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

harmless. Or perhaps you have some magic beans you’d like to sell me?”

“But Prudence Barebone—”

He folded his arms across his chest. “Wherever your parents are … if they’re smart, they’ll stay gone. And if you’re smart.” He leaned forward into her face, so she had to take a step back or be nose to nose with him. “If you’re smart … you and your … granny will keep moving till you’re out the other side.”

Mack hunched over harder and grabbed Poppy’s arm. “Come along, dear. Come along. Let’s not provoke the nice man.”

“Yeah,” Mr. Talon snorted. “Don’t provoke me.”

Mack dragged her away, while Poppy shot one last venomous look at Mr. Talon. They moved around the edges of the crowd toward the front row, where the governor stood above the gathered crowd. The tall stone clock tower loomed above him. Its enormous pendulum cast a shadow that moved like a blade across the crowd with each swing, like they were all running out of time—speeding toward something that could be sensed, but never truly measured.

Mack stopped walking. “Hey, Poppy, I don’t feel so good,” he said with a groan.

“Why? What’s the matter?” Poppy looked around, checking that no one was watching. Mack lifted his copper eyes to meet hers.

“I don’t know. I feel … kinda sick … and, I don’t know—funny. Maybe it’s because I’m wearing shoes. My … my whole body keeps cramping up.”

“It’s … it’s probably just nerves, Mack,” Poppy said, trying to shift her concentration away from her parents. Her heart pounded just thinking of them. Were they here somewhere? Could they see her? Would they hear her if she shouted their names?

Mack grabbed her hand and held tight.

She gave it a sympathetic squeeze. “We just have to stick it out a little longer—till we get something—a clue, about where my parents are. You’ll be all right … you’ve just never been around so many people, that’s all.”

“I … I don’t think so, Pop.”

“This is our world!” Governor Gale yelled into the air, distracting her. He was practically frothing at the mouth, shaking his fists in front of him—first one, and then the other. An angry red vein throbbed in his forehead. “Yet we’re prisoners in it!”

Poppy’s skin went clammy. “We’ll go soon,” she assured Mack. “There’s no way we’ll get the governor alone in this crowd anyway. I just want to hear what he’s saying.”

Next to her, Mack grunted and gave her a nod.

“Our security is an illusion! People can live in peace—but for how long? How long before the wood starts taking more people? How long until sneak attacks turn into full-fledged battles? I say, we beat them to it! I say, we start this war on our own terms! Cleanse the forest! Purify it! Master the wood, and rid ourselves of all the monsters once and for all. The time has come—and if that means a battle must be fought, so be it!”

Another roar of approval, but smaller this time. Poppy leaned against a stack of crates behind her, knocking one of the lids loose. An acrid smell filled the air.

Mack’s chin shot up. “What’s that smell?”

Poppy peered into the crate. “It’s coming from these bottles, I think. It looks like beer or something.” Poppy put a steadying hand on his arm.

Mack gave a grunt and seemed to double up, his arms shifting to wrap around his stomach.

“Are you okay?” Poppy asked. “We can go. Are you going to puke?”

“Soon!” the governor yelled. “Soon we will take the fight to the trees—and purify the wood once and for all!”

Purify—what did he mean?

“I call all of you to arms! Be here at this same time on—”

Mack let out a bellow that would have gotten the attention of the soundest sleeper.

Poppy spun to him.

He had thrown off the blanket and stretched out his arms as if welcoming a hug from the sky but his eyes were wild, and his face contorted with pain.

Poppy tried to block the crowd’s view, but it was no use. Silence fell around them, everyone staring, pale and wide-eyed.

Mack cried out again, and this time, he grew.

He shot up a foot in an instant. His legs—his arms—all of him. He collapsed to the ground, out of breath and shaking his head like it was full of buzzing insects.

Poppy was at his side in seconds, but in that instant, the words “wood folk” whipped through the crowd, first soft and disbelieving, and then louder, more indignant—angry.

Without a word, Poppy wrapped Mack’s arm around her shoulders and helped heft him to his feet—which were bare again. She hadn’t seen what happened to Jute’s garden shoes. “Get up, Mack. We’ve got to go. Come on. Hurry!”

Mack stumbled to his feet and they began to move out of the crowd toward the far end of town.

Behind them, voices gathered, growing louder.

They were only a few steps out of the square when they passed a dark alleyway, and a small girl with light brown skin stepped out of the shadows. A little boy with her same dark curls joined her.

“Come on.” She waved them over. “This way! Follow us.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

The children zigzagged through alleys and behind buildings, leading Poppy and Mack in a dance all around Strange Hollow, in and out of alleyways, through two deserted houses, and at last, into the edge of the meadow.

The whole time, the boy—Peter—regaled them with questions: Was Mack really an elf? What was it like? Could he hear people’s thoughts? What did he eat? Were there other elves in the Grimwood? What about the pickers … had he ever seen one?

Poppy tried to answer, as Mack was in no condition to do so. He hadn’t been kidding about wood folk having unexpected growth surges. She half dragged him along as he bumped into corners and tripped over the cobbles and his own feet. He nearly knocked her over twice, just trying to adjust to his new size.

The questions went on and on, and the girl, who introduced herself as Mags, hung on every word, watching them with sharp eyes