared at Eta-Two-Brutus with gleaming eyes. For a moment Poppy thought he might speak. She shuddered as he turned away to dip his oar in the water.

  They shot upstream at a dizzying pace, the trees blurring on either side. Poppy clung to the edge of the boat with one arm around Dog, hoping she hadn’t made a terrible mistake. Her breath clung in her throat as if it were afraid to leave. Mack sat in the back with wide eyes, while Nula hunched low in the middle looking around as if something might pop out at her at any moment.

  The water grew rough. Cold foam splashed over the edge, gathering in the bottom of the boat where they huddled.

  The trees blurred faster.

  Nula leaned forward and threw her arms over her head, as Brutus began to whimper.

  Poppy’s heart faltered.

  The Boatman began to laugh.

  He laughed and laughed, a booming echo that swirled around them like a storm. Poppy squeezed her eyes shut. She could hear water raging beneath them now, but she was too afraid to look. Nula was crying behind her and Eta-Two-Brutus huddled by her feet.