“Ash, we have to leave,” Rhys whispered as he pulled me to my feet.
My stomach coiled up into tight knots as I looked out over the corn. He still didn’t know we were trapped. Rhys would absolutely freak if I told him. “We can’t leave.” I shook my head. “Not without Mom.”
“Look at me.” He turned me toward him, his hands trembling. “Someone just died, Ash. She died right in front of me.”
My mind stuttered, trying to grasp what he was saying. “Who?”
“My cousin Betsy Grimsby,” Beth said softly as she looked down at the ground.
“The girl you were dancing with?” I asked, my mind spinning. “I thought she just fainted.”
“There was so much blood.” Rhys winced. “Coming out of her nose . . . her mouth . . . her eyes. She just bled out right in front of me. She must’ve had an aneurysm or something. I tried to get them to take her to a hospital, but they looked at me like I was crazy. They think Coronado’s ‘black magic’ had something to do with it.”
Brennon ran up to us. “Thank heavens you’re okay.” There was blood spattered on his white dress shirt.
Rhys must’ve noticed it, too, because his knees went weak. Beth helped me hold him upright.
“What’s happening?” I asked Brennon as I looked past him, toward the crowd gathering in front of the meeting house.
“I’m not sure, but Spencer will know. Come.” He motioned for us to join the others.
The people of Quivira were huddled in sections, seemingly sticking close to their respective families. Children clung to their mothers’ skirts, while the elders stared out over the corn with blank, glassy expressions. One man was down on his knees, tears streaming down his face as he looked up at the sky. But they were all eerily quiet, like they were holding their breath. It made me hold mine, too.
“Friends,” Spencer Mendoza announced as he stepped into the center of the crowd. “Rest assured, the vessels are safe. Katia and Aiyana will protect them until the summer solstice.”
The crowd let out a collective sigh of relief.
I looked around in confusion. One of their own just died, and this was their highest concern?
“It’s Coronado, isn’t it?” a woman blurted, her cheeks mottled and damp with tears.
Spencer nodded dramatically. “We know, all too well, what the appearance of the crow means. Because of the sudden and violent nature of Betsy’s death, we must assume Coronado had a hand in this. Through black magic, he may have found a way to worm his way into our minds . . . our hearts.”
The gathering erupted in panicked murmurs.
“Betsy wasn’t a Larkin. Why her?” A man with thick sideburns pulled his children close.
“Is it because Katia’s away?” Lou asked with her palm pressed against her chest. “Has the corn weakened in her absence?”
Spencer held up his hands, quieting the din of agitated whispers. “The corn will hold,” he said sternly. “We are being tested.” He tugged down his vest. “Unfortunately, because of the nature of Betsy’s death, we must set her soul free with fire.”
A woman next to me gasped, her slender fingers trembling as she attempted to cover her mouth.
“That’s a terrible insult to the Grimsby family,” Beth whispered as she hugged herself. “Only the Mixed are burned.”
The woman then began to sob openly. A man placed his arm around her, holding her tight.
Spencer glared at her. “We cannot risk Coronado’s influence taking root in Quiviran soil. But take comfort. Everything we’ve hoped for, everything we’ve dreamed of is within our grasp. Nina and Thomas will be joining us soon, friends.”
I wished he would stop saying friends like some kind of creepy roadside preacher. And what did he mean, everything we’ve hoped for? Why did they care about Katia getting her dead boyfriend back?
“Tomorrow, we’ll meet on the fields for the annual social,” Spencer announced. “A little levity will do us good.” He clasped his hands behind his back and walked around the circle. “But for now, we must return to our lodges. If Coronado’s black magic is at play, only the weak of spirit shall succumb. So hold fast and pray. And be ever watchful, for the night near the summer solstice is full of wicked things.”
A palpable hush swept over the people of Quivira as they stared straight ahead at the corn . . . like zombies . . . like a cult.
Spencer stretched out his arms, as if to embrace the crowd. “And so it shall be . . .” He bowed his head.
My skin erupted in goose bumps. And so it shall be. The same thing my mother said when she dug the bone needle into my flesh. The same thing Katia said when she formed the sacred circle.
The community answered his call in unison. “And so it shall be . . . at the harvest of the end of the world. The reaper will come forth and sever the wicked from among the just; and she will make us immortal.”