Hemlock Veils (9 page)

“I did, thank you.” This surprised Henry.

Brian inched closer. “I’m real sorry, Beth, for what you went through. It must be hard being thrown into such an awful nightmare.” He touched her arm, delicately, and slowed his voice. “It can be a tough pill to swallow, and if you ever need anything…”

Nicole rolled her eyes and Henry fought the desire to do so himself.

Ms. Ashton pulled her arm away, smiling that polite and stunning smile only briefly. “It was nothing. I appreciate all the concern, really, but I mean it when I say I’m fine.” She looked at everyone else to convey her meaning, as though the sympathy irked her. Perhaps it did. She seemed just that: fine. Unaffected.

“I believe it,” Taggart said as he shook his head, bringing his coffee to his mustache-covered mouth. “Any woman sane enough to be scared after an encounter like that wouldn’t have the mind to go wandering through the forest again.” It wasn’t difficult to see he had already developed a soft spot for her. Her fearlessness wouldn’t be so irritating to the sheriff if he hadn’t. “And get this,” he added. “She loves it out there, says it’s
beautiful
.” Headshakes and harrumphs went up all around.

She looked puzzled. “And that’s strange because…?”

“Like I was saying: the beauty is deceiving.” He sighed, softening his voice, hesitating. “No one who knows the forest’s
real
dangers is comfortable there. It’s just not…normal.”

The lift of her brow spoke challenge. “So you’re saying I’m insane since I feel safe there.”

A few gasps went up. Even Henry shook his head.

Taggart sat back, speechless, and Ms. Ashton took his arm. She leaned forward, her eyes boring into his. “It’s like
I
was saying, Sheriff, I’ll be just fine.”

His mustache lifted, just half. “’Cause of your good instincts, right?”

She sat back, a soul unlike the rest of them. Henry saw it now, that perhaps in some ways she was saner than everyone else. It meant this wasn’t the town for her.

“Look, Ms. Ashton, this place is dangerous, plain and simple,” Taggart said, less abrasively. “Take the poisonous tree frog. Pretty little thing, isn’t it? But it’s all a tactic. It draws you in, that beauty, right before it poisons you. I’m just trying to protect you from what you don’t know.”

“I stared him right in the eyes, Sheriff, and you don’t think I know? How many of
you
have gotten that close?”

Him
. Henry shuddered deep in his chest at the word choice. The sensation almost took his breath. He’d never heard anyone refer to the beast as a
him
, rather than an
it
.

Nicole almost laughed.
“Him?”

Taggart sighed in impatience. “That don’t matter. What matters is I’m the law around here, Ms. Ashton. You’re welcome here as long as you need, but while you’re here, you stay away from those woods, just like we discussed. None of this ‘only during the night’ business.”

And
that
was why Henry let Taggart run things around here.

Their stare-down lasted mere seconds. “I respect that. After all, this is your town.”

Taggart nodded. “On to other business,” he said at everyone else. “Elizabeth’s locket ain’t all we found out there this morning. We found the devil’s blood.”

“So you
did
get him!” Nicole said at Eustace, nearly squealing.

Everyone’s mood cheered at once, the discovery lifting the weighted air. Only Ms. Ashton, just like Henry, didn’t seem impressed. Instead, she reached for Eustace’s hand, inspecting the white bandage that was soaked through at his palm. A look of concern shadowed her brow. “Eustace, this needs to be changed.”

“Nonsense.”

She threw him a stern glance. “As soon as we’re done here, we’re—”

“Actually,” Brian interjected, moving his arm to the back of the bench and right over Ms. Ashton’s shoulders, “as soon as we’re done here, we’re picking up your car.”

“He’s right,” Eustace said. “I’ll have Doc take a look.”

She studied him as though she could determine a man’s honesty with a simple look. “You promise?”

“Sure.”

“I mean it, Eustace. It might be just a scratch, but if you don’t keep on top of that, you’re looking at infection…”

Eustace chuckled. “I promise, I promise.”

“All right.” She smiled, taking her first delicate sip of coffee. The cringe was subtle and quick, but a cringe nonetheless. If Henry ever smiled in front of his fellow residents, that would have been a good time.

“I know,” Regina said, hand on her hip. “It’s terrible.”

“No,” Ms. Ashton argued. “It’s fine, it’s just…hot.”

“It’s all right, Beth. It’s what this place is known for: coffee so horrible no one speaks of it.” Laughter. Even Ms. Ashton chuckled.

“I’m just not usually keen on all the extras.”

“You like it black?” Regina threw a quick glance at Henry before looking back to Ms. Ashton, as though the way they took their coffee placed some common ground between them.

“Usually, but it really depends on—”

“I can make you another cup, honey. I just assumed…”

“No, please. It’ll do just the way it is.” She began sipping more before Regina could argue, her expression far too pleasant for the way it probably tasted going down.

“So, Beth,” Brian said, lowering his arm another inch and fitting it more snuggly around her shoulders. She cowered ever so slightly. “Where are you driving from, and where to?”

“Los Angeles, and…I’m not sure yet.”

“Adventurous.” He smiled.

She rested her elbows on the table, relieving her shoulders of his arm, and scratched her hairline. “You can call it that, I guess.” She hid something, Henry could tell, and suddenly he was more opposed to her being here than before.

“Are you…a movie star?” It came from Sheppy. Everyone turned to the unbalanced boy with the red backpack and lime green Chucks, who had excitement all over his face. In age, he was as much a man as Brian (if you could call Brian that), but in mind he was just a boy. Sheppy had lived on his own in Hemlock Veils for five years now, in the old shack-like house at the edge of Center Street. Most didn’t know his real name, only that he had always gone by Sheppy, but Henry made it a point to know vital information about the residents of his town. Legally, he was Maxwell Sheppy, born in Seattle and left an orphan by his suicidal parents at age eight. For all Henry knew, that red backpack was all he had of his childhood. No one had ever seen him without it, and what it contained was a mystery. However, if it wasn’t for that red backpack, nothing would seem odd at first glance. His fiery orange hair was combed and his clothes well-maintained. But the backpack didn’t fit. Something about it labeled him unbalanced.

Half the diner’s occupants snickered—even Nicole, who usually treated him with uncharacteristic kindness. But Ms. Ashton gave Sheppy a pleasant smile, again as though she understood him with one glance. “No,” she said, still smiling. “Nothing like that.”

He walked to her, chuckling nervously. A school boy’s titter. “You sure? ’Cause you look like one, like a pretty Hollywood star.”

Brian threw Sheppy a cold stare. “Sheppy—”

“It’s okay,” Ms. Ashton said, not glancing at Brian. “That’s very sweet of you. Sheppy, is it?”

He nodded through another nervous laugh.

She extended her hand. “I’m Elizabeth. But you can call me Beth.”

He took it, shaking vigorously. “I like you, Beth. Even if you’re not a movie star.”

She chuckled. “I like you, too, Sheppy.”

***

Regina wiped down the counter, hypnotizing Henry with the swift, circular motion of her hands. They went about their work as though they had a mind of their own, and Henry realized he hadn’t glanced at a word on his newspaper in too many minutes, his mind occupied with thoughts of their visitor. He contemplated whether he should finish his coffee when the clang of dishes brought him to attention.

“You know, Beth,” Nicole said, not bothering to hide her irritation. The stack of plates she once held was now on the empty table next to Ms. Ashton, Brian, Eustace, and Taggart. Her hands found her hips. “I got taken once, too, you know.”

Ms. Ashton seemed caught off guard. “Taken?”

“By the monster.” One could hear a pin drop in the silence, and Ms. Ashton’s eyes softened. Henry began feeling sick.

“I’m really sorry to hear that.”

Nicole shrugged while producing the same fake tears she’d been producing the past two years. At first, during the week after her attack, her tears had been real ones, engendered by the trauma. Even he had felt sympathetic. But not now. She’d learned during that week what those tears could get her, and when she did use them, no one questioned them. Because who had the right to question the woman who’d been attacked by a monster?

“I got a little too close to the forest, that’s all,” she finally said. “Before I knew it I was over its back while it ran through the trees. I couldn’t see anything, and it didn’t matter how much I screamed, ’cause no one would find me. It kept me in a tree and every time I thought it was about to eat me, or rip me to shreds, it would leave me alone. I could hear its teeth grinding and hear its breath, but it never followed through. Instead it tormented me.” Tears streamed, and she wiped at them like a pro.

Brian gave in and touched her hand; she didn’t pull it away. “The next morning,” she added, “Sheriff Taggart found me alone in the forest, too scared to move.”

“Nicole,” Ms. Ashton said, even as some sort of suspicious thought brewed behind her eyes. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that. That’s just…awful.”

“It was. And I’m not calling Bathgate a liar or anything, but…”

“What
are
you saying, Nicole?” Eustace said, leaning forward.

“If he really had you pinned like you said, how can you act so…normal? You come in here, knowing nothing about this place and what we go through—what
I’ve
gone through—and it’s nothing to you.” If it wasn’t Nicole who’d said it, and if he wasn’t Henry Clayton, he would have yelled an
amen
.

“Look,” Ms. Ashton said, her polite tone faltering ever so slightly. “I’m sorry for whatever impression I’ve given. And I mean it when I say I’m very sorry for what you, as a town, have had to endure. Sincerely. I’m not here to stir things up, and I’ll be gone as soon as I can move on.”

“What do you say we be a little more polite to our guest?” Eustace said, eyeing Nicole until she grabbed the dishes, huffed, and walked away. “After all,” he said at everyone else, “she
did
save my life.”

“Yeah,” Taggart said. “It’s like you’ve told us already.”

Henry tired of the hype and small talk. Ready to rid his morning of it, he reached for his billfold.

Then Eustace said, “I think all of us would like to know what you think on the matter, Mr. Clayton.”

Henry glanced up to find all eyes on him—Ms. Ashton’s the only ones not wary. He lowered his hand and clenched his jaw, locking eyes with Eustace. “What exactly would you like my opinion on, Mr. Bathgate?”

“All of it. Not that you ever say much, but you’ve been awfully quiet. You’re my biggest advocate when it comes to killing the monster. So what do you think?” The red on his palm stared Henry painfully in the face. Reasons like that wound made Henry hate the monster in the forest, made him detest it far more than anything else in his life. It was the reason he both supported and opposed Eustace’s decision to go against Taggart and track down the beast that left Hemlock Veils living in fear. The disappearance of the beast was something he wanted more than anything, yet injury to Eustace hardly seemed worth it. Eustace may not know it, but Henry had always been fond of him, even before he knew him as Mr. Clayton.

“You think all my hard work is finally paying off?” Eustace asked again when Henry didn’t answer.

Henry stood, throwing his newspaper on the table and pulling a ten-dollar bill from his billfold. He let it fall on the table next to the paper. It was what he left for Regina every day for his horrible cup of coffee. “I think you’re a fool,” he finally said.

“This
fool
actually hit the target.”

“At what expense, Old Man?” He stepped closer. “I would bet all I have the monster is still out there. So you tell me, Mr. Bathgate, was it worth the injury?”

“Hell yes,” he said without hesitation. “And I’d do it again.”

“Well, don’t.”

“Don’t? Hen—Mr. Clayton, I don’t need to remind you—”

“Things change. I don’t want you out there anymore.” He looked to everyone else, even down at Ms. Ashton who stared up at him with question. He was almost startled by the color of her irises. They were a color he’d rarely seen in human eyes: a green nearly as vivid as his forest.

But then he already knew that.

“
No
one will step foot inside that forest after nightfall,” he added. “I know Sheriff Taggart has been lax on the rule, but this is me reinforcing it. Is that clear?” He and Taggart exchanged a nod, and Eustace only shook his head.

Before he reached the door, he turned back. “Ms. Ashton, I’m assuming you know who I am, and since you do, you also know this is my town. I know more about it than anyone, even Mr. Bathgate. So when I say it’s in your best interest to leave as soon as possible, you can take that as the best advice you’ve ever been given.” He turned, not giving himself time to read her reaction.

“My best interest or yours, Mr. Clayton?” she asked from behind, freezing him halfway out the door.

He twisted back. “Everyone’s.”

She folded her arms, lifting her chin. “Thank you for the advice.”

A short laugh of disbelief escaped him, and he shook his head. “Let me rephrase. It wasn’t advice, Ms. Ashton, nor was it a suggestion. It’s a stipulation. The moment Mr. Dane has repaired your vehicle, you will be on your way.”

“That sounds like an order.” Her brow tensed and her cheeks reddened. It appeared his pushing only made her more determined.