“You got it, boss.”
Once inside, Ben drained what was left of his coffee and returned to his bedroom. The Stones were still doing their thing at the other end of the hall, which meant Caroline was still sanding.
He returned to his closet and took the Thomas Pink box off the top shelf.
He sat on the floor and took the ancient Bible out of the box. He’d shown Caroline the old architectural drawings he’d found in the battered captain’s desk, but he’d hidden the Bible from her, afraid she might throw it out. Since then he’d taken it out a few times just to look at it. It was a beautiful book: stark and dramatic, with its metal cross fastened onto the thick black leather. It was certainly old. He wondered if he’d ever held a book so old. The type was a tight Gothic of some kind. Some of the passages had been marked with the spidery handwriting of the past age.
Ben ran his fingers over the dragon-skin binding and began to hatch the bones of a story. He imagined colonists risking dangerous passage across the ocean to the New World, the family Bible clutched dearly in hand while the small ship is caught by the whims of a tempest. He tried to visualize those pilgrim believers trekking as deep into the northern wilderness as any settlers dared go. Building a town from nothing, clearing a mountainside for a grand house.
“Ben? You in here?” Caroline asked.
“Yeah,” he said. He put the Bible into its box and lifted it back to its place on the top shelf. He found Caroline in their bathroom, washing her hands and face. “Taking a break? I can make you some tea.” Low barometric pressure gave Caroline headaches, and the last week had been tough on her. But her mood had subsided under the clear skies. Ben hoped it would last for a while this time.
“The sander heats everything up. Is there any lemonade left?”
“I’ll check,” Ben said. As he headed for the door, his thoughts wandered back to the Swanns. He wondered what kind of strength, audacity, and mad faith could have driven them. Not just to settle this place but also to dwell here for centuries, until their bloodline was utterly spent.
“Do you hear that?” Caroline asked, heading to the closest window. “I think someone’s out there.”
“It’s the trash guy—his son, actually.”
“Almost gave up on them.”
“Yeah. Let me check on that lemonade.” He thought about how the first people on the Drop must have felt, laying the foundations for the Crofts. How they’d imagined it into being before even the first stone had been set.
“You get any work done?” Caroline called after him.
“A little,” he called back.
This time it felt like the truth.
9
The week inside had been terrible for Charlie. As he ran to the woods, he felt like someone allowed to finally stop holding his breath after seven days.
During the storm he’d watched the forest through the windows, hoping the rough weather might shake some of its secrets loose from the trees. But all he saw were squirrels, rabbits, and deer.
Heck had found a cave of albino lizards and a nest of scarlet-plumed birds in his adventures, but Charlie felt sure that something even better lived on the Drop. This feeling had begun as a vague sense of being watched, but sometimes he was sure that he caught sight of something out of the corner of his eye—something that shouldn’t have been there. It was frustrating not to be able to fully see a thing he knew was there. He was sure Heck would have found a way around this problem.
Heck was older than Charlie, and Charlie thought that was one reason why Heck always knew what to do. He knew how to build a fire that wouldn’t smoke, knew how to cure leather and read tomorrow’s weather in the clouds. But sometimes even Heck needed help. His friend, Shoeless Tom, had taught Heck which roots had to be boiled before they were safe to eat. He showed Heck how to run through the underbrush without a sound and how to talk to every bird that lived in the trees.
Charlie wanted to know the forest as well as Heck and Shoeless Tom did. That was why he’d been so happy to get The Book of Secrets. The book explained a lot that Heck already knew and other things that Charlie thought he should learn.
Digging his burrow had been the first thing Heck had done, and Charlie also wanted a safe place for himself. The Book of Secrets had a chapter that showed how to make a hunter’s blind. From there, Charlie thought, he could watch even the shyest of woodland creatures. He wanted to see the way they moved, the way they ate and drank and smelled the air. He knew just where to build it, too. The faerie circle among the big oaks east of the lake was the perfect spot.
When he reached the lake, Charlie saw that it was full from the rains. The Drop was quiet today, but he could feel the eyes from the forest. Sensing the Watcher’s gaze made him feel less alone.
There was a good tree on the west side of the faerie circle. It had long and level branches where he could build his perch. He was studying the arc and angle of its limbs when he heard a branch snap behind him. He thought he saw a blur of black when he spun to meet the sound. He caught it at the farthest edge of his vision. The forest grew quiet.
When he turned back, he heard another noise from the same direction.
Charlie walked to the edge of the faerie circle and searched the trees for movement. A noise came from deeper in the wood—a sound of urgent tapping, as if a tree’s branch were trying to remind its trunk of something.
He began to pick his way through the trees toward the sound. He tried not to hope that the stranger in the forest had finally decided to show himself, but it was hard not to.