The Hawk and the Hound: Hanging Rock

By Emily Fionn

Love is the cord that binds the soul.

200 years ago, my family cursed the neighboring town of Dodson, turning them into vicious creatures that stalked the forest of Glenbrook, Nevada.

I always believed the tales were nothing more than a means to keep us kids out of the forest.

That is until - I fell in love with one.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Olivia Fionn
• Release date: Jun 16, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223179740

Book preview

Chapter One

Rayne

Disembodied voices filled the claustrophobic room, each vying for my undivided attention. The discordant voices mingled into one another, making it difficult to decipher the message they wanted to convey.

I wanted to ram my fingers into my ears and scream, enough! but I didn’t. I sat still and watched my thin, raven-haired boss, Alice, as she guided the little old lady through the black velvet curtain to the plastic chair across from me. My nose wrinkled from the overpowering stench of peppermint swirling around the gray, curly-haired woman as she entered the room.

The shouting from all the voices pounded my ears like battering rams, giving me a migraine. I struggled to push out the chatter to the frayed edges of my mind and concentrated on the here and now.

The woman cleaved to her purse and scanned the room. My bones tightened, and every joint in my body burned. It was her pain coursing through me, her arthritis turning my limbs brittle. How this woman managed to hobble here in her condition in the first place, astonished me. Her steely gaze fell on me. She came here for answers, willing to do anything for them.

Mrs. Johnson, this is Rayne, Alice said, flashing me a smirk. Mrs. Johnson eyeballed the plastic chair, debating whether to sit or walk out.

I don’t blame her for hesitating. The small psychic shop I worked in wasn’t anything to write home about. It was a mediocre room with too many crystals, candles, and dream catchers. It reminded me more of an old gypsy wagon than a place of business.

Alice said the trinkets gave the place authenticity; but to me, the tacky, cluttered shop reminded me of some eccentric’s garage sale. Of course, no one ever took the time to examine the room. I, however, had plenty of time to criticize every stone, book, and cracked ceiling tile the room had to offer during my four-hour shifts.

Rayne will take care of you. Alice raised her voice and exaggerated every syllable, assuming the client was senile and deaf. I wanted to chide Alice for making a spectacle, but I bit my tongue. It wasn’t my shop. I only worked here.

Please, take a seat, I said, extending a hand to the empty chair. Alice busied herself lighting the candles around the room for ambiance. The soft, orange lights flickered and danced with the shadows. I was grateful for the smoky scent. It masked the stench of the peppermint.

I didn’t come for a show, Mrs. Johnson said as she eyed Alice like a hawk. So, if you’re trying to swindle me, I think I’ll leave now and save us both time.

First time coming to a psychic? I asked as Mrs. Johnson tested the plastic chair for defects and stability before glaring at me with suspicion. Her stern expression reflected off the glass tabletop like a ghastly figure from the beyond.

No, I’ve seen quite a few of you people.

And what kind of people are we pray tell? My blood pressure rose as my patience with the cantankerous woman wore thin. There was only so much one could prove to a skeptic.

Mrs. Johnson leaned over the glass table. Her eyes darted to Alice before she whispered, Con artists.

I’m sorry you think that way, I said, taking a deep breath to control my temperament. Perhaps you should leave. I’d hate to be the one to shatter the delusion you live in.

Rayne. Alice chided me under her breath.

Are you saying you have answers for me? Mrs. Johnson tilted her head and skepticism grew like cataracts in her gaze. I suppose it had been years since she trusted anyone.

If you’ve come to ask about your cancer, I’d have to agree with the doctors. You’re too old for surgery.

Her eyes widened with shock and wonderment. She slipped into the plastic chair, gawking at me. In the corner of my eye, I caught Alice’s lips curling at the corners. To Alice, the only thing that ever walked into her shop was earmarks for her bills. And anytime I dazzled someone with my skills, she was ecstatic. Of course, I couldn’t begrudge her. Santa Monica was expensive to live in. However, Mrs. Johnson was hurting, and my goal was to dispel some of her pain.

How did you...? Mrs. Johnson asked as her back straightened.

I’ll leave you two alone, Alice said, winking at me before pulling the velvet curtain back and disappearing from the room.

How does this work? Do you use cards or something? I went to a woman across town who used cards.

I pursed my lips into a tight, straight line and bit back on the words I wanted to say. No, I answered once I steadied myself. Cards aren’t reliable. Amateurs use them, but they are tricky and often lie. For the inexperienced, the message can get muddled. But I take it the other person you went to didn’t help, or you wouldn’t be here.

No, Mrs. Johnson answered as she eased into the chair. So, how do you do this?

My lips curled into a pleasant grin. I’ve already started. You have several hitchhikers, making it easier for me to listen.

Hitchhikers? Mrs. Johnson arched an eyebrow.

Spirits who refuse to move on and have latched on to someone or something.

Her lips twitched as she scowled at me. The way her brow crowded the bridge of her nose and the apprehension in her gaze made me want to giggle. I stretched my hand across the table and wagged my fingers, prompting her to touch me. Her hand trembled as she slipped it into mine. A single touch was all that was needed for the voices to sort themselves out.

She needs to lay off the sugar. It’s going right to her hips.

You tell her to keep the house in the family. You got that? It stays in the family. I didn’t work my entire life to have my legacy sold off to some punk-ass yuppies.

She needs a second opinion. The doctor she’s seeing is a quack, I tell you. Only out to gouge her for every penny in her account.

I didn’t sleep with Jack. You must tell her I didn’t do it.

The chatter around me was deafening.

Is this what you do? Sit there and stare? That’s not much of a talent. My five-year-old grandson plays the same game when he comes over.

Shh, I scolded her. A lot is going on, even if you can’t hear it. I have a woman shouting for you to get a second opinion on your cancer diagnosis. Some little boy is going off about a dress he ripped. Another grumbling about losing his legacy, and someone is going on about sleeping with Jack.

Mrs. Johnson recoiled from me faster than a snake striking its prey. The color in her face drained as she shook her head in disbelief.

You… hear them? Her voice trembled as she cupped a hand over her mouth.

Do I? I teased. I tried to stop myself, but the spark of enlightenment was priceless when people came to grips with what went on around them.

This isn’t possible.

Sometimes believing in the impossible can make things happen. Now, is there anything you want to ask them? Or a particular person you’re trying to reach? I didn’t tell her about the pins and needles bombarding my brain. I hoped the session wouldn’t be too long, but all it took was one disgruntled glare to squash those thoughts into the ground.

Yes. Mrs. Johnson slipped a wrinkly, weathered hand into her black purse and shuffled things around. The pain mounting behind my eyes gave the flame dancing on the tip of the candle a faint smudgy halo.

Ah, here it is, she said, pushing a small piece of paper across the table. The candlelight illuminated the black-and-white photo. I stared at the image. Love radiated from the picture. The man with a round face and squared jaw gazed back at me. The kindness in his almond eyes stunned me. The uncertainty billowing within me dissipated like fog giving way to the dawn.

Your husband? I asked, glancing at the woman. She bobbed her head and let out a heavy sigh.

Cecil. His name rolled off her lips as gentle as a baby’s breath. Passed away several months ago.

This will make it easier.

She arched an eyebrow. Curiosity riddled her face.

Love is the thread stitching lives together. Without it, the reading can be difficult. Of course, she didn’t have a clue what I was talking about but bobbed her head as if she understood.

What’s your question? What is it you want to ask him?

I need to know where he buried our life savings.

I studied her for a moment. She was dead serious. And here I thought this would be an easy in-and-out reading.

Are you sure there isn’t something else you want to know? I asked, rubbing my temples to ease the throbbing.

What’s wrong with my question?

There’s nothing wrong with your question. But asking the spirits for directions is like using a paper map to find a McDonald’s. They can give you an area, landmarks too, but if you’re looking for true north, it’s not going to happen.

I knew it, Mrs. Johnson said as she collected the picture off the table and shoved it back into her purse. You’re a fraud, just like the rest of them.

I’m not a fraud. But you’re going to believe what you want about me no matter what I do.

It’s simple. Either you can help me, or you can’t. And seeing as how you expect me to go off landmarks and hillbilly directions, I might as well leave now.

I was going to regret this. Deep down, though, if my grandmother asked, I’d trudge through the mires of hell for answers.

You have two choices. Let me help you get a clear starting point or leave, and you can continue on your merry way. But from what I’ve picked up, you’re running out of time. You need the money. I might not be able to give you an exact address, but it’ll be damn close.

Confident or cocky?

I’ve had this gift since I was a kid. It hasn’t failed me once. If you want your answer, give me your hand. But I won’t hog-tie you to the chair and force you to accept what the spirits tell you. Either you believe, or you don’t. I stretched my arm across the table, palm up, waiting for her.

She slipped her small brittle hand into mine. A prick of fear shot through me as I curled my fingers around her. I had to be careful not to break her brittle bones. The weight of her hand was light and as delicate as a feather. Her smooth wrinkly skin reminded me of holding onto my grandmother’s hand.

You need to focus on him and only him. Got it? I can get clear landmarks for you, which will be a starting point.

She bobbed her head. Pulling in a deep breath, I closed my eyes and let the voices plow through me like a squall on the open ocean. Using her hand to ground me to the physical plain, I expounded my mind and hunted for Cecil’s face in the turbulent seas of the beyond.

My stomach twisted into knots as I waded through the madness and chaos of the spiritual realm. So many voices and pleas for help broke my heart. But I didn’t come here for them. Hunting for Cecil was like sifting through a mountain of pins and needles.

Like a bolt of lightning striking a weathervane, her life surged through me. The calamity was overwhelming, but when the dust settled, I spotted him standing in an open field of thick green grass. The smile on his face was inviting, almost as if he had been expecting me. I moved closer to him, trekking through the wildflowers, savoring the honey in the air.

He didn’t say a word to me as he lifted a single bony finger toward the horizon. I followed the direction of his finger to the lone tree rising from the mound. The weeping willow pulsed with a radiant purple light, drawing me to it.

Cecil turned his back to me and started walking. I kept close to him, ignoring the other voices and phantoms drifting by. A small gasp escaped me as I stared at the towering tree. Cecil glanced over his shoulder and pointed to the trunk. Etched into the bark, two letters burned like the sun’s golden light.

Overcome with emotion, I stretched out my hand to graze over the C and D. A clap of thunder rumbled overhead, causing the ground to quake under my feet. My eyes widened as a red-tailed hawk landed and split the trunk clean down the center.

I’m out of time, I said as the hawk threw its wings open and screeched a warning. Dark, threatening clouds billowed on the horizon. In the blink of an eye, the tree splintered and dissolved. The only thing left of the tree were frayed embers dancing on the wind.

Rayne. A strange voice called from behind me. Distracted by the voice, I turned to find a gentle babbling brook cutting through high cliffs. Full, thick trees sprang up around me as the clatter of wind chimes echoed through my ears.

I shouldn’t be here.

A voice danced on the breeze and raced down the slope of the mountain, but I couldn’t determine the message.

Well? Mrs. Johnson’s voice shattered the vision like a bullet to a glass pane. Reality snapped like a rubber band, thrusting me back into the small, claustrophobic room.

Warm liquid trickled down my upper lip, and sharp needles jabbed my brain. I jerked and tipped back in my chair as air filled my lungs. The legs of the chair crashed on the concrete floor, jarring me. Cold, icy pricks raced over my skin, causing me to shiver.

Are you alright? Mrs. Johnson’s voice was faint. Of course, the obsessive ringing in my ears didn’t help.

I raked my hand across my upper lip, scrubbing away the evidence, and panted, I’m fine.

Did you get anything? she asked, rummaging through her purse and retrieved a crinkled tissue.

I did, but remember what I told you? Landmarks, not exact directions.

I was grateful for the tissue and wiped the blood from my nose as Mrs. Johnson’s steely gaze held me.

A willow tree in a field with two letters etched into the trunk. Do the letters ‘C’ and a ‘D’ mean anything to you?

I don’t believe it, Mrs. Johnson mumbled. Her hands trembled like leaves in the wind as she cupped her face. Happiness bubbled in my stomach despite the nauseating sensation overwhelming me. Thank you.

She slid away from the table and bolted to the velvet curtain.

I dropped my head to the table, relishing the silence and the icy chill of the glass top. I tried to steady myself. It wasn’t every day the spirits give up their secrets. A nagging itch tickled the edges of my mind. Crossing into the spirit realm had consequences, and there was no telling what punishment lingered in the shadows for me.

I don’t know what you said to her, but wow. Alice’s voice was like grinding nails in a blender. Holy shit, what happened to you?

I lifted my weary head and settled back into the chair. My vision was blurred, and the room wobbled as if I were a toddler learning to walk. There was no way for me to explain it to her, so I didn’t.

Tired, I answered.

Well, drink some coffee or something. Your shift isn’t over yet, she said, stomping through the room like a bull.

There are only fifteen minutes left, and I doubt anyone will come in. Can’t I cut out early tonight?

The joy on Alice’s face vanished as her eyes narrowed. She flicked on the fluorescent light. The electricity buzzing through the bulbs grated my nerves. Cupping my hands to my ears, I tried to muffle the noise.

Fine. But you better be here fifteen minutes early tomorrow to make up for your missed time.

The ground shifted and swayed under my footing, and I needed to use the table to steady myself. If this were the extent of my punishment, I’d gladly accept it. After all, the lady wanted answers, and I had the means to help.

Thank you, I mumbled as I shuffled into the lobby like a drunkard.

You don’t look so good. You sure you can get home? Alice asked behind me as I pushed through the glass doors.

Yep. I lied. It was easier than telling the truth. All I needed was fresh, open air to clear the cobwebs. The second the doors closed behind me, my stomach settled, and the fogginess lifted. The cool salty air whooshed by me, reinvigorating me with a vengeance. Rolling my shoulders back, I lifted my head to the dark sky and smiled. Freedom never tasted so sweet.

The moon played peekaboo with the clouds. Living in the city had its perks, but the downside was missing the heavenly bodies coming out when the sun went down. A part of me wished the stars were bright enough to punch through the city lights. But it was impossible with the glow from the office buildings and streetlamps flooding the area.

Fresh cut flowers. A tender voice competed with the traffic. I glanced to the intersection, where I spied a middle-aged woman peddling her wares. Roses, daffodils, and lilies.

The people on the street brushed by her without a second glance. But her aura pulsed from her and drew me to her like smoke off a flame. I approached her with money in hand and a smile on my face.

I’ll take three roses, I said, handing her the money. The woman’s thin smile touched her beady eyes. Her kind face brought a memory of my grandmother to the forefront of my mind. A smile tugged at my heart as the woman plucked three pink roses from the white five-gallon bucket.

The fragrances of the roses were tainted by the salty air and stench rising from the Chinese restaurant on the corner.

Wait, your change, she called to me as I rushed across the street, pretending not to hear her. I moved against the flow of traffic, staying alert for the vagabonds lingering in the alleyways. The walkway was congested with pedestrians and urchins lining the curb. I kept my head up and trudged onward. There was only one place I wanted to go, and it called to me like a siren luring a sailor on the sea.

The city lights fade behind me as I crossed the street. My heart skipped with delight the second the dark ocean opened to me. The gentle whooshing of the waves crashing against the shore mingled with the cries coming from the crowds at the Santa Monica pier.

I let myself relax as I made my way to the pier. Music and laughter filled the air in a kaleidoscope of sights and sounds. But I didn’t come here for the rides or games. I moved past all the distractions and found my solitude at the end of the pier.

A gentle breeze played with the loose strands on the back of my neck, tickling me. The sea sloshed against the wooden posts holding the platform in a slow, steady rhythm.

I clutched the roses in my hand and let the clatter swirling around me fade into the background. My mind drifted to Mrs. Johnson. Sorrow ensnared my heart, and a longing crept through me like a weed.

Why was this one any different from all the readings I’d done? It may have had to do with Mrs. Johnson’s connection to her husband. Or perhaps it was Cecil’s love for her breaching the veil of death. Jealousy clawed at me, and it pained me to acknowledge I wanted what she had.

Drawing the roses to eye level, I focused on each petal. The roller coaster’s lights tainted and distorted the pink petals, giving them a hypnotic tint.

Focusing all my energy on each petal, I started plucking.

One for the sea, two for thee, my wishes I beseech you grant to me. A man of valor, gracious and kind, to walk with me till the end of time.

The buzzing in my back pocket startled me, causing the stems to slip out of my grasp. They tumbled through the darkness.

Damn it. This is why I shouldn’t do this in public.

I pulled my phone from my pocket and checked the screen. Irritation surged through me as my sister’s round face filled the screen. Rolling my eyes, I debated whether to answer her call. The last time I spoke to her didn’t end so well. I shook my head and turned the ringing off. The phone buzzed, alerting me of the voicemail.

I’ll listen to it later, maybe.

Not a moment passed before the phone buzzed, alerting me to the text. Pursing my lips into a tight line, I glared at the message.

Answer the phone.

The phone vibrated in my hand. Annoyed with my sister, I slammed my thumb into the green button.

This better be important, Cali, I grumbled as the sea swallowed the flowers.

Oh, so you do know how to use technology. I was worried there for a minute, seeing how you’ve been ignoring my calls. Cali’s sing-song voice sounded like the grinding of an old junk car.

What do you want? I’m busy.

No, you’re not. And even if you were, Granny is the one who wanted me to call you. My sister’s voice was strained. She’s not doing well. She wants you to come home.

You know Granny likes to be dramatic every chance she gets.

This isn’t one of those times, and if you’d been paying attention to the signs, you’d know this, Cali replied with such conviction her words cut me.

Just because I ignore some things—

You mean like your family?

Doesn’t mean I haven’t seen the signs, I continued. A shadow passed through the moonlight. My gaze drifted to the dark sky overhead. Fear wrapped around my heart like a vine of thorns as the silver ring of light encompassed the moon. Little bumps raced over my skin, causing me to shiver.

Oh shit. This can’t be good.

Sure you haven’t, Cali said. Look, the family is gathering tomorrow. Granny wants to make an announcement. I suggest you be here.

And what divine wisdom does she have to relay? I asked, trying not to let the worry gain any more influence over me.

She won’t say. But the whole coven will be there, which means you need to be too.

My heartbeat quickened. There was no telling what Granny had planned, but she would curse me if I didn’t show up.

Fine. I’ll leave tonight.

Chapter Two

Theo

Chh. Chh. Boom.

The explosion jolted me awake. My heart pounded against my chest, determined to break the bones holding it in place. Frigid air whizzed through my dried lips. Electricity coursed through my body as if I were some machine filled with copper wires. The energy surged from the top of my head to the ends of my fingers. Brilliant yellow light engulfed me. Using one arm to shield my face, I scanned the area, trying to figure out where the danger came from.

Who wee. That’ll get the blood pumpin’ now, won’t it, boy? The obsessive ringing masked the familiar husky voice. The light was too bright for me to be in my room, and I knew that no matter how insane my brother was, he wouldn’t try to blow up my house with me still in it.

Brandon? I peered through the slits of my eyes. His shadow cloaked the sunlight pouring over me. While I couldn’t see his face, I knew it was him by his broad shoulders and the stench of his minty aftershave. What the hell are you doing?

The more my eyes grew accustomed to the light, the more of my surroundings came into view. Tall trees stretched to the sky all around me. To my right, white and yellow beams of light bounced off the creek’s surface.

I could ask you the same thing, Brandon said with a hearty chuckle. I shook my head as my older brother towered over me in his salmon button-down shirt, camouflaged vest, and khaki pants. There was no hiding the shock and confusion etched on his brow. With the danger passed, the pain came rushing through me.

Every muscle in my body ached. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes, trying to figure out if Brandon was pulling another prank or if I was dreaming. Shaking his head, he slung the rifle over his shoulder and reached for me. His fingers were icy as he slipped them into the pit of my arms and pulled me up like a toddler.

My head was cloudy when Brandon set me upright. The weight of my body caused my legs to wobble. Confusion battered my brain as my instincts kicked into overdrive. I pushed him away from me and stabilized myself. Brandon gave me a once over and pursed his lips till they vanished into his face. His cheeks flushed red as he struggled to contain his amusement.

You goin’ to tell me what you’re doing out here? he asked.

Sleeping?

That so? Is this why you weren’t at the meeting last night? You’ve been out this way all night?

I needed to figure out how to respond. Brandon’s cheeks turned rosier by the second, making me nervous. The only thing I could do was glance around to get an idea of where I was.

I dropped my shoulders and exhaled. I wasn’t in my room or even in my house. Nope. I was out in the middle of the woods— again. And it dawned on me where I spent the night—the remnants of the old, dilapidated lodge on the riverbank.

Brandon stared at me with anticipation as his face grew red like a drunkard’s cheeks at three a.m. I knew he would not let me live this down, not this time.

Hey, George, Brandon called over his shoulder. Oh God, what now? It was bad enough that Brandon found me here, but to have George with him, too; luck despised me. Come look what I found.

The heavy stomping of boots sent the birds scattering to the sky. My heart thumped in my chest as I tried to clear the fog polluting my head.

Well, what do we have here? George’s voice rose, and his steel blue eyes widened as a cringed expression drifted over his face. "I think you should shoot it and put it out