And the Trees Crept In(24)

They are moving.

Oh, God. They are.

“A welcoming committee!” Gowan calls when he sees us.

Nori calls his name with her hands, and he grins at her and winks. Then he puts down a sack of apples. There have to be twenty in there at least. My stomach roils but I force a smile anyway.

The woods are moving.

Gowan leaves Nori with the fruit and then wanders over to me.

He folds his hands behind his back. “Hello.”

“Hello.”

“Would you like an apple, Miss Daniels?” he says, presenting one to me, deftly produced from his pocket.

“Maybe later,” I offer, a little weakly, eyes flickering to the woods and back. My stomach is doing backflips and I really would rather not vomit on Gowan if I can help it. “Want to go inside? Looks like rain.”

He stares at the sky for a few moments, briefly closes his eyes, and then looks back down at me. A nod. I try to see what he saw up there, but it’s just another overcast day. It always looks like rain will come. None ever does. The sky is as ashen as the dirt, and once again I wonder about London and the government—their wars and their bombs and their threats—and whether there’s anyone left at all.

Gowan grabs the bag of apples, lifts Nori onto his back, and we head to the manor.

“You know, I never see you eat,” Gowan says when we’re inside.

I send Nori off to drop three apples at the foot of Cathy’s stairs, and then I sit down at the kitchen table and watch as Gowan stacks the green balls of fruit flesh in the center.

“So? Just because you don’t see me do it doesn’t mean I don’t.”

My stomach answers for me, a rumbling growl to rival Nori’s.

“Point proven,” Gowan says, the edges of his eyebrows hiked up with satisfaction.

“I have to feed her first. There isn’t much, and it’s my job to make sure she gets food.”

“Well, I’ve brought food. So take some. Please, Silla. You’re wasting away.”

I reach for an apple. Poison. Dirt. Disgusting. Toxic. Snow White. Sleeping Beauty. Sleep. Die. Don’t. No.

I lift it to my lips. Open them. I shiver as I bite down, the sound a crack and a creak as I chew.

Chew. Chew. Chew.

Swallow.

Swallow.

Silla, my brain commands. Swallow.

I can’t.

I swallow. It scrapes its way down my esophagus like paper, no pleasure at all, and lands like lead in my stomach. It is a stone in the cavity, and I want to get it out.

“It’s wonderful,” I lie. “Thank you.”

He looks so proud of me. For this one, stupid thing. But then that look fades as he watches me get up and put the rest of it down on a plate to save for Nori later.

“Will you come and visit me?”

“Not that again.”

“Please, Silla.” And he takes my hand.

His flesh on mine.

Someone touching me.

No one has touched me, except Nori, in months. Maybe years.

I’m so distracted by it that I just stare at our hands, missing half of what Gowan is saying.

“… and you might be right. It might be too late. But gardens can lie barren for years and recover. Humans can’t. You and Nori and Cath have to leave. It’s not healthy here. It’s…” He looks around. “Not what I remember.”

And I suddenly wonder what he does remember. How does he see La Baume? Is it very different from what it was then? In what ways? So many curiosities, but that’s the trick, isn’t it? That’s how it happens. An investment. An intrigue. And then a trap. Friendship is a trap. Family is a trap.

Love is a trap.

And it’s all lies, anyway.

I decide to tell him a truth, which is far more brutal than a lie. Because he should know what he is trying to get himself into. With me. And with this place.

“The trees are moving.”

That stops him short. “What?”

“The trees are moving. Coming closer.”

He plays with my fingers. He does it absentmindedly, without thought, without reason. Sensation—real, present, oh, so real—and I haven’t felt that since… when? Have I ever really felt it?

“What are you thinking about?” I ask. My skin? My bones? My bones under the skin? The trees, inching closer, even as we sit here?

He smiles as he looks at me. “My mind is as empty as air.”

“Liar. Tell me.”

A hesitation. “You won’t like it.”

“Wanting us to go with you again?”

“Yes. And if what you say about the trees is true, and they really are—”

“Moving.”

“Yes… moving. Getting closer—”

“They are. I measured them with a root.”

“—then maybe that’s all the more reason to go. Get away from here. This house… it’s not good for you.”

It is W R O N G.

I glance back at La Baume. In the early-evening light it looks even more like blood.

“It’s home.”

“Home can be unhealthy.”

I know this too well.

“And Nori?” I ask.

“She’ll come, too.”

“And Cath? She won’t leave.”