18. Avery
“What?” She jolted back in the chair, head spinning. “That’s insane. I don’t own any property. I’m a musician. I’ve never even been to Green Bank.”
“Would not have to have been,” Ramble sniffed and picked at the corner of a cereal bar. “Not if the Georgia Men were brokering the sale. All you would have to do is sign.”
“But I didn’t sign anything!”
“Of course you didn’t.” Cricket squeezed her hand. “Ramble, explain.”
“What is there to explain? The personal representative is listed as Elizabeth Avery Payne, and it is that name on the signature line. That is you, is it not?”
“I—yes, but …” This made no sense. How could she have signed any paperwork, much less been paying property taxes? Elkwater paid above minimum wage, but even in this part of Appalachia, that was nowhere near enough to own property. And when was the last time she’d signed anything? The only things she ever signed were college applications and the job letter for the camp. Sure, there was the odd check or credit card receipt, but even then, she meticulously filed her documents and sent them home for her dad to … to … “Oh, my God.”
“She said ‘God’, oh shit.” Cricket bolted to her side, kneeling beside her chair. “Aves?”
“I—he wouldn’t.” Her lips felt numb. Her fingers tingled. Why was the room so large? “I’m his daughter. He wouldn’t … who would …”
“Care to share?” asked Ramble.
“I send home my receipts and carbon paper checks so my dad can balance his accounts. And the other day, he had me use my emergency credit card for lunch, but he kept the receipt and I-I … I’m going to be sick.” She pushed away from the table and staggered out the door, barely making it down the steps before she emptied her stomach in the yard.
Her father wouldn’t do that; he wouldn’t be so cruel. Who would defraud their own daughter?
But if what Ramble and Cricket said was true, the Georgia Men had been buying up land in Green Bank for years. Payne Strategies buying the land outright, the land their client, US Petroleum, wanted for a pipeline, would be a gross conflict of interest … and she’d been sending him paperwork with her signature for years.
What was it he had said in Elkins?
That’s my good girl.
Another roll of nausea surged up her throat. She spat into the bushes, coughing and sobbing and falling to her knees. The grass crunched, and a long-fingered, tawny hand appeared gripping a glass of water.
“Are you okay?” Cricket’s raspy voice enveloped her like a slightly scratchy wool blanket. An unwanted comfort.
“No,” she spat. “I’m far from okay, thank you.”
“You’re welcome?”
Avery angled her head, taking in the faun through bleary eyes. “I was being sarcastic.” She pushed to her feet, wiping the back of her hand under her nose. “You don’t believe her, do you? That I would—that I bought—”
“Oh, hells no.” Cricket shoved the glass into Avery’s hand, forcing her to take it. “Do you know how boring it is in this cabin during the day? I’ve been snooping through Mac’s papers to keep from going insane; you’re barely paid enough to buy groceries for a week, much less half of Green Bank.”
“My dad,” she hiccuped. Cricket nodded at the glass of water. “I think he’s—”
“Signing paperwork in your name?” She tapped the bottom of the glass and glared pointedly at Avery. “I figured. Overheard him talking with Mac the other day; he seems like a real skeezeball.”
The Valley Girl slang coming from Cricket earned a tiny laugh from Avery. She raised her head and found the faun standing nearby. Close enough for comfort but far enough away not to crowd her. She fluttered a smile at Avery and held her arms out, fingers bending just enough to beckon her forward.
She gripped the water glass, took a tiny sip, and collapsed into Cricket, sighing when she held her tight and close.
“You want to know my guess?” she asked. Avery nodded into her shoulder. “I think your dad saw an opportunity to get you out of the way for the summer and a reason to be in Green Bank.”
“By letting me work here,” Avery intoned. It made sense. Her dad was conniving and opportunistic. He was always looking for the next connection or means to get ahead of everybody else. She’d witnessed him bribing members of their church to get a better pew and had heard him imply knowledge of teachers’ private lives to bump up her brother’s grades. He was a successful lobbyist, and Avery had been all too willing to believe he was a good father, a good man. All too willing to forgive the bribery and the lies, but she had never considered fraud. Or that he would use his conniving, opportunistic nature against his own daughter.
“Come on.” Cricket guided her across the garden. “Let’s get you showered and back to your cabin.”
“Not so fast,” Ramble filled the top step, hands on their hips. “You are coming with me, Crick.”
Cricket stiffened, the easy roll to their step faltering and ceasing altogether. “Where?”
“Home.”
“What?” Her arm tightened around Avery’s shoulders, ears shooting upright. “No way, I’m staying here with Avery.”
“Not a chance,” the other faun shook her head. “Mac has investors coming, and we need to stop the family from freaking out.”
“What do those two things have to do with one another?”
“That thing is still out there.” Mac joined her wife on the porch, looping an arm around their waist. She raked her free hand through her hair, and Avery finally clocked how tired she looked. Still in her filthy clothes, she leaned against her wife as though Ramble were the only thing keeping her upright. “I’ve got the local inhumans watching the perimeter. That thing showed up with you—”
“It chased me. It’s not my fault!”
“And I have to make sure everything is running at peak performance before these investors show up,” Mac returned with a glare at Cricket. “Tonight.”
“Wait, what?” Avery jolted. “The Lunar Asset dinner is tonight?”
“Your father’s associate called yesterday to set it up,” Mac explained. “Which is why I was looking for you in the first place. We need to assure the campers that everything is fine, and then I need you focused. This might be my last chance to secure any reasonable funding in time to schedule construction before next summer.”
“And you need to go home and put the family’s mind at ease,” Ramble added. Cricket’s grip tightened even more on her shoulder. Avery winced, grunting lightly, and Ramble’s attention zeroed in on their cousin’s hand on her shoulder. The possessive hold. Their expression softened as they descended a stair. “You can come back; whenever this thing goes away, you can come back. I will come to talk to your parents about letting you stay here for the rest of the summer, but right now, it is best that you go home.”
“She’s right, Cricket,” Avery whispered. Cricket’s face jerked toward her, pain and betrayal pulling her mouth into a frown. “You’ve been here for a while; maybe they need to hear you say this place is safe. That the people of Elkwater and Elkins are open to integration.” She twisted to face her, gripping Cricket’s elbow. “Tell them about the sasquatch working at Meander’s, and the Mothman bartender. The gnomish mechanic at the gas station.”
“They need to hear it from more than me, Crick,” said Ramble. “Say your goodbyes, and we will go.”
The goodbye was terrible. Cricket was sullen and avoiding eye contact, pulling away when Avery needed her most. She needed Cricket’s pragmaticism to help her process her guilt. She’d heard those howls, heard them and ignored them for the sake of pleasure, sleeping peacefully beside Cricket while a monster ravaged the camp. She needed Cricket’s strength to help her process everything she had learned—that Director Murray was married to a faun, to Cricket’s cousin. That her dad was conceivably, probably, almost certainly defrauding his own daughter to buy up land in Green Bank.
But most of all, she just needed Cricket, and all she got was a quick press of lips against her temple. A gesture of defeat when Avery wanted passion.
“I don’t want you to leave,” she whispered into one of those lovely ears, leaning into Cricket’s body as if she could keep her there by will alone.
“I don’t want to go,” she replied. Her arms tightened around Avery for a heartbeat, and then the faun stepped away. “I’ll—” She pressed her lips together, a determined expression hardening her features. “I’ll come back. I’m just a few ridges away. Once this all blows over, I’ll come back.”
And then she left, following her cousin out the door without so much as a glance over her shoulder.
“Come on, Avery,” Director Murray said after a long moment. “There’s work to be done.”
She followed her boss through the camp, trying hard to avoid the curious stares and heavy silence. Mac, showered and changed into clean clothes, nodded and waved at the campers, quietly assuring everyone that Avery was fine, the camp was safe, and nothing was being canceled or postponed. It struck her as odd until they rounded the counselor’s office, and she saw her cabin at the very end of the row.
The door hung on one hinge, scored with claw marks, the frame was less than splintered wood, and the tattered remains of curtains lay crumpled in the grass. Avery halted, hands flying to her face as she took in the damage. A stair was shredded to splinters, and churned earth surrounded the cabin as though a herd of beasts had attempted to dig their way in.
“Aksel identified your blood on the floor,” Mac said in a low voice, pressing her hand between Avery’s shoulder blades. The earth stopped tilting to the side, and only then did she realize she’d been about to fall over. “We saw the destruction and assumed the worst. Didn’t you hear … ?”
“No,” she mouthed, shaking her head. “It chased me the other night. Caught my leg.” Her hand fell to her side, lightly gesturing to the gauze wrapped around her calf. She’d worn her bike shorts for the brief walk, relishing the warmth of the summer sun on her legs. Now, guilt poisoned the fleeting joy as she recognized the weight behind Director Murray’s reassuring words to the campers, the curious looks and relieved smiles from her counselors.
They had been up all night searching for Avery. Howls had sounded in the woods, her blood on the floor. It was all too easy to understand how Mac had jumped to the conclusion that she had.
“It scratched me,” Avery said in a flat tone. “It tore my skirt and scratched my leg. Cricket, she … she patched me up.” Mac sighed, rubbing soothing circles into Avery’s back. “I didn’t realize I’d bled on the floor.”
“It wasn’t a lot, a few soiled rags”—Avery flinched. She had left the towels and cotton balls Cricket had used in the trash. Was that what attracted the monster? The scent of her blood?—“some drops on the throw rug, but you know Aksel. He’s got a good nose.”
To say Aksel “had a good nose” was selling the wolven marching band instructor short. He was singularly responsible for their middle-grade campers showering on a regular schedule, claiming the first waft of their stink was an affront to his senses.
Avery nodded dumbly, following her up the broken stairs. The interior of the cabin was worse than the outside: her mattress was flipped and torn, and her clothes ripped to shreds. Claw marks scraped down the walls, and glass from a picture frame lay in shards on the floor, the photograph of her mother and siblings crumpled and slashed.
The destruction was staggering and only on her half of the cabin. Sanoya’s side lay as untouched and pristine as the day she moved in. It was unsettling to see such an obvious line drawn between Avery and her roommate, between her and the inhumans in this camp.
She pinched the corner of a torn blanket and raised it from the ground, frowning at the waft of lavender and a bright, fresh note she couldn’t quite place. She scrunched her nose, stifling a gag. It was the same overpowering scent she’d smelled on the monster before, lavender and musk, and that sharp, minty scent, albeit absent the heat of its body. No, not mint. She sniffed the blanket again. Wintergreen. A cold lick of fear ran down her spine at the familiarity because she’d smelled this exact scent before. Not on the monster that chased her, but somewhere else … on someone else …
“There you are,” a soft, breathy voice spoke in Avery’s ear. She jolted and spun around, a scream lodged in her throat. Sanoya stood behind her, white-blonde hair drifting to her waist on a non-existent breeze, haloing the Life Sciences Instructor in moonlight pale strands a shade lighter than her skin. Her wide eyes were hidden behind a pair of large, round sunglasses, and her dusty purple lips were pressed together in a sympathetic moue. “We were out all night looking for you.”
“I heard.” Avery gathered the blanket in her hands, casting a sad glance around her side of the cabin. “I’m sorry about the mess. I should have it cleaned up shortly.”
“Don’t worry,” Sanoya said. “The Hidebehind and I will handle it.”
“The Hidebehind.” Avery glanced around the cabin, failing to spot anyone other than Sanoya. On the porch, just out of sight, Mac’s voice rose and fell, assuring someone that Avery was alright. A tightness cinched her throat, her eyes burning as a chorus of children and teens replied, all of them expressing concern and fear. For her.
She rubbed a knuckle under her eye and faced Sanoya. It wasn’t the first time she had mentioned a hidebehind, and Avery was seriously beginning to wonder about her errant roommate’s sanity when, out of the corner of her eye, the mattress heaved upright.
“Please don’t scream,” Sanoya rushed out. “He is a little shy, but mostly he is afraid you will blame him for this.”
“What is he?”
“A very old friend,” she sang with a smile. “We packed what was left of your clothes, and he helped me set up an extra bed in the piano room you favor—the one at the end of the hall with the window, yes?”
“Yeah.” Avery wavered where she stood. “You did that for me?”
“Of course we did; you’re part of the Elkwater Family.” She smiled as if that should have been obvious. Which it wasn’t. This was only the third time she and Sanoya had spoken since meeting at the start of the summer, and their last conversation had consisted of a terse “hello” in the cafeteria followed by a “no room, sorry” when she’d tried to join the rest of the counselors at their table for dinner.
“I am sorry about that.” Sanoya cocked her head, frowning in time with Avery’s thoughts. “The Hidebehind is intolerably shy, and there was only enough room for him that day. I should have asked you to sit with us the following night.”
“Can you … never mind.” She shook her head, unable to rid herself of the feeling that Sanoya was reading her mind. Considering she had only recently figured out her roommate was inhuman, Avery had no idea what sorts of abilities she had. It was possible she could read minds.
Maybe that’s why she doesn’t sleep in here; my head is too loud.
“It’s more that I keep different hours,” she said. Avery jumped back and immediately began playing the 1812 Overture in her mind. “And you know how the Hidebehind is; too much noise in the camp. The quiet of the woods is so peaceful, don’t you think?”
“Right, I … yes.” Whatever it was holding her mattress up snuffled in agreement. “And, um, why is he afraid I’ll blame him for this?”
“Whispers in the night,” Sanoya shrugged. “A creature in the wood. The one that chased you that the faun can barely describe. The loggers have said very many mean things about the Hidebehind, but he is a sweetheart, truly. He would only hurt someone he intended to eat, and even then, he would do so politely.” She smiled in the direction of the mattress, a blueish tint filling her cheeks.
Avery followed her gaze, catching the twitch of a rounded, furry ear before the Hidebehind ducked behind her mattress. “Right … so if it wasn’t him—and I’m not saying I think it was!” The Hidebehind snuffled. “If it wasn’t him, does he know what it is?”
“We do not speak his name,” a voice rasped in her ear, hardly more than a breeze in the trees. Avery spun around, every muscle in her body twitching, her arm pulled back and ready to swing.
There was nothing there.
Nothing but the broken door and the camp beyond.Her mattress flumped to the floor and she whirled back around, seeking out the Hidebehind.
“Oh, he’s so fast, isn’t he?” Sanoya giggled lightly. Then she tutted in the direction of the shared closet set into the rear wall. “I do hope you’re wrong, and it is not a He Himself. They make such a mess.”
Avery’s scalp prickled at Sanoya’s words, spoken as though she not only had heard of a whatever-it-was but knew exactly what they were. “Have you ever seen one?”
“Oh, yes.” She nodded and pinched the arm of her sunglasses, sliding the frames onto the top of her head. Wide, alien eyes gleamed back at her, round and dark as a cavern pool. “They have been in these hills as long as I can remember, the poor things. Always so hungry. If you’re ever out for a hike and feel an unnatural chill or catch decay on the wind, you are in the presence of one.” Sanoya pursed her lips and shook her head sadly. “Terribly shy, worse than my Hidebehind, and such awful table manners.”
She drifted past Avery to the mattress, grappling it from the ground. A waft of lavender and wintergreen rose from the destroyed bedding, making them both sneeze.
Again, Avery racked her brain, trying to place where she had caught this same scent before. Not in the camp, they were all advised against perfume and cologne to keep from attracting bugs. So where?
“Do they have antlers?” she asked.
“Oh yes,” Sanoya grunted, propped the mattress against the bedframe, and glared at the closet door. “A little help?” Avery headed for the mattress and halted as the door creaked open. Footsteps padded across the floor, the boards groaning under a new weight, and the mattress shifted upright. She gaped at it, catching only the corner of a furred elbow and the glistening triangle of a snout as it disappeared. “Thank you,” Sanoya sniffed. “And yes, great, broad, lovely things. Numerous points dangling with delicate strips of … leather.”
“Leather?”
The inhuman twisted her face around to stare blankly at Avery. “Would you like me to tell you what they actually are?”
“Um…” Avery could imagine, even if she didn’t want to. “No, thank you.” The Hidebehind snorted in what was unmistakably a laugh. “Only,” she continued, “the monster that chased me and Cricket—it didn’t have any antlers.”
“Fascinating.” Sanoya and the Hidebehind wrestled the mattress onto the bed, the bear-like, or so Avery assumed, inhuman dropping under the bed to avoid notice. Boxes and shoes were shoved out from under the frame, and Sanoya gathered them all, setting items near the door and frowning at Avery when she tried to help.
“Go on.” She shooed her out of the cabin, grabbing an old broom from the porch and waving it at Avery. “You’re part of the family now,” Sanoya said. She popped onto her tiptoes and set the broom back onto its hooks above the door. “We look out for one another.”