Chapter Text
Not a few days later, Stack came down with a fever. A bad one.
It had only been a graze, he’d survived worse, but between the work that needed doing and the weight of everything closing in on them, he’d neglected to care for it properly. Infection had set in, and hard.
He’d collapsed while taking inventory of the bar, after telling no one of his gradually worsening feeling of ill. Smoke and Cornbread carried him to his bed, where Annie took stock. Cornbread’s first suggestion had been to take him to a doctor- but considering he was wanted by law in that state and several others, it was out of the question. Instead, Annie took to doctoring him as best she could while Smoke hovered nearby, a stony expression on his face.
She drained and cleaned Stack's wounds, rubbed herbs into the fresh stitching, and put a cold cloth on his forehead. She had assessed his sweaty skin, fast breathing and weak heartbeat, and came to the conclusion that the chances he wouldn’t wake up again were higher than anybody wanted to face.
Smoke took this news with a stoic nod, face rigid. Annie quietly asked everyone else to leave the room. Then it was just the two of them, standing there in the quiet and looking at Stack’s unconscious form.
Annie was struck by how odd it was to see him out of it, his face drawn and pinched with discomfort even in his sleep. Seemed like his eyes were always sharp, lit up as if by some perpetual mania that had kept him going. Now, his clothes were wrinkled, his mouth drooped in a rare frown. A flame quashed to a dull, wavering ember.
“Can you do anything for him?” Smoke asked her. He knelt by the bed, Stack’s hand held in both of his.
“Smoke, I-”
He looked up at her, eyes shining with tears.
“Please, Annie.”
“I’ll try, Elijah,” she said, resting her hand on his shoulder. “I’ll try. That’s all I can do.”
Smoke’s mouth trembled and bent. He worked his throat, grinding his forehead against Stack’s knuckles.
“I need a minute with him. Please.”
Annie sighed.
“Alright.”
She left, and closed the door, but hovered nearby. She could faintly hear Smoke’s broken pleading through the wood.
“You can’t go out like this, you damn fool,” she heard him tell his brother. “Everything I done to keep your stupid ass out of trouble. Can’t go out because of some bullshit like a scrape you ain’t tell us about.”
Her chest tightened at the suffering she could hear in his quiet, flickering voice. It wasn’t often he let it bleed through, and she knew the well of pain he was harboring beneath the controlled front was likely heavier than she could imagine.
“Christ,” Smoke hissed out. “All these years, tryna keep you safe. Now it might not even amount to nothin'. Tried my best, tried my best because I failed you so many times, and I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Elias. I should have saved you from him, shoulda taken every hit you did. You ain’t no right to leave now when I owe you so much.”
He went quiet, but she could hear his soft, rough breathing, the occasional sniffle. That had always been something that distressed her, how good he was at keeping his hurt quiet.
She wiped tears from her own eyes and steeled herself. She hadn’t been able to do anything for Mary, nor for the rest of the family she’d lost, but she could try this time to do something for Stack.
Supplies were low, however, after she’d had to treat so many wounds the past month. She was out of some essentials and would have to go out to look for them.
Except… It was nearly midnight now, and a new moon at that. Looking for the plants she needed would take much longer than she would have liked, especially with how quickly Stack’s condition had deteriorated. She worried that he wouldn’t last until dawn broke.
As she prepared herself to go out, she realized Remmick was staring at her from where he was stacking chairs onto tabletops.
“Something’s wrong, ain’t it?” Remmick said. By Annie’s power, he wasn’t physically capable of dragging his hands from the task, but he still kept his body angled towards her, eyes sharp.
“Ain’t none of your business.”
“Stack’s sick, though,” Remmick continued. He sniffed the air a few times. “I can smell death on him. He won’t get better on his own.”
Annie stopped, giving Remmick a side-eye.
“I would sooner let him die than let you put your teeth on him. You best understand that, because I won’t say it again.”
She tried to sound tough, commanding, but she knew her eyes were red from crying, and her voice was weak.
Remmick glared at her, mouth tight. He took in the sight of the basket in Annie’s hands, and the lantern. There was a surprisingly calculating look in his eye, like the long-still gears in his brain were finally turning again.
“What you going out to look for?”
Annie sighed.
“Hyssop.”
“…I saw some of that out in them woods yonder. On the way here.”
Annie stopped. This time she did look at him. Remmick grinned.
“Bet I could help you find it.”
“And why would you do that?”
“I owe him. He’s the reason I’m still around.”
“If he had a shred of pity for you at all, he’d a put you out your misery by now,” Annie said, but there was no bite in it. She looked back through the door, thought about Smoke kneeling at his brother's bedside. She breathed low and deep.
She figured Smoke would be angry with her, for going out into the woods alone at night with Remmick. She didn’t care. It was about time he got a taste of his own medicine. Sneaking off, running business he was cagey about telling her. She knew the twins had been using Remmick, trying to work behind her back as if she was too stupid to see the goings on under the same roof.
She unclipped the long chain from Remmick's collar, and he beamed at her until she tied a leash-length rope through the iron loop.
“Don’t you dare fucking pull,” she said, voice heavy. He snorted on his nose, frustrated, but nodded.
Remmick was very excited to be outside at night for the first time since his capture. Bright eyes flicking, head on a swivel, taking in the sights and sounds of the dark woods. He was so giddy she half-expected a joyful dance from him, the way his feet had lightened and his smile had grown manic.
He had no problem wading into the underbrush and tall grasses, but Annie forced him to stay on the roads. Mostly, to avoid ticks and any snakes that may lay curled out of sight, but also make sure her own sense of direction stayed concrete. She was still getting to know these woods, despite having walked through them the last time the moon was full. She wasn’t too keen on letting Remmick drag her further and further out into the wilderness when he had a clear advantage right now. He was still bound under her command, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t play tricks.
“How much further?” she asked impatiently.
“Not far,” Remmick answered back. “Bout’ half an hour’s walk up. Would be quicker if we took my shortcut-“
He was cut off by another yank on the rope.
“I told you to drop that.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
They walked for a few more minutes in silence, before the devil spoke up again.
“So, what is it with you and Stack, anyhow?”
She felt something cold drop in her stomach. She knew, she knew it was bait, and yet she found she had to take it anyway.
“How you mean?”
“He looks at you like you hung the moon for him, once upon a time.”
Her brows creased. She knew the thing was trying to wedge cracks in the group, split them apart and stir turmoil to make them easier to dismantle, but the words struck a cord in her.
“Ain’t nothin’ ever happened between me and him, if that’s what you’re asking.”
Remmick grinned.
“So that’s what happened.”
“You ain’t talking straight,” she hissed back at him. “Been workin’ you too hard, haven't I? Maybe we should put you back in the cellar all day again, let you finally get some rest.”
“You know the best part?” Remmick asked, as if she'd said nothing at all, “I can’t tell what’s got him worse off, his feelin's for you, or how much he misses his big brother. All that time you n’ Smoke spend reconnecting, and he barely gets the time of day.”
“He’s probably just sick of your company. Poor stupid man looks after you too much.”
“He looks after lots of people, but I ain’t seen him taken care of. Not in the way he needs.”
“‘Cause you know so much about human needs.”
“I’d like to think so. Eaten enough of ‘em to get a taste.”
“You’re a god damn dog, Remmick.”
“Well, maybe Stack needs one,” Remmick countered shamelessly. It was almost enough to make Annie laugh, if she wasn’t so disgusted.
“Ain’t nobody needs you.”
Remmick hummed, a chuckle on his breath that was a clear ploy to disguise the hurt of a struck nerve. Maybe that was why his next jab was so much harsher.
“You and Smoke got a rough history, don’t you?”
“Don’t see why you’re taking an interest.”
Remmick slowed so they were walking the same pace. Annie sped up and passed him.
“You been cozyin’ up together an awful lot,” said Remmick. “And yet you always look so sad to see each other.”
“We must have been letting you out of that cage too much,” said Annie. “Now you think you know us.”
“You known each other a while,” Remmick continued, refusing to back down. “But I don’t see a ring, no kids-”
Annie stopped and began pulling the rope towards her until she was glaring Remmick down over his muzzle. She unclipped the stake of yew she kept in her belt, and brought the tip to his eye, nearly letting it touch the wet surface.
“You say another word, I’ll take your eyes, nose, teeth, and tongue out your face. Maybe your ears too, since you ain’t been using them.”
He held up his hands in surrender, but he was grinning like a wolf.
“Well, I certainly wouldn’t like that, no ma’am,” said Remmick. “Denied the sight of your lovely face, I’d surely go mad.”
She released him, sneering.
“You already crazy,” she said. “If you wasn’t, you’d have killed yourself long ago.”
“Ah, but why would I do that?”
And this is where she really did feel some pity.
“You ain’t got nothin’ here for you no more,” she said. She looked at his face, at the creases and edges there. “You was at an age to have your own children. Maybe even a wife that ain’t hate you. A mother and father if you was lucky. Where they now?”
That sure wiped the smugness from Remmick’s face. Those eyes, burning like coals in the night, looked down somewhere in the dirt.
Blessedly, he was quiet for the rest of the walk. Annie had never savored silence so much.
Eventually, they came to a fork in the road and Remmick stopped them, pointing to a decently sized patch of hyssop. He looked genuinely proud of himself, but his smugness vanished when Annie brushed past him and began collecting it without a word of thanks. She would admit she was grateful for the help, even though she likely could have found something on her own eventually. Still, this had been quicker.
“I’m surprised you knew what this was when you saw it,” she said, putting the bundle in her basket.
“I like to know what’s around me in the woods,” Remmick replied. “Reminds me of- well.”
Annie sighed. He was right back to trying her nerves.
“Of what?”
He chuckled, but there was a nervous edge to it.
“I think it was my da that taught me. Ain’t got the best memory, though,” Remmick admitted. “Can hardly remember what he looked like, but with how hard he used to wallop me, that’s no surprise.”
Annie nodded quietly. She wouldn’t give him the benefit of a reply. Pity would do him no good, either, but she felt it welling up anyway.
“You still wanted to see him again.”
“Aye,” Remmick said after a moment. “He was hard on me. Used to hate him for it, but I see why now. He was teachin’ me how to survive the world he brung me into.”
“Survival ain’t the same as living,” said Annie.
“Nay, but he taught me that too,” said Remmick. “Taught me how to sing, how to dance, how to tell stories. How to find herbs in the woods, and which groves to stay away from. I think he was hopin’ I’d turn out to be a filí, like he was, or a druid like my mam, but those gifts never came to me.”
There was that sadness in his voice, real and dangerous and Annie wished she could block her ears from it.
Remmick was smarter than he looked, when he revealed vulnerabilities and flickers of humanity it always came with a motive attached. She feared Stack was starting to fall under that spell, even if he’d never admit to it. She herself wasn’t immune- she already felt sorry for the thing as it was but to start thinking of him as she would a person- that could be a fatal mistake.
He was a monster. She knew it. He was a wolf, asking for a place amongst the sheep, and if they trusted him, pitied him, welcomed him, they’d all die. Just one crack, just one weak point was all he needed, and everything worth living for would stain the dirt red. She couldn’t let her guard down around him, not even for a second.
And yet, she found herself sliding right into the trap.
“You ain’t turned him,” she said. She couldn’t help the curiosity.
“Nay, I did not,” he said. “I didn’t even know what I was, at first. My sire left me to wake five minutes before sunrise in a cow pasture.”
There was a thick, old resentment in his voice. A deep-seated anger, though Annie got a sense that the sire in question had died long ago.
“But my da figured it pretty quick.”
“He try to kill you?” Annie asked. Remmick laughed wistfully.
“He couldn’t.”
Remmick swallowed.
“I waited too long with him. Figured he would just change his mind ‘bout it eventually. Welcome it with open arms… but his time ran out so much sooner n’ either of us thought it would.”
He said the last words with anger and bitterness, like the death had not been a natural one. Annie decided she would not ask about it further. They were both quiet for a moment.
“...My mama taught me everything I know about workin’ roots,” she said. “She would take me into the woods, teach me what grew and lived in them. Taught me about the natural world, how to use it to heal. Taught me the things to fear, too.”
Remmick nodded.
“So that’s where you got it from? That power you have?”
Annie nodded.
“Mighty strong gift she’s given you, then,” said Remmick.
“You sure found that out when you tried to fuck with us.”
“I surely have.”
He chuckled darkly.
“You ain’t the first to try to bind me, y’know,” he said after a moment. “But you certainly are the first to succeed. At least for this long, anyway.”
“My mama knew what she was damn well doing.”
Remmick chuckled.
“That she did.”
“So did my daddy.”
“Were they both-”
“He was a doctor,” Annie said. “She helped with the things he couldn’t. They worked together, healin’ folk. Had their own shop, good and proper.”
“What happened to them?” Remmick asked softly.
“A white doctor hired a few folks to find out what she did and how she did it. Then, he went to the law and told them she was helpin’ girls who ain’t want to have children.”
“I take it that ain’t go so well for ‘em.”
Annie shook her head bitterly.
She’d told this story before. It was an old one. Usually, she kept it close, but the words were coming out anyway. She found herself recounting it with a monotone voice, as if talking about something that had happened to somebody else.
She didn’t tear up, didn’t suffer a tight throat. Talking about it was less painful now than the sharp sting of hearing the same songs her mother used to soothe her with, or the smell of that old aftershave her father used to wear.
And Remmick, damn thing, just stayed silent and let her talk.
“They were hung by a mob. No trial, no process. A week later, that doctor was offering up the same cures he learned from my mama. ‘Cept he ain’t make them the right way, might as well have been selling dog soup to the sick.”
“My, Miss Annie. You sure do have a sad story,” said Remmick. “I think that’s the saddest I’ve heard in a while.”
“I’ve heard plenty sadder,” said Annie. “I was grown, almost eighteen. They taught me everything I needed to know by then. Don’t mean I was ready to lose them, but I managed.”
“I can see that. Still a hard loss, that.”
“Yes it was,” said Annie coldly. “So was losing Mary.”
Remmick frowned at her.
“I miss her too, y’know.”
“You say one more foul, oversweet word and I will tie you up out here to die in the sun. You understand that?”
Remmick opened his mouth, but wisely closed it and simply nodded his head.
They were starting on the road back when a hideous bellow broke a flock of birds from the trees. Both froze.
It sounded like no creature Annie had ever heard in her life. The call had been hoarse and raw, like the roar of man in a fit of madness, and at the same time hollow and melodious, deep as a lake and ancient like the mountains. It had every hair on the back of Annie’s neck standing, had her every instinct burst to life.
“Aw, shit,” Remmick muttered. “...I think I done fucked up.”