1. The Body, the Tree, & the Conspiracy
There’s an old regional saying, “The road to damnation lies between two Towers.” Proverbs aren’t just timeless sayings; they’re statements that express common truths or give advice
As the hour of Cecilia’s death drew closer, the old, disease afflicted woman began to cackle hysterically. Evie, Cecilia's granddaughter and long-time caretaker, was taken aback with trepidation. She was surprised, and sort of relieved, to see her ailing grandmother in such a lively mood. The last few weeks leading up to that moment had been rough. Cecilia had stopped eating and didn't say or interact much. Evie was certain her grandmother's time in the Mortal plane was almost up.
"My dear, Evie, do you hear that?" Cecilia raised a frail hand to her ear. Evie looked at the dying woman with bemusement.
"No... No, I don't hear anything, grandmother." All the young woman heard were the caws and chatters of the Nighthawks outside their window. Evie placed a cold rag to her dying grandmother's forehead. She assumed that the woman's imminent death had turned her senile in the last moment.
Cecilia, however, doubled down on her previous question. She took Evie's hand and kissed it one last time. The old woman slowly rose up from her chair. "You may not hear it now, but you will very soon." The older woman told the bewildered Evie cryptically.
Evie tried to talk her delicate grandmother back into her seat to no avail. Cecilia shuffled carefully around her granddaughter, across the room towards the front door. Evie was in front of Cecilia in one brisk movement. "Granny, where are you going at this hour? You can't leave. Please, sit back down in your chair before you fall." The young woman beseeched. Evie promised she would take her grandmother outside for a walk in the morning. Until then, she politely but sternly told her grandmother it was time for bed.
"I'll sleep once I'm dead in the ground." She replied unabashedly. Evie frowned with disappointment. Her grandmother was a stubborn woman, always had been since she could remember. Even at Death's Door, Cecilia remained unmoving. "Evie, my sweet, sweet granddaughter. I wish you well, my love." Cecilia cupped the younger woman's face, departing her final words unto Evie.
Her wish was for Evie to live a happy and prosperous life...far away from Wych Elm.
When Evie tried to inquire about her grandmother's statement, the old woman abruptly went mute. It was as if she lost the ability to speak all together. Cecilia pushed past Evie, continuing her final destination to the front door.
Evie, reluctant to allow her grandmother to leave, called out. "Granny? Granny...? Granny. Granny!" The young woman's voice gradually became louder with every spoke word. Cecilia ignored her, however. "Granny! Granny answer me! Wh-where are you going? Granny!" She angrily shrieked, having lost her patience with the older woman.
Before Cecilia had the chance to grab the handle, the front door flung open suddenly. A powerful blast of wind swept through the house, nearly knocking Evie on her behind and scattering things everywhere. Evie called out to her grandmother once more; she was met with silence.
The blast of wind settled. Evie opened her eyes. To her utter horror, her beloved grandmother laid face down, dead in the doorway. The frantic woman was immediately at at Cecilia's side. "Granny? Granny? Granny?" She wept uncontrollably. Evie shook the woman violently, breaking the fragile woman's shoulder in the process. "No. No. No. No... Oh my God! No!" She cried over the body.
Cecilia was gone.
Evie cradled her grandmother's body in her arms, rocking the corpse like Cecilia used to rock her as a small child. Her warm tears dripped down onto Cecilia's face. "Let's get you into bed, granny." She sniffled. Evie was rather on the petite side but managed to scoop her grandmother's corpse into her arms. The woman had lost a significant amount of weight which made her rather easy to carry.
As Evie closed the door with the right side of her body, a chill ran up her spine. She felt someone's eyes on her. She peered her head around the opened door, looking out into the darkening evening. In the Wych Elm tree adjacent to the Old Cahawba estate, she beheld the silhouette of something or someone swinging in the wind.
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Ishmael Da Silva. Mikhail Ellington. Lucia Lightwood. Alexander and Solomon Hightower. The four patriarchs and one matriarch of Wych Elm's infamous High Families. For over 200 years, those, five (formerly four) families dominated the isolated town of Wych Elm with an iron rule. The High Families held seats of powers at the highest levels. Their influence and affluence proceeded them far and wide. There was no corner or crevice within the town's limits untouched by their corrosive hands.
Since the town's founding, the Da Silva family served as the sheriffs and law enforcement. The Ellingtons were a multi-generational family of physicians, surgeons, and pharmacists. Wych Elm Memorial, the town’s only hospital, was founded, owned, and operated by Mikahil’s family. They also had five ancillary clinics under their system.Our Lady of Light, Wych Elm’s largest denominational church, was operated by the Lightwood family who longed served as its priests and nuns. Lastly, the twin Hightower families held the positions of judge and mayor respectfully.
But of the five High Families, none were more nefarious and despised than the Hightowers. They held the most power above the other three. Their word and rules was absolute. Anyone who made an enemy of either Hightower family did not live long.
Originally a singular, familial unit, the Hightower family became fractured as the years went on due to ongoing deceit, dissent, and turmoil. They unamicable split into two branches, the Crimson Hightowers, who retained ownership of the ancestral estate of Old Cahawba. The Crimsons (as they were often referred to) were headed by Alexander Hightower; their family continuously held the position of Wych Elm's mayors. The Silvers, headed by Solomon Hightower, continuously held the position of Wych Elm's judges. Their estate, West Eden, laid outside the town's limits, far enough away from the prying eyes of the Crimson Hightowers.
No one, not even the other three High Families, knew the exact cause of the Hightowers split. Of all the High Families, the Hightowers were the most secretive and kept it that way. The animosity and tension between the Crimsons and Silvers intensified as the years passed. Both families regarded the other branch as inferior and sought the destruction of their counterpart at every opportunity. There was no low neither family wouldn't stoop to in obtaining their goal.
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The storm that tore through Wych Elm came and went in the dead of night. The destruction and devastation it wrought was more violent than the Wych Elmites had seen in years. They referred to the disaster as a "Wrath of God."
Evie’s brown eyes stared in awe at the fifty-three foot tall Wych Elm tree that laid asunder across the Crimson Hightower’s lawn. Had it fallen just a couple more feet to the left, it would have split their manor in half. She remarked, “Good fortune always seems to shine down on those dreaded Hightowers.” They were left unscathed by even the Wrath of God. "Now wonder Granny and others think they're all in bed with the Dev-" Evie released a shriek; she felt someone's hand on her shoulder. Slowly, she turned her head to the side, praying to God it wasn't a Hightower or their lackeys behind her. She relaxed when she met the welcoming eyes of her beloved husband, Flynn. "I miss Granny but I'm not ready to meet her just yet." Evie replied. She turned and buried her head into Flynn's chest.
Flynn chuckled, stroking his wife's head. "I wasn't trying to take you by surprise, my love." His hold on Evie tightened a little more. Flynn had called Evie's name several times, but the woman had been lost in a world of her own.
“Move your ass, Flynn!" The harsh words came from the mouth of his hardened co-worker, Mercutio. "It's time to work! Do you want Philippe on our asses again today?"
It had been a brutal week for Flynn, Mercutio, and their co-workers. Philippe, their boss, had been in a particularly dangerous mood all week of which, the men had been on the receiving end of. Mercutio was one Philippe complaint away from assault.
Evie handed over Flynn's lunchbox and thermos. The day's meal consisted of pot roast, an egg sandwich, and a slice of cherry pie for dessert. She always prepared her husband's lunch fresh in the morning. When it was time for Flynn to leave for work, Evie walked with her husband to his work site for the day before returning home. That had been their daily routine since they married three years prior.
Now that Cecilia was gone, the last place Evie wanted to be was at home by herself. Her grandmother's body was covered in a shroud, laid strewn across her bed behind a closed door. Evie wanted the honor of washing and dressing Cecilia before her burial that weekend. The funeral home would come later in the evening to claim her body. Initially, Evie believed she could handle the task all on her own but as the hour of her return home drew near, she found herself hesitant.
"Flynn!" Mercutio called his name with more urgency. "We were explicitly told to have this tree cleared before sun set." The task would take all day due to the tree's immense size. It needed to be cut into smaller sections and hauled away in increments. "Need I remind you that our client is the Alexander Hightower." The mayor of Wych Elm and the one individual in all of Wych Elm whose bad side they didn't want to be on.
"Yes. Right..." Flynn returned his attention to his wife, wiping away the tears in her eyes. "I'll see you when I get home. I love you, Evie." He kissed her forehead. A warm smile appeared on Evie's face, though it was a sad smile. Flynn didn't mind, it wasn't Evie's usual bright smile. The fact he had gotten her to smile was all that mattered.
The tender moment between the young couple warranted a scowl from Mercutio. The older man was the antithesis to everything Flynn was.
Flynn was younger and new to the crew; Mercutio was older and more senior. Flynn enjoyed his job and took pride in his work. Mercutio loathed his career as an arborist. Flynn was married to the love of his wife. Mercutio was twice divorced and single. Flynn was well liked by everyone on the crew while they kept their distance from Mercutio.
As he waited for Flynn, the older man wondered how much longer he could handle the cruelty that was his pitiful life. The work of an arborist had not been kind to Mercutio's body and attitude. Unfortunately, it was the only field of work the grumpy man knew. He was too young to retire just yet but too old to find another career. Landscaping, cutting and clearing trees was not the life he envisioned for himself.
Mercutio's father, Mercutio the Elder, had been an arborist as his father had before him. The younger Mercutio cursed his life and his existence. He cursed his parents for giving birth to him and bringing him into a miserable way of life. Mercutio wished he had been born a Hightower or a member of another High Family. Lastly, he cursed God for allowing human suffering to go unchecked.
"Do you really want your future children growing up in a miserable place like Wych Elm? Oppressed by the High Families and slaving away at a miserable job?" He asked Flynn during a previous conversation. Mercutio was a sour man, but he knew when a person had potential. "The only thing your children will know is a lifetime of misery and resentment."
Flynn was born in and grew up in Wych Elm. He left for college at age eighteen and went on to graduate with a degree in architecture. Why the young man returned to Wych Elm of all places, Mercutio had no idea but it pissed him off tremendously. He chastised Flynn for dreaming small.
Flynn understood Mercutio's sentiments and that his words came from a good place despite their harshness. Some would have told old Mercutio to piss off with his opinions and worry about his own life. Flynn, on the other hand, thanked Mercutio for caring about him. "I'm not all that worried about my children's future." Flynn responded with the widest and brightest smile. His upbeat and positive attitude always annoyed Mercutio. "I know my children will have bright futures ahead of them. I know when they leave this place and venture out into the world, they'll carve out their own destinies." And if they didn't, Flynn would still support his children regardless.
Mercutio scoffed at Flynn’s words, calling the younger man an ignorant fool. Flynn merely laughed, once again thanking his co-worker for his concerns. Mercutio thought Flynn was very strange. Nothing ever got under his skin or upset him. Even on Flynn's "bad days," he remained a bright light amidst a sea of darkness. No wonder he was popular among his community.
Salty, old Mercutio would never admit it but he envied Flynn a lot. He often wished (in secret) that he had been more like Flynn during his youth. And that envy and inferiority caused Mercutio to project his dislike onto the younger man.
Mercutio and Flynn along with Samuel, Lorenzo, and Jameson were assigned to section the trunk into smaller units. Samuel told his mates about his new woman as they worked; a woman named Karla. Lorenzo and Jameson erupted into laughter when they heard her name. They revealed that Karla had quite the reputation. She was often seen with various men associated with the High Families.
Flynn was the only man with something positive to say. "She's probably a really lovely woman." He placed both hands on Samuel's shoulders. "I hope she makes you happy." Mercutio rolled his eyes once again. The man had reached his limit with Flynn's positive attitude for the morning. It was making him ill.
"If you need me, I'll be starting down on this end." He told the men and trailed off without saying anything more. Mercutio went to work on the trunk but found it too tough to cut through with the raggedy chainsaw he grabbed. "Damn it..." He wiped the sweat from his brows. "Stubborn ass tree." Mercutio needed a better tool. "Hey! Is there another chainsaw in the truck somewhere?" He called to his crew without looking up. None of them responded to his inquiry. "You assholes had a lot to say earlier now you're quiet as church mice. What's up with that?" He dryly chuckled. "Seriously, what the hell is wrong with you clowns-?"
Flynn, Lorenzo, Samuel, and Jameson were huddled together, looking down at something in front of them. Mercutio sensed that something was off. He had never seen those four so eerily silent when together. He tossed his chainsaw to the side and made his way over to the silent men.
Mercutio was horrified by what he saw. The discovery turned his blood cold. Lodged inside a hollowed-out section of the tree was the curled-up body of a young girl. She appeared no older than thirteen or fifteen at the most. The girl had been dead for a very, very long time judging by the state of decomposition.
It was on that day, Mercutio saw Flynn break down in tears for the first time. The storm uprooted more than just trees and buildings.
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