Livy examined the picture again, then looked back at her sister. “This is something you believe too? You seem as concerned as he did. Look, I don’t—”
Skye grabbed Livy’s wrist and pulled her out of the chair. Next thing Livy knew, Skye was shoving her boots at her, grabbing car keys and the sketchbook, and hauling Livy to the front door.
“Skye! What? What are we doing?”
Skye stalked down the front path, beckoning impatiently to Livy. Stumbling into her chilly, damp boots, Livy hurried after her.
“Where are we going?” She followed Skye to her silver Volkswagen.
“Kit,” Skye bit out, in the numb-tongued way she did when she had to come up with a word instead of echoing it. She swung into the Scirocco’s driver’s seat and started the car.
Livy jumped in, but only to keep Skye from harm, not because she approved of this errand. “Skye, whoa. I really don’t want to see him.”
Skye tightened her lips and backed the car out of the driveway.
Though Livy kept up a stream of “Skye,” and “Come on,” and “No,” Skye drove them straight through town and across the bridge onto Crabapple Island.
CHAPTER TWENTY
KIT OPENED HIS SECOND BEER. GIVEN WHAT ALCOHOL HAD DONE TO HIS PARENTS, HE RARELY DRANK HIMSELF, BUT HE figured tonight got to be an exception. He had gotten dressed again, but otherwise had been doing virtually nothing but pacing around the inside of the cabin like it was a jail cell. He circled the kitchen island, glowering at the frail old letter encased in a plastic sheet protector that he had dug out from the file box.
Not long after dark, Grady came back from the garage. “Hey. Nice afternoon?” When Kit just exhaled through his nose and kept pacing, Grady slowed in his approach. His eyes took in the empty beer bottle on the counter and the newly opened one in Kit’s hand. “Oh. Um… dinner, then?”
Kit looked away. “Whatever.”
“Well. Then I’ll…”
Then Kit had to stop prowling the kitchen. Right. Kit grabbed the letter, and took it and his beer to the front door. After throwing on his leather jacket and boots, he stalked out into the dark.
His front deck was just a rectangle of boards a cinder-block’s height off the pebbles at the top of the beach. He crossed it in two strides, descended the one stair, and crunched out onto the shore. The dark silhouette of a heron glided through the dusk, reflected in the faint purple surface of the water. Kit glared at the peaceful scene. He rolled up the letter in its plastic casing, stuffed it into the inside pocket of his jacket, then recommenced pacing and drinking.
A few minutes later, headlights splashed across the sculptures at the side of his house, and he caught a glimpse of Skye’s car with two people in it. This could be a decidedly ugly visit. He walked back up the slope, bracing himself.
The car shut off, and soon not only Livy but Skye came rushing around the side of the house, Skye in the lead, her hair all loose and wild.
Kit met them in front of the deck. “Hey.” He glanced behind her at Livy.
Livy flung up her hand, harassed and apologetic. “She insisted on coming here. I don’t know.”
Skye shoved a notebook at Kit, opened on its spiral binding to a page in the middle. He took it in his free hand and tilted it toward the light from the house.
Then he had to set down the beer bottle on the deck and use that hand to grip the boards to steady himself. He took in the drawing of Redring for a few seconds, then looked at Skye. “You saw this?”
She breathed unsteadily. She didn’t answer, just stared at him with a plea in her eyes. Then she turned the page to show him the sketch of the goblin dwellings, exactly as he’d seen them by looking up from below. But she’d drawn them from a closer perspective than he’d ever gotten.
“Oh, God,” Kit said. “This is what happened to you.”
Skye’s eyes filled with tears. She rolled her lips inward, as if biting down on sobs.
“Oh, no. I’m so sorry. I thought of it, but then…I hoped…”
“Is someone going to tell me what the fuck this is about?” Livy shouldered her way in next to Skye, glaring daggers at Kit. “What did you do to her?”
Skye placated her sister with a hand on her arm, and shook her head. She thumbed away the tears on her cheeks.
The front door opened, spilling more light out. Grady paused there, then came forward. “Skye. What—?”
Skye flew up the stair and buried herself in Grady’s arms, crying.
Grady’s eyebrows furrowed. He looked at Kit, and his voice went harsh. “What did you do?”
Kit exhaled a sigh. “It isn’t what I did. It’s what our great-grandma did.” He looked at Livy again, whose eyes still sparked with anger. “Come in,” he said. “I’ll explain.”
Skye thought she might pass out. Someone knew. Kit knew, and he was going to explain. Please, please let there be a way out of this. She clung to Grady as they trooped into the cabin.
Her sister still looked ready to pulverize Kit. Arms folded, Livy planted herself with her back to the cold fireplace, and refused to sit down. “Okay, Sylvain. Explain.”
Kit pulled some papers wrapped in clear plastic from his jacket, and unrolled them. “It’s a goblin curse. They must have caught her at night, and lured her down one of their paths. She can’t talk about it because that’s how the spell works. Right?” He glanced at Skye.
She couldn’t nod, so she straightened her posture, keeping her eyes on him.
“Yeah.” Kit smacked the papers against his palm. “Can’t even nod or shake your head when anyone asks about it. Sounds like the kind of thing they do.”
Grady sank to sit on his folded-out sofa-bed, drawing Skye with him. Skye leaned her head on his shoulder.
Livy gave them a second glance, as if finally registering that they were acting like a couple. Then she narrowed her eyes at Kit again. “I’m going to need a lot more explanation than that.”
Kit pulled the papers out of their plastic sleeve. “Where to start. How about the beginning.”
“Good idea.” Livy sounded as icy as a January night.
“Well then, here.” Kit held out the sheaf of papers, but she kept her arms folded. “Testimony of my great-grandmother, élodie Roux.” He nodded to Grady. “Our great-grandmother.”
Grady nodded, still silent, frowning in confusion.
Livy didn’t move to take it. When she glanced at Skye again, Skye whispered, “Please.”
Livy snatched the pages from Kit.
“Go ahead.” Kit folded his arms, copying Livy’s former position. “Read it.”
Livy smoothed the top page. The paper crackled, as if brittle with age. She began reading aloud.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE