Chapter 21

The landlord and the wiry man kept watch over the shattered ceiling long after the forest’s presence withdrew. The Black Swann felt wounded, with its rafters splintered, its air thick with soot and fear. Edmund remained in the ash circle, breathing slowly, wary that any sudden movement might draw the forest back through the gap above.

Its presence inside him moved in faint, measured waves, attentive rather than coaxing. Observing.

Waiting.

Malcolm crouched beside him. He didn’t speak at first. Words seemed superfluous. Redundant sounds that would crack the tentative peace. But they were needed.

“You with us?”

Edmund nodded, but he could not trust his voice. His throat felt raw, scraped from screaming and from a deeper strain pulled tight between him and the forest. Even swallowing brought fire.

Will dragged a bench beneath the broken rafters, aided by one of the domino players. Edmund had forgotten there was anyone else in the pub, other than himself and the two men helping him. Will stood on the bench to assess the damage.

“We’ll have to board this before light,” he muttered. “Else it’ll try again.”

“Light?” Edmund croaked.

Malcolm placed a steadying hand on his shoulder.

“Dawn’s close. Real dawn this time. I can feel it. Might not get through the branches, but that doesn’t mean it’s not there.”

Edmund wasn’t sure. He could feel something shifting beyond the walls, true, but the forest inside him hummed with the faintest annoyance, as if the coming sunrise irritated it.

“We can’t keep him here another night. We’ll all be dead before sunset,” Will said, stepping down from the bench.

Malcolm shot him a sharp look. Will shrugged it off and wordlessly indicated the ceiling and Edmund. Nothing else, he clearly thought, needed to be said.

“Mind your tongue.”

“I’m minding it,” Will snapped. “But look at him.” He gestured to Edmund. “There’s something in him. Growing. You can see it same as I can. It means to have him, and we’ll all be collateral damage.”

Edmund swallowed, welcoming the sting. He deserved it. Will wasn’t wrong and everyone knew it.

The forest stirred again within him, soft in movement but firm in intent. A rhythm trying to impose itself over his own. He tried, weakly, to fight it, knowing it was futile.

“What are you suggesting?” Malcolm asked.

Will hesitated.

Then:

“We take him to the elders.”

Malcolm stiffened, shaking his head violently.

“No. No way.”

“We don’t have a choice,” Will insisted. “Not now. Not after that.” He pointed to the hole in the ceiling. “No one’s seen a crawler in twenty years or more. They only come out for the marked ones. And none of us have seen that.”

Edmund looked between them, raising himself up onto one elbow.

“The elders?”

Malcolm rubbed his jaw, then scratched the stubble.

“Old families. Old names. They keep the oldest rites of the village.”

“Rites? What kind of rites?”

This wasn’t a movie. Black Thickett wasn’t a village emerging out of the fog. His room was on Airbnb! It was, or should have been, perfectly normal!

“Binding. Warding. Severing.” Malcolm’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Ways to cut the forest’s claim if it’s not too deep.”

Edmund frowned, the obvious question being one he wasn’t sure he wanted the answer to.

“And if it is too deep?”

Emphatic silence.

Will spoke first, softer this time, realising his conversation wasn’t only between himself and the landlord.

“Then we can still buy time.”

“Time for what?”

Will looked at Malcolm, urging him to say it. Malcolm swallowed hard, the gulp audible.

“For choices.”

Choices. The word sounded like a noose tightening around Edmund’s neck. He almost welcomed it.

“We’ll go soon,” Malcolm said. “Elders won’t answer in the dark.”

Soon. The word made Edmund shudder.

“Would you?” Will snorted.

Malcolm ignored him. He helped Edmund stand, though Edmund’s legs trembled under his weight. The ash circle glowed faintly in the low firelight, its radiance not entirely external. The embers tracing outlines across the floorboards, and Edmund stepped over it carefully, feeling a strange reluctance as he left its protective boundary. The forest flickered in his chest, its mood unsettled. Malcolm noticed him wince.

“You all right?”

“No,” Edmund whispered. “But I’m here.”

“That’s enough. More than we should maybe expect.” Malcolm guided him to another chair. “Rest. Dawn’s minutes away.”

Will moved around the room, having brief conversations with the other customers, checking the shutters again, stoking the dying fire, gathering what little they might need for the journey.

“You said they’ll help me,” Edmund murmured.

“They’ll try,” Malcolm corrected. “They know more than any of us. And they’re not afraid of the forest.”

“They’re afraid, mind you,” Will said, moving to the landlord’s side. “They’re just old enough to pretend otherwise.”

A soft rumble passed through the floorboards. A reminder. Edmund steeled himself.

“It’s still close.”

“Aye,” Malcolm said quietly. “It’ll stay close till true sunrise.”

They waited.

The fire popped. The wind outside rose and faltered. And slowly, so slowly Edmund thought he was imagining it, the pressure in the air eased. A faint line of pale grey pushed through the shutters.

Dawn.

Malcolm sighed, his shoulders sagging.

“Right. We move before it realises it’s losing its grip.”

Will tossed Edmund a coat, taken from a coat stand by the door.

“You’ll need this. Elders’ house is past the old chapel. It’s cold as sin up there.”

Was sin cold? Edmund thought, if anything – and given the supposed temperature in Hell – it would be hot.

He stood carefully. The forest flared in his chest, alarmed, sensing something was being taken from it. He pressed a hand to his ribs.

“It doesn’t want me to go.”

“Good,” Will said, managing a smile. “Means we’re doing something right.”

Malcolm unbolted the door. Light spilled in, weak but real. Dawn had come. The branches overhead had withdrawn, retreating like a tide. It could have been any ordinary morning.

“Edmund,” Malcolm said, voice firm. “Listen to me.”

Edmund looked up.

“You stay between us. No wandering. No listening. No following if something calls your name.”

“What if I hear it?“

“Then you tell us. At once. Understand?”

Edmund nodded and Will pushed open the door fully, stepping through with a purposeful stride.

“Let’s go,” he said. “Before the forest realises it made a mistake.”

Edmund stepped out after him. The forest pressed hard inside him, sharp and conflicted. Angry. He ignored it. For the first time since arriving in Black Thickett, he had somewhere else to go besides the darkness.

He only hoped the forest would let him make it there.