It was a utopia.
When we reached the shore, I leaned over the low stone wall, scooping up the water in my hands and tasting it with the tip of my tongue. It was the color of sea glass, but brinier than the sea.
“It’s a salt lake,” I marveled.
“In the middle of Kansas?” My brother skimmed his hand across the water. “That’s impossible. How could they’ve kept this place a secret?”
I looked over the dense woods nestled between the structures. None of this was visible to us from within the corn. “Mom said Katia put some kind of protection spell over Quivira.”
Rhys shook his head. “Maybe you really are having a heatstroke.” He started to splash water on his face, but halted. “Do you hear that?”
The lake was still, except for the occasional ripple breaking against the wall where dozens of canoes and rowboats were tied. The boats clinked together softly, the gentlest of wind chimes. Other than that, it was eerily quiet. No lawnmowers or cars, not a sound, except for a faint, high-pitched lament that grew stronger by the second. Someone was singing, if you could call it that.
Rhys stood next to me, pointing to a speck of bright yellow at the far end of the dam, jarring against the muted greens, blues, and browns. It came slowly toward us like a wayward ray of sunshine, finally revealing itself to be a girl in an ankle-length yellow cotton dress, skipping alongside the stone wall. She was about our age, with peaches-and-cream skin, long strawberry-blond hair, and a pert nose.
“‘Tell me why-ee, ain’t nothin’ but a heartache,’” she sang. “‘Tell me why-ee, ain’t nothin’ but a mee-stake. Tell me why-ee, I never wanna hear you say, I want it that way.’”
Rhys and I stood there, mouths agape.
The girl glanced over at us and did a double take.
“Oh God.” Rhys grimaced. “I hate that song.”
“Stick to the plan,” I whispered. “We’re going to become a part of the community until we can get Mom out of here, got it?”
The girl bounded toward us with a huge grin plastered across her pleasant face. “Oh my stars, it’s you.” She crashed into me with a crippling bear hug.
I stood there, stiff as a board, waiting for it to be over. “Um . . . do I know you?”
“Oh.” She let go and slapped her palm against her forehead. “I completely forgot myself. I’m Beth. I live in the Grimsby lodge.” She pointed to the Tudor-style compound on the right side of the lake. “And that’s the Hanratty lodge, the Larkin lodge, the Mendoza lodge, and the big one past those woods on the left is the meeting house.”
“I’m Rhys, and this is my sister, Ash—”
“I know who you are, silly. Everyone knows.” She studied me. “It’s uncanny, though.”
“What’s uncanny?” I asked, hoping for a clue about the dead girl.
She smiled. “The resemblance . . . to Katia.”
“You’ve seen Katia?” Rhys asked with a raised brow.
“Every year, on the summer solstice, she comes out of the corn to heal the sick with her blood and give us her blessing.”
“Ah, okay.” Rhys shot me a knowing look. “So, she lives in the corn.”
“Yep.” Beth peered into the fields behind us. “How’d you end up way over here? They’ve got a whole welcome party waiting for you over on the east side. Boy, is Spencer Mendoza going to be irked,” she said with a mischievous smile. “I can’t believe I got to meet you first.”
“How do you know our names?” Rhys asked. “How did you know we were coming?”
“Oh, no one knew you existed until a few days ago.” Her dark brown eyes sparkled in the fading light. “Katia told us you’d be coming home in time for the ceremony.”
“So, our mother’s here.” Rhys squeezed my elbow, letting out a huge sigh of relief. “She’s okay?”
“Oh, she won’t be arriving for a few more days. Katia’s taken them to see Aiyana in New Spain.”
“New Spain?” Rhys asked. “What . . . Mexico?”
I stepped in front of him. “Who’s Aiyana?”
“Aiyana’s the original immortal from the Quivira tribe. She taught Katia everything she knows. Aiyana will help prepare them for vesselship.”
“What do you mean ‘them’?” Rhys asked.
A giggle escaped her lips. She pressed her hand to her mouth like she could stuff it back in. “Your mother and your father, of course.”
“Our father?” Rhys sputtered. “Thomas? Has he been here this whole time?”
“What on earth do you mean? He’s been with Nina. With you.”
Rhys and I exchanged an uneasy look.
“We’ve never laid eyes on him,” Rhys said.
“Hmm . . . that’s curious.” Beth blinked furiously as she looked out over the corn. “I see.” She nodded to no one. “Let’s just keep that between us for now,” she said, pasting a smile back on her face.