The Edge of Strange Hollow by Gabrielle Byrne (great book club books txt) 📗

pulled a face, reaching for them uncertainly. Poppy held her breath as he worked to jam his feet inside.

“How can you hear anything with these things on?” he asked, gazing around as if he needed to get his bearings.

“Well … humans don’t hear the way elves do. We can’t feel sounds.”

“So weird.” He stood up and shot her a grin. “Hope I can walk.” He took a few tentative steps, rocking back and forth like a tipping ship.

“They’re perfect!” Poppy couldn’t remember when she’d seen Mack looking so happy.

“You’ll have to keep your eyes down. You know that.”

He nodded. “Yeah. I’ll try.”

“And tuck your hands into your sleeves. They don’t look old.”

He followed her instructions as Poppy jammed more food into her backpack—including some of Jute’s elderberry jam that she found at the very back of the pantry. Then they filled their canteens at the pump over the sink and checked the supply cupboard for anything else useful. The only thing in there was a dusty cartridge of nets. She took it, but for all she knew the nets were full of holes.

“Ready?” she asked, wishing again that Dog was by her side—or even that Jute was there to argue with.

“As I’m going to get,” Mack proclaimed with a smile that could have lit a room.

“What are you so smiley about?”

His grin widened. “I can’t believe I finally get to see Strange Hollow.”

Poppy laughed. “Hope you’re not disappointed.” Her expression grew serious. “We’re going to head straight down into the market. I’ll keep watch for the governor, but we head for Beth at the far edge of the square.”

“I’ll follow you.” Mack grinned.

They dragged an old dead branch out from under one of the little apple trees at the side of the house, and broke it into a reasonable walking stick for Mack.

“With Jute’s galoshes on, I’m going to need it for real by the time we get down the hill,” he griped.

“You’ll be fine.” Poppy patted his back. “Just keep your head down, and don’t say anything. You’ll just be my little granny, visiting from…”

“Trader’s Hollow.”

“Yeah, from Trader’s Hollow, way on the other side of the Grimwood.”

The rainstorm had passed and they walked in companionable silence, each drawn into their own thoughts. Bees buzzed carefully through the wet wildflowers as they walked. The sky still harbored a few clouds, but the blue was bright and gaining strength. Even the standing stones gleamed in the storm light.

It was a beautiful day—a beautiful afternoon for a rescue.

“Mack?”

“Hmmm?”

“You don’t think anyone would hurt them—my parents, do you?”

His brows furrowed. “I don’t know, Pop. I think it depends on who did the catching. People make bad choices when they’re scared.”

She swallowed. “Yeah.”

Poppy listened to the swish of the tall grass and the warm beat of their feet on the soil, and tried not to think about what that might mean. They were almost at the edge of town when she turned to Mack. “Time to get into your character,” she teased.

He snorted and pulled the blanket tighter over his head, stooping lower. His steps slowed.

Poppy watched him walk down the hill. The overall effect wasn’t bad. He didn’t exactly look like the average granny … but if you didn’t look too closely, he could pass. She had never seen Mack wear shoes, and etched the image in her mind to think about later, but decided to keep her mouth shut. There was nothing to be gained from pointing out that he was walking like a duck with a backache. She just hoped it would be good enough.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Strange Hollow was quiet. All the doors were shut. The whole town felt abandoned, as though the breeze had picked up all the people and blown them away.

There were even more ward carvings than the last time she was in town. Several tall ones had been lifted onto roofs to look out over the town. And there were signs posted that announced a dusk curfew. No one was to be out after dark.

“Whoa,” Mack said, his eyes wide. “Is it always like this … empty? Is this … a human thing?”

The hair along Poppy’s neck slowly rose. “No,” she admitted with a shiver. “It isn’t.”

“Listen,” Mack hissed and leaned forward on his staff. Voices—no—a voice, drifted over the houses and through the alleys from the market square.

They quickened their steps and turned the corner.

To find the whole town.

The crowd was packed into the square, shoulder to shoulder, listening.

Governor Gale stood on a makeshift platform made of crates, flanked by a handful of men that Poppy didn’t recognize.

“The Hollows are the future! The fog will shelter us from the outside, but for too long we have shared this air and the sacred waters of the Veena with monsters!”

A roar went up.

Poppy and Mack edged their way around the outside of the crowd. Mr. Talon, the innkeeper, was standing in the door of the inn. His eyes narrowed at them as they passed. “Keep moving,” he said under his breath. “We don’t need your kind here.”

Poppy’s heart skipped a beat. Was he talking to Mack?

“My kind?” Mack repeated, raising his voice and adding a quaver. “What do you mean? I’m just an old woman.”

“We don’t need spies for the wood.” His gaze sharpened on Poppy.

“Heavens.” Mack spun to look over first one shoulder, then the other. “Spies! Where?”

Poppy elbowed him. “We’re not spies, Mr. Talon. We’re just—”

“I know about your parents, little miss—going in and out the Grimwood like it’s nothing.” He looked down his nose at her.

“Have you seen them recently? My parents, I mean.”

“Maybe the wood finally took them. Claimed them as its own.”

Poppy stood a little taller. “They’re not in the wood, Mr. Talon.”

“And how would a little girl like you know a thing like that?”

“I just know, that’s all. Now have you seen them, or haven’t you?”

“What business would they have out here, among good folk?”

Poppy swallowed. “They are good folks! They keep you safe. They—”

He snorted. “Some imagination. Next you’ll be telling me the maledictions are