Nevermore: A Novel of Love, Loss, & Edgar Allan Poe (18 page)

"You know why," Edgar said.
 
He saw that she'd poured two glasses, not just one, and he reached for his.

"She is safe," the old woman sighed.
 
"I will protect her.
 
Why do you follow?"

"There is always more to the story," Edgar said.
 
"She did not turn herself into a crow, she was turned.
 
There was another – a dark woman.
 
She stole the girl, and all that was left was clues woven into a fairy tale.
 
I do not know the rest of the story, but I have to believe that just because she has been freed, the telling is not done.
 
If that dark one returned and stole the girl…"

"She must have had a reason," Nettie said.
 
"And why do you need to know it?
 
Why is this story anything more than a story to you?
 
Why do you care?"

"Everything that has mattered in my life has been taken from me," he said, not sure why he told her this.
 
"My wife is dying, and there is nothing that I can do for her.
 
When I came to this place, I sought nothing but a new tale, something I could turn and twist to words, and to money.
 
I could have gone straight through – they are expecting me.
 
She is expecting me.
 
Instead, I came here.
 
And here…"

"Everything changed," Nettie said.
 
"Yes, I know, everything changes.
 
It's the way of life, of the world.
 
Some things change, some remain the same, some seem to change and others deceive in their semblance of normalcy.
 
You know this.
 
Your words pull the strings in the deepest shadows of men's hearts.
 
You will be remembered, Edgar Allan Poe.
 
You will touch generations.
 
You do not belong in this story."

"And yet," he said, "I am here, and there is no way out of a story except its ending. You are not the dark one.
 
You are not the sorceress who captured the princess, and so, I wonder why you are here?
 
Why do you protect her?
 
What do you know that I do not know, and how can I trust that she is safe?
 
She has been my companion, though I was unaware, and my dreams took me – Grimm took me – back.
 
I may not have been written into the story when it was first penned, but that story was a diversion, and this – for all appearance to the contrary – is real."

"Everything we see, or seem," Nettie said softly.

"Yes," he said.
 
"A dream within a dream."

"Drink with me, Edgar Poe," Nettie said.

And without really thinking about it, he did.
 
The liquor was strong.
 
He was used to cheap bar liquor, and watered drinks, but the bite of pure corn whiskey rushed down his throat like fire.
 
The taste was earthy, with a hint of vegetation – a medicinal, chemical aftertaste, and a nearly blinding intensity.
 
He coughed, but held it down, letting it settle and spread.
 
He closed his eyes, fought for control, and as he did the world went dark.
 
There was a sensation like air rushing past him, shifting through his hair and chilling his skin.

H
e opened his eyes, and realized he was standing on the edge of the swamp.
 
There was no waterway, but somehow he knew what it was that he saw.
 
It was a similar sensation to the dreams and images he shared with Grimm, but intensified.
 
He took a step forward.
 
The ground felt solid, and the sun was high in the sky, far from setting as he'd seen it do less than an hour before.

He heard a sound to his right and ducked into the trees.
 
A moment later, three people appeared.
 
One was a woman, tall, with dark hair.
 
There were lines of silver running through it, but he could not determine her age.
 
Her skin was smooth, but very pale.
 
She scanned the trees with distaste.

Her companions were men.
 
One was old, probably in his forties, and the other much younger.
 
The two stood behind and off to either side, as if waiting for orders.
 
Each carried a large pack, and both were armed with long, sharp blades.

"Here," she said.
 
"We must enter here.
 
We will have to find shelter, or make it.
 
It will take time."

The older man nodded.

"Others may follow," the younger man said.
 
"How far in?"

The woman tilted her head.
 
She raised her nose and breathed deep.
 
Then she turned.

"There is a lake," she said.
 
"We will find the shore, and then we'll move inland far enough to remain out of sight.
 
We'll have water, and there will be game.
 
We must not be seen.
 
Not yet."

"And she will come?" the younger man asked.
 
He lifted his gaze to the trees, scanned the sky and the clouds."

"She is compelled," the woman said.
 
"Wherever I go, wherever I lead, she cannot help but follow.
 
Do you doubt me?"

She did not step toward him or raise her voice, but something in her tone caused the man to step back.
 
He dropped suddenly to one knee and lowered his head.

"No, of course not.
 
We will do as you bid.
 
How far to the lake, lady?"

She smiled then, and Edgar had never seen an expression so devoid of humor, or emotion.

"Two miles, perhaps a little more," she said.

Then, without a backward glance, she stepped into the line of trees that bordered the swamp and disappeared.
 
The two men hurried to catch up, and moments later, Edgar stood alone, watching the spot where the three had disappeared.

Then, like a shadow of what had passed, he saw another slight form.
 
It was a girl – a young girl.
 
On her back she carried a quiver of arrows, a bow slung over her shoulder.
 
She moved so quickly and silently that once she'd passed from sight, he had to convince himself she'd been there at all.

Edgar took a deep breath, and, without considering the consequences, or wasting any thought on where he was, or how he'd come to be there, he followed them into the shadows.
 
He'd come seeking answers – the only questions remaining were where had he come – when had he come – and how would he get back.

The journey passed in a flash, much more quickly than he knew that it should have, as time took another sidestep from whatever reality he'd been dropped into.
 
He saw the three pass along the shore of a lake.
 
He knew it must be Lake Drummond – there was no other so large in The Great Dismal Swamp.
 
He was tempted to study the shore in search of the deer he’d heard of, or to watch the waves for sign of the Indian maiden’s canoe.
 
He did neither.
 
He watched the woman, who was turning in a slow circle on the bank, as if momentarily confused.
 
Finally she stopped and pointed, and the three set off toward the trees.
 
Edgar was just about to slip out of his shadows and follow when the woman stopped short.

Facing her, just inside the trees, but clearly visible, stood Nettie.
 
At least, the woman who stood there appeared to be Nettie.
 
She leaned on a tall staff, and was flanked by a young girl.
 
Edgar could not tell if it was the same girl with the bow and arrow, but she was certainly very similar.

The dark woman held out her hands to either side to prevent her companions from moving.
 
She stood very still as Nettie stepped from the trees, stopped, and planted the staff in the soft earth.
 
She regarded the intruders with a mixture of curiosity and distrust.

"What do you want here?" Nettie asked.
 
She didn't seem to speak loudly, but her voice carried.
 
To Edgar it sounded as if she were standing just behind him, out of sight.
 
It made his skin prickle.

The dark woman took another step closer to Nettie.
 
She stopped and smiled her empty smile.

"I have come a long way," she said.
 
"I seek asylum.
 
There are men following me, and I cannot let them catch me, so I have come here, to the swamp, to hide, and to rest."

Nettie cocked her head to the side, as if listening to a voice.
 
She scowled, and then, unsmiling, returned her gaze to the dark woman.

"Who are you," she said.
 
"Tell me true, and tell me all, or you will not be welcome here."

"They call me Estrella," the dark woman said.
 
She took another slow step forward.
 
She made no particular move that would indicate aggression, but Nettie stood suddenly taller, hands gripping the staff tightly.

"And as for my story," she said.
 
"I have told you all that there is to tell.
 
I have powerful enemies, and they will track me, if they can.
 
I have run as far, and as fast as I was able.
 
This is a place, I am told, where one can come, and hide, and possibly start over."

"Folks come here to hide," Nettie said.
 
"Others come here to die, or be forgotten.
 
Swamp is mostly a one-way trip.
 
You will draw others, and still more after that.
 
I will ask you one more time; tell me why you have come."

Estrella dropped her arms.
 
She looked tired – defeated.
 
Her shoulders slumped, but Edgar saw, at the same time, that a long, slender blade slipped from her sleeve into the palm of her hand.
 
A second later, she was moving forward.

"Kill them," she cried, and the two men who accompanied her, blades drawn, darted toward the trees.

Nettie stood her ground, unperturbed.
 
The girl dropped back a step, drew her bow, notched an arrow and let it fly so quickly that the older man was stumbling backward, the arrow protruding from his forehead, before he'd taken a full step.
 
The younger man was quicker.
 
He dodged to the right, dropped low to the ground, and scuttled forward, his sword held before him.

Estrella ran with the speed and grace of a much younger woman.
 
As she moved, she seemed to grow. Her dress spread out like a gauzy cloud, like wings.
 
She lost definition, shifted, and took on the aspect of a great bird.

Nettie stood her ground.

The girl flickered through the trees, stopped, spun, and shot.
 
The young man swung his blade up, but he was too late.
 
The arrow caught him in the throat, and he spun, falling back and away.

Estrella paid no heed.
 
She had risen as she moved, spread and darkened, and with a cry like that of a great predatory owl, she dove.
 
Edgar watched in horror.
 
Nettie stood very still, and he saw, though he was too far away to hear any words, that her lips were moving.
 
There was an odd, yellowish glow seeping along the ground at her feet.
 
It rose to the trees behind her in a rush, and circled her in a sphere of brilliant light.

Edgar couldn't tell if that light was meant as some arcane weapon, or a shield against attack.
 
It was clear that whatever it was, Estrella was not impressed.
 
She dove like a dark streak.
 
She struck the light, and it bowed, held, and she screamed again, pressing her attack.

Nettie smiled.
 
She slipped out of the light just as Estrella burst through.
 
For an instant, Edgar saw nothing at all.
 
The light was so bright it nearly blinded him, and it spread, like a match dropping into a keg of kerosene.
 
There was no sound.
 
It was more of a sudden
lack
of sound.
 
Air, leaves, branches – energy – all of it was sucked into the point where Nettie had stood.