Beastkeeper by Cat Hellisen

Author:Cat Hellisen
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780805099836
Publisher: Henry Holt and Co. (BYR)
Published: 2015-02-11T16:00:00+00:00

10

IN WHICH MOST OF THE TRUTH IS TOLD

THE DIRT ROAD led them to a cottage set in a small open clearing. The aspens fell away to reveal a simple A-frame house with a wide front porch shadowed by a drooping shingle roof. The wood planks were black, streaked with the violent green of moss. Even the roof was covered with its own miniature forest of bracken and red ferns.

Stumps spattered the clearing, and a covered lean-to against one side of the cottage was stacked with amber rounds of new-cut wood. Dead grouse hung from one stunted tree, their feathers fluttering stiffly in the wind.

To one side of the cottage, a small vegetable garden was kept tended. The white ribs of winter kale were bright against the dark, dark green of their leaves.

A streamer of smoke trailed from a thin, crooked chimney into the crisp air.

“Is this yours?” Sarah asked.

“It is and it isn’t.” Alan opened the door and mock-bowed, ushering her in. “Beauty before age.”

“It’s the other way around, you ninny,” Sarah said as she stepped into the cottage. It was warm. The air smelled of sage and woodsmoke and cat fur. She peeled off her gloves and shoved them into her pocket.

Behind her, Alan closed the door. “Apologies for the lack of light,” he said. “You get used to it soon enough.”

“It’s not that dark.” Sarah took in the kitchen table, cluttered with bowls and bundles of herbs; the collection of glass carboys in a corner, filled with pale gold liquid; and a ratty couch that looked like it had been dragged straight out of the occasional dumping ground of the Not-a-Forest. Alan had covered it up with a crocheted blanket in rainbow zigzags, like something someone’s granny had made. The colors glowed. Berry reds and deep sea blues and pine greens and daisy yellows. “It’s not dark at all.”

Alan frowned. “Suit yourself.” He pointed at the couch. “Sit. Tea, and then we talk.”

Sarah didn’t mind the idea of sitting, especially as it was toasty and comfortable in the little cottage. It shouldn’t have been—after all, it was little more than a run-down hut in the woods—but it felt comfortable. It felt safe. She toed off her sneakers and curled up on the couch.

Alan hummed as he set out cups and gave the saucers a final quick wipe with a dishcloth. He was frowning in concentration again.

Watching someone make tea shouldn’t be this interesting. Sarah leaned an arm on the back of the couch and kept studying him anyway. She felt she almost understood the breathless glee of her classmates as they passed around pictures of their idols and whispered stuff about amazing arms and cutest smile. Not that Alan was like those cheesy-grinned mannequins. He was different.

“How do you like your tea?” Alan asked without looking up.

“Um, milk, please, and two sugars.”

He paused. “I’ve no milk and no sugar.”

Sarah grinned. “You don’t often have guests, I suppose.”

“I once did.” Alan switched the cups around. “And now I don’t.” He ducked down and rattled about in the cupboard.

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