18. || ghost of a lie.

"I think when I prayed to the hemlocks," the strange, cursed woman said without turning around, "they sent me to you."

It was a cruel irony that River didn't wish to be reminded of; that the roots beneath their feet hungered for her. That they'd have to deliver her to the hemlock themself. That only her blood could end the curse that has bound them to this mountain for over a century.

River lowered the coyote cowl to their shoulders with some kinda half-confession readied on their tongue, but a force caught their jaw from behind, wrapping its coarse fibers around their mouth, around their neck, their waist, then their ankles. Iron-rich filth gagged River into silence as it yanked their feet out from under them and they hit the ground.

Roots.

Through pine needles and cones, the roots dragged River along the edge of the crick up the ridge. Sticks stabbed and scraped their back as they tried to dig their heels into the ground, gouging the skin of the mountain, but the root only tightened around them and pulled faster. River clawed at the rigid bark in vain, finding no mercy in its constriction. In and around trees it weaved, whipping them against trunks and through brambles and they could only cover their head in defense.

Then as suddenly as it had snatched them up, the root came to a stop. The putrid stench of decay filled River's nose as they uncovered their head. The shadow of the blighted hemlock against the midnight sky loomed directly overhead and Brian or Brad or everwhat the hell that jagoff's name was, laid beside them. Moonlight caught the bulging whites of his eyes and his body had already started to bloat, all covered in ants and beetles and thousand leggers.

The root loosened around their mouth as a pointed boot swung in the air above them. Sitting atop the dip in the hemlock with one leg hitched up the trunk was Vera once again, a smile on her face, clearly amused. "Ya look bumbazed tae see me a'gin, love."

River laughed and spat out a mouthful of rotten bark; its acrid pine sap soured their words. "Well, wasn't expectin' ya without a full moon. Or some other dark force to conjure ya up." The root tightened around them, squeezing out their breath. "If ya wanted my attention, Vera," they wheezed, "ya coulda just hollered. This was one of my good shirts."

The coy curve of Vera's lips pressed into something more insidious. "And here I thought ya got all gussied up for me." She twirled her finger in the air and the roots slid away by her command. River pushed to their feet, inspecting the tears in their button-up while keeping Vera in the corner of their eye. "Such a fool am I tae think ya wouldn't fall for the wee doe-eyed demon. Chasin' her round the woods like two sprites in rut. Aye, a clean shirt'll dae ya."

Dusting themself off, River looked up with a grin. "You are gonna pickle yourself green in that jealousy."

"She's suckin' the spring dry, River. We're gonna run outta time 'fore she finds the talismans." Vera smoothed out the pleats in her skirt, keeping her eyes hidden. "But if ya just bring her tae me, then I'll be free tae help ya."

"That spring's a'flowin' just fine. And she already found one of 'em."

"Oh, did she now?"

River stepped towards the trunk of the hemlock and slipped between Vera's legs. Her swinging foot stilled, her blue eyes darkened, lips parted as she looked up. River slid their hand beneath the thick folds of her skirt, pushing the fabric up over her bent knee. "In fact," they reached into their breast pocket, "a little yeller bird led her to it."

They trailed the canary feather up her bare leg, tracing it over the buttons on her skirt and up her blouse to her neck. Catching River by their wrist, Vera sunk her fingernails into their skin with that old volatile smile.

River ignored its warning and pressed their lips to her ear. "Why were ya in the mine 'fore it exploded, Vera?"

"I was lookin' for me ring," she whispered back with a sting. "Ya know, that garnet me husband had done up after signin' wi' the CBC? The bloody center stone was always so loose and it just so happened tae go missin' that day." River pulled back to look her in the eye and they knew she knew. "Course, I thought Béla to be the thief. And, well..." Her grip loosened around River's wrist as she plucked the gold feather from their hand, letting it float to the ground.

"So ya snapped the little bird's neck and blew up the mine 'cause ya thought Béla stole your damn stone?"

"I blew up the mine 'cause I owed the ancients." Tearing open her cuff, Vera slid her sleeve up. Scarred into her arm was the mountain's mark, same as their own. "They finally gae me somethin' I didnae want tae lose, but me seven years were up."

"Seven years?" River traced over the raised scar on her ghostly skin. "You mean the seven years I was with ya?"

"Sae soon as ya gie up the wee hen, I'll be released from these roots. Then we'll hae the rest of for aye together here." Vera lifted their chin. "Dinnae ya miss this? Us?" Her lips pressed against theirs, slow and timid, and that kinda softness wasn't at all like Vera. River gripped her thighs and pushed her back against the tree, kissing the pleased smirk from her face. Her legs wrapped around their hips and her roots crept up their legs as she drew them in closer. But like last night, the taste of her left chars on their tongue.

"Wait," River pulled free, "her blood doesn't bind me?"

The soft line of her jaw popped and tightened before she smiled again with a little shrug. "Nae the way ya think." Her hands went to River's belt to tug them close again. "What's it matter, love? Either way, she needs ya tae mark her."

The stench of human rot worked its way into River's head again, befouling their thoughts. The corpse laid intact where they'd left it last night. Not even a lone, starved coyote wanted a piece of the jagoff. Unless she had filled herself up with the othern. As River turned to look, Vera caught their jaw again, this time more forceful.

"What happened to the other body, Vera?"

"A hundred years apart and ya wanna waste time talkin' bout dead bodies? C'mon, Riv." Grabbing their shirt, she began unbuttoning it. "Only body I wanna see be yours."

Her hands caressed their stomach, following the lines of muscle to their bound chest. All those years ago, Vera's desire had only ever been one-sided and self-centered which was fine because River just wanted to please her and pleasing her did more than enough for their own self. But this feeling, that hunger in her eyes for them, that was new. Her breath washed over their body, prickling their skin with goosebumps as she knelt down before them and unfastened their belt. Cold fingers traced over their hip bones and hooked into the waistband of their briefs, but stopped.

"It's found ya too," she murmured into their skin. As she swiped her hand up over their ribs, a stinging pain rippled through River's side. She raised to stand, thumbing a black ooze that dripped from her fingers.

"Oh, that? Just a little infection. I got stuff for the goats that'll clear it up fine."

Vera's jaw clenched as she whooped them up the backside of their head. "Ain't naethin' wee 'bout it and ya ain't a goddamn goat, River Hawthorne. Look around ya. It's spreadin' through the trees, the animals—now ya too."

Rubbing their head, River glanced over her shoulder. The black hemlock's limbs knotted and torqued through the canopy of maple leaves that had been golden just this morning, but now were speckled with a dark filth.

"She brought this scourge back tae the woods. Her and her tainted bloodline. She's sick wi' darkness. Take her out now 'fore it owergangs the haill forest."

They had seen it spread from the white stag to the coyote pack last year and the woman had claimed its death had been her own fault, but that didn't seem right. None of this seemed right.

"It can't be her. I seen her sow a bloomin' thornberry from Bela's soul today. Popped right up in the scald. And the roots took him gently, not like them snakes that do your biddins. She saved my life, Vera. Twice, even. She's dark, sure, but she's good." River buckled their trousers back up and turned to walk away. "I can't."

"Ya can't?" She appeared in front of them again with a fire in her icy blue eyes.

"I won't."

"Ya gae her family me ring. She is your debt." Roots coiled at River's ankles and slithered up around Vera's waist, draping her body. "Just as ya were mine."

Vera had never said the words aloud before, but it'd been something River always seemed to know.

"And how'd that work out for the Hemlock Witch? Burnt alive and forsaken by your own family—your gods." They kicked away the roots and continued down the ridge. Stepping between a pair of saplings, they transcended the edge of the woods, nearing the springkeeper's cabin. Roots quaked and split the ground behind them and they could feel her breathing down their neck. "Ya shoulda gave me back when ya had the chance, Vera."

"Nae covenant wi' the ancients e'er expires, love," she warned with a not so subtle threat. "Evidently, nae even in daith."

As River turned around, she stood a breath away. Moonlit shadows hollowed out her cheekbones with nary a hint of a smile on her face this time. Stern and stoic, just as she'd been when the men had bound her to the limestone rick and set her ablaze.

"Oh, wee Prince of the Harvest," she whispered, tucking their hair behind their ear and twirling a lock between her fingers. "Sae soon dae ya forget your place."

River took a step back onto the slate patio, crossing the woman's wards, but Vera held taut to their hair. As her hand passed through the boundary, her porcelain skin singed black and raw, and fell away from her charred skeletal fingers. The roots that dared to cross with her burst into white worms at River's feet, shriveling and shrinking back towards Vera—or what had once been Vera. Plumes of smoke billowed between them, but as the wind carried it up the mountainside, she too was gone.

There was a sickness in these woods, that was certain, and its source was becoming all the more clearer.

River stared long and hard through the dark pines before turning towards the woman's cabin. The smell of smoke lingered in the air, but none came from the chimney. The chill of Vera's fingers still haunted their body as they hurried to button their shirt back up. They were pretty sure she wouldn't show her face again tonight, but the risk of crossing paths with her beyond the wards made that wooden rocking chair in the corner of the porch look mighty comfy for the remainder of the night.

Quietly, River crept up the steps and peered in through the dark windows at an empty bed. Through the adjacent window, the kitchen too was void of any lamplight. As River went to sit down in the rocker, a blanket of white in the meadow caught their eye. They crossed the porch and stepped down to the patio, ducking beneath the sweeping hemlock branches towards the back of the cabin. Beneath the first of the three apple trees, laid the strange, cursed woman.