Briar Valley: The Complete Duet

3. Killian

CHAPTER 3

KILLIAN

LONELY - MACHINE GUN KELLY

Lifting the axe above my head, I bring it down on the log, splitting it perfectly down the middle. After tossing it on the growing pile, I line up my next victim, cracking it in two.

The sun beats down on my weathered, heavily tanned skin beneath a layer of blonde fuzz that covers my torso. It’s pretty warm, despite being February.

“Kill!” Zach bellows from our cabin’s wraparound porch. “Finish up. We’re heading out in ten.”

I glower up at him as I prop the axe against the lawn. “Alright, kid. No need to fucking yell.”

“I didn’t know if you could hear me over your brooding lumberjack routine.”

“Hilarious.”

“I suppose splitting logs is cheaper than therapy. One session with you and the shrink would run away screaming.”

“Wanna come here and say that to my face?” I snarl at him.

“I’ll pass on the beating for today. Thanks, though. You’re always so thoughtful.”

Shooting me an innocent smirk, he traipses back inside, his caramel-coloured hair shining in the sunshine. Smug asshole. He won’t be grinning when I break his short legs.

We need to drive down the mountain and into the nearest town this afternoon to collect more propane for the tanks before Lola chews me out again. It’s a long, treacherous drive that I’ve been putting off all week.

I don’t like venturing back into civilisation often. After spending all thirty years of my life in Briar Valley, the outside world beyond our property lines holds little appeal.

Grabbing the final log on my pile, I brutally rip it apart by hand. There’s nobody around to stare at me. Everyone is preparing for this evening’s party in the town square.

Tonight is a special night. Lola insists we celebrate the town’s anniversary every year. It’s been four decades since Briar Valley was first established in the rugged Welsh countryside.

In that time, the town has grown exponentially from a single cabin to almost forty eccentric residents spread throughout the thick forest of pine and birch trees, spanning across five miles of private land.

Lola has been here from the beginning and built the very first, hand-carved cabin with her late husband. Then another desperate family sought refuge in the woodland, and another, until an entire town was built from nothing.

This is a place for lost things.

A family of choice, rather than blood.

With all my wood pile chopped and ready to be taken to Lola’s cabin for the bonfire, I load it up in the bed of my peeling, russet-red truck and begin the winding drive back down into the depths of the valley.

A cabin is a poor choice of word for Lola’s ten-thousand-square-foot monstrosity built in a clearing off to the side of the town square, surrounded by carefully pruned orchards and allotments.

Three stories of gleaming, hewed timber and tinted, clear-cut glass, the cabin spans the entire length of the clearing with enough space for the whole town to socialise in, though everyone has their own cabin and patch of land.

Parking the truck, I begin to unload the bed, piling up wood at the edge of the square to add to the bonfire for tonight’s celebrations.

“Killian?” a voice shouts.

“Yeah, it’s me, Grams.”

The carved oak door slams open, and Lola emerges from her cabin while smoothing her paisley dress.

“Ryder is bringing down the fuel and kindling.”

“I’m heading into town to collect the propane delivery with Zach. You need anything else while we’re there?”

Thumping down the wide, wooden steps, she meets me in the clearing. Lola is barely five feet tall, wizened and twinkle-eyed with a cloud of floss-like, silvery hair.

Despite her tiny size and wholesome appearance, she’s tough as nails. Her skin is calloused from a life of hard labour, and her limbs are tough and wiry without an ounce of fat.

She isn’t my real grandma, but everyone around here calls her Grams. She’s the closest thing to a family that I have left, along with Zach and Micah. Everyone else is gone.

“No, we’re all set,” she declines.

“Alright. We’re gonna head out now.”

“Hurry back. You don’t want to be late. It’s a long drive.”

“We’ll be fine. Right on time.”

Wiping flour-spotted hands off on her apron, she glances back up the dirt track that leads through the woods to where our cabin lies. We’re set above the town, isolated even further from people.

“Take Micah with you,” Lola suggests, her voice stern. “That boy needs to see the light of day for once.”

“You know he won’t leave his studio, Grams.”

“Then make him.”

“You want me to handcuff the poor bastard and throw him in the back of my truck?” I snort, chucking the final log onto the pile. “I’m not saying no.”

“I doubt he would appreciate that.” She sighs with a head shake. “At least tell him that he has to attend tonight. For me.”

Not even emotional blackmail works on Micah. He won’t come out of his art studio for anyone, including Lola. If I set it on fire, I have no doubt he’d happily burn inside of it.

Pressing a kiss to her wrinkled cheek, I muster a smile. “I’ll try my best.”

“Good lad. Have a safe trip.”

Hopping into my filthy truck, I drive back up to the cabin that I share with Zach and Micah. The former is waiting out front, throwing on a denim jacket over his black jeans and tight, white t-shirt. His brother is nowhere in sight, as usual.

“Get in, brat,” I shout out of the window.

“Aww. Don’t flirt with me, cuz.”

“Then don’t fucking call me that.”

He cocks an eyebrow. “You’re still my cousin, right?”

“Wouldn’t be if I had a choice in it.”

“Charming as always.” Zach climbs into the passenger seat. “You know, it’s lucky we’re related. No one else would put up with your miserable backside in this town.”

“Trust me, I’d be okay with living alone.”

“You’d miss me too much. Don’t deny it.”

Turning up the blare of heavy rock music to silence his incessant chattering, I follow the bumpy track that bisects the entire town, peppered with jagged rocks and tides of mud.

Beyond Briar Valley, a snaking track is cut into Mount Helena, a two-thousand-foot peak capped with snow and spruce trees that touch the clouds. It’s a long, uncomfortable hour navigating the route back to civilisation.

At the base of the mountain, Zach turns down the music, grumbling about a headache. His eyes are glued to his phone, scrolling through one of his usual dating apps.

Life in Briar Valley doesn’t equate to much female interaction, so on his regular trips into town, I know he takes full advantage. He has a much higher tolerance for people than me.

“You see Micah today?”

With his boot-covered feet propped up on the dashboard, Zach shrugs. “Nope. He’s been in there for three days now. This is the longest episode he’s had in a while.”

“We’ve tried to coax him out.”

“Yeah, and a fat lot of good that did. He’s more withdrawn than ever.”

“He’ll come back, kid. He always does.”

“I’m tired of waiting for his episodes to pass,” he admits angrily. “I used to know what he was thinking before he did, and now it’s like we’re not even brothers.”

Unsure of what shallow comfort I can offer, I focus on the road flattening out. Micah’s condition is hard on everyone, but it’s hardest on Zach. He lost his brother too, along with everything else.

“Zach—”

“Forget it,” he interrupts.

Resting his head against the door, he shuts his eyes and angles himself away from me, effectively ending the conversation. My grip on the steering wheel tightens in frustration.

Another tense hour later, we pull into the narrow, cobbled streets of Highbridge. Nestled amidst the picturesque countryside, it’s a medium-sized town and our closest source of supplies.

It takes both of us to load up the truck with enough propane for the fifteen cabins that occupy Briar Valley, three of which are still being built. Lola is an absolute stickler for being prepared for all eventualities.

While we’re heading out of the winter months now, the weather can still be unpredictable. We were snowed in for weeks in December, though we have enough allotments and greenhouses to be self-sufficient for food.

Regardless, I’m glad to see the first whispers of spring. Zach and I spend our days working for Lola, performing town maintenance and building cabins. It’s a lot easier when we’re not being pelted with snow or rain.

“Let’s stop and get some booze,” Zach suggests, locking the truck bed. “We still have time to get back for the party.”

“You really think that’s a good idea?”

He’s a notorious lightweight when it comes to alcohol and often makes a complete fool of himself, even after only a few beers. And I’m the idiot that has to deal with it.

“Lighten up. It’s a party, isn’t it?”

“Not if I have anything to do with it,” I grumble. “Go on then. I’ll wait here.”

He punches me in the shoulder before heading for the nearby liquor store. Propped against the back of the truck, I study my surroundings, my skin tight with discomfort.

A few of the locals give me a wave of greeting or the odd smile, but none dare approach. Briar Valley has a reputation for being notoriously private, and I’ve had my fair share of run-ins with people spouting bullshit.

We simply prefer to keep to ourselves up on the mountain, but most locals think we’re fucking satanists or some shit like that. In reality, we just like to be left alone.

“Killian!”

My head perks up.

“You’re just the man I wanted to see.”

Jogging over to me, Trevor offers me a hand to shake, his face shielded by a well-worn baseball cap. He runs the local bar and has bailed Zach out of trouble several times.

“What’s up, Trev?”

“We had some woman asking for information yesterday,” he answers. “Wanted to know all about Briar Valley.”

“What? Who was she?”

“Never seen her before. She was beat up pretty bad, barely able to walk. Got a scrawny little kid with her too. Friend of yours?”

“Do I look like I have friends?” I drawl.

Trevor shrugs. “Ain’t my business to presume, but she wasn’t asking for you. Claimed she was new in town.”

“Who did she ask for, then?”

“Your Grams. By name.”

Unease prickling across my scalp, I glance around to ensure no one is close by or listening to us. Not many people know Lola’s full name. She’s even more private than me.

We don’t socialise with outsiders beyond the odd business transaction and our monthly supply runs into town. That’s exactly how we like it.

“You know where she went?” I ask neutrally.

“Sorry, pal. Not a clue.”

Shrugging, I decide to play it cool.

“If she ever makes it to Briar Valley, I’ll deal with her. Don’t breathe a word of this to anyone, alright? You know Lola doesn’t like people snooping into her business.”

“Gotcha. Take it easy, Kill.”

Watching Trevor head back into his bar, I can’t shake the sense that something isn’t right. The thought of some woman and her kid wandering through the woods has a bad feeling pooling in my gut.

“Are you trying to burn a hole in the road?” Zach laughs as he returns, armed with overflowing plastic bags. “Stop glaring. You’ll give yourself an ulcer. Let’s go.”

“I don’t glare.”

“Correction. You don’t smile.”

Piling back into the truck after checking the propane tanks are secure, I wipe Trevor’s warning from my mind. No one gets all the way up the mountain and into town without knowing the way.

If trouble’s coming, it won’t ever make it to our doorstep. Even if I have to search the surrounding woods with my hunting rifle to protect everyone from some dumb fucking stranger looking to start shit with us.

“You get beer?” I ask Zach.

Eyes glued back on his phone screen, he unwraps a lollipop and sticks it in his mouth. “Thought you didn’t want any booze?”

“You’re a little shit, kid.”

He turns up the rock music, startling several nearby locals. “Of course, I got your fucking beer. I know you, asshole. Now hurry up, I’m hungry.”