He walked toward the edge of the field. “There is a way you can walk in the corn,” he said, extending his arm. “Take my hand.” He glanced nervously behind him. “But we need to hurry.”
When I looked out over the field, a dark feeling rose inside of me. The stalks hulked and swayed in the breeze, like a churning sea, but the thought of touching him overruled every other thought in my head.
As I reached out for his hand, something violent quaked inside of me, a dull ache grinding me into the past.
I tried to hold on to the present, but it felt as if someone had a death grip on my rib cage and they were trying to pull me through a sliver in the earth’s crust.
? ? ?
I drag Alonso’s corpse through the corn. A sadness unlike anything I’ve ever felt washes over me, as if my heart can’t bear to beat without him. I call upon the Great Spirit, begging her to break my blood bond to Coronado and return Alonso’s soul to me, but she refuses.
Then a whisper rustles through the crops, tickling my ear. “I can bring him back to you.”
I stumble back—there’s no one there, but I can feel a presence all around me.
“Who are you?” I demand.
“Without darkness, there can be no light.” The whisper swirls past me this time, circling Alonso, moving his hair about his face, making him appear . . . alive.
I know who speaks to me now—I can feel him trying to slip under my skin.
The Dark Spirit.
I should block him out, refuse to listen, but when I look down at Alonso’s mutilated body, I know what I have to do. The Great Spirit has turned her back on me. She’s made her choice, as I must make mine. “What do you want of me?” I ask. “I’ll do anything to bring him back.”
The whisper then seeps inside my throat. I breathe his power into my lungs. The Dark Spirit etches the terms across my heart.
“Let him go,” a voice behind me pleads.
I turn to see Aiyana. Her long plaited hair, eyes shining like wet shale. “The Great Spirit knows best. You must accept your fate.”
“I can’t,” I scream, tears running down my face. “I love him.”
“There are other ways to break the blood bond.”
“But not ways to bring Alonso back to me.”
“If you turn your back on the Great Spirit, I will be forced to turn my back on you.” Aiyana’s words cut right through me.
My entire body trembles. I cannot let Coronado win . . . cannot let Alonso go. I will have my vengeance.
Ripping the stalks from the field to form a circle, I cut my wrist with my golden blade and walk along the rim, letting my blood sink deep into the soil. I call upon the Dark Spirit. “A’ckista ra’u taku nistka’au’a.”
“Katia, stop!” Aiyana races toward me, but she’s unable to enter the sacred circle.
I dig my hands deep within the soil. The ground grumbles in defiance until it finally gives way, taking Alonso’s body down with it, forming a deep crevice in the center of the circle. A gateway to the Dark Spirit.
I feel the light leaving me and the darkness taking hold, consuming me.
I know what must be done. Every great deed requires great sacrifice.
And so it shall be . . .
? ? ?
“Ashlyn.”
I was thrust back into the present, standing at least thirty feet inside the corn, Dane bracing my wrists.
“You walked straight into the corn like you were in a trance,” he said, his voice low. “I’ve never seen anyone do that before. How did you do that?” He shook me.
People began to pour out of the meeting house, screaming and crying.
Dane’s eyes darted toward the commotion and then to the corn behind him. He looked down at me, lips parted, eyes blazing. “What are you?” he whispered, letting go of my arm.
As if a spell had been broken, I was torn from his side. A tremendous force of energy pulled me back toward the perimeter, spitting me onto the grass of Quivira.
Rhys and Beth spotted me. As they ran across the lawn to reach me, I peered back at the corn, searching for Dane. The look of savage beauty on his face nearly shattered me as he stepped back, letting the dark green stalks envelop him.
16
ADRIFT
RHYS COLLAPSED TO his knees beside me on the grass, gasping for air. I couldn’t tell if he was trying to catch his breath or if he was going to throw up.
“What’s going on?” I asked, still in a daze.
“He’s come back,” Beth said as she stared off into the corn.
“Who?” I pulled myself into a sitting position.
“Coronado.”
“How do you know that?”
“The crows,” she replied.
I looked up to the sky and saw the faint outline of black birds flying high above.
“These people . . .” Rhys panted. “They think the crows belong to Coronado . . . some kind of animal spirit.”
“They’re called familiars.” Beth blinked slowly, like she could push them from her vision. “The crows attacked during the slaughter in 1861 when Katia sealed off Quivira. They returned the night Nina and Thomas walked the corn. Their presence has marked the disappearance of so many Larkins over the years. But this is different—his magic’s getting stronger.”