The island of Heathens Hollow, hidden in the fog of the Puget Sound, beckoned to my brother in his last hours of freedom, and I can completely understand the pull. I knew he’d come, and regardless of how I had to travel, I’d be here by his side.
He sighs. “Part of me wishes they’d insist on the death penalty. I think that’s far less severe than having to live in a cage for the rest of my life. Hard to imagine I’m never going to see this view again.”
I turn my head and look at the old willow tree that has stood on the edge of this cliff for centuries. “Have you asked the tree for forgiveness yet?”
Ares chuckles. “I’m not in the mood to whip myself or kneel on rice hours before sentencing, thank you very much.” He shifts his weight, releases a deep breath. “What I’ve done, even that tree can’t forgive.”
The tree of forgiveness… The bane of my siblings’ and my existence. Both our parents forced us to come to this tree to punish ourselves whenever we did anything wrong. They didn’t believe it was their duty to teach us the lesson, rather it was our job to search our inner selves to find the lesson and learn from it ourselves.
I walk over to the leather strap still hanging from the lower branch. “Maybe I should be the one to whip myself.” I look over my shoulder at Ares. “I should be the one going to jail today. Not you.”
“Stop,” he snaps. “We’ve had this conversation over and over, and I’m sick of it.”
“You didn’t kill that man. I did.” There’s a part of me that wants to throw myself off the cliff just so I don’t have to live with this guilt any longer. “I can’t let you take the fall for me. I don’t care what you, Athena, or my father say. I can’t.”
“I’m not going to jail because of you,” Ares adds, his attention going back to the sea. “I’m going to jail because my sins caught up with me.”
“You’ve sacrificed your entire life for this family. There isn’t anything you wouldn’t do for them. But you don’t have to for me. I’m not asking you to.”
“Listen to me,” he says with a voice of fire as he storms toward me. “I’m going to say this one last time so we can put this topic to rest. I’m not taking the fall for you. When they first thought I killed that man, they got my DNA. They were able trace me back to all the murders Idid doin the past. I’m going to jail for all those hits, regardless. Not just the single one you did. There is no reason for you and me to both go to jail. It’s inevitable I’m going down. You don’t need to.” He shrugs. “I couldn’t be the family hit man and not expect to get caught, eventually.”
“You can tell me this until you’re blue in the face, but if I didn’t kill that man at Medusa Enterprises—in the goddamn boardroom—you’d never have been arrested. It’s because of me you got caught. I was the reckless one.”
“No, it’s because someone was setting you up. Someone took video of that incident and went to the authorities with it. You had no way of knowing you weren’t safe in our building. You had no way of knowing. If anyone is to blame, it’s Medusa security. Footage of you killing someone should have never gotten out the front door. Our family business, our family empire, should have been impenetrable.” He clears the distance between us and places a hand on my shoulder. “This isn’t on you.”
Ares looks over his shoulder at Olympus Manor, and my eyes follow. There is slight movement to the curtain that hangs from the attic window. I smile knowing the manor’s ghost is watching two brothers discuss life and death matters. I wouldn’t expect anything else. This island is full of ghosts. They are the backbone of Heathens Hollow. It’s almost as if the dead rule over all of us.
However, hundreds of peopleliveand do work on the island and have for centuries. But the Godwin family still owns Heathens Hollow. The land is ours and the people merely lease it, never truly owning what ultimately is ours. The Godwins have owned this island since the Victorian era. It’s a fishing town, just under four hours from Seattle, that houses the rich, the middle, the poor, and then the Eastsiders. The people who live on the Eastside of the island don’t even have enough to be considered poor.
Though the island is so close to such a big and thriving city, the fact it remains cloaked in hazy fog for most of the year keeps it somewhat a secret. Rarely do people speak of this secretive place. Tales are told, but reality is never known. Truth of what happens on this island is…murky. The only way to reach the island is by sea or air, and the isolation only adds to the hidden shadows of this place. It’s dark, dank, gloomy, and even after a rain, a rainbow never forms. This island is not for the fragile or for the man who can’t endure the harsh storm. The full-timers are weathered, cut to the bone, and if someone really wants to know Heathens Hollow, all they have to do is look into the eyes of one of the old fishermen who work the boats at the harbor. Everything you want to know is expressed.
And then there are the wealthy. Not Godwin family wealthy. No one can match us. But there are the second vacation homes, the mansions only visited when the occupants want to swim in dark seclusion. There are still parties fueled by fame, liquor, and sex, but on this island the pace is often slower. The heartbeat of the Pacific northwestern island pauses, beats loudly, then pauses again.
Heathens Hollow is the island of gods and monsters. Innocence is drowned early in life by the crashing waves. Heathens Hollow is…home. Though we live and run our family empire—Medusa Enterprises—from Seattle, Heathens Hollow will forever be our resting ground.
Olympus Manor has served as a beacon, a legacy, a symbol of our family lineage. Though we all have houses in Seattle, this is most definitely our family home. Our ancestors haunt the hallways of the house, they wander the grounds, and they stand over us in protection, even now.
“Remember when we were kids, and we’d stand here on the cliff and howl like we were wolves,” Ares says, clearly reflecting on his past in his last hours of freedom.
“Father hated that,” I say as I see the vision like it was yesterday. “He hated when we acted feral.”
“He hated a lot about us. We weren’t allowed to be kids.”
“We were Godwins. The expectations were—”
“Unrealistic. Always have been,” Ares interrupts.
“You know there still may be a chance Father gets you out of this,” I say. “Troy Godwin never loses.”
Ares smirks. “Maybe. But doubtful. I think the inevitable is pretty set in stone on this one.” He looks down at my left hand and notices what’s missing. “Where’s your wedding ring?”
I run my thumb over the bare skin of my wedding finger. “It’s complicated.”
“Simplify it for me. What’s going on with you and Daphne?” he asks. “I’ve been so wrapped up in my own shit, that I clearly didn’t get the memo.”
“No memo… Things are just shit between us,” I confess. “We both want out. A divorce.”
“But you know you can’t,” he finishes for me.