Chapter 1
Evangeline
Some women are born with a silver spoon in their mouths, while others—like myself— work their entire lives to simply put food on the table.
There’re no silver spoons at our houses.
If we’re lucky, we might have a few ceramic plates, but more than likely, we fill our china cabinets with paper plates, paper utensils, and paper cups.
It’s not glamorous by a long shot, but everything we work for is more valuable than silver.
That’s what my mother always used to tell me, anyway.
Eva, nothing in life comes for free. Not for people like us.
We work and fight for everything we need.
Sometimes even die for it. But with hard work comes success.
It might just look different from those born into wealth.
Even now, at nearly thirty years old, I hold these words close to my heart and take them with me wherever I go.
My entire life, I pushed myself hard. In school, I had to be the best. Get the best grades, win the most awards, and have the most friends.
When I graduated high school and moved on to our local culinary school in Grym Hollow, I worked longer hours to perfect my recipes.
I only used the freshest ingredients and the best cuts of meat.
Everything needed to be top notch. I’d never be caught serving up half-ass food I didn’t put my entire soul and heart into.
My food is good. I know it’s damn good, simply because my mama—the pickiest eater I knew—stopped cooking the moment I could safely use the kitchen by myself.
When I no longer needed her guidance to understand family recipes, she was happy to pass the spatula on to me.
My mama always had something to say about people’s food.
“It’s too salty…” “They overcooked it…” “There’s not enough spices…
” The list went on and on. But she never had a critique for my food, no matter how hard she tried.
I think that made her equally irked and proud.
To me, that made me the wealthiest woman of all. No silver or gold needed. Just my mama’s approval.
My mom was my best friend. Sad, I know. One would think a nearly thirty-year-old woman would have a social life. The friendships I had were all very superficial and never lasted long.
Grym Hollow is a small town, full of small-minded people.
Residents are born here and eventually die here too, typically in the same house.
The worst part is that everyone seems okay with this.
Like staying in Grym Hollow for their entire existence isn’t a nightmare.
There’s a whole world to explore, but people like the comfort of familiarity.
It’s easy to be where it’s familiar, but letting that be the only reason someone is afraid to explore what else the world has to offer would be a disservice.
My parents died here. I don’t want to follow in their footsteps.
For years, I thought of my mother’s last words: Don’t let this town kill you like it killed us.
I wanted out, needed out. Every day I dreamed of leaving, but could never quite figure out how.
I always had an excuse to stay. Whether it was to watch over my mother, mourn the loss of my parents, or just because I was too scared because people don’t generally leave Grym Hollow. It was basically unheard of.
People blamed it on The Guardian. The Guardian is…
well, no one quite knows what he is. He’s definitely not human.
His house sits at the edge of town, which is the only way in and out of Grym Hollow.
People are afraid of him, so they do their best to avoid getting close to his home.
I’m not certain where or how those rumors started since I’ve never heard of The Guardian doing anything sinister.
He’s a recluse and generally leaves us alone.
People have to seek him out to talk to him, not the other way around. Which is exactly what I did. Rumors ran rampant around town about the four other girls The Guardian took. No one knows where they went, but some speculate he killed them.
Personally, I don’t believe that to be the case.
I think he takes them where they want to go.
It hardly matters to me where I go, though, because anywhere is better than Grym Hollow and the ghosts that haunt me here.
I learned a long time ago that I can’t leave the damn town myself.
I’ve tried. All the excuses come down to one thing—I’m scared.
Scared of a new place, scared of failing, scared of the unknown.
The bravest thing I ever did was seek out The Guardian.
Well, I didn’t actually see him. A manila folder was left on my doorstep one evening.
I almost ignored it, but my curiosity got the best of me.
I’m glad it did because inside was a contract.
The contract. The Guardian knew I planned on visiting him to make a deal to leave Grym Hollow for good. For my dad. For my mom. For me.
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 take the 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.