Chapter Two
Willow
I stare at my ten-year-old sister Alice who’s lying on the bed in the infirmary as her eyes flutter in her sleep. So precious and pure. Too good for this world. Mother says some people were put in this life merely to serve as a stepping stone to the ones who can make a difference. She says that those that are the stones make the biggest ripples in the pond and are so very important. And even though I smile and agree with her words, I don’t believe them.
My sister, riddled with red whelps and a fever that nearly burns my palm at the touch, has been kissed with disease. The elders on the council have ordered her to be quarantined in the infirmary. I’m the only one who is allowed to see her because they claim I am immune. When I was only two years of age, I suffered the same illness. And by some miracle, I was spared. Mother claims it is because I’ve been chosen for something great in Empyrean.
“Momma,” Alice murmurs, her voice thick and muffled.
Earlier, when I brought her some warm tea, she could hardly swallow the healing liquid for her tongue was so swollen, and ended up dribbling it down her chin. I’m worried that she’s taken a turn for the worse.
“Shh,” I coo, stroking the hair that’s matted to her sweaty brow. “Momma came to see you while you slept.” My lie is foreign on my tongue. Lying to my sister is difficult, but necessary. I can’t break the heart of a dying soul. Life has already made her its example, and I’m not going to be its accomplice.
Her pale blue eyes that match mine, almost exactly, roll back behind her fluttering eyelids. My heart sinks into the pit of my belly and I chew on my lip, worrying that her time is soon. Without my sweet sister, I’ll be the lone child in my household. Not that it’ll matter for long anyway. Upon my eighteenth birthday, my father will match me with that of an unmarried, and hopefully young, man in our community to wed. Then, I’ll start a family of my own.
Family is extremely important in Empyrean.
Every family has multiple children, most, no less than six. My family only had the two, Alice and I. When Momma gave birth to Alice, there were complications and her womb was ruined for future childbearing. The only other family in town with a small amount of children is the Walker family. Mr. and Mrs. Walker had Jordy and Emily.
My thoughts darken at the thought of my old friend. When I was just a twelve-year-old girl, I had looked up to Emily. She was beautiful and intelligent. Emily always made time for everyone and loved to braid flowers into all the young girls’ hair. We all thought of her as a surrogate big sister, myself included.
When she passed away, my heart had been broken. Her brother, Jordy, was devastated. It was after her death that he and I grew close as friends. Through her death, a relationship was born. Jordy, weeks after her death, promised me he’d look after me—that I would always be protected, so long as he’d had any say in it. So when the council was rumored to have said they wanted to match him and me after my eighteenth birthday for marriage, I was ecstatic.
I wish I could say the same for Jordy.
He’s been distant and angry ever since.
Yet, just last night, he’d stolen a kiss and whispered his assurance against my lips.
“I’ll keep you safe, Willow.”
Dragging a fingertip over my bottom lip, I smile at the memory. Jordy is the most handsome man in our village. He’s tall and broad shouldered, with a jaw that seems to have been chiseled from rock. I find myself staring at his rugged face while at Circle Session when he’s not looking. How lucky will I be if the rumors are true? To be matched with such a beautiful man both inside and out?
As I draw closer to eighteen, I grow more and more excited to be matched in marriage to whom I hope will be Jordy. But I sense his apprehension and fear that we won’t, in fact, be matched. There are other eligible bachelors in Empyrean that have yet to wed. One, in particular, I catch staring at me often.
Jude Brooks.
His clout within the council worries me, that if he puts forth an interest in me, they’ll vote in his favor. I’m not sure why I am of any concern to him. He’d be better off marrying Jane Stephens. Her husband passed away last winter and she’s a widower. She’s closer to his thirty-eight years than I am. Marrying Jude would be like marrying my father.
My nostrils flare in disgust and I swallow down the fear rising in my chest. I’ve seen Jude exact punishment on those that break laws in Empyrean. I worry that if he were my husband, I’d see those punishments firsthand and my life would be miserable.
With Jordy, I could be free to love. I could bask in the warmth of his smile and would gladly make love to him over and over in an effort to fill our home with many children, hopefully girls, since they are considered a greater blessing to one’s family. Jordy is already matched to me in my heart. If the council votes otherwise, it’ll be nearly impossible to sever the strings that tie my soul to his.
Alice coughs, and I pinch my brows together in worry. All thoughts of Jordy and Jude fall to the floor in a soundless heap as I focus on my sister. I clutch on to her splotchy hand and squeeze it.
“I love you, little one,” I sing.
A smile plays at her pale, dry lips and my heart soars. She always loved when I’d whisper songs I made up into her ear. In Empyrean, singing is forbidden. According to the elders, it invites demons into the Circle. The Poems of the Past are chants we speak in Circle Session that sound remotely like singing. Everyone murmurs them softly and they echo through the trees in a musical fashion.
Once, on a run for supplies to The Farrow, the forbidden, barren land outside of Empyrean, Jordy smuggled in a surprise for me. He called it a music box. I’d only been thirteen at the time, but we’d gone behind his father’s barn and he turned on the unusual contraption. The sounds were scratchy as he turned the knob. But eventually, it cleared up and beautiful words moaned out from the box.
The woman in the box was singing and it was the most magnificent and foreign thing I’d ever heard. Jordy reminded me that it had to be our little secret. Each day we’d have a listen until one day it wouldn’t work. He told me he’d find a way to fix it for me. But he never did. Now, the music box hides under my bed. I still pull it out from time to time to see if it will miraculously work again.
It never does.
However, my voice does work. And the songs I heard so long ago are permanently etched in my brain and heart. I go to sleep murmuring them and wake up whispering them. They bring joy to my soul and I have Jordy to thank for that.
Shouting jerks me out of my thoughts and I stand from my sister’s bedside to see the cause for alarm. I grab hold of my long frock and lift it from the ground as I hurry to the window. At the tree line, I can see several men standing over a figure. One of those men is Jordy, and the muscles that can always be seen through his thin shirt are taut, stretching the fabric to its limits. Jude is barking out orders, his shotgun bouncing in his arms with each word. And I spy my father frowning and pointing my direction.
What is happening?
They all appear to be angry and that has fear clawing at my insides.
“I’ll keep you safe, Willow.”
Jordy’s promise, as always, calms my insecurities and I take a deep breath. They’re heading for me, which most likely means someone is hurt and needs medical attention. I tear myself from the window to tend to one of the empty beds in the room. I’m just rolling the sheets down when the door bursts open.
“There,” Jude barks, pointing to the empty bed I’ve prepared. “Tie him there until we can figure out who sent him or where he came from. He’s a threat to our home.”
My father and another older townsman named Edward drag an unconscious, bleeding man toward the bed. My eyes widen at seeing the foreigner. In Empyrean, we never get visitors from The Farrow. According to the elders, they’re diseased and evil. I shrink away from the man until my back is pressed against the cold, wood wall.
They situate the man on the bed and set to tying each of his hands to the post of the bed, rendering him immobile. He’s passed out, so it’s not like he’d go anywhere anyway. I’m curious about him, but also frightened.
“Willow,” Jude’s deep voice cuts through the now chilled infirmary air.
I jerk my attention over to him. “Yes?”
“This intruder is injured. Please see to his wounds and the moment he regains consciousness, I want to be notified. The council will want to interrogate this outsider.”
His nearly black eyes skim over me and a pleased smile turns up the corners of his mouth. Jude is fairly handsome when he smiles, but he’s awful on the inside. The sinister air about him is always throbbing from him and vibrating me down to my core. I cannot stand to be in his presence, especially alone.
“I will inform you,” I promise with a squeak.
Stealing a glance in Jordy’s direction, I catch him clenching his jaw together tight. He doesn’t care much for Jude and it shows. When my eyes meet his green ones, his soften and he winks. The gesture warms me and chases away the chill from the crisp autumn air that has swept through the infirmary.
“Come,” Jude ushers the men. “We’re all susceptible to Alice’s illness. It is best for us to deposit the intruder in Willow’s care. She’s more than capable.”
They all grunt out their agreement and retreat, leaving me alone with the man that I’m too afraid to look at. Instead of facing my fears, I stride back over to Alice. Her breathing is ragged, but she’s fallen asleep. The air is now cold in the small infirmary, so I drag the blanket that is covered up to her chest all the way up to her chin. I hope she’ll sleep away the illness and wake up being the spry, fun-loving sister I remember.
I turn my gaze away from her and try to find the courage to look at the man. A large, unusual shaped case sits beside the bed, along with an overstuffed knapsack. He seems to have been traveling. How in the world did he end up in Empyrean?
With cautious steps, I make my way over to the man. His dark, brown hair is shaggy and unkempt. Full lips are slightly parted, and I catch myself staring at them. I blink several times at seeing his face that isn’t smooth like the young boys in town, nor is it thick with hair. No, it’s somewhere in between and quite alluring, actually. The smattering of hair over his cheeks intrigues me and I itch to touch it with my fingertips.
Have I lost my mind?
Shame courses through me at my unclean thoughts of the intruder. His shirt is black and a picture of an eyeless man with wild hair is painted on the front. Rob Zombie. That must be his name. I find it unusual that he’d wear clothing with his name emblazoned on the front. The Farrow is a bizarre and evil place though, from what I’ve been told. I’m thankful Mr. Zombie is tied up and unable to harm my sister and me.
He groans in pain, and I’m jolted from my thoughts. His face is covered with blood. I’ll need to clean his wounds before he bleeds out all over the infirmary. There’s no telling what sort of diseases he’s carrying and I don’t want my sister to become further infected. With an annoyed huff, I locate a medical supplies basket and carry it over to the man.
I don’t want to sit beside him, but his arms are bound and in no way a threat to me. So, despite my desire not to, I take a seat on the edge of the bed next to him. Setting the basket on his chest, I dig through it until I find a cloth and some antiseptic. Drenching the cloth, I then set to cleaning his face. His eyes flutter and his full lips move, but he doesn’t wake. I frown when I realize a cut on his forehead will require stitches. It is something everyone in Empyrean learns in school, simple medical procedures, but it isn’t something I love to do.
My stomach twists and I sigh in resignation. I will have to sew him up. The others can’t be near Alice, so that leaves me.
“Here goes nothing,” I mutter under my breath.
Stitching him up turns out to not be as bad as I anticipated and when I clip the thread afterwards, I smile while I admire my handiwork. Momma would be proud.
“Are you an angel?”
The deep timbre of the intruder’s voice rattles through me. Jerking my eyes to his chocolate-colored ones, I’m drawn in by his magnificent features. His eyes, behind them carrying stories and truths and knowledge, bore through me. I’m snared in his visual trap and I’m at a loss of what to do. My bottom lip trembles as I attempt to find words to reply with.
I want to look away from him—to clear my head of the foreign thoughts racing through my head—but I can’t. Instead, I stare back at him.
“An angel,” I tell him with a prim sniff of the air, “is nothing more than a child’s fairytale.”
His lips draw up on one side in a crooked smile that sends my heart galloping off a cliff. “Looks like I got my happily ever after, huh?”
My skin flushes at his words and I shake my head at him. “You must have a head trauma, sir. You’re not in a fairytale. You’re an intruder.”
His smile falls and his gaze flicks up to where he realizes he’s been bound. I watch in awe as his biceps flex when he yanks on the restraints. I swallow down my unease when his narrowed eyes meet mine.
“Mr. Zombie,” I begin, but he cuts me off.
His eyes twinkle with mischief. “Mr. Zombie? Nah, I’d rather you call me Leif.”
What sort of odd name is Leaf? Certainly not any better than Rob Zombie.
“Like as in trees?”
His lips spread into a breathtaking smile. I can’t look away from his mouth. It’s so—it’s so—alluring.
“Yes, Blondie. As in trees. But its spelled l-e-i-f.”
“My name’s not Blondie. It’s Willow.”
Where does he come up with these unfamiliar names?
This time he chuckles and awareness tickles the hairs on my flesh. I like the sound of his laughter.
“Like as in trees?” he questions, mirroring my earlier one.
My brows bunch together. “In The Farrow, do you all speak in riddles?”
“I’m from Seattle, not Farrow,” he murmurs. “Are you not named after a willow tree?”
“I am afraid I don’t know what a willow tree is, Leif,” I huff. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to let the council know you’ve regained consciousness.”
I go to stand, but the panicked expression on his face has me holding steady.
“Willow, please,” he begs softly, “I don’t know where I am or what sort of Twilight Zone I’ve entered, but I don’t fucking belong here. Just untie me and I’ll be on my way.”
His words, all different and foreign on his lips, mesmerize me. I’m eager to learn more about this intruder from The Farrow, or Seattle as he calls it. The council can wait a while longer can’t they?
“What is the Twilight Zone?”
He lets out a rush of relieved breath and grins at me. “You’re living it, baby.”
I want to frown at him for spouting out more nonsense, but I find my lips pulling into a shy smile. “I’m seventeen. Certainly no baby.”
I’m embarrassed that he sees me as some child. I am almost of marrying age.
“No,” he says, his eyes melting me as he looks me over, “You are certainly no baby. You’re beautiful.”
My skin heats at his words and I drag my gaze over to my sister. Her rhythmic breathing can be heard, and I sigh in relief before turning back to him. He’s watching me with an odd stare.
“What?” I pout.
This intruder, Leif, frustrates me. He’s different and scares me half to death. Yet, I’m intrigued by him and that worries me. My heart belongs to Jordy.
“Willow, please untie me. I can’t feel my fingers.”
I glance up at his hands and my heart sinks to see them turning an ugly shade of purple.
“I’ll untie your hands if you promise not to run away.” I send him the firmest glare I can muster and he nods, his mouth twitching.
The rope is knotted too tight, so I search for a pair of shears to aid me in my task. After I saw the first arm free, he cradles his hand to his chest. And when I free the other, he does the same.
“Thank you.”
I smile at him and am about to ask him more questions when he attacks me. His arms slip around my body and he flips with me in them until we roll off the bed. My head thumps the wooden floor hard enough to dizzy me when we land. I yelp when he grabs my wrists and jerks them above my head, pinning them to the hard floor.
“Tell me where the phone is and I won’t hurt you,” he snarls, all playfulness gone.
Terror seizes my throat and I choke out my words. “What is a phone?”
His eyes go wild and for a moment I’m afraid he’ll hurt me. “So help me, Willow. I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt that you’re just a dumb girl that doesn’t know what the hell is going on, but you need to tell me where the damn phone is so I can get the fuck out of here.”
Tears well in my eyes but I blink them back, refusing to let this monster see me cry. I wiggle and thrash beneath him. His grip on my hands loosens and I’m able to free one. Balling my hand into a fist, I hit him hard in his ribs on one side. He grunts in pain and his chest slams down on mine, crushing me into the floor.
The air is pushed out of me and I gasp to catch my breath under his weight. My movement is futile and he easily captures my free hand, pinning it back to the floor.
“Willow,” he murmurs, his mouth against my hair over my ear, “I don’t want to hurt you, but you’re making this really damn difficult.”
His unusual scent envelops me and I attempt not to gulp it down. The men in Empyrean are clean and usually smell of tobacco from their pipes or hay from the barns. They never smell like something you’d want to taste.
Leif smells good enough to eat.
He lifts slightly, giving me a reprieve from his crushing form, and peers down at me. His overgrown locks hang around his face and I want to push the hair behind his ears to see him better. Truth is, this decadent man on top of me is testing the limits of my sanity. All rules and laws I’ve had hammered into me since I was a small girl run into the corners, leaving me all alone to defend myself against this man.
“Willow, tell me where—”
His face blanches white and he collapses on me, once again smashing me beneath his weight.