Briar Valley: The Complete Duet

5. Zach

CHAPTER 5

ZACH

FOREST FIRE - brIGHTON

Pacing the length of Lola’s warm, fire-lit living room, I fist my cropped caramel hair and curse the cruelness of the world. It never ceases to fucking amaze me.

The little girl, Arianna, is finally asleep. She whimpers with her eyes glued shut, the odd tear still pouring down her cheeks. Without her mum here, she’s struggling to settle.

Killian holds her tiny, slim frame against his chest, glaring at the tears like it will stop them from falling. No amount of glowering is gonna make this situation any better.

“Why is she still crying?” he murmurs. “I fucking hate seeing it.”

“You shouldn’t have given her the sleeping pill. They’re not for kids, for fuck’s sake.”

“She was hysterical, Zach. It was for her own good. I halved it to be safe.”

Poking the flames crackling inside of Lola’s wide, open fireplace, the mantelpiece lined with family photographs, I fight the urge to smack him around the face. When it comes to other human beings, he can be so fucking dumb.

“She watched her mother nearly die. No shit she was hysterical.”

“I didn’t want to let her scream and suffer,” he points out.

“Drugging kids isn’t good parenting.”

Killian’s eyes narrow. “Good thing I’m not her father then, isn’t it?”

Lapsing back into tense silence, I pour myself another measure of whiskey from the mahogany liquor cabinet set beneath a hand-painted map of Briar Valley that Lola’s late husband, Pops, crafted years ago.

We were deep into celebrations when all hell broke loose, and I’m not done drinking for the night. Every year, the entire town gathers around the bonfire to eat, drink, trade stories and celebrate the town.

Everyone was getting tipsy, and Albie had just begun one of his usual convoluted stories when all of a sudden, this kid appeared out of nowhere, screaming her damn head off. We were all stunned, to say the least.

Picking through the mountainous forest that encapsulates the five miles of private land that carves out the town was treacherous, but we eventually found the kid’s mother.

Fuck. Me.

Someone so badly injured shouldn’t be hot, but I’m not fucking dead. Even beneath the blood and bruises, her otherworldly beauty took my breath away for a second.

The angelic wisp of a woman with hair the shade of midnight had slipped into a ravine and was getting beaten to shit by cold water. It’s a miracle she survived the fall.

Even though she looks like one strong wind would kill her off, this bruised and battered woman somehow made it miles uphill through impenetrable woodland with a kid in tow. She had to be desperate to brave that trek with no guidance.

“Where did she come from?” I ask aloud.

Killian shoots me an apprehensive look. “She was looking for us.”

“What do you mean? For Lola?”

“She’s been asking around in Highbridge for information, apparently.”

“What?” I snap at him. “Since when?”

Killian shrugs, stroking the kid’s blonde ringlets that tumble over her shoulders in a pearlescent waterfall. I’ve never seen him within three feet of a child, let alone having one asleep on his chest like a sloth.

“I hate it when you keep secrets.”

“Lay off, Zach.” He sighs heavily. “I just chose not to tell you.”

“Isn’t that the same thing?”

“Why are you getting so bent out of shape?” Killian accuses, deflecting as usual. “I didn’t think it was important at the time.”

“I’m not a child anymore, Kill.”

“You act like one, so who can blame me for treating you as such?”

Anger burns in my gut. “Fuck you.”

The front door slams so loud, it rattles the photographs on the mantelpiece. Lola strides into the room with an authoritative boom of greeting that halts our argument.

“Enough!”

She’s followed close behind by Ryder and Albie, both of them covered in streaks of fresh blood from where they helped us get the woman into Killian’s awaiting truck.

“What on earth happened?” she shouts at us.

“Grams. We can explain.”

Arms folded, she challenges us both with a stare. “Better be a hell of an explanation.”

“We found the woman on the edge of the property. This one led the way.” I gesture to the kid, still moaning under her breath. “It’s her mum.”

Killian’s grip on the sleeping girl tightens ever so noticeably. No one here is buying his I hate children act, that’s for sure. He’s so full of shit.

“Where is the woman?’ Lola demands.

“She’s in the other room with Doc, Rachel and Miranda.”

“Who is she? This place isn’t on the map for a reason.”

“Ask Killian.” I jab a finger at the asshole himself. “He has all the damn answers.”

With a muttered curse, Killian repositions the kid on the sofa beneath a hand-knitted, multicoloured blanket and stands. Facing Lola, he runs a hand over his tired face.

“Trevor approached me in town earlier. He said some woman and her kid were asking for you. By name. I figured it was nothing, so I didn’t mention it.”

“By name?” Lola utters.

“First and last name. She knows exactly who you are.”

Processing this new information, Lola rests a weathered hand on the mantelpiece above the roaring fire. She looks deeply troubled, staring into the flames for a brief pause.

“What is it, Grams?” I dare to ask.

While Lola rules over Briar Valley with an iron fist, ensuring the survival of such a remote town, she has the biggest heart of everyone here. Worry and anxiety are written all over her face right now.

She turns to face us again. “Nothing. I need to see the woman for myself.”

“She’s unconscious,” Killian rumbles.

Marching over to the sofa, Lola crouches down to study the sleeping girl. She doesn’t look much like her supposed mother—a tiny dot, all blonde hair and bright-blue eyes, compared to her mother’s coal-black hair and sparkling hazel irises.

They do share the same slim, bird-like features. But more so, there’s a sense of palpable desperation that clings to them, silent but deadly. They look indisputably lost in the world. Lola seizes the girl’s small hand, freezing when she uncurls her little fingers.

“Look at this.”

Killian leans over to look, his face paling. “What the actual fuck?”

“That can’t be accidental, can it?”

“What is it?” I ask, straining for a peek.

Flattening the child’s hand in her own wrinkled palm, Lola lifts it to show us all the bloodied, scabbed-over mess that’s on display. Each of her fingertips have been carefully burned to remove all traces of her prints.

Albie curses up a storm, moving closer to check each fingertip in turn. “Hell of a job.”

Looking away with his golden-brown face turning white as a sheet, Ryder refuses to look. Out of us all, he has the weakest stomach. Killian mocked him for months when he decided to go vegetarian, unable to stand the thought of an animal suffering.

“You good, Ry?” I pat his shoulder.

He nods, taking a deep breath.

“Whoever these two are, they clearly don’t want to be found,” Albie surmises. “Someone did a damn good job of burning these off to avoid being identified.”

Lola places the kid’s hand down again, watching as she sucks her thumb into her mouth for comfort. She’s a cute little thing, even I’ll admit.

“Then we keep them safe until we can get answers,” Lola decides, still studying the girl.

“Why?” Killian cuts her off, hands raised in the air. “What if they bring trouble into town? We cannot take that risk.”

“We’re equipped to handle any bloody trouble,” she returns hotly. “I’m not casting them out without more information. You know that’s not how we work better than most.”

Killian’s face falls. “That isn’t fair.”

“If you don’t like my decision, you can leave. But it’s final.”

Without another word, he purses his lips and stalks from the room. The front door slams again so hard, it rattles the glass in the room’s huge bay window.

Lola sighs. “That temper of his will get the better of him someday.”

“It usually does.”

We’re all too familiar with Killian’s intolerance for the human race. That man’s an erupting volcano with very brief periods of calm. Even those are few and far between.

His family is usually on the receiving end of his infamous temper and sharp tongue, although he’s very for beating the shit out of any intruders with his bare hands too.

“Let’s go see Doc,” Lola says tiredly. “I’ve sent everyone else home for the night.”

Placing my empty glass down, I gesture for her to go ahead. They set up in the massive family kitchen out back, giving them space to attend to our newest arrival.

The minute we walk into the brightly lit room, the scent of fresh blood hits me. I nearly gag. It’s so thick in the air, you can taste the copper droplets of death on your tongue.

“Needle,” Doc orders his wife.

He’s crouched over a semi-naked, spread out body on Lola’s dining table. Taking the needle in hand, he begins to sew the oozing gash on the woman’s forehead where she hit a rock. Rachel and Miranda watch with terrified expressions.

“Gauze and antiseptic, Rach.”

Setting myself up in the corner with an increasingly queasy Ryder, Lola and Albie step closer to the table to watch. They command the room with wordless authority as the two elders present.

Rachel and Miranda pass the remaining equipment and slink backwards to make way for Lola to move closer to our guest. She’s sweeping her eyes over every inch on display, but her expression doesn’t betray a thing.

With a final stitch, Doc snips off the suture and smooths gauze across the woman’s forehead, turning his attention back to her bare torso. They sliced the blouse from her body, revealing her mottled midsection.

Letting my gaze trail over her, my mouth goes bone dry. She’s covered in dark bruises, the purple and green splotches reigning chaos across her flesh. Lola stares down at her with a blank expression.

“How bad is it? Will she live?”

Doc sighs, pushing blood-smeared spectacles up his nose. “We’re out of the woods. She had fluid in her lungs, so it was touch and go. The other injuries are treatable.”

He gestures down at the hollow needle protruding from the woman’s chest, with blood and fluid sprayed around the entry sight. Ryder makes a quiet heaving sound as he looks away, his tolerance finally failing.

“These bruises look pretty bad,” Lola observes.

“She’s been severely beaten.” Doc gently probes the woman’s ribs while frowning. “She was bandaged up when we undressed her. Must’ve been nursing the wounds for a while.”

“How the heck did she get here then?”

Albie shakes his head. “It’s a hard trek up the mountain and down into the valley by foot. We found her a couple miles from here.”

“Talk about determination.”

“That one word for it.”

Albie has been Lola’s right-hand man since her husband died a few years back. He’s the closest confidante and aide to our formidable leader. Any problem in the town, him and Killian are the first ones on the case.

But while Albie provides a level-headed perspective that keeps things running smoothly, Lola thinks with her heart over her brain. She’s actually an incredibly kind woman beneath the bravado. Her home belongs to everyone.

“You see the prints?” Doc lifts a limp, bloodied hand.

Identical to her daughter, this woman has had her fingerprints brutally burned off too. No identification would be possible if the police caught up to her. Whoever did it to her knew what they were doing.

“She’s here for a reason. I don’t know what,” Lola muses aloud. “I know we don’t like outsiders, but this poor creature has been through something horrific.”

Deferring to her authority, we all wait for her decision. If she wants these two gone, we’ll dump the woman back in the woods where we found her, even in this state.

“We’ll patch her up and take it from there. Understood?”

Relief overcomes me, even if I don’t know why I care about a total stranger. Everyone else echoes their compliance, each meeting Lola’s widened eyes in turn to confirm it.

“Finish up,” she orders Doc. “I’ll stay. Everyone else out.”

Doc resumes working, leaving the rest of us to file out without protest. I grab Ryder’s shoulder and steer him outside to light up cigarettes beneath the shining moon that casts light across Lola’s vast back garden.

“You should check on Killian,” Ryder suggests, blowing out a ring of smoke. “He seemed pretty upset earlier. I haven’t seen him look that worried before.”

“Killian can take care of himself.”

“This would’ve stirred shit up for him, Zach. He needs you.”

“What he needs is to lighten up and get laid.”

He snorts. “Don’t we all.”

“Your sex life is a hell of a lot more interesting than mine.”

“I doubt that.” Ryder crushes his cigarette beneath his laced-up boot. “Long-distance relationships don’t exactly equate to many wild, passionate nights. Especially out here.”

“You mean Ethan won’t tickle your pickle over the phone?”

He playfully shoves my shoulder. “That is none of your business.”

“You’re right. I really don’t wanna know what disgusting shit you two get up to. I’ll never be able to look him in the eye over dinner again.”

Eyes straying over to the window, we both watch as Lola pulls up a chair next to the kitchen table. Her eyes look haunted from here. She’s intent on staying while Doc continues his work on the unconscious woman.

“What’s with Lola?” Ryder wonders.

I shrug, baffled. “Fuck knows.”

“You recognise her? Or the kid?”

“Nope. She’s a total stranger.”

“That isn’t the concern Lola has for total strangers,” he replies pointedly.

I’m sure that exact point is what has riled Killian up so badly. He’s right—Lola doesn’t give a fuck about strangers, until they’re accepted into town and become family instead.

She’s keeping secrets from us.

This woman means something to her.