Alex Bledsoe - The Hum and the Shiver

“I’m doing my best.”

“Show me.”

Bronwyn closed her eyes, then began to sing:

Bliss nodded. “That’s good.”

“Mom keeps after me. Says it won’t take long to learn her song when I’m ready.”

They reached the turnoff for the road that led to the meeting. Once they went behind a stand of trees, they would be invisible from the blacktop. They went down a hill until the headlights revealed five other cars parked along the road. Bliss parked her truck; then she and Bronwyn began the descent to the meeting place on foot.

It took longer than normal because of Bronwyn’s injuries. She remembered her first time here, brought by her mother to meet the latest generation of First Daughters, all children like herself. Once a daughter reached what they called “the age of cognition,” she was offered the chance to join her mother in the group, an honor few declined. Bronwyn had not, either, although she’d often wished she had. She suspected some of the others did as well.

There was no light to mark the way, only the cool overhead moon turning everything gray, and the shimmering fireflies that danced in the trees and grass. Here and there, a patch of foxfire glowed on a fallen limb. Bliss stayed close, ready to act if Bronwyn fell but otherwise content to let her struggle on.

They reached the clearing, where eleven other women waited for them. They ranged in apparent age from childhood to close to a century, but not even the oldest betrayed any sign of infirmity. Local legend had it that you could kill a Tufa, but they never did just die. That wasn’t accurate, but it wasn’t a total lie, either.

Bliss stopped. The other women stayed back, mere shapes in the darkness. Bliss raised her chin and sang:

Bronwyn cleared her throat and sang, in a considerably weaker voice:

Bronwyn fought the urge to roll her eyes as she and Bliss made the same elaborate sign with their left hands. She wanted to maintain the solemnity of the occasion, but couldn’t shake both her annoyance at the pretentiousness and the sense that, in this day and age, these arcane convocations were just plain silly. Only the very real threat to her mother would ever have gotten her down in this valley again.

“Welcome, sisters,” said Peggy Goins. She hugged Bliss, then kissed Bronwyn on the cheek. “Ain’t had a chance to properly welcome you back yet. The last time I saw you, there were five thousand people in the way.”

“I should’ve invited you out for some iced tea and pie,” Bronwyn agreed. It was etiquette to say it, but she also meant it; she’d sat in her house and waited for everyone to come to her, like some queen bee. “Same for all of you. My mama would be ashamed of me.”

Bliss turned suddenly and looked behind them up the hill, toward their parked vehicles. She raised a hand for silence. “Someone’s coming.”

“No, someone’s here.” The voice was young and feminine, and as the girl stepped into the moonlight, they all recognized her. “Someone who’s got as much right to be here as any of you.” As if to prove it, she sang:

“Carolanne,” Bliss said. “I thought you and I had settled this.”

“You mean you thought I agreed with you because I quit arguing,” the girl said bitterly. She was seventeen, with black hair cut shoulder length and held back with pins. “I just know when to stop wasting my time. You say I can’t be part of this, and I say I can. I am a First Daughter. I know my mother’s song, and I’ve ridden the night wind.”

“Yes, that’s all true,” Peggy said. “But you don’t have full Tufa blood. That’s nothing anyone can change, and it’s no one’s fault. It simply is what it is.”

“Can all of you prove you have one hundred percent true blood? Is there a blood test they can do for this? You work with blood every day, Bliss Overbay, so tell us.”

“We know,” Bliss said. “And we also know you’re not. You should go, Carolanne.”

“Not before I tell you high-and-mighty First Daughters what I think about your little club.” She held up her left hand and made a gesture they all knew, the first of the Four Signs of the First Daughters. Bronwyn heard someone gasp in surprise.

Bliss showed no emotion, and responded with the appropriate countersign. Then she made a sign herself, and Carolanne responded. “See?” the younger girl said defiantly. “I pay attention, I learn. I’m as good as any of you. You’re lucky I don’t take what I know over to Rockhouse’s people. I bet they’d be just tickled to have this information.”

“It’s not a matter of learning,” Bliss said. “It’s all about the song in your blood. And threats just belittle us both.”

Carolanne made another sign. “My song is as good as any of yours. And I know all your signs, see?”

“The song has to be as old as your blood, Carolanne. If it’s not, you’re not a First Daughter.” Then she made a slow, careful final sign with her right hand.

Carolanne said nothing, and the darkness hid her expression. But her voice gave everything away. “What the hell is that? You just made that up right now, didn’t you?”

“No,” Bliss said with firm gentleness. “We’re just doing what’s always been done. This is not a sorority, Carolanne, we don’t pick or exclude members. You either are one, or you’re not. You can’t become one. And as for telling Rockhouse’s people—”

“Why not?” Bronwyn blurted. Even she was surprised by her words. Everyone turned to look at her.

Surprise far outweighed anger in Bliss’s voice. “What?”

The words tumbled out. “Look, we all have this First Daughter pure-blood thing that none of us asked for, and that for the most part causes us nothing but aggravation. Carolanne here clearly wants to be part of this bad enough to figure out where and when we meet, and to learn almost all of our signs. The fact that she hasn’t given them away says something about her, doesn’t it? Maybe…”

She stopped, suddenly aware of the scrutiny. “Nothing,” she finished abruptly, and turned away. For a long moment only the crickets and tree frogs were heard.

Finally Bliss said, “I’m sorry, Carolanne. But you really need to go. It isn’t safe to be alone in these woods tonight.”

“Is that a threat?” Carolanne snapped.

“Only as much as yours,” Bliss replied evenly.

Carolanne started to reply, then turned on her heel and stomped petulantly into the night.

Now Bliss directed her attention at Bronwyn. With no malice, only puzzlement, she asked, “What was that all about?”

Bronwyn shook her head. “Hell if I know. It just popped out.”

“Is that how you really feel?”

“I think so,” she said. “I hadn’t really thought about it before now. But… yeah, it is.”

Bliss turned to another member of the circle. “Mandalay? Any thoughts?”

A small figure in a simple dress stepped forward. When the moonlight struck her serene face, it showed a child only ten years old. Yet she spoke with the calm authority of one who knew her power. “Some, but there’s more important things to deal with right now. Y’all follow me?”