Great clumps of Spanish moss from the enormous willow dangled into the river, their filaments rotting in the gently flowing water. Fiona waved a fly away as she looked into the red-rimmed eyes of some of her classmates. The past week had turned them all into mourners.
Next to her, Tobias’s still gaze had shifted to Munroe, whose face beamed as she continued her monologue: “…and that’s when my ancestor decided to build this plantation, soon after they founded Jamestown. Thanks to the Sanguine Brotherhood, some of the colonists survived the Indian massacres. They helped make the country what it is today, and created freedom so that we no longer had to live under tyranny.”
Fiona craned her head to the left. On the other side of the gardens, tobacco fields stretched out for miles. “After they created freedom, where did they keep their slaves?”
Munroe frowned. “I don’t know. I think by the fields.” She swatted a mosquito. “It was legal back then,” she added, before anyone could object. “They were treated better here than in other places. It’s not like you see in the movies. And my grandmother says they were better off…” Her sentence trailed off. She looked around at her classmates, then at the willow roots, tapping her fingers on her thighs. “Anyway, let’s not dwell on that. There’s a lot more important stuff to see here.” Munroe walked off, Tobias close behind.
Alan gave Fiona a horrified look. “Did she say better off? What is wrong with these people?”
“Several centuries of entitlement,” said Mariana.
Alan pulled a half-eaten Rice Krispie treat from his pocket and began gnawing on it.
Fiona eyed his snack. “You still have Rice Krispie treats? I’m starving. The kale pulp didn’t do it for me.”
“This is part of my training diet. I can’t spare any, or I risk sacrificing some of this.” He raised an arm, flexing his bicep.
“That would be devastating,” said Mariana. “I’m not sure the world can handle another tragedy of that magnitude.”
“I don’t want to disappoint the ladies.” He finished the last bite. “And that’s why I can’t share with Fiona. Because I care.”
“Right, your training diet,” said Fiona. “Like Mountain Dew and vodka were part of your training diet last year.”
He shrugged. “My level of nutritional knowledge is too complex for you to understand. Just accept it.”
For a moment, everything felt normal, until she caught a glimpse of Tobias’s broad shoulders up ahead. Something was different about him. His black T-shirt hugged his muscled torso, and there was an almost feline grace in the way he stalked through the wildflowers. She couldn’t shake the feeling that he had some sort of plan, and she wanted to know what it was. As they walked over the gravel paths, she caught his eye only for a brief moment. Something feral and otherworldly glinted in his eyes, and for a moment, the primal part of her mind whispered Run.
Still staring at Tobias’s back, she bumped into Alan when they stopped in the gardens. Munroe gazed up at the statue of the bound woman.
“Dude. That’s creepy as hell,” someone said behind Fiona’s shoulder, and she turned to look. It was Jonah, the perpetually stoned lacrosse captain. She’d never seen him without bloodshot eyes behind his shaggy curtain of brown hair.
Munroe gestured to the sculpture. “As you can see, the garden contains an unusual art piece from the late 1800s. The whole estate was actually renovated around the turn of the century in the Victorian Gothic style. My great-grandfather Edgar changed everything. He was a visionary. He cured people of insanity.” She beamed, toying with her chalice pendant.
Stifling a groan, Fiona raised a hand. “Is there anything else we should know about? Anything off limits?”
“There is, as a matter of fact.” Munroe’s hand twisted her pendant. “There’s a family burial plot, but it’s walled in. It’s not safe because the ground isn’t solid. It’s locked anyway.”
Family burial plot. Likely story. Fiona flashed her most innocent smile. “Oh, where is it? I mean, I just want to make sure I don’t go in the wrong place.”
Munroe bit her lip. “It’s by the river, in the other direction from the willow tree.”
“Can we see the outside at least?” asked Fiona. “It sounds… historic. One of the Founding Fathers must be buried there, right?”
Munroe cocked her head. “I suppose we can go a bit closer. Follow me.”
They trudged out of the gardens on a smaller gravel path that led through the labyrinth of hedgerows. Munroe led them through a winding maze of eight-foot-tall boxwood hedges. Following close behind Tobias through one winding turn after another, Fiona stared up at the cloudless sky. I have no idea where we’re going at this point.
She scratched at a mosquito bite. “Munroe? How many slaves did your family own?” She knew this topic irritated her.
Munroe halted, turning to frown at her, but Fiona wore a mask of innocence.