The Edge of Strange Hollow Gabrielle Byrne (best love story novels in english .TXT) 📖

“We can,” he said, but Poppy was already drifting across the clearing in the direction the voice had come from.

The fireflies gathered, dancing in front of her, shifting and blinking, lighting her way, and leading her toward the voice.

“Please, help. Follow my voice! I need you.”

Mack was suddenly behind her. “Poppy, I thought these were fireflies, but they’re not. They’re wisps.”

She stopped walking. “Those nasty little things that lead people into swamps? They can’t be. These are just fireflies.”

“The ground is wet, Poppy … I think we’re at the edge of a swamp now. And come here—look!” He held up his hand, a soft glow sifting from between his fingers. He uncurled them as Poppy leaned in. The creature in his hand was small and delicate—a soft neon green with lacy wings and tiny features that blurred in and out with the light.

“It’s a … a tiny person, with wings.”

“Poppy, please. Listen to me. This is a wisp. The will of the wisp is to lead people into traps. You can’t follow them.”

Poppy paused to let his words sink in. He was asking her to trust him. “Okay. I won’t—”

A whistling sound whipped the air, and a thorny black tendril wrapped around Mack’s arm, yanking him back.

“Mack!” Poppy cried. Where had it even come from?

She searched the glade desperately as Mack tugged at the whip, but she couldn’t see any thorn trees. A second whip struck, wrapping around his calf. He cried out.

Poppy pulled her knife from her boot and lifted it to slice the whip around his arm, but when the voice sounded again, it was as though an arrow pierced her heart. “Pleeeease!”

She should be running toward the voice. What was she even doing here—trying to help this person who was obviously somewhere he didn’t belong?

“Child! I need you!”

Poppy stood frozen, staring at the boy stuck in the whips for long seconds—trying to figure out who he was. He looked familiar, but she couldn’t place him.

“Child!”

Another whip struck the strange boy, and he snatched the knife from her hand, slicing through one of the whips. She spun away and began to walk toward the sound of the voice.

“Poppy!” the boy’s voice rang out. “NO! Don’t listen! Put your fingers in your ears. Sing! Anything!”

Mack! The sound of his voice brought Poppy back to her senses, but she couldn’t seem to make her feet stop walking. Her stomach lurched. “I can’t stop!”

“Plug your ears,” he called. “Sing! Loud!”

Poppy shoved her fingers in her ears.

“Come here! Come here!” the voice called over and over like an echo.

Her fingers dulled the voice, and Poppy’s steps slowed, but it wasn’t enough.

She began to sing a song from the Hollows at the top of her lungs—something about dark nights and bountiful harvests. Her feet slowed more, but still she inched forward, as behind her, Mack struggled to get loose.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

In front of her, out of the shadows of the trees, a form emerged, tall and willowy. As the shape grew closer, Poppy saw it was a woman. Everything about her was pale and cold. Blue veins ran up her forearms. Her eyes, the color of ice, gave off a faint glow. White-blond hair floated around her, as if she moved in water.

Poppy tried to step back, but her feet wouldn’t listen. They inched her closer, then closer again. Behind her she could hear Mack shouting and struggling to get free, but she couldn’t stay focused. She kept forgetting who he was … what she was doing, her attention drawn back to the stranger.

Mack was yelling something, but she couldn’t make it out, his voice fading in and out as the woman drew nearer. The wisps hovered around Poppy like a swarm, their light shaking and shifting.

The ground grew wetter, squelching under her feet. When she was just beyond an arm’s reach, the woman shivered with excitement. She reached out a long finger and touched Poppy’s cheek.

Poppy jerked.

She was in her kitchen. Jute was there, making cookies. Her mother and father were there, laughing and looking … at her. She tried to speak but couldn’t. The scene went on as though she was part of it—warm, happy, and together. Everything she had ever wanted. “Come with me.” The cold voice tickled her ear. “Come with me, and all of it can be yours. I can give it to you.”

Poppy trembled. Her mother reached out and took her hand. Her father gazed at her with pride in his eyes. Her heart turned over.

“Just follow. Follow the sound of my voice.”

Poppy took a step forward.

“That’s it. Come on.”

Another step.

A cry behind her startled her out of the reverie. She shook her head and opened her eyes. When had they drifted shut?

In front of her the woman had changed. Her icy eyes blazed and her wide smile had grown even wider, sharp teeth gleaming.

Poppy pulled away, just as Mack appeared at her side, his arm and opposite leg bleeding badly. He snatched her up, and instantly Poppy’s head cleared.

The woman screeched, reaching out her arms to grab Poppy, but Mack was too fast.

“Mack! Are you all right?”

“I’ll live,” he breathed, running with her across the clearing toward the edge of the birch trees. Poppy looked back over his shoulder. The strange woman stood where she was—not chasing them.

Why? “Mack?”

Mack launched them into the trees—away from the clearing.

And they reentered the same clearing again, behind the woman.

Mack spun, confused.

“Put me down,” Poppy said.

He put her down, and they turned as one to hurry back into the wood.

And reappeared on the far side of the clearing, looking toward the woman. Poppy grabbed his hand and they turned again, running this time.

And nearly ran into her. The woman had stepped closer to the edge of the trees, her eyes glowing.

Mack handed her knife back and pulled his own. “We’re trapped.”

The woman’s slow smile grew as she crept closer. It reached from one ear to the other.

The wisps filled the air around them, jiggling and dancing until Poppy began to