Hemlock Grove Novels & Stories

His spirits lifted as he took it all in, his discomfort forgotten for a moment. Though Connor was destined to be trapped here for life, with such a beautiful sea of flowers to keep him company, perhaps the days wouldn't seem all that bitter. As they continued, the path led them into a grand grove of maple trees. Beyond that, a large estate came into view. Nestled in a mountain hollow, it had white walls and a green roof. Mist curled around the peaks, covering the mountaintop. Sunlight shimmered on the path beneath them, casting a golden glow that blended with the mist in a way that felt almost unreal.

“There’s no arguing with you. All good. We leave in half an hour. Wear something warm and have a heavy breakfast first.” At nine o'clock, Aaron and I rode to the southern reaches of the White Mountains. Unlike the entire northern half, this place was resplendent with forests and a gentle sun. It didn't look threatening at all. Maybe that's one more reason to be afraid. It was already past noon when we arrived in the heart of the Sacred Grove forest. Witches were hiding somewhere here. The trees seemed to close in around me, their branches twisting and turning like gnarled fingers. The air was thick with the smell of damp earth and decaying leaves.

A rabbit carcass cleaned too perfectly to have been eaten. Ilsa whispers that she smells copper in the air. Elliott starts to look over his shoulder every ten seconds. Scarlett doesn’t talk at all. She listens. By the time we reach the grove, the sun’s behind clouds thick enough to drown the sky. The trees here grow in a perfect circle. Utterly unnatural and far too exact. Their branches twist into points like spears and from them, more teeth dangle. Dozens. Hundreds. Some strung together like wind chimes. Others suspended individually like trophies.

The grove was the space between them made visible, made tangible, made permanent. He wrote in the journal that evening, sitting in the study while the October dark gathered outside: October, thirty-fourth year. The quince grove was established. Thomas's prediction from the fifth year's planting: thirty years. The grove is thirty years old and the arrangement is thirty-five and both are inside the being. Ruth said: the grove will be here for a hundred years. Seventy more years after the first generation. The building is forever in the grove. The account the grove keeps will persist. The ground keeps. The building is forever.

The Adirondack estate did not loom; it exhaled. It sat at the end of a long, serpentine drive choked by hemlocks and skeletal birches, a sprawling Victorian gothic nightmare of dark stone and rotted timber. To the world, it was the “Ares Retreat.” To me, it was the place where the light went to die.

"We have to move. Now. That light was like a beacon. Every Council hunter within fifty miles saw that." "He’s right," Zade said, helping Leo to his feet. Leo was shaking, his eyes wide with horror. "We can't stay here. The Grove is our only hope." We ran. We didn't stop for rest, and we didn't stop for food. We moved through the thickest parts of the forest, heading toward the heart of the mountains. Every shadow looked like a skeletal hand. Every rustle of leaves sounded like Sasha’s laugh. As the sun began to rise, we reached a massive stone archway covered in glowing blue vines. This was it. The entrance to the Ancient Grove.

Like something old is stirring. “I’m leaving in the morning,” I say, folding my arms. “There’s a list of herbs she needs. Some are rare. A few grow only in dangerous places. One in particular is guarded by the Dryad Grove near Ashlight Ravine.” “Go,” Koa says immediately. “I’ll stay.” I shake my head. “This isn’t just a favor, Koa. It’s your first official duty.”

“I think I know where we’re going.” Dominic twisted around in his seat. “How can you know that?” Cali held up her phone. “I did a search for large cemeteries in Massachusetts. The biggest one in the whole state is in Lynn, which is only about five miles ahead. It’s called Pine Grove Cemetery. And get this—it’s got almost ninety thousand freaking graves!” Leesa wasn’t sure she had heard correctly. “Did you say ninety thousand?” she asked. “Yep. Nine zero thousand. That’s an awful lot of dead people.”

Without a word, we walk away from Joslyn’s grave, leaving a part of our past behind, as the huge Oak tree that had been once our hang out spot stood guard at our friends grave, fulfilling her wish to stay in her most favorite spot, forever, for eternity. ****************************************** The End

Nightshade roared "QUIETEN DOWN! HEMLOCK IS HERE!" This made the buzzing die out, so everything was silent. I could hear whispering as an area around the window was cleared for Hemlock who had appeared in it. Eagle and the mohawk woman shoved more people back to make the gap wider. Hemlock held his wooden staff tightly in his grasp as he stood up on the sill and turned to the crowd before him. Everyone fixed their eyes on him in a mixture of awe and worry. Most of the Souls probably hadn’t seen their temperamental leader in person until today. Lucky them.